â...huh.â tenga exhales shakily through his nose, just kind of... doing all that he can --- which, at the moment, is glancing through the clear glass of the broad, recently-cleaned restaurant window with the convenient location of right next to him. cool. his four eyes gorge themselves on an absolute feast of possibly the most spectacular & attention-grabbing glob of vehicles headed for, uh, someplace or other down on the street below. huh. hmm. realleh nice.
 & so, a mere glance puh-retty much turns into a long gaze, & sooner or later, the musclehead feels as if he can maaaybe, pooossibly, aaalmost kinda try to ignore the glaringly awkward situation he's apparently being four-point swished into.
 itâs raininâ men ( not really, but close ), so their friends --- & everyone else, pretty much --- had all decided to get tha heck out of dodge all at once the second it started sprinkling, which in effect leaves only himself ( tenga, that is !! ) & a probably blank-faced katsuhira sitting across from each other in like, this ultra-modern booth sorta thing that tenga had honestly found pretty cool & genuinely amusing just moments prior, before allâa this happened.
 thing is, he & katsuhira havenât really done much along the vein of bros beinâ bros & chillinâ one-on-one since the whole... uh, thought-sharing thing. the stormy stunt. the gale-force brouhaha. tengaâs honestly surprised that itâs gone on this long --- although, it really ainât nobodyâs fault but his. ( hah! silly tenga! he actually thought putting it off would be the logical answer. despite the fact that âputting it offâ has literally never been the answer to anything, ever ! literally. )
 & so, here he is, contemplating the fact that he, hajime tenga, has possibly in his heart of hearts been trying to avoid exactly this kind of uh, eventuation all along. contemplating how all the energy he had literally just been spending trying to âleave it for laterâ couldâve actually been put into trying instead to think of something useful for his crusty bubble butt to say to the lad currently sitting across from him. ahem, he believes this calls for a sarcastic: âreeeal good nice one, tenga my homie.â --- ahem !
 âsoooo, katsu-hira ---â tenga brings himself to speak finally, having to turn his whole torso in order to look at the only other one around. âlooks like the two of us... actually forgot our umbrellas !â he makes an attempt at a lighthearted grin & a small chuckle. âhuh, wouldya look at that, my man --- can i get uhh âfaaaaail?ââ
 truthfully seeing it as the best possible idea at the time, tenga lifts both hands & finger-guns across the table --- but, naturally, not without both the index & middle finger of one of his hands colliding with his glass of dr. p, sending the whole thang tipping over like an extra-exhausted tower in italy --- or whatever.
 it was seriously like somethinâ out of the horrible, awkwardly-acted b movie of nightmares, the black-ish brown carbonated liquid toootally flying everywhere --- &, as events would have it, mostly landing on katsuhiraâs very white shirt. oh wow. âcause when in doubt, guys, thaaatâs what we do ! mmhmm !!
@apathiesâ!













