Until Porthos stepped up behind him and gave the butt of the gun a tap to throw him off center.

Only, he was flirting with the wrong person...

"Aramis," Porthos hissed under his breath. "Go. Fix his coat."

A low, lingering chuckle came from Porthos. "You wish, Aramis."

"Pout all you want, 𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜 ♱! It was a bullshit move!"

There it was, again. That feeling... It felt as though a parasite had wiggled its way deep within Porthos' gut and was squirming around. It felt as though his entire body had been dipped into a blacksmith's forge. It felt... It felt.. "𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜 ♱..."

Stepping over towards the marksman, Porthos dropped down into a squat beside him. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Whoever dies first pays the tab."

Athos challenged 𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜 ♱ to go a week without flirting with anyone.