[ the question threatens to bring Sakamoto up short, but half a lifetime of maintaining the perfect pokerface saves him some trouble. he can't help the sensation of stillness that dares to creep over him, the bizarre little tightening in his gut. too much like pre-battle nerves, it feels like. he doesn't think he likes it. ]
Ahh? Who? Takasugi?
[ he could regret this down the line, he reflects, could pay for it in a whole myriad of ways. ]
no subject
Ahh? Who? Takasugi?
[ he could regret this down the line, he reflects, could pay for it in a whole myriad of ways. ]
That sour pickle? Why, is he a friend of yours?