Milo stood with his arms crossed, his posture as languid and unbothered as ever, his dark cloak fluttering lightly in the cool breeze that swept through the training courtyard.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone ground, painting jagged lines over the racks of weapons and the weathered wooden benches that lined the area.
His sharp green eyes flicked lazily toward Gon, who stood a few paces away, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his unsheathed sword.
The air between them crackled with tension, a volatile mix of mistrust and barely restrained frustration.
"Stop acting like a child," Milo said, rolling his eyes in that slow, languid manner that was so characteristic of him.
The words dripped with a casual disdain that made Gon's blood boil almost completely.
"What did you just call me?" Gon yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard.
