"Gods, Bakura, you need new socks."
Bakura frowned. "There's nothing wrong with my socks."
"Yes there is. They're full of holes."
"They're fine."
Marik pointed at Bakura's left foot. "I can see your entire heel poking out! When's the last time you bought socks?"
Bakura thought for a moment. "When we went to Vegas?"
"The first day you resurrected?" Marik shouted. "No wonder all your socks look like they're fifteen years old."
Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fourteen, honestly, Marik, the way you round numbers."
"Shut-up, we're going to the store."
