—@inspirenjional
“So, er.”
It isn’t often that Izuru frequents any restaurant this early in the day. Just past noon, and the place is bustling with lunchtime activity — a few shinigami already getting started with a hot meal or even a drink, a fair number of Seireitei residents looking for a hot bowl of noodles. Even so, the place is much less crowded than he’s come to expect in the late evenings he usually spends here, usually with friends.
That isn’t to say that his current company isn’t a friend, of course. It’s just — well. Circumstances and... and other things. Interfering.
He can’t read Renji’s expression, which is probably just as much a product of the slim amount of time they’ve spent together in the last thirty years as it is his own anxiety. Since the host has already taken their orders and their menus, the only thing between zhim and Izuru is a scrap of calligraphy. Izuru can still see the tiny pinholes where he’d stuck it to Renji’s door and winces slightly.
“About that.”
