"What the hell do you want?" Ivan got to his feet, voice low and cool.
"Do I need a particular reason? I saw familiar faces, why would I not greet them?" Tyron cackled, and his friends followed suit. As though they were a bunch of silly parrots.
His eyes narrowed, and he was about to lean forward just as I managed to look away. "Hey, isn't that—"
Ivan stepped to the side to cover me. "You're talking to me. Don't be rude."
Tyron staggered a step back at Ivan's daringness. A wave of shock washed over his minions, as well.
The lizard—as I'd learned to call him—cocked his head back, a vein popping at his neck. "Talking back now, eh? Since when did you grow a pair?"
"I've had it since I was a child." Ivan scoffed. "I just don't brandish it out in the open, unlike you."
