[Solomon can infer that if Takasugi isn't intoxicated at the moment -- or even slightly tipsy, that ought to change in a moment. Cues for another adaptation of fun linger between them -- emanate from Takasugi, really. He's sliding out of his yukata, talking suggestively enough for his gay ass brain to fill in the blanks according to his line of thought.
A scoff provides a fleeting placeholder.]
Do you think that's possible?
[Not to be a stick in the mud, but he has to maintain his position in being as antagonistic as possible without making an enemy out of Takasugi. Strangely enough, abrasive conversations notwithstanding, the man to his side is one of the few people occupying this bizarre planet who really understand him.
Even though they've only scratched the surface.
A finger taps the rim of his glass, pensive. His other hand settles lightly atop the samurai's thigh. There's a grip to be had, but it's all very flimsy.
no subject
A scoff provides a fleeting placeholder.]
Do you think that's possible?
[Not to be a stick in the mud, but he has to maintain his position in being as antagonistic as possible without making an enemy out of Takasugi. Strangely enough, abrasive conversations notwithstanding, the man to his side is one of the few people occupying this bizarre planet who really understand him.
Even though they've only scratched the surface.
A finger taps the rim of his glass, pensive. His other hand settles lightly atop the samurai's thigh. There's a grip to be had, but it's all very flimsy.
Don't mind him.......]