[ He pulls back, arms folded. Flowey's laughter is infectious, enough that even Bigby can't help the cheeky smile growing on his face. ]

As if I need to say anything to piss him off. I'm living proof he can't hunt for shit. [ It's bordering on petty, he more than knows that, but there's something relieving about just saying fuck it. ] Some advice? Make that impression irritating enough to give me a headache next time, and I'd say you nailed it.