#reliantxnavigator

     “ That can’t be right. “

He redid the numbers but still came up with the same answer. Something wasn’t adding up right. Who knew he’d struggle so much with such a simple equation ? Helios glanced around the bar for someone, spotting someone with oddly white hair; vaguely he remembered mixing a drink or two. He slid down the expanse of wood, paper in hand.

     “ Do you mind helping me out with this ? “

That looked like a guy that was way too deep inside his own head. Or maybe that was just his face. Yeah, he kinda did have the looks of a thinker—what a trooper! Still, if that was the case, he was in even more trouble than Bolin had initially realized.

It was time to give him a good yank back to reality.

And, well, if Bolin sloppily dropping into a seat next to him didn’t work to start that, then Bolin-themed philosophies would most definitely do the trick. “You know… After marathoning every low budget horror film I could manage last night, I just don’t understand why anyone would try to further aggravate their, like, attacker, you know?! I mean, come on, Sally, that killer isn’t gonna like you any better after kicking him in the groin or trying to scratch at him with your claws! You gotta befriend them! Compliment their hair! Let them know how slick their shoes look! —I know, I’m totally prepared for this situation. I’VE GOT IT ALL DOWN PAT, MAN.”

reliantxnavigator

Scars fascinated Kaneki as much as they disgusted him. He himself had so many scars, and there was a story behind each of them, a story he hated to tell and hated to have told to him constantly. There was no hiding many of them either; the patch covered up his eye, but thin, spidery white lines stretched across the skin of his cheek beneath them. There was no mistaking his black nails either, the way one of his fingers was always bent incorrectly, the limp he could never quite get rid of. He knew many ways to get scars, and had experienced many of them.

Yet for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where the person who sat next to him in the computer science class he’d taken (and god knows why he did that to himself) had gotten the scar on his lip. And he certainly knew better than to ask, but it did make the other interesting.

Maybe that was why, when he ran into trouble with his coding, he knew exactly who he was going to ask. Or maybe it was just that the other seemed friendly, and he’d never so much as made eye contact with anyone else in the class.