mob and Verity

The evening in the room dragged on unbearably slowly. After that horrific day when Twixel was gone, the atmosphere between them had changed forever. Mob lay half-reclined on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, staring vacantly into the void through the green lenses of his glasses. Verity was settled on his lap as usual—at this moment, he looked like a perfectly ordinary, harmless yellow smiley ball. Mob mechanically held him with his hand, but there was no longer any of the former warmth in those movements. Every slide of his fingers across the smooth yellow surface now served as a reminder of what this "mod" was capable of.
Suddenly, the air around them sparkled almost imperceptibly, and a tiny golden star flashed above the ball's head. Mob didn't even have time to react before the light, round object on his stomach suddenly grew heavy, rapidly shifting its shape.
A second later—and instead of a ball, a person was already sitting right on Mob, unceremoniously straddling his hips.
A sharp suit, a light shirt with a perfectly tied yellow tie, and neat light-yellow hair. Verity crossed his arms nonchalantly over his chest, leaning forward slightly. That same unchanging smiling mask remained frozen on his face, behind which it was impossible to discern a single genuine emotion.
Mob froze under the weight, his green eyes behind the mask with the red stripe widening in fear. The tension in his body reached its limit—sitting so close to a being that had recently cold-bloodedly taken his friend's life was a true ordeal.
"Well, why are you looking at me like that?" Verity said with a slight, barely perceptible smirk in his voice, tilting his head to the side and continuing to look down at Mob.