[ Oh, he hates this. He hates this very much. That patronizing tone of voice had been grating enough, but it's nothing compared to the final roll of the dice. Fuuta doesn't have the mental wherewithal to register those pointed teeth, or even whether he's willing to go along with an act like that in such a public setting.

His brain's entirely filled with thoughts of whether it would be worse to prove the guy right by refusing to back off, or if it would be worse to do as the guy says and balk because he doesn't really want to do that.

Fuuta's expression is scrunched up as he hesitates, his cheeks flushed, and there's a significant pause before he finally barks out a (slightly forced) laugh. ]

-- n-not like I care? [ Oh he cares so much. His face grows even redder as the nearby staff titter in excitement, and he tries to ignore it, instead leaning forward and bracing an elbow against the tabletop so he can shoot Midnight a challenging stare. ] But are you really okay with doing something like that? You didn't even want me to take my shirt off. Don't go pushing yourself if you're not comfortable with it, old man.

[ He has no idea if this guy actually is old, of course. But he'll say whatever it takes to get a rise out of the guy at this point, and hopefully get him to back off first. ]