[Shindou's blush looks rough when filtered through the harsh lighting in this closet. Perhaps beneath sunlight, or just something warmer—perhaps if he were sitting on the other side of a goban, the blush might be a dusting of concentrated warmth. Just a draw on Akira's desire to sit closely with Shindou, extrinsic but growing, growing, having grown since his eyes were much wider and clearer. If it grows much more, Akira won't know how else to house it but right atop his waiting tongue.
His tongue, for now, has to wait throughout all of Shindou's speech. Shindou's blush, more of an abrasion than a soft spray of dust, sets Akira to biting at the corner of his mouth, in part to keep from saying anything. His smile doesn't fade so much as shift into something else, wading far into a rippling ponder, with his eyebrows raising up and up. He's thoughtful. After a point, not overwhelmingly suspicious, but at least noticeably so. He squints a bit through "legs for days", before turning his eyes instead toward the ceiling, a corner of the ceiling, far away enough from the too-white light that he can focus, can try to divine wisdom from the water stains. Shindou speaks of how the girl must wonder, and Akira imagines her anxiety over not knowing what this boy thinks of her, how he thinks of her, whether what matters to her also matters to him... Akira's eyes cast from the ceiling to a lower edge of the closet, and he worries his teeth against his bottom lip. His hands have idled in the water, by now, and at last he pulls them from it, flicking his fingers to rid them of the excess. When he opens his mouth, he takes an extra moment to situate his tongue, his breath. Then:]
You are being a little ridiculous, at best. [Maybe that means Shindou's motor mouth is overbearing. Maybe it means Akira has seen all slants of light shifting through this pathetic excuse for a smokescreen. Maybe he's just exasperated. There are too many options to be found in the slow shade of his eyelashes, when he blinks for seconds, processing Shindou's gush...
Then, all at once, a return from slow motion.] Well, I know that's what you'd do for someone, if you felt you needed to. [And then his eyes slip up and over to Shindou. He knows that—or feels that he knows that—only because it's what Shindou has just said... so...]
What is this young woman like?
[He asks it respectfully, as if she could be in the room, instead of with his casual language often reserved for Shindou. His eyebrows have smoothed back down, and almost all the wonder has crept back out of his face. The line of his mouth has gone phlegmatic, less impressed, though not less thoughtful.]
no subject
His tongue, for now, has to wait throughout all of Shindou's speech. Shindou's blush, more of an abrasion than a soft spray of dust, sets Akira to biting at the corner of his mouth, in part to keep from saying anything. His smile doesn't fade so much as shift into something else, wading far into a rippling ponder, with his eyebrows raising up and up. He's thoughtful. After a point, not overwhelmingly suspicious, but at least noticeably so. He squints a bit through "legs for days", before turning his eyes instead toward the ceiling, a corner of the ceiling, far away enough from the too-white light that he can focus, can try to divine wisdom from the water stains. Shindou speaks of how the girl must wonder, and Akira imagines her anxiety over not knowing what this boy thinks of her, how he thinks of her, whether what matters to her also matters to him... Akira's eyes cast from the ceiling to a lower edge of the closet, and he worries his teeth against his bottom lip. His hands have idled in the water, by now, and at last he pulls them from it, flicking his fingers to rid them of the excess. When he opens his mouth, he takes an extra moment to situate his tongue, his breath. Then:]
You are being a little ridiculous, at best. [Maybe that means Shindou's motor mouth is overbearing. Maybe it means Akira has seen all slants of light shifting through this pathetic excuse for a smokescreen. Maybe he's just exasperated. There are too many options to be found in the slow shade of his eyelashes, when he blinks for seconds, processing Shindou's gush...
Then, all at once, a return from slow motion.] Well, I know that's what you'd do for someone, if you felt you needed to. [And then his eyes slip up and over to Shindou. He knows that—or feels that he knows that—only because it's what Shindou has just said... so...]
What is this young woman like?
[He asks it respectfully, as if she could be in the room, instead of with his casual language often reserved for Shindou. His eyebrows have smoothed back down, and almost all the wonder has crept back out of his face. The line of his mouth has gone phlegmatic, less impressed, though not less thoughtful.]