Hartley grumbled under his breath, angrily fluffing his hair and turning on his heel, plopping down on the couch indignantly. “I don’t appreciate you making fun of me,” he muttered sourly.
Cisco laughed under his breath as he reached in the fridge and pulled a cider out. He walked over to the couch and sat gingerly next to Hartley. “It’s funny seeing you squirm. Sorry not sorry, bud. Here.” He said, holding the bottle out.
