I summon all my height - about five foot five - as I glare at Secundus. The little weasel has been braiding my cables again. It’ll take me hours to figure out whether they plug into my guitar or my laptop.

“Secundus.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping I look authoritative and not like a bratty sixteen year old, because I am definitely one of those things. “I know you’ve come from the past and there were no such things as cables or chargers in Ancient Rome,” I pause to make sure he’s listening, “but I actually need to charge my phone, so…”

Secundus raises an eyebrow, not glancing up from his braiding. “So…?”

“So,” I somehow resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Gimmie my stuff back.”

But Secundus chews his lip, deep in thought. “You know you said I’m from Roman times?” he says, a wicked smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t that make me older than you? I don’t have to do what you say?”

“Physically, perhaps,” I mutter, “but in the emotional and mental department-“

“You’re a mental department,” Secundus counters, still not entirely up-to-date on modern insults.

“I’m older than you!” I snap, feeling my face turn red when Secundus snickers. “Just- ugh! Whatever!”

It’s not my most original retort, and I’m certainly not proud of myself when I turn and storm out - from my own room! - but it was probably for the best.

I’ll just wait until Secundus traps himself in those cables, just like he did last time, I smile smugly to myself. Then we’ll see who’s a mental department.