the death painting droops, kenjaku always had a way to make them feel .. despondent. choso's eyes completely avoid the other's as it's finger guides his chin.
" yeah .. okay. "
seemingly everything it said slips his mind, he has no energy -
β that doesn't meet at least one of its characteristic criteria. In other words, dear wretch of mine... β
He hooked an eerily tender finger below their chin, to coax that undesired attention back towards himself.
β ... Try not to let it get to you. β
a visible vain could be seen popping from his forehead β- how can one be so irritating from basically just existing ? he'll never know. choso scoffs, 'unbothered' apparently so.
" wretched thing, huh ? actin' like you're any better .. "
β I did say almost. β That smile haunted them now, its quiet, confident condescension waiting with patience. Patience was a game Kenjaku knew intimately well.
β After all, who could forget such a wretched thing? β
β Oh. It's you. β NoritΕshi Kamo, Kaori Itadori, Suguru GetΕ... whatever that thing was, smiled perfunctorily, the remark like a weak breeze.
β I'd almost forgotten you were still around. β