the city is large and sprawling and though zitao has thrown himself into its swarm more than once, he finds it both hard to believe and traverse. his errand is a simple one--he wants to see a phone booth, romantic, red and tall. the countless amount of films and dramas he had spent his time in captivity watching carried many a scene featured around the structures, and so finding one and taking a... uh... what was the term for it again? selpho (self + photo)? selsho (self + shot)? selca, yes, selca near one was a necessity.

even if he didn't have anyone back home to show it to. home.

zitao rolls his shoulders, growing uneasy the further he walks into the city. so far, all the male has seen is payphones--they were not the same thing, just shams, shams!--and it begins to grate on his optimism. maybe finding one alone wasn't as easy as he had originally thought. it takes him only moments to convince himself to approach a stranger, petite and raven haired. timidly, he taps on her shoulder, backing up immediately and dropping his hands to prove he was no threat whatsoever.

coughs.