Bakura shoved the crumpled up flier in Marik's hands, and then crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.
Curious, Marik looked down. "Tengo lessons?"
"I'm bored," Bakura hissed. "There's a lot of skill involved with Tengo – skills useful for a thief like me."
Over the years 'bored' had become their code word for "I want to do something, but it's unbecoming to my callous image so I need an excuse." Marik used the ruse as often as Bakura did, so they never called each other out on it. Marik thought of their trips to Cairo and Bakura's fascination with the flamenco dancers they watched the year before when they went to Spain. He couldn't stop smiling when he thought about it.
"What?" Bakura snapped.
"Nothing," Marik spoke in a soft voice, still smiling.
"You have a look."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do." Bakura narrowed his eyebrows, trying to read Marik's expression. "You know what, forget it."
"No." Marik stood up with the paper in his hands. "I want to do it. It looks fun."
"Fun?" Bakura screwed his face up as if the word tasted of sour milk. "I just want to improve my dexterity."
Marik shrugged. "You do it for dexterity, then. I'll go for the fun of it."
Bakura exhaled. "Whatever."