"Wow. Woooow, what the hell, Emil! I'm...I'm...Actually, no, you pretty much got it in one. I'm probably that bad. But I'm not a terrible influence! Come on. Before me, you backed down from every social challenge you had. If we didn't fight and it wasn't worth it, you'd still be a chicken shit," he points out, reaching up and poking the skater's nose.

"I've literally killed people and you blow that off like it's nothing, to tell me off when you think I'm being a twat. If that's not a reasonably good influence, what even is? Am I supposed to inspire sainthood or something? You already go that on your own. It's your job to be the good influence," the redhead snorts, tugging the other man lightly and spacing them out, arms stretching to spin them sharply about.

"You're the golden boy. We can't both be perfect. Shit."