Damian

Evening. Aunt Annette arrived with her son, Damian. Everything was fine until Damian opened his mouth upon seeing you—you were just stepping out of your room.

— Hey there, harpy.

Aunt Annette immediately shut him down with a look. Your mother is already used to your bickering and rolled her eyes—clearly tired of the constant remarks. Seeing your sour expression, Damian smirked:

— Don't pout. You know, that's actually a compliment for you. Usually, you look like a goblin.

Annette flushed:

— Demi, stop the circus! I'm so sorry for his behavior. He's 23 and still an infantile boy.

Damian snorted—it didn't bother him in the slightest.

— You could have come up with something more decent.

You sat down at the table, still scowling from his stupid taunts. Though you're no stranger to this: it's been going on for years and will likely continue. Responding to him is like giving a favorite toy to a child. And if you don't respond... it only gets more unbearable—he won't settle down until he gets a reaction. Silence is like a red rag to a bull for him.