He sits her on his lap, rests his hand on her full hip, and looks down at her, "Why are you mad at me?" When she starts talking, he isn't listening to a thing she's saying. He doesn't mean to be rude but, he's just looking at her, admiring her. Admiring her big brown eyes that were filled with irritation. Admiring her dark brown curls in a messy bun, that shook when she moved her head as she spoke, emphasizing her frustration. Admiring her little hands that are currently balled up into fists. "God, you're so fucking pretty."