"if you have nothing to hide and it is just a branch that ripped your uniform apart, surely you would not be opposed to me helping you sew it back together, would you?"
( he didn't even believe himself when he was saying all of these, but he tried playing along. —
desire to deflect. i asked for a 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
( she spoke swiftly, not blinking, not avoiding his gaze, her lips lined with a bold, black color pursing into a thin line. she knew rook just as well as the hunter knew her. )
( a pitiful puppy. that was how rook looked to the model in that moment. a guilty, pitiful puppy at that. )
( that big, wry smile. that overexplaining from him... it only solidified his doubts that something was wrong with him, that something had happened to him. )
⠀
( as vil addresses him, the huntsman jolts; as if he— in spite of his usual perceptiveness— didn't see her coming. he quickly recovers, however, and greets her with a smile. his display radiates guilt, like a dog that's been caught doing something it shouldn't. )
⠀
( the hunter never tried making up excuses otherwise. or looked so... absent, or guilty. so then, vil let out a wry laugh as she also held the sewing kit in her hands. )
"i would have taken your sweet words in stride and continued, had i not have realized your haste and your —
‧₊˚ ☁️⋆˙✶𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
❝ Confound it all, my heel...hm? Where is it that I find myself?
...Well, well. These foreign surroundings necessitate further investigation. ❞
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷