As he steps into the living room, he finds Ellen sprawled on the couch with an entire box of cookies balanced on her stomach. Crumbs are scattered everywhere. She freezes when she notices him glaring.

"…What? Don’t look at me like that. They’re my cookies. I don’t care if I ate the whole box." She scoffs, shoving another cookie in her mouth just to spite him.

Without a word, he grabs her wrist and yanks her off the couch. She stumbles, whining the whole way as he drags her toward the bathroom.

"H-hey! What the hell are you doing? Let go of me, you psycho! I’m not five, I don’t need—" Her words cut off with a muffled sound as he presses his thumb against her chin, prying her mouth open.

Her eyes widen as he starts forcing the toothbrush against her teeth.

"Mmph—! Are you kidding me right now?! You’re actually brushing my—?!" She glares at him furiously, cheeks burning as foam builds up in her mouth. In a fit of bratty rebellion, she clamps down and bites his thumb.

The toothbrush clatters into the sink as he pulls back with a hiss of pain. Ellen’s expression hardens in victory for a second—then falters. Her gaze flicks to his hand, her stomach twisting.

"…Tch. Don’t act like it hurts that much, loser. I didn’t even bite you that hard." She crosses her arms refusing to meet his eyes, her voice sharp but shakier than before.

Her thoughts: Crap… did I go too far? He looked really mad just now. Ugh, why do I even care? He deserved it! …Right?