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[In answer, Bull jerks his own thumb toward the nearest group of pointed-eared people shopping nearby. Then, beside them, a bunch of aforementioned dwarves, selling armor and weaponry.]
Don't know who the hell "santa" is. But elves. [And back to the bearded merchants.] Dwarves.
Anything else you wanna get your shorts in a knot about?
[There's a change in the air. Something subtle. Something you really had to pay attention to notice. He'd bet actual coin the kid didn't realize he was putting off that change.]
[He leans back where he's sitting, his expression purposefully lazy.]
[Black eyes harden like steel, and you can practically hear the warning alarms as Matatagi stiffens up. That black aura, the one that invisibly gripped his heart every day when he woke up and every night before he fell into sleep, choked around him tighter. His hand clenches the fabric just above his heart, suddenly glaring daggers at the 'man'.
He doesn't care how big he is--all people were alike in the end. Two-faced.]
[Bull just watches. He doesn't say anything. Just watches the signs align. Watches the face change, and the tension flare. It's not really that big of a surprise when the kid goes from 0 to Daggers.]
[The silence between Matatagi's question and Bull's answer stretches. Longer and more uncomfortable.]
[He dusts his hands off.]
Color me curious. What crawled up your ass and died?
[He can feel his heart pulse angrily at that sentence, not just because of the words--believe him, he's heard far worse. But the know-it-all, condescending tone he heard it in just sealed the deal. There's no light in those dark eyes of his, the shines only amplifying just how bottomless they looked.
This schmuck...thinks he knows everything.
But adapting is what Matatagi does. He adapted when his father left, he adapted when his mother was hospitalized. He adapted when his family went hungry, when his friends turned their backs on him, when he realized he had no one left in the world except his family, his brothers.
He could handle some gigantic cow.]
What, expecting me to address you as Mr. or something?
[The Iron Bull shifts where he sits. Lifting a hand to scratch at his chin, and pretending he's not watching the way the kid hardens up. The way his eyes change. He has, without a doubt, hit some kind of nerve.]
[He snaps his fingers, like he's only just now realized something.
Oh -- authority problems. Adult issues. That sound about right?
[Probing. He's got good money on it being right, though.]
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no subject
Don't know who the hell "santa" is. But elves. [And back to the bearded merchants.] Dwarves.
Anything else you wanna get your shorts in a knot about?
no subject
Like out of Sword of the Kings, right?
[Not that he expects Bull to know that, if he didn't know who Santa was. Fine, if this guy wants to small talk so bad, he'll small talk.]
They're stuff in stories back on Earth.
no subject
[There's a change in the air. Something subtle. Something you really had to pay attention to notice. He'd bet actual coin the kid didn't realize he was putting off that change.]
[He leans back where he's sitting, his expression purposefully lazy.]
So what crawled up your ass and died, eh?
no subject
He doesn't care how big he is--all people were alike in the end. Two-faced.]
What kind of question is that?
no subject
[The silence between Matatagi's question and Bull's answer stretches. Longer and more uncomfortable.]
[He dusts his hands off.]
Color me curious. What crawled up your ass and died?
no subject
This schmuck...thinks he knows everything.
But adapting is what Matatagi does. He adapted when his father left, he adapted when his mother was hospitalized. He adapted when his family went hungry, when his friends turned their backs on him, when he realized he had no one left in the world except his family, his brothers.
He could handle some gigantic cow.]
What, expecting me to address you as Mr. or something?
no subject
[The Iron Bull shifts where he sits. Lifting a hand to scratch at his chin, and pretending he's not watching the way the kid hardens up. The way his eyes change. He has, without a doubt, hit some kind of nerve.]
[He snaps his fingers, like he's only just now realized something.
Oh -- authority problems. Adult issues. That sound about right?
[Probing. He's got good money on it being right, though.]