Bab 923: Birthday Spats

Today I learned Irene was a loser.

A very, very sore loser.

I won this bout fair and square, claimed the ultimate victory after the ocean's worth of blood, sweat, and tears I filled, and what does Irene have to say about it?

"You cheated." 

No cheers, no flinging her arms around in revelry, not even a smile. Both arms tightly crossed over her chest, and wearing pure indifference as her shield that hid the burning envy and bitterness that her heavily arched brows only barely hinted at. 

Needless to say, I was both shocked and appalled by such a crude and cruel unwarranted assassination of my perfect character, certainly only made out of a moment of spite and lots and lots of salty tears. 

But the flawless, merciful supreme being I was, I chose to turn the other cheek, and promptly corrected her skewed understanding of reality as best as I could.

"Did not."

"Did too." 

"Proof?"