（ he's still mulling that strange conversation over in his mind when he makes his way down to where she'd suggested they meet. she already knows what he looks like, and he at least knows to be on the alert for a similar enough hair colour for it to have caught her eye, so he's not worried about that half so much.
he's just — a little on edge. he hasn't left his room much, has talked to people even less. he's a little skittish, jumpy in a way that speaks more to trauma than anxiety disorder. when he sees her, she somehow looks just how he was expecting.
maybe a few centimetres taller??
but he does raise a hand in greeting, a brief flash of the diamond insignia tattooed on his right wrist, worryingly darkened, and then stuffs his hand back in his pocket. he's wearing all black, more because it's a familiar comfort, a callback to his shihakushō than any dramatic propensity for hot topic. ）
↪ action;
he's just — a little on edge. he hasn't left his room much, has talked to people even less. he's a little skittish, jumpy in a way that speaks more to trauma than anxiety disorder. when he sees her, she somehow looks just how he was expecting.
maybe a few centimetres taller??
but he does raise a hand in greeting, a brief flash of the diamond insignia tattooed on his right wrist, worryingly darkened, and then stuffs his hand back in his pocket. he's wearing all black, more because it's a familiar comfort, a callback to his shihakushō than any dramatic propensity for hot topic. ）
Hey. Nami?