"No, no and no. Just 'cause you're turning out to be a cheerless, ageing old man for the rest of your life, doesn't mean that this," you point to your achievement "is meaningless."
A bud sits innocently in its pot - pointed, dark and proud in its Cacti branches. Fruit of months' of hard work.
"This is the first flower of the year. Do you understand through that brainy thick head of your how important that is?"
"Good job on that but; I see no reason," Asami tips his head back, as if recalling the amount of wiring and rigging you did that morning. There's an air of contained laughter around him, "to put up camera lights all over the house just to take a picture you're going to post on Instacup." You can feel your face heat up, eyes shooting glares fuelled by the sheer knowledge of how wrong that logic is and okay that's it let's just fucking kill him—
"It's called Instagram, you... How the hell are all my friends gonna know all my hard work if I don't take a great photo and have you even seen my full kit? This is not even fucking half of it."
"That logic makes no sense."
Then there's that silence. With nothing to say and too tired to defend yourself - defeat tastes like sandpaper. The crinkling of paper turns a bit too loud for your pride. And so the last retort:
"Oh I don't know, maybe it's because someone here just decided to walk blindly and trip on his arrogant ass?" you smirk, "then got absolutely butt hurt about it."
"..."
"I have it recorded if you want proof."
On that thought; the option to blackmail comes to mind.