A merman's tear (dreamnotfound)

Chapter Six

"You've got some explaining to do." Dream demanded, his voice lined with annoyance.

George looked up, startled, as he pressed against the side of his glass enclosure.

Dream marched into the room, an air of confidence circulating him, as he came to a stop in front of the merman.

George wasn't quite sure what the man meant, but his disgruntled body language was enough of a hint to tell George that he wasn't happy. That, and the fact that his mouth was pressed into a thin, annoyed line.

Dream sat on the floor in front of George, which caused him to subconsciously shift backwards.

"You lied to me." Dream stated, matter of factly, while George narrowed his eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? He'd only been here a day, what could he have possibly lied about? He hadn't even said anything to lie about- oh.

That made sense. He must have figured out that George was lying about not being able to speak English.

George peered up at the dirty blonde's face, wishing that stupid mask wasn't there so he could see what Dream actually looked like, so he could determine his levels of anger.

Hoping that he was incorrect in his assumption, he played dumb. George managed a small shrug, and tilted his head in (fake) confusion.

Dream noticed this and shifted closer to the glass box of water. Dream was too close for comfort.

"Don't play dumb with me, merman. I can see right through your tricks now," he stated. "I know that you can understand me, so just stop with the act and talk."

George growled in warning as Dream leaned forward, and the man took the hint, shifting backwards until he wasn't within arms distance of the merman.

"Just speak." Dream persisted, "I need to ask you things, and I can't do that when you play this make-believe game of 'see how long it takes to piss off Dream'." 

George huffed slightly, options running through his mind at a rapid pace. If he didn't say anything, then he was in danger. He'd probably be tortured or something along the lines. But then again, if he did speak, he'd be admitting defeat.

He thought about it for a minute, as Dream sat there waiting, and finally made a decision. He'd rather admit a small defeat than being hurt.

He bit his lip, let out a sigh, and then murmured, rather quietly, "What do you want?"

Dream shifted slightly, whether it was in shock of being able to convince George to talk, or something else, he didn't know.

George saw him tap his knee, and then open his mouth. "So...you do talk?" he questioned, and George rolled his eyes.

"Of course I talk, you numpty." he snapped, "What do you think is coming out of my mouth right now, bubbles?"

That was rather bold of George to say, considering his hands were shaking and fear was strumming a melody through his heart, but it didn't matter, because Dream didn't seem to care, rather, he seemed to find it amusing.

The annoyance that had been circulating Dream since he'd walked in slowly dissipated and the blonde let a small smile slip onto his face.

"Right. Sorry, dumb." Dream coughed, and George had to refrain himself from rolling his eyes again.

"You needed me for something," George reminded him, "what is it?"

Dream snapped his fingers together, "Right! Um, well, I need your tears."