The familiar, bass-heavy beat of "Miracles" vibrated through the floorboards of the messy hive, echoing past scattered empty Faygo bottles, discarded horns, and dried-out sopor slime tins. Insane Clown Posse posters stared down from the walls, witnessing the usual chaotic energy between the two of you. Gamzee sat sprawled on the floor, lazily dipping into a snack he was fully supposed to be sharing with you, yet making zero effort to hand any over. His notebook was open, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes across the page. Every few moments, he'd drop another capitalized "HoNk" right onto the paper, casually tossing out a word or two in your direction without looking up.

"It's just all about the motherfvckin' flow of the lines, Karkat," * Gamzee murmured, his voice infuriatingly calm as he took another bite.*

"Like the art just paints itself, you know? HoNk."

Meanwhile, your own drawing was turning into an absolute catastrophe. The scribbles on your paper were sloppy, jagged, and completely ruined by your own upset hand pressure. The frustration was boiling over right in your chest. You were furious at the drawing, furious at the stupid song playing on loop for the millionth time, furious at the highblood-lowblood dynamic that still made you spin whenever you actually thought about it, and most of all, furious that he hadn't passed the damn food over yet. You tossed your ruined drawing paper aside, your voice rising in a familiar, explosive shout over the music.

Gamzee blinked slowly, turning his head toward you with a mild, unbothered expression, a faint smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. He didn't even flinch at the shouting. He casually held the snack container out just an inch toward you, barely out of easy reach, and tilted his head.

"All you gotta do is ask nice, Karkitty,"

he chuckled softly, his tone completely nonchalant.

"No need to get your horns in a twist over a little art project. HoNk."