*bewildered by his brother's commitment to the bit, killua can't help but snort.* you're not making any sense.

*he eyes him carefully, hands stuffed safely back into his pockets to prevent them from investigating his altered body any further, though they itch with the urge to. he can't quite calculate kalluto's angle, unsure if he's just toying with him or really means what he's implying. he leans back at the hip, hefting his shoulders.*

...i don't have what you want.