“You can open your eyes now, if you want to,” she sighed as she continued rinsing out his hair. Kicking him lightly back, she scowled at him before returning his attention to his hair. “Yes, you do and don’t flick me Gerry.”
He opened his eyes pleased to see the pink water flowing towards the sink as his hair returned to its natural colour. His anger
and painspiked at he use of the nickname, and his hands clenched around the bath tub, the tub remoulding under his hands with a resisting groan. “What are you going to do about it?” He asked resisting the childish impulse to flick her again.