Horst is off the countertop and in his brother's personal space in a heartbeat, the moment he sets his protective coffee mug down. He squeezes cold fingers around Johannes's chin to keep his gaze trained where it is. "Dearest Johannes," he snarls, "we're very far from done. You don't make deals on my behalf. But certainly, by all means; I do so love when you make a pretense of being willing to discuss things with me well after the fact of some unilateral decision you've made. Discuss whatever tickles your fancy."

He steps away, opening his arms wide in invitation. The floor is Johannes's.