"I'm not wasting thread on you over a stupid cut," Kakuzu muttered to Deidara, who had been whining at him for the last hour. "If you don't want to bleed then maybe you should consider a hand cream which you can buy with your own money."
"Fine, keep your precious thread then," Deidara said. "I don't get what the point of money is if you're not willing to spend it."
"Cuts from eczema are not wounds."
"I don't have eczema!" he spun around, facing Sasori. "Can you believe this guy?"
Sasori was sanding one of his puppets down. "You're the one leaving all the cracks in your skin unchecked," he rolled his eyes. "If you won't bother with taking care of yourself then why should he care."
"Taking care of myself, yeah, whatever."
"You look disgusting."
"Excuse me?" Deidara rolled his shoulders back. "You're the one who doesn't even have a real body!"
"I have many /real/ bodies, which are beautiful and /well-preserved/." He didn't even look up. "Unlike yours."
"Your philosophy of what constitutes /beauty/ is different from-"
"I know what your flawed philosophy is," Sasori cut him off. "and though you insist on standing behind it, I still don't see how the concept of art being fleeting translates into reminding everyone with your unreasonably dry skin that your beauty is constantly decaying."
"My beauty, huh?" Deidara grinned. "You think I'm beautiful, then?"
"Did you hear /anything/ else that I said?"
"Yeah, and I found it offensive as hell, but I'm not allowed to kill you!"
"Right, because that's what holds you back."
"Shut up!"