Blackie froze when Micah and Victor caught him mid-act. He paused, rubbed the side of his nose, then sighed in mild resignation.
"Was it really that obvious?"
He aimed the question at Victor. Victor only nodded, a grin tugging at his lips despite his effort to hold it back. He might not have known exactly what Blackie was plotting, but after spending enough time around him, the so-called serious face had become a reliable warning sign that trouble was brewing.
"Tch. Spoilsports," Blackie muttered.
The dramatic air around him collapsed instantly, the spark of mischief snuffed out now that the moment had been ruined. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, clearly uninterested in salvaging whatever scheme he had been cooking up.
Outside on the porch, Blackie scanned the yard, hands resting on his hips. His gaze quickly locked onto his earlier handiwork.
"Hey, you," he shouted. "Yeah, you. Get over here."
