Ace sat pouting like a child as he nursed the eggplant coloured bump on the back of his head courtesy of one still rather fuming father.
"Daaaaaad. I said I was sorry. I didn't know promise!"
His whining was amusing Marco to no end. The incessant apologises had not yet grown old as he continued to sit nearby and listen as the brat tried to weasel his way back into Thatches good graces.
So far, it was no dice for the fire wielder.
Although if past experiences where anything to go by Marco realised that it was unlikely that Ace would give up anytime soon, and if anything he was most interested in seeing how long it would be before Thatch cracked.
Marco smiled shifting in his seat as Aces' posture changed and a new mischievous glint appeared within his eyes.
It may take him a while to openly warm to the kid, but if he was going to produce as much entertainment as he had been so far, things might just work out faster than previously thought.
"Hey Dad"
...
"Dad?"
...
...
"Daaaaaaaaaad"
...
...
...
"Don't make me do it dad..."
...
...
"You don't really want me to do it do you?"
...
...
"I will"
Expanding his lungs to full oxygen capacity Ace tilted his head back slightly in preparation.
"Da-"
"Don't you dare."
Thatches hand plastered itself over Ace's mouth his other resting (or squashing depending on who's side you where on) on Ace's head.
"Mmm..mmm..hm!"
The glaring gaze that had previously resided over Thatches face had been replaced with a smirking, still slightly mad but more annoyed look, which to Ace indicated getting a step closer to the 'good books'.
"Serves you right"
The interaction of the two had become incredibly fascinating to the ever watching Marco. His curiosity had peaked with a new interest in finding out just what it was Thatch didn't want Ace saying. Blackmail material? Marco hoped so.
Thatch may have thought he'd won but Ace knew better.
Marco knew better too as the glint grew stronger in Ace's eyes.
It was Ace's over confidence that lead to the searing disappointment in both himself and in Marco when the slippery trail of saliva failed to break Thatches grasp.
"Not a chance kiddo."
Ace's shoulders slumped.
Surely that had not, not worked Ace thought furiously. It always worked.
Bugger.
In that case Ace new he only had his final drawcard left. If this didn't work he'd be spending a lifetime apologising.
...
...
...
"Ace? ACE! Why you little bugger don't you fall asleep on me!"
Dropping his hands to grasp Ace's shoulders, Thatch shook him back and forth like a ragdoll being held above a girls head by the local bully.
Marco silently sweat dropped as he watched the scene in front of him. And Thatch was supposed to be the more mature of the two of them how exactly?
