"Sticks and stones, Beethoven. Deal with it." Adam shoots back, opting for a slow, leisurely advance rather than the self-effacing retreat Myer might be hoping for. It's no surprise that Adam has never been much of a people-pleaser.
He crosses to the piano with too-large strides, his shoe size grown almost disproportionate to the rest of him. His jeans are frayed, but comfortable. His hoodie bears the school insignia. On the whole, he looks like the stereotypical jock come to bother the geek.
"Didn't think there was anyone left. You're not running away from home or something, are you? 'Cause it's pretty pathetic if this is your idea of freedom." Sharp jabs and unfriendly words are common between them when in private. It's the difference between showing a united front and giving into childish squabbles.
Sometimes, he's sure they argue for the hell of it.
Adam parks his hip against the piano, watching Myer's fingers fly over the keys. The fluidity of his movements shows years of practice. Pretty sad to think that he could work the same sounds out of that instrument with barely a moment's pause. He sighs the thought away. "What are we emo about now?"