Kogitsunemaru could likely relate, given his own story. 

Nevertheless, he found himself staring for longer than he meant to… The moment he realized was the moment Fenris seemed to be bothered by his gaze. The ears atop his head perked up when he heard the other’s voice for the first time. And when he made eye contact… He could see it then. Something in the other’s eyes. Kogitsunemaru wanted to know more about this one. 

“… I apologize. Admittedly, I was distracted by your appearance…”

Regardless of what he felt, however, his expression soured a bit, sizing the larger one up. It was only natural -- to fall for the first bit of kindness one was shown was nothing short of an amateur’s death sentence. “... I am not. Is that a problem?” With a little more bite in his voice than he intended, he tilted his head. Studying. Always on the defensive.

And she’s finding collecting the experiences of strangers is one of the few pleasures she has left.

“It’s kind of comforting, how familiar any city is if you look close enough– dirty streets, gritty underbellies–” She glances at the crowd around them. Someones reading a magazine, most are on their phones, one of them is staring at his watch. None of them are looking at each other. “People packed so close together, and all that’s done is made them really good at ignoring everything outside their line of sight.” 

 The flow of traffic calms, and the little silhouette of a man flashes green on the other side of the street. They all move in time with each other, like some sort of programmed collective. 

And with such a title came the constant for meager conditions. Even as he ran, it was always abysmal and he always treated with scorn. The gritty underbelly, as she said, was his typical. Even the mansion in Kirkwall was still a run down place -- there was only so much he could do to fix it up while also attempting to deflect attention away from himself. Of course, in certain company he could admit that things had been significantly better in traveling with Hawke... but even they could not fix the habitual pattern of misfortune that was his very existence. 

Maybe some people were just doomed for that sort of thing.

“... Life is life.” He repeated, rolling the shoulder which held onto her box, “... Yes.” And at her proposal, he gave her a sideways glance. It all seemed too knowing to simply be a removed observation.

 Might as well get acquainted with those you don’t know, right?

The situation was honestly a familiar one to him, what with Hawke and their merry gang of misfits running about Kirkwall together. They didn’t travel as a large group -- in fact, it was all too common for one to be missing doing their own kind of work for the day.

And perhaps it was the familiarity, the sameness he felt in even such a small gesture, that encouraged him not to simply scoff and brush off this stranger’s request... or at least not immediately, of course.

She lets him take the box with no resistance. He hardly even shrugs at the weight of it and it makes the minuscule bit of guilt she’d felt instantly dissipate. Favor for a favor, an eye for an eye– something like that?

It’s the wrong context for the phrase but it still makes sense. 

“This way.” She nods in the direction of oncoming foot traffic, it’s rush hour and all the commuters are returning home after a grueling nine to five. Not a good time to run errands or get lost. 

But she weaves through the crowds with the grace of someone who’s navigated urban jungles all her life, and she glances over her shoulder every now and then to make sure he’s still following. Between the crowds and her obnoxious luggage, it’s a wonder that they don’t get separated (though they have quite a few calls). Red looks up at him when they’re stalled at a crosswalk, smile wicked but tone sincere.

“I nearly lost you a few times back there– think we should hold hands?” She doesn’t wait for a reaction though, uses the pause to lead into what she actually wants to say. “Honestly, from one detached stranger to another– how are you holding up?”  

If not for certain folk, that is.

Her comment is met in kind, his lips the ghost of a smirk. Just as quickly as she continued, however, it was gone. Holding up? She probably did not truly care, but he would not deny himself a conversation he imagined could remain pleasant. A surprisingly... healthy thought, honestly.

“Fine, I suppose.” His tone vague, as usual. What changed was the afterthought he actually chose to share rather than simply keep to himself.

Nagasone’s voice broke through the monotonous convergence of voices within. He’s long ordered his chocolate cone and had been lingering about allowing himself to intake smaller laps. The store in question tended to offer free samples according to the latest flavor advertisement, or even if business needs an extra kick. He enjoyed this establishment a fair enough deal to frequent it, the tsukumogami finding himself rather addicted to the flavor.

By the time he had caught the stranger’s attention, Nagasone had been partially finished with his cone. His expression lit with a smile as he continues his initial thought directed to the other.

Nevertheless, he straightened, looking over at the man who in size and even demeanor had... familiarity. It couldn’t be placed just yet, perhaps lost in how this situation continued to overwhelm him. His eyes would return to the cup in his hands, tiny and so pink. Bubblegum, he had said... but what was that, even? That supposed flavor had never been experienced before.

Not exactly poised to trust a stranger, he hesitated, but eventually with a frown scooped the tiny spoon’s worth of pink. How could a food item be that vibrant and not be some kind of fruit, he wondered. Glaring down at it would not change a thing, however, and soon he found himself actually ingesting it. Perhaps the largest show of vulnerability on his features, then, would be actually processing this flavor for the first time. A rare sight the stranger alone could enjoy.

“It...” He began, really to no one in particular despite the other standing there. “.... It is... different.” But not necessarily bad.

And just like that, something, something he could not discern caused him to look at the other once again. Something else brought the words forth on his tongue, actually asked rather than just thought, perhaps a result of that nagging familiarity -- “and what is that?” 

(Bold what applies.)

ｂａｓｉｃｓ:

WHO OF YOU IS:

Older? muse/mun Taller? muse/mun Richer? muse/mun Neater? muse/mun Nicer? muse/mun Smarter? muse/mun Funnier? muse/mun

ａｄｖａｎｃｅｄ:

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sexual Attraction ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Romantic Attraction ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Crushing ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Squishing ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sensual Attraction ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction

Low ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ High

Ambitious // Vindictive

Self-critical // Selfless 

Idealistic // Relaxed 

Loyal // Innovative

Patient // Neat

Kind // Moody 

Fearful // Open

Frugal // Glamorous

Trusting // Confident 

Perfectionist // Patriotic

Methodical // Humorous