Atton, being the reasonable non-nineteen-year-old adult that he was, did what he usually did in situations like this: racked his tired and scattershot brain for something Sparkle had done he could throw back in the kid's face in lieu of even acknowledging the lecture, found nothing, and instead just rolled his eyes.

But he took the elbow to the ribs like a champ, which might have been some kind of consolation. "Later."