( it's not exactly considerate or empathetic, the way asaba harumasa uses the not-really-friends and not-just-acquaintances reservoirs of information between them,, or rather, misuses. to call a spade a heart on purpose, knowingly, is the same as a cat looking you in the eye as it swipes a half full glass off your counter, only to then come and rub up against you.
lighter's billboard lament does make him laugh, laughter which grows briefly as harumasa covers his mouth with both hands, eyes crinkled. it's easy: laughter, smiling. why not? do it while you can, after all. but also, maybe present company fits that curious crosshair of amusing, interesting, useful, and...some unnamed fourth thing. also, also, maybe it doesn't matter anyway. )
There we are.
( praise, at the root. perhaps aired out by the unworried way he comes in close, tapered fingers first combing back the hair enough to get a better look at where it bleeds. head wounds are annoying this way, even when the actual damage is negligible. even sitting as lighter is, harumasa doesn't have to lean over that much. he takes in the rare sight of the man underneath his fast working hands like the scenery through a traincar window: filed but not focused on. despite the shower and the rain, he carries the smell of sun and leather. not unpleasant. )
And I don't know, I can see it: Lighter Lorenz, The Undefeated. They could use just your face. They've sold more with less.
( is that....a compliment or an insult?
a soft hum, there's the antiseptic applied, after a bobby pin is neatly slid into lighter's hair to keep it in place as gauze follows and thin, perfectly cut medical tape. harumasa's faintly stuttering exhales cause the shorter and therefore free tufts of lighter's hair to fly up despite dampness. )
Alright then, hm.
( even as his hand retracts, it's back again, fingertips sliding under his jaw to turn lighter's head the other way. his other hand cradles the back of his head as he leans in again, brow slightly pinched. somehow whatever "trouble" lighter ran into on the way here, the cut was on one side of his head but there's a sizable lump on the other. certainly the man underneath him has had worse, but the habit of being thorough despite his flightiness is...exactly that: habit.
his expression eases back into its normal relaxedness though, a shrug in his tone. )
Well, nothing we can do about that, but painkillers should help.
( it's as he moves to give lighter space to stand up that the cat darts through his legs of course, unfooting even section 6's most agile member. )
no subject
lighter's billboard lament does make him laugh, laughter which grows briefly as harumasa covers his mouth with both hands, eyes crinkled. it's easy: laughter, smiling. why not? do it while you can, after all. but also, maybe present company fits that curious crosshair of amusing, interesting, useful, and...some unnamed fourth thing. also, also, maybe it doesn't matter anyway. )
There we are.
( praise, at the root. perhaps aired out by the unworried way he comes in close, tapered fingers first combing back the hair enough to get a better look at where it bleeds. head wounds are annoying this way, even when the actual damage is negligible. even sitting as lighter is, harumasa doesn't have to lean over that much. he takes in the rare sight of the man underneath his fast working hands like the scenery through a traincar window: filed but not focused on. despite the shower and the rain, he carries the smell of sun and leather. not unpleasant. )
And I don't know, I can see it: Lighter Lorenz, The Undefeated. They could use just your face. They've sold more with less.
( is that....a compliment or an insult?
a soft hum, there's the antiseptic applied, after a bobby pin is neatly slid into lighter's hair to keep it in place as gauze follows and thin, perfectly cut medical tape. harumasa's faintly stuttering exhales cause the shorter and therefore free tufts of lighter's hair to fly up despite dampness. )
Alright then, hm.
( even as his hand retracts, it's back again, fingertips sliding under his jaw to turn lighter's head the other way. his other hand cradles the back of his head as he leans in again, brow slightly pinched. somehow whatever "trouble" lighter ran into on the way here, the cut was on one side of his head but there's a sizable lump on the other. certainly the man underneath him has had worse, but the habit of being thorough despite his flightiness is...exactly that: habit.
his expression eases back into its normal relaxedness though, a shrug in his tone. )
Well, nothing we can do about that, but painkillers should help.
( it's as he moves to give lighter space to stand up that the cat darts through his legs of course, unfooting even section 6's most agile member. )