平和な

💕 : )

rejectress 

          She's used to being bumped into by people at this point and she's used to her apologies going ignored as well, so she doesn't bother to turn and voice her dismay at having bumped shoulders when not having meant to...even though this one had been a little harder than most.

                   「 ✗ 」—» There was a vague sense of relief when she dubbed him “-san” in favor of “-chan”, a small thing he could be glad of in the midst of this bizarre situation. He was already ruffled enough, and girls with her look were fond of skipping the respectful form of the honorific these days, it seemed to him. Especially with Yata himself, much to his chagrin. If he could avoid that here, he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain. ❝ Then you’re Inoue, ❞ came the gruff response, eyes turned away from her face and to the sky in embarrassment. A part of him knew he should tack on an honorific to her own name, but a larger part of him reminded the vanguard that he wasn’t supposed to care. He was, after all, a stereotypical ‘punk’. You needed to earn his respect if you wanted something like that.

          Inoue works fine, it's what most of her friends tend to call her anyway. Even if they aren't exactly friends yet...more like they met because of an unfortunate circumstance. Still, it's fine either way. Though the fact that he refuses to look at her is a bit strange...he's been nervous the entire time, even yelling at her to get dressed when she was technically dressed. It must be something dealing with her gender, she supposes. It's not a big deal right now, but if it persists...she'll worry about that later. ❝ It was for battle. ❞ Yeah, for battle. But even if it was for battle, even she herself was not entirely comfortable with it, she'd have much rather preferred modest clothing, but she also did not think something like her way of dressing defined her, so it should not matter.

                   「 ✗ 」—» As the sweatshirt was pulled snugly over the girl’s head and wiggled into place, the deep red flush that had crept over Yata’s face slowly faded to a pink stain that swept across his cheeks and lingered over the tips of his ears, a visible reminder that even with all of her skin covered, the ginger still posed a major distraction for the clansman. Any girl that was close to his age left him a flustered, stuttering mess, incapable of social interaction, but the shock to his system that this one had left would undoubtedly linger for some time to come. He was already wishing he could be rid of her, could shoo her off somewhere, but there was the blaring fact that she was now wearing his sweatshirt. There was no way in hell he was going to demand it back after all that, but Yata was also reluctant to part with it. It was, after all, one of the few things he had from home. And so, he was stuck with her. Might as well introduce himself, too.

          As much as she was thankful for the sweatshirt to cover herself the problem that remained was that she now had to...keep it for some time. She couldn't give it back right away and she doubted that he'd even want it back immediately since she had worn it. It didn't exactly feel right to keep it either, but what else could she do? ❝ Yata-san then! ❞ Another nod towards his introduction as she duly noted his name. It's surely not one she'll be forgetting anytime soon, that's for sure. And even though he says he's fine, judging by the shade of pink that remained on his face, he obviously wasn't. It's kind of funny how he's so nervous around her and she hasn't done a single thing but exist...and bump into him, but that had been an honest accident.

                   「 ✗ 」—» The ringing in his ears was almost enough to drown out the stuttered reply the girl before him gave, the whooshing sound like a roar in his ears from the blood rushing through his face and the aftereffects of his scream. He wanted to clap his hands over his ears entirely, to close his eyes and immediately walk away, but at this point Yata knew he couldn’t. People were already staring, giving odd looks at the shrieking boy and the scarcely-clad girl at his feet. It was a weird scene, and he sure as hell didn’t want people to start getting even weirder ideas about what was really going on. Yeah, definitely not.

          Unsure of what to do, she remains seated still. He'll make a move to help her eventually, or at least she hopes he will. She's more than capable of getting up on her own, but it'd be just a little strange to just walk away from this and leave him as he is, but as things are..would anything be able to calm him down? Words seemed to fall on deaf ears as she looked up at him, a forced smile as she tried to think of the best possible way to handle the situation.

                   「 ✗ 」—» When Yata had stepped out of his door that morning, he hadn’t expected to die. It had been an entirely normal day, the youth having departed from the bar HOMRA with a skateboard tucked under one arm and a cloud of aggression following his every step. So, that is to say, nothing out of the ordinary. The day was cold but busy, the holidays near, so it wasn’t really a big surprise when the vanguard felt someone bump into him from behind, but it didn’t mean he was going to just let it be. ❝ Watch where you’re fucking goi — ❞ he started, bowling over the apology being given by the offender. That is, until…

          The strangled noise coming from him had not been what she had expected to happen. Sure, she was used to being ogled at by most men...but this was entirely different. Not knowing how to react, she can only stare in surprise as he grew even more flushed by the second. ❝ I-- ❞ Words are then interrupted by a piercing shriek, apologies were obviously not going to work this time.