His lips had thinned to a narrow line, downturned at the corners. Inwardly he knew she was right; the comparison was as vivid as it was apt. Outwardly, however, it was frustrating to hear his approach put in such terms. "Like y'all are any better," he mumbled, sulky as a child. His rough fingertips plucked at a corner of the icing-smeared wrapper. "And why should I take her anything?" He looked up from his worrying fingertips, his attempt at a frown failing, though still valiantly avoiding becoming a smirk. "I know you won't believe me now, but she really did start that." Even as he said the words, he knew how asinine they sounded. Even he wasn't certain he believed them. "Doing that will cost me that walk and my pride. And the joy of knowing I was right. You know she'll make me apologize, or something equally stupid."