a coat on the wall [c] Jul 5, 2015 16:35:04 GMT -6
Post by ICHIROU YUKISHIMA on Jul 5, 2015 16:35:04 GMT -6
• TIME. It's almost nighttime, though still evening, and... idk what season...
• TAGGED. QUAN FUU
It's not as if he wants to thrust himself into the areas of Shangdi that don't welcome him. But this is on the way to the Imperial Kingdom, so there's nothing he can do about it. "It'll be even worse once we get there anyways."
So far they'd only bought food from vendors, kept their heads low while they were at it, and they haven't met any difficulties since. So ever the optimist, he said they should treat themselves and go out.
“If I’m with you no one’ll question ya, promise!”
Ichirou huffs. He sips the tea he’d managed to order with little fuss, then frowns some more. “That requires you to be here, idiot.” He’s not sure where his partner ran off, but it’s been a half an hour and soon enough he’ll have to order in spite of his absence lest he start to stand out.
“Sir, are you… going to order?”
Shocked out of his thoughts, the white-haired man freezes (ha!) a moment before putting on a small smile. “Oh, yes, I was waiting for someone but it seems that… they won’t be showing. I’ll have…” Then he prattles off his order quickly. With a nod and an exchange of pleasantries, they’re almost done and Ichirou is about to release his breath when the man asks a fatal question.
“Are you finished with your tea?” Eyeing the empty cup and (he knows) equally as empty pot, Ichirou affirms and in an act of courtesy (or perhaps foolishness) he hands the porclean off. Their fingers brush and the sound of shattered China splinters through the buzz of the other patrons.
“Your hands are freezing!” Said hands clench into fists, and Ichirou reflexively withdraws them into his sleeves. His gaze immediately drops.
“I-I… I have a high sensitivity to the cold…”
“Ths is surely more than that! Have you been to a medic?”
“No, I’ll be quite alright--”
“You’re pale too, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine!” he can’t help but raise his voice a bit. And he knows the moment he does he’s made a mistake.
“...you’re a cat, aren’t you?”
“We don’t serve cats here.”
“I said I’m not I’m just--” Looking up at the employee is a mistake, because the cold accusation halts his protests. His muscles feel stiff, and for once, it’s not because of the curse.
[ooc;; this is so long… only because there’s like a conversation and a hella lot of dialogue I HOPE THIS IS OKAY THOUGH!]