[Takasugi had already been bathing in heat - the Wyver humidity, and the gentle fog of inebriation. When his drinks settle in his gut, sensation grows dull. He's aware of throbbing, but not of temperature. Of the beading sweat under the hair that sticks to his brow, but not the damp warmth.
With distance closed, Takasugi replies in kind, leaning heavily on the bar to tilt his head towards his opponent's.]
If you want to tell me, then do it- [He's not impatient, but his lips want for the cool rim of a glass, not idle chatter.]
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With distance closed, Takasugi replies in kind, leaning heavily on the bar to tilt his head towards his opponent's.]
If you want to tell me, then do it- [He's not impatient, but his lips want for the cool rim of a glass, not idle chatter.]