He had calmed down just a tad bit by then, but a tad bit for Squalo just meant his voice grew quieter by a few decibels. "Hn," he grunted, reclining on his sofa. Perhaps it would have been in his best interest to train for the upcoming battle, but right now his tantrum-like behavior was taking a toll on his energy. The swordsman fumed under his breath while pulling a pillow beneath his silver haired head. He fluffed it nonchalantly, letting his eyes drift off into a dreamless nap.
Already he could envision the fight, the sound of metal on metal and the sparks that would fly because of the friction of two people desperately trying to break the others stance.
As lighthearted as the boy's grin was in the photo, Squalo knew Yamamoto Takeshi would be an admirable opponent. He didn't plan to treat the situation too lightly, but--
"I'll be the one who wins," he mumbled, half asleep with the ghost of a smirk on his face.