[of all points of contention to be had, the location for Tifa’s favor wasn’t one of them, to Midousuji. he’d definitely had some big thinks on the roof of his lonely little house. for being such an uptight, unemotional (or so he thinks, which decidedly, isn’t true) wad, Midousuji definitely believes in pursuing where your vibes want you. not that he’d put it that way, cuz gag.
he’s distracted back into his pocket, peeking at Aerith’s reply. he was planning on ignoring whatever she said and just to head over, but her reply makes him scoff (dramatically), rolling his eyes and whipping his head in a sideways flop before slowly responding with just his thumb.]
That implies you CAN fix a broken neck.
[basically he only responded to point out some petty semantic, rather than any sort of normal or more polite response. and he slips his watch back into his pocket, heading towards Aerith’s. Midousuji’s memory is good—he’s only been there once, but he knows many different routes to get there from various wandering in the city, building his mental map alongside a paper one. from his house, as he remembers from his arduous, fevered treck back home, it’s downhill to Aerith’s area, which cuts the time well (especially since the bike has a steel frame, because obsolete ancestral-infancy model). even if it’s bumpy as hell, on cobble stone... it’s a good thing that Midousuji never sits to ride, but he doesn’t like how it tickles and numbs his hands.
once he arrives, Midousuji quietly leans his bike against the side of Aerith’s house, sort of hidden behind some well kept shrubbery, in the darker shadows cast by the wall of the home. curiously, he peers around the back that’s close to where he parks his bike, and once he finds the stairs, he heads up. slowly, because it’s dark, and Midousuji does have some motor problems... so despite his clumsiness, his tall, hunched figure, wide by the set of his rib cage and shoulders, rises silently behind Aerith. the whites of his eyes catch in the moonlight a bit better than his skin does.
all the same, Midousuji doesn’t announce himself. quite simply, Midousuji lumbers up beside Aerith, and he doesn’t even look at her as he drops suddenly beside her, settling to get comfortable as he sits about a foot and a half away from her.
once settled, it’s then that Midousuji glances at Aerith, pulling down his mask as he tilts his head back to peer at her. and his mouth just kinda hangs open stupidly, because somehow, saying something basic and conversationally mechanical like “hello” feels stupid and unnecessary. alas, Midousuji is awkward as fuck. he blinks, then,]
I’m back.
[how is that any better? who knows. but in Midousuji’s mind, just self aware enough to know that was awkward, it’s sufficiently less stupid.]
no subject
he’s distracted back into his pocket, peeking at Aerith’s reply. he was planning on ignoring whatever she said and just to head over, but her reply makes him scoff (dramatically), rolling his eyes and whipping his head in a sideways flop before slowly responding with just his thumb.]
That implies you CAN fix a broken neck.
[basically he only responded to point out some petty semantic, rather than any sort of normal or more polite response. and he slips his watch back into his pocket, heading towards Aerith’s. Midousuji’s memory is good—he’s only been there once, but he knows many different routes to get there from various wandering in the city, building his mental map alongside a paper one. from his house, as he remembers from his arduous, fevered treck back home, it’s downhill to Aerith’s area, which cuts the time well (especially since the bike has a steel frame, because obsolete ancestral-infancy model). even if it’s bumpy as hell, on cobble stone... it’s a good thing that Midousuji never sits to ride, but he doesn’t like how it tickles and numbs his hands.
once he arrives, Midousuji quietly leans his bike against the side of Aerith’s house, sort of hidden behind some well kept shrubbery, in the darker shadows cast by the wall of the home. curiously, he peers around the back that’s close to where he parks his bike, and once he finds the stairs, he heads up. slowly, because it’s dark, and Midousuji does have some motor problems... so despite his clumsiness, his tall, hunched figure, wide by the set of his rib cage and shoulders, rises silently behind Aerith. the whites of his eyes catch in the moonlight a bit better than his skin does.
all the same, Midousuji doesn’t announce himself. quite simply, Midousuji lumbers up beside Aerith, and he doesn’t even look at her as he drops suddenly beside her, settling to get comfortable as he sits about a foot and a half away from her.
once settled, it’s then that Midousuji glances at Aerith, pulling down his mask as he tilts his head back to peer at her. and his mouth just kinda hangs open stupidly, because somehow, saying something basic and conversationally mechanical like “hello” feels stupid and unnecessary. alas, Midousuji is awkward as fuck. he blinks, then,]
I’m back.
[how is that any better? who knows. but in Midousuji’s mind, just self aware enough to know that was awkward, it’s sufficiently less stupid.]