"That woman is the devil. An utterly conniving witch," Atticus muttered bitterly under his breath as he stomped all around the floor in the room that the conniving witch in question kindly offered to them. "Why do you like her?"
"The same reason why I like you, I guess," Daphne said dryly, rolling her eyes. "For your blunt demeanors and dashing good looks."
Atticus threw his hands up into the air, affronted by Daphne's statement. "We have nothing in common!"
Daphne snorted. "If you say so, dear husband. If you say so," she said in a non-confrontational tone, but Atticus knew she was laughing at him on the inside.
