[Blonde hair, wavy - Takasugi always notices that feature - shifts in the light. Reflects it, the dimness of their accommodations becoming somehow less lively when it inundates the man at his side. Like he's looking at the peaceful sway of a corpse's hair.
Solomon has about as much follow through as a dead body, at least.
Amusing, Takasugi chuckles to himself, an apparent response to Solomon's dismissal of his taste.
Fixing his gaze to watch the man drink, rather than looking only at the light framing him, is laborious, hardly worth it - but Takasugi lifts his glass to his lips as well. They drink together, both cups emptied.
But there's more in the bottle.
Solomon gets that damn refill, Takasugi serving them both the last of his selection.] Do you want to pick something better? [Or does Solomon want to leave - which little act of petulance will he choose?]
no subject
Solomon has about as much follow through as a dead body, at least.
Amusing, Takasugi chuckles to himself, an apparent response to Solomon's dismissal of his taste.
Fixing his gaze to watch the man drink, rather than looking only at the light framing him, is laborious, hardly worth it - but Takasugi lifts his glass to his lips as well. They drink together, both cups emptied.
But there's more in the bottle.
Solomon gets that damn refill, Takasugi serving them both the last of his selection.] Do you want to pick something better? [Or does Solomon want to leave - which little act of petulance will he choose?]