( makoto catches the silence of the pause and the brief fluctuation in obikawa’s demeanor, but it happens so quickly and smoothly that he can’t seem to grasp on to what the reason or purpose for either might be. his own expression creases at the corners in similar shades of confusion, just as unable to parse what the other man was saying as he was able to reconcile the memories and experiences of the person who was to the being that currently is.
it’s… strange, to be sure. but obikawa has always been strange to makoto’s eye—and that’s coming from a certified Weirdo™ who had spent several months in the company of bona fide demons. still, something like this isn’t a deterrent to him. it incites more curiosity than wariness, though perhaps makoto should reconsider more of the latter; his self-preservation instincts weren’t always sharpest, it would seem. )
Um… ( —the yakuza? ) It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.
( it’s not like he loses much in letting the topic go. he doesn’t have any experience with seedy, underworld types. this had perhaps been his first brush with such circles, and he thinks he’s learned his lesson.
something he needs to impress, it seems. ) Yeah, yeah… I’m not going to hang around places like that again, that’s for sure. ( he winces a little as the tightening grip on his shoulder sends a small wave of aches and pains radiating down his arm. he glances up towards obikawa. ) Maybe too good of a friend. What—are you offering to let me beat you up?
( he’s mostly being colloquial with the conversation… it’s not even makoto’s preferred method of hurting someone, really. too brutish. too painful even to oneself. he may have gotten a few good hits in, but he feels like those hurt him just as much as they hurt the other person. inefficient, by his own measure… )
no subject
it’s… strange, to be sure. but obikawa has always been strange to makoto’s eye—and that’s coming from a certified Weirdo™ who had spent several months in the company of bona fide demons. still, something like this isn’t a deterrent to him. it incites more curiosity than wariness, though perhaps makoto should reconsider more of the latter; his self-preservation instincts weren’t always sharpest, it would seem. )
Um… ( —the yakuza? ) It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.
( it’s not like he loses much in letting the topic go. he doesn’t have any experience with seedy, underworld types. this had perhaps been his first brush with such circles, and he thinks he’s learned his lesson.
something he needs to impress, it seems. ) Yeah, yeah… I’m not going to hang around places like that again, that’s for sure. ( he winces a little as the tightening grip on his shoulder sends a small wave of aches and pains radiating down his arm. he glances up towards obikawa. ) Maybe too good of a friend. What—are you offering to let me beat you up?
( he’s mostly being colloquial with the conversation… it’s not even makoto’s preferred method of hurting someone, really. too brutish. too painful even to oneself. he may have gotten a few good hits in, but he feels like those hurt him just as much as they hurt the other person. inefficient, by his own measure… )