The explosive teen will die before he ever admits it out loud, but this familiarity is exactly what he needs right now. Not just tonight, being conned into coming to a social gathering he wanted nothing to do with but also in the aftermath of the entire last month. Between having to drag this bastard's ass from the woods and nurse him back to health--both physically and mentally, and then the repeat moments of getting dragging into those fucking awful catacombs? Katsuki's been feeling a little withdrawn, broody and... just not great. Not like he's winning at fucking anything, or on top of any damn world. He hates it. He hates Trench, and he hates that he's already been pushed down by this fucking shithole that many times, so soon.
This specific interaction has him feeling a hell of a lot more like himself, and even if it only lasts a few minutes, it's something of a reprieve. That's what makes it easy for him to bark out a short, sardonic laugh as he washes his hands and watches in his peripheral the green haired teen stripping off his shirt to ring it out. For a moment, anyway, before he decides that he can afford to focus on looking for a towel to dry his hands off. "Damn right I ain't playing, I'm not a moron like you! But there ain't any rules on who gets to dish out your crappy winnings either. The fuck did you expect to happen, passing out in--"
Plop. Katsuki's voice stops abruptly as the t-shirt hits the side of his head. There's immediate fury written all over his face paired with a deadly, foreboding silence as his jaw visibly works to grind his teeth together. He catches the shirt in it's descent with a swift accuracy, turns to glare at him in a way that can only mean one thing.
Deku is about to have regrets.
Now his eyebrows raise high on his forehead as he pins the smaller teen with crimson eyes and holds him in his sights, while bringing the shirt down and whipping it out to unball it. Then he picks up the hem with his other hand and starts to sort of jump-rope it between his hands into a long, thinly wound strip. Choosing this moment to speak finally, his nose curls up with the dangerous and all too familiar predatory crooked sneer cracks through the hard scowl that Katsuki has had up until this moment. "You're just on a fuckin' roll tonight, aren't you?" In bad decision making, he means. He knows he'll know what he means. That nerd always fucking does, for better or worse.
When the wet shirt is nice and taut; a perfectly weaponized article of clothing? Katsuki whips it out fast and hard to nail him with it, wherever he can.
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This specific interaction has him feeling a hell of a lot more like himself, and even if it only lasts a few minutes, it's something of a reprieve. That's what makes it easy for him to bark out a short, sardonic laugh as he washes his hands and watches in his peripheral the green haired teen stripping off his shirt to ring it out. For a moment, anyway, before he decides that he can afford to focus on looking for a towel to dry his hands off. "Damn right I ain't playing, I'm not a moron like you! But there ain't any rules on who gets to dish out your crappy winnings either. The fuck did you expect to happen, passing out in--"
Plop. Katsuki's voice stops abruptly as the t-shirt hits the side of his head. There's immediate fury written all over his face paired with a deadly, foreboding silence as his jaw visibly works to grind his teeth together. He catches the shirt in it's descent with a swift accuracy, turns to glare at him in a way that can only mean one thing.
Deku is about to have regrets.
Now his eyebrows raise high on his forehead as he pins the smaller teen with crimson eyes and holds him in his sights, while bringing the shirt down and whipping it out to unball it. Then he picks up the hem with his other hand and starts to sort of jump-rope it between his hands into a long, thinly wound strip. Choosing this moment to speak finally, his nose curls up with the dangerous and all too familiar predatory crooked sneer cracks through the hard scowl that Katsuki has had up until this moment. "You're just on a fuckin' roll tonight, aren't you?" In bad decision making, he means. He knows he'll know what he means. That nerd always fucking does, for better or worse.
When the wet shirt is nice and taut; a perfectly weaponized article of clothing? Katsuki whips it out fast and hard to nail him with it, wherever he can.