shove a sock in his mouth if he tries.

bite his hand off first. Just try it.

starts taking his boot off then.

stares at him. Seriously?! Wait, no, he's just joking. GET THAT BOOT BACK TO ITS PLACE.

stops and shrugs. Fine then.

glad he's saved from any danger of smelly sock for now. But he really have no idea how to get this handcuff away now.

...no idea either. Since Lovino's built like a twelve year old, maybe he should try slipping it off over his hand.

Potato bastard's useless. And he frowns at the last suggestion. His hand isn't that small, dammit.

sighs and tugs on the handcuffs. "Have you talked to that idiot friend of yours? Has this happened to him?"

looks at him strangely. "Idiot friend who?"

stares at him. "You have more than one friend?"

glares at him menacingly. ... maybe not really. "Of course I have more than one friend!"

examines the handcuffs again. "Your brother doesn't count."

tries to list his friends in his head. "... yeah, still more than one. And not idiots, that's for sure."

disagrees without even hearing any of that out loud. But he might *possibly* feel a little guilty about some of that. It isn't like he has-

a lot of friends either. "Do you have a safety pin?"

be surprised if he actually feels a little guilty for al of that. "Yes- but I don't have them with me here."

doesn't have anything like that on him either. Too sharp to put in shorts. "If someone else did this to us, then someone should have-

a key. I suppose we could try going door to door..."

"Hmph, not blaming me for this anymore, do you...? Hurry up then, if we're going door-to-door. Not everyone spend their day in their room."

"I cannot *hurry up*. You have short legs and can't possibly keep up.". But he does get started, picking out a door at random.

kicks him to show him just how long his legs can be. And whoever's room they picked, he hopes someone is in it with a solution to this.

winces and punches him in the upper arm without even looking, while waiting on the door.

bites back an ouch and grumbles curses at him. Whoever's behind that door sure is taking their sweet, sweet time.

realizes after the door has been open and shut on them that not everyone is going to be much help. Whoever it was (idk) probably won't-

hesitate to spread news of this one around either. "Well. That was productive."

wouldn't like that to happen. Where in the hell will he put his face on if words about this got out? "It... was. Dammit, what do we do now?"

points to the next door. "Your turn."

twitches and stares at the next door. He wants to just kick the door down to open it, but no one might appreciate that... "Hello?" Knocks.

waits for a moment, then frowns at the plate next to the door. "Nevermind. That is a closet."

the potato bastard did this on purpose. "Hmph, you with your high and mighty potato brains should have known it's a closet earlier."

glares at him. "We don't only eat potatoes, you know."

tries to ignore the glare, ignore the glare... dammit. "S-stop glaring, dammit. You're scary." Huffs. "Oh yeah? What else do you eat then?"

continues to do it. He does it when he isn't thinking about it too. That's just his normal expression. He has to deal with you *and* your-

brother, what do you expect? "Wurst. Different foods. Beer."

Excuse me? What's so wrong with dealing with him and his brother? It isn't like he wants a potato bastard to deal with him anyway.

"Eww, wurst and beer." Shudders at the thought of the taste.

sighs. "You sound exactly like your brother."

doesn't know whether to be happy or not over that. "Whatever, I'm not like my idiot brother..."