You're right. Sorry. It just shocked me a little, seeing your face without a smile.
[ It's the right words. And he's trying to act them out. It'd be enough to fool anyone else, even with the heavy breathing. It doesn't feel like it's sufficient. It isn't like before. He can't force her to be Seiko-chan, who presumably reacts better to surprises. She's Bottle-chan, a girl whose name he doesn't know and isn't going to ask. But she chooses a cassette tape from the collection of normal things to say and swallows it down and when it starts to choke her she presses play and asks about paper cranes. ]
Yeah. Come look.
[ As he enters and closes the door behind him, as he steps closer and cautiously guides her over to the little pile of patterned paper, Hierophant lifts from her shoulders. The paper rustles. Tears along the lines Hierophant folded into it until he has a square to work with. With the sort of slowness that looks more like care and an aim for precision than uncertainty, the paper begins to fold itself.
He doesn't know if it's the right thing, but it's something. Something hopefully more harmless than whatever went so wrong. ]
He likes these kinds of things. Detail work, where so long as he follows each instruction exactly it'll turn out the same way every time.
no subject
[ It's the right words. And he's trying to act them out. It'd be enough to fool anyone else, even with the heavy breathing. It doesn't feel like it's sufficient. It isn't like before. He can't force her to be Seiko-chan, who presumably reacts better to surprises. She's Bottle-chan, a girl whose name he doesn't know and isn't going to ask. But she chooses a cassette tape from the collection of normal things to say and swallows it down and when it starts to choke her she presses play and asks about paper cranes. ]
Yeah. Come look.
[ As he enters and closes the door behind him, as he steps closer and cautiously guides her over to the little pile of patterned paper, Hierophant lifts from her shoulders. The paper rustles. Tears along the lines Hierophant folded into it until he has a square to work with. With the sort of slowness that looks more like care and an aim for precision than uncertainty, the paper begins to fold itself.
He doesn't know if it's the right thing, but it's something. Something hopefully more harmless than whatever went so wrong. ]
He likes these kinds of things. Detail work, where so long as he follows each instruction exactly it'll turn out the same way every time.