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♞ 006 [OPEN Action] // [Audio]
Aug. 10th, 2011 01:05 am[Many may have noticed, or rather not noticed, Shinjiro around the mansion lately. Those who have seen him probably know he's hiding something. He's been reclusive, avoiding everyone, friends from home or friends from here, and he hasn't been discriminate in who was off the list of talking to.
Today he's on the roof, where he ends up a lot most of the time, when he knows Akihiko's distracted with training. He doesn't mind the place so much, and the view's pretty nice, all things considered. If anyone happens upon him, they'll find him not sleeping, which he'd normally be doing, but standing at the edge, looking out into nothing in particular, and casually smoking a cigarette. No, his friends have never seen him smoke before, but it's something he picked up from the closet, and he didn't see it being a problem like the suppressants.
His eyes seem distant, even more so than the scenery over which they were sweeping. Something was troubling him, but he also doesn't seem to the talking, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched, knit cap pulled low over his brow.
At length he heaves a sigh and pulls the communicator from his pocket, turning on the audio.]
Tomorrow's 11 August.
[There's a long pause and then a deeper, worn release of breath.]
Somethin' ain't right about that.
[And then the audio is ended and he slides the device back into his pocket.]
Today he's on the roof, where he ends up a lot most of the time, when he knows Akihiko's distracted with training. He doesn't mind the place so much, and the view's pretty nice, all things considered. If anyone happens upon him, they'll find him not sleeping, which he'd normally be doing, but standing at the edge, looking out into nothing in particular, and casually smoking a cigarette. No, his friends have never seen him smoke before, but it's something he picked up from the closet, and he didn't see it being a problem like the suppressants.
His eyes seem distant, even more so than the scenery over which they were sweeping. Something was troubling him, but he also doesn't seem to the talking, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched, knit cap pulled low over his brow.
At length he heaves a sigh and pulls the communicator from his pocket, turning on the audio.]
Tomorrow's 11 August.
[There's a long pause and then a deeper, worn release of breath.]
Somethin' ain't right about that.
[And then the audio is ended and he slides the device back into his pocket.]
