Aiden, he had a certain way of words.
That wasn't a begrudging compliment. No. Bradley did feel, not diluted at all by his unadulterated glee at having found yet another target with such shamefully thin skin, that Aiden was a guy he could grow to like. Of course, he doubted such feelings would be reciprocated. Alas, that is the price he had to pay, for uncovering this goldmine of irritability and fragility in the first place, for removing the facade and unveiling Aiden's true weakness for the whole world to see.
A crabby and cantankerous edge to him that had just been unveiled, plus a certain flowery eloquence, a gift of gab, a rhetorical je ne sais quoi, combined to make him really fun to annoy. He had an easy wit in these moments of anger, a torrent of abuse flooding out of his mouths at a pace and with a seething intensity that Bradley could only respect. The strategy - attempting to put Bradley on the defensive - was palpable, and though it was doomed to fail and horrifically counterproductive, Bradley still respected ol' Beaky for having the tenacity to stick with it.
Of course, Bradley knew not to interrupt the tirade. It was hard to hold in his laughter, hard to resist the urge to twist Aiden's words to make it sound like Beaks was the one insulting his own flesh and blood, but oh so worth it.
It was comedy gold. Too good to be interrupted. And hell, Beaks was replenishing his arsenal, giving him ammunition for later. He really was a nice guy at heart. So considerate, even without intending to be.
He allowed a few seconds, for emotions to simmer down somewhat. For the outburst to sink in, make its impact known. Bradley nodded, and stepped out away from the table, as if to once again raise Aiden's hopes, that his wishes would be respected.
"Sure." He smiled. "I feel ya."
"I'll go polish my pole!" A thumbs up, just to make his sincerity unambiguous. "Any pictures of your sister, by the way?"