Sacred Days - Kenta Suzuki (Variety Show) [open!]
“...”
Hakutaku ogled at the larger stranger a few paces away from him, somewhat perplexed as he seemed to have a conversation with himself, out loud. The thought of others actually hearing all of what Haku ever had to say sent a chill down his spine. It’s like he wanted everyone to hear his inner monologue, his vulgar, lewd monologue. In spite of the other’s ramblings he was also inquisitive in regards to what the other person had to say. Albeit the rather interesting wording and grammar choices, Haku had only slight trouble deciphering what he was saying, most of the difficulty lying within trying to hear the other person.
What he had to say certainly did intrigue the flimsier of the two, Hakutaku giving himself mental flick on the forehead, as he didn’t consider the possibility of everything simply being a staged act. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t completely awake at first, or that he’s devolving into a scrub, but Haku briefly dismissed the former, as like hell that would ever be the case. Choice A seemed the most plausible.
Still, even in the face of his rather antisocial psyche, it didn’t change the fact that he was practically clueless about the situation at hand, and it seemed that the stranger seemed to be treating the predicament lightly, but with care. It wouldn’t kill him to at the very least to try and talk to him. Hopefully.
“Gh-- H- Hi - I’m. Well, I’m sure you have some idea about-- Some idea about- Um. What’s happening?”
Fumbling over his words, he dug his nails into the sleeves of his jacket out of frustration. He darted his gaze to the side, Haku exhaling, figuring that the other person probably couldn’t even hear his weak utterance. It’s been a long time since he’s had to, well, talk to someone who wasn’t family, and even if he’s a pro at what he does, he certainly isn’t a pro at this.
