In response, Raphael slumped onto the loveseat across from the couch, rubbing his forehead, staring at Michael. His expression was mostly only agitated, at first, but as the seconds passed it devolved from there into something closer to uneasiness. And then what bordered on grudging worry.

"Mika--" Michael pouting at him was in a way worse than being yelled at. He couldn't win this. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier. But I couldn't help it."