"Hickory_roasted again, I see," muttered Bartholomew.
Edmund ignored him as he breezed through the_drawing_room, nylon wind_pants swishing in the stagnant_indoor_air. Lifting a dusty vase filled_with_nothing_in_particular, Edmund balked inexplicably.
Bartholomew watched unamusedly as Edmund balked inexplicably, and declared flatly, "Hickory_smoked and balking with_all the inexplicability of a_honeyed_almond."
Edmund turned to him, still_holding the vase, and responded by sticking_out his tongue and crossing_his_eyes. "I am still holding this_vase, for no apparent reason," observed Edmund, to_no_obvious_end.
With a snort, Bartholomew rolled his eyes and stood up. He moved near to Edmund, embracing_him with one arm and returning the vase to the end_table with the_other. Bartholomew hugged him, sighing breathily.
Edmund languidly accepted the_hug, and responded to Bartholomew's sigh with an exuberant, breathy sigh of his own. They_kissed.
It was not the first time something_like_this had happened to them.