Luka heard Felix collapse down onto the bench, not needing to turn around and look to imagine how he appeared in that moment. Luka suspected he was sulking, lower lip jutted out with his arms folded across his chest like a moody child. He would have rolled his eyes if he weren't admittedly feeling just as immature in that moment.
"And I wasn't trying to kill you," he retorted, though there was no heat in his tone. Contrary to what Felix might have believed, Luka wasn't angry. Mostly he was embarrassed and hurt, though the ways in which those particular emotions manifested themselves appeared very similarly.
With a small sigh, Luka set down the knife he had picked up and instead glanced fleetingly at Felix. He looked just as Luka has pictured, which caused the barest hint of a smile to form that vanished almost instantly as he once again schooled his features. "We aren't arguing," he said, moving over to the target and busying himself with removing the weapons from it. Mostly, he was doing it to distract himself and to avoid facing the issue he had been attempting to dodge. "And I'm not stopping you from talking."