So You Gonna Come Out & Play?

Sleek…oh Sleek…please come out to play...
I slip into the room. No stealth, all swagger, all “did you really think you could Eff wit’ me?”
Fresh chucks on my feet, fresh shirt on my back, the heart of a champion beating in my chest.
Youre not hiding under the table are you?
I kneel, flip up the table cloth and there he is. Curled into a little ball, sobbing. I reach out to give him a little nudge but stop before I can, my fingers an inch from his shoulder.
What am I doing? I ask myself. What did he ever do to me?
Slowly, almost without my knowledge, I feel my fingers scrunch themselves into a fist. He questioned my thugoraty, that’s what.
With what took some considerable effort, I unclenched my fist. If I hadn’t I probably would have slugged him on the back of the head. Instead, I did what I had initially intended and gave him a lil shove.
After what seemed forever, he turned his tear streaked to face me. His eyes were red and his nose was a mess. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
So you gonna come out and play?
He swallowed. Cleared his throat. Swallowed again. Wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Made an attempt at his eyes but gave up. Too much mucus already on his shirt
Here, I said and handed him a hankie
With an appreciative nod he took it. Finished his eyes and made one more pass at his nose.
He held out the hankie to give it back to me but I told him he could keep it. it might come in handy.
So, I said trying again, are you gonna come out and play?
He cleared his throat again, made a strange clucking sound with his tongue and said…well, what did you say Sleek?