[His nostrils flare at a sharp sniff, and he turns to look at the meat. Clucking with his tongue, he reaches for the meat with a quick motion and places it on his dish.
He sighs, displeased and angry at himself. The one thing he hates more than losing is wasting good food.
He's about to say something, mouth open when his droid has the lovely idea of puffing out a burst of glitter once again, covering even the inside of his lenses.
And slowly, very slowly, Mamoru's grip on the cutlery turn knuckle-white, his shoulders square impossibly wide, stomach clenching and the air around him almost heavy enough it's about to crackle.]
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He sighs, displeased and angry at himself. The one thing he hates more than losing is wasting good food.
He's about to say something, mouth open when his droid has the lovely idea of puffing out a burst of glitter once again, covering even the inside of his lenses.
And slowly, very slowly, Mamoru's grip on the cutlery turn knuckle-white, his shoulders square impossibly wide, stomach clenching and the air around him almost heavy enough it's about to crackle.]
Thanks. [He manages to grit out.]