—during the day,
I guess I'm okay ♫ — @reviivere
This wasn’t a first, but it felt peculiar - the sort of situation where something nudged him to speak up despite normally ignoring it entirely.
Delic wasn’t new to garnering attention. He got plenty of glances without even trying, The intentions, admittedly, being questionable sometimes. That said, nothing had happened yet, not a comment nor a remark nor some sort of involuntary shudder or form of interest. Nothing. And though he could had let that attention linger, a feeling in his gut had him sigh softly as he placed his drink down on the counter.
“Say,” Delic started, speaking up smoothly, as if he’d simply retaken a conversation which was pending for his response, “I’d argue—” the blond leaned dramatically towards a side to shorten the distance between him and the individual who’d been stealing glances, making it painfully obvious who he was speaking to. Either way, there was only one other person nearby, even if the space in between them made it obvious they were not previously interacting (not in a two-sided way at least) and were not part of each other’s outing. “—that more than three casual glances could make anyone think you’re interested in them, wouldn’t you say?” And this was the first time the blond looked back, fuchsia eyes finding their target in the other’s eyes before taking in the details of their face as opposed to their expression, picking up on that nudging feeling.
“Or is it that I look familiar somehow?”
“...” With a humoured scoff and half a smirk, Roppi brought his own drink to his mouth for a sip of liquid courage as the man that had piqued his gaze read him like an open book. Of course he looked familiar, apart from his fuchsia eyes and unfamiliar attire, but otherwise he resembled a picture perfect to the infamous fortissimo of Ikebukuro.
But Roppi needed just the two first glances to see that it wasn’t Shizuo (not only was there a terrible colour mismatch, but the absence of glasses and the appearance of headphones that he knew Shizuo would never wear), and he only did the third glance for pleasure.
“Hm, which answer would you like to hear?” He offered, looking up at the blonde with innocent eyes and a careful smile. Roppi knew better than most people what it was like to be confused with another person, and the dread and dangers that followed such tiresome assumptions. He also knew not to do the same assumptions to other people who had the same, identificational issues, especially if they shared face with violence himself.
But alas, he was also doomed to be a stupid excuse of a human being with two pair of stupid human eyes that gawked when a person (or rather, a lookalike) of his own complicated desire entered his line of sight.
