That was my first assumption, [Midousuji admits bluntly, but not with any kind of tone—rather kind of an absence of one, watching as they pack up the CDs again.]

Amia-like…??

[Midousuji’s lower eyelids raise as he thinks. does it. how. like—does it look like how she—sounds? nope. even with his abstract fashion of thinking, he can’t quite put that one together.

Midousuji’s finger hangs thoughtfully hooked in the back of his mask, mostly because his teeth and lips aren’t available to weirdly fiddle with in contemplation. he blinks once, head un-tilting itself as he looks at the CD.]

Ahh?

[he squints his eyes, scoffing into the fabric of his mask.]

Grossssss. Are you trying to sell to me? Especially when you just flirted at the concept of it being a forgery.

[he points, eyes snapping wide open again, but the gesture isn’t aggressive. his arm remains bent at the elbow, hand still mostly in his own personal space.]

Heyyy, hey, so is this what you do? Petty forgery and con sales in subway stations??