Aoba fell still in a most flattering tableau: noodles trailing out of his mouth, half-supported by the chopsticks, caught in the middle of quietly slurping them up. What was with that face? Why did he feel like he’d just kicked a puppy? (A giant white Samoyed puppy, specifically.)
Whatever Declan thought, Aoba did not think ill of the Guardian. It was just evidence of them being very different, from very different worlds, however well they got on despite it. He did not associate the man’s evident passion for his weapons with anything ulterior, such as thinking Declan by extension enjoyed killing. The thought of weapons in his own hands was simply an uncomfortable one, despite being sensible enough to understand their necessity.
So really, his confusion was quite complete. Why was he asking Aoba to share? There was more food than two people alone could need for a single meal and Declan had bought it, so technically it was all ‘his’. There was just the little portion that Aoba had taken for himself so far, for at least marginally politer manners than eating directly out of the carton.
Surely he wasn’t asking for a bite from Aoba’s plate specifically, was he? No way.
For no other reason than his own overactive imagination, faint spots of color rose to Aoba’s cheeks even as he finished taking in the bite. With his mouth full, all he could manage was a roughly-querying ‘mph?’ as he gestured at the carton with his chopsticks, awkwardly trying to sign an equivalent of ‘there’s plenty more, help yourself!’
no subject
Whatever Declan thought, Aoba did not think ill of the Guardian. It was just evidence of them being very different, from very different worlds, however well they got on despite it. He did not associate the man’s evident passion for his weapons with anything ulterior, such as thinking Declan by extension enjoyed killing. The thought of weapons in his own hands was simply an uncomfortable one, despite being sensible enough to understand their necessity.
So really, his confusion was quite complete. Why was he asking Aoba to share? There was more food than two people alone could need for a single meal and Declan had bought it, so technically it was all ‘his’. There was just the little portion that Aoba had taken for himself so far, for at least marginally politer manners than eating directly out of the carton.
Surely he wasn’t asking for a bite from Aoba’s plate specifically, was he? No way.
For no other reason than his own overactive imagination, faint spots of color rose to Aoba’s cheeks even as he finished taking in the bite. With his mouth full, all he could manage was a roughly-querying ‘mph?’ as he gestured at the carton with his chopsticks, awkwardly trying to sign an equivalent of ‘there’s plenty more, help yourself!’