His eyebrows arched, his eyes widened, and his frame shook (literally) with amusement. It wasn’t often one was allowed the privledge in engaging another in playful banter - his mood was soaring, coasting on air pockets of silliness. Whatever risk there was he felt was minimized just then. Beating the tall, dark haired man was absolutely the epitome of hilarity.
“So you like to be petted, but God forbid anyone hand you a scrunchie.” The corner of his lips twitched, aching for a cigarette. It came upon him suddenly and he would satisfy the craving after the good fun was concluded. “Sure, sure,” Red replied, a shoulder shrugging dismissively, “Front to back.” As if this was no big deal, this knowledge gleaned.
And hedgehogs were cute. They had the tiniest little faces. He took it as a compliment.
As the piece about ritualistic sacrifice was made, Red shrugged, offering a feigned look of concern, brows knitting together, “You sure you don’t wanna just...drive to Target? I mean, demons appreciate class. I know, I appreciate class, and I’m just a regular fucking guy. Imagine the expectations there. Being summoned only to find yourself on altar that is lit up with candles that smell like garbage that you got on display at the Rite-Aid. You’re better than that.”