[He lets out a big sigh of relief. Murasakibara immediately slates the claim that Clover had generous intentions all along as more of her Unhelpful Games because clearly he never makes useless effort unlike other people. This is just Clover trying to stay in power. On the other hand, he doesn't like the idea that Clover could win, and the events of the winter cup (including actually losing) have left him more open to the possibility of getting caught off guard. So he makes one more defensive move.]
...Thank you. [He says it as one word. He got into the habit when he was younger along with his general lilting speech, but it never got beaten out of him because it's also fairly common among uncouth athletes.]
You're welcome. [But she sounds so goddamn smug about it. It even comes with a haughty little hm! noise while she plops the batter into surprisingly even circles on the cookie tray.]
Hey, are you gonna get the chair off the counter or what? [Because that's totally not where that goes.]
[Well, Clover got the last word anyway, but Murasakibara doesn't bother to frown. It's not like this is a real game where Clover will be eliminated from the tournament, so it doesn't count. At least, he tells himself that to preserve his self esteem.]
Sure.
[Now that the central tension of the hour is dispelled, with far more languid limbs Murasakibara goes over and gets the chair off the counter. It's not an objectionable exertion of effort by his standards since to him it's not at all difficult to lift. He just leaves it on the floor right next to the counter, not sure where it actually originally went. Hey, he doesn't come in here a lot.]
[While he does that, Clover pops the cookie tray in the oven, sets the timer, takes her bowl of batter and the spoon, and sits right down in the recently-deposited chair. It didn't actually come from this room, she totally stole it from somewhere down the hall.]
It's gonna be, like, ten minutes. [The timer says eleven. In the meantime, Clover's going to be eating the remaining cookie dough.]
[He turns his head to look at the timer and then doesn't say anything. She said "like". It's not a big deal. He had thought it might take even longer than that, not immediately remembering that the oven was preheated.
For a while he just stands there. Even if there were anything to say to Clover, once she starts eating he's not about to interrupt her. Verbally, or physically; she never said that he could have the cookie dough, and he doesn't relish the idea of her pawing at his hands should he reach into the bowl. Though ten minutes isn't really enough time to wander somewhere else for activities that aren't standing around; by the time he got back they'd be cold anyway. He wants something to do...
Murasakibara grabs the bag of chocolate chips and looks to see if there are any left inside.]
[There are, in fact, no chocolate chips left inside. Clover has never half-assed anything in her entire life, much less when half-assing involves receiving less chocolate.
She glances over at him and, once she figures out what he's doing, snickers a little.]
There are white chocolate chips somewhere if you're that impatient.
[He briefly glares at her. It's not even the white chocolate chips that are the insult this time, though he doesn't want them any more than before; he doesn't like being called out on his impatience, and so he feels a childish urge to prove her wrong.]
Whatever.
[He leans in place and turns the bag over, glaring at the logos and labels.]
no subject
[He lets out a big sigh of relief. Murasakibara immediately slates the claim that Clover had generous intentions all along as more of her Unhelpful Games because clearly he never makes useless effort unlike other people. This is just Clover trying to stay in power. On the other hand, he doesn't like the idea that Clover could win, and the events of the winter cup (including actually losing) have left him more open to the possibility of getting caught off guard. So he makes one more defensive move.]
...Thank you. [He says it as one word. He got into the habit when he was younger along with his general lilting speech, but it never got beaten out of him because it's also fairly common among uncouth athletes.]
no subject
Hey, are you gonna get the chair off the counter or what? [Because that's totally not where that goes.]
no subject
Sure.
[Now that the central tension of the hour is dispelled, with far more languid limbs Murasakibara goes over and gets the chair off the counter. It's not an objectionable exertion of effort by his standards since to him it's not at all difficult to lift. He just leaves it on the floor right next to the counter, not sure where it actually originally went. Hey, he doesn't come in here a lot.]
no subject
It's gonna be, like, ten minutes. [The timer says eleven. In the meantime, Clover's going to be eating the remaining cookie dough.]
no subject
For a while he just stands there. Even if there were anything to say to Clover, once she starts eating he's not about to interrupt her. Verbally, or physically; she never said that he could have the cookie dough, and he doesn't relish the idea of her pawing at his hands should he reach into the bowl. Though ten minutes isn't really enough time to wander somewhere else for activities that aren't standing around; by the time he got back they'd be cold anyway. He wants something to do...
Murasakibara grabs the bag of chocolate chips and looks to see if there are any left inside.]
no subject
She glances over at him and, once she figures out what he's doing, snickers a little.]
There are white chocolate chips somewhere if you're that impatient.
no subject
Whatever.
[He leans in place and turns the bag over, glaring at the logos and labels.]