Tidus is already turned to face Squall, chin up, finally having reason to acknowledge more than their lower half. Sounds and looks like a promise, and it makes him giddy behind his own hardened stare, gives a target for the bite he wants to take so desperately. His fists come out with his right hand splaying out, waving in a mock gesture. Expression hardened, his brow as tight as the hard pull of his mouth.

“Do something about it,” he goads, voice thick. Tidus steps forward, and he's aware of his own limbs, watching for Squall's—and he won't stop stop moving into his space until he has to practically bump Squall again.

He startin'.