Harry's mouth twitched. "Are ye pickin' a fight with me? It is perfectly evident!"

"I'm not picking a fight," he absolutely was, "I just genuinely do not understand."

"Well...." Damn it! "Well then you're stupid!"

"Why am I stupid? Because you can't explain that little concept to me?" Anthony asked, drinking from his glass. At least if the guy gets even more pissed off Anthony'll finally have an excuse to leave.

"Stop pissin' me off!" Harry said, louder and more aggressively now. The bartender looked tense.

Anthony, of course, did the exact opposite of what he was told. "How am I pissing you off?" he tilted his head, stopping for a moment to take a sip from his glass before returning to pissing him off.

"Actin' like I'm stupid an' all! I'm not stupid, okay!?" He kind of was.

Anthony was confused now. "What– what makes you think I think you're stupid?" Could it be the semi-condescending and mocking attitude? No, definitely not.

"Well...." He thought. What were they arguing over again? "Stop messin' with me."

Anthony frowned in genuine irritation. "I'm not...messing with you, or anything," he tried to deflect, but eventually just gave in. "...whatever. Yeah, you're pretty stupid, actually." He had run out of fucks to give about this.