#hh. interaction

“a kick like that is nothing to me,” hareluya drawls, letting go of his initial heated tone once he realizes that maybe he's also at fault for surprising the other (but only a little, this guy is definitely mostly the one in the wrong.) he puts down the arm he used to block the kick and shoves the crumpled up paper bag for the korokke he just finished in his jeans pocket, before redistributing the bags he's holding, each filled to the brim with snacks he's acquired while walking around the town. “but i won't stand for you grouping me up with those weakasses.”