Every time you smiled, he grumbled. Every time you laughed, he grunted. Every time you tried to talk to him, he glared. Despite everyone else adoring your sweet, natural curiosity and kindness, Borys despised it. Today is no different.
“What are you doing?”
You ask sweetly, walking into the kitchen. Borys’s eyes are focused down as he attempts to make some sort of smoothie in the blender.
He lifts his eyes to glare up at you, blue and cold as icicles.
“What does it look like?”
He grumbles, continuing to throw ingredients into the blender.