#dryftr

        now, whatever could this be? shiny black optics scan the form of a particular girl in a crowd of hundreds, walking in the opposite direction to his own casual lope, with special attention to the steel oblong over her shoulder. such containers generally meant trouble – add that to her unique look ( blood red and black is, quite obviously, a common colour scheme among professional killers ) & her short outfit looking like it was stitched for fighting, and distrust & paranoia rear in him like a serpent. they pass, a brief moment of CONTACT; & in that matter of seconds, deft rodent fingers unclasp the case’s latches, blindly pull out whatever’s inside, and close it just as fast as he continues to walk. threat averted, and now it’s time to inspect the goods... but pointy ears perk & swivel in confusion as he looks down at not a gun or bludgeon, but feet of pure scarlet edge.

          ❛ hey. ❜ he turns, & his rough tones are directed stridently at the young assassin(?) alone – what’s the harm in getting her attention, after all, now that she’s disarmed?