[ he doesn't even try to hide his scoff as reggie stands. maybe his height might serve to intimidate most people, but jughead is way too used to this tactic by now — not just from him, but from his own guys. setting the remote down on the coffee table, he rolls his shoulders back as he angles his head up at him with a vague, almost amused smile. give him a fucking break, mantle. ]

Home? Are you seriously using that as your excuse? You don't come "home" more than once every, what? Two, three weeks? This isn't your home, Reggie. It's your pit stop in between all of your carnal traipses. It hasn't been your "home" for the past two years, so don't start calling it one now just to suit your fancy.

[ breathe, juggie. a full blown fight is not worth it. ]

Why are you even here? Didn't have enough time to get off at one of your fuck buddies' places instead? Or wait— did your two years of lascivious gallivanting finally leave you high and dry of viable paramours to leech off of?