Stuffing, and mashed potatoes, and "it's okay," Pegasus tells him, "I like a man with a little meat on his bones." He pokes Seto's middle. "I think there's some cranberries here too," he says; then, squeezing a roll of fat, "oh, and here's the pumpkin pie."

Seto just glares, until Pegasus starts laughing. "I think it's cute," he says, "you're my nice round cuddly butterball."

"I'm not fat," Seto's words are firm; unfortunately, that's more than you can say for his two extra chins, which juggle every time he talks.

"Oh nooooo..."

"A lot of young men put on some weight as they mature..."

"And you're what," Pegasus asks him, "almost eighteen now wasn't it?" He pinches one of Seto's cheeks, murmuring "that's practically senility."

Slapping his hands off, "get away from me," Seto tells him, "go watch cartoons or something and let me get some work done."

And Pegasus goes away finally. He goes away laughing, and he walks with a decided waddle, and there's no mistaking who he's pretending to be.

But it's okay, Seto thinks, as he turns massively in his swivel chair and poises two big dimpled hands back over the keyboard; Pegasus is going to be sorry very soon. Every word he said is going to be avenged, because tonight when they go to bed together, Seto is going to sit on him.