( what would happen if he refused? even before esi asks it himself, makoto suddenly starts thinking it as soon as there is a long enough pause that he has to consider it as a possibility. would he still lose points if he wasn’t the one refusing to do what his Watch asked of him? was he expected to force him? coerce him? incentivize him? all of these thoughts are running rapidly through his mind prior to esi shrugging and acquiescing. makoto visibly relaxes at that. he gives the other young man a faint smile. )
This particular game seems to be all about things being “a little sudden…”
( even if the truths and dares it’s giving them so far are… well. interesting.)
Alright, then.
( even still, makoto doesn’t exactly want to act a lech and ogle him—this mostly comes from a place of understanding that he doesn’t always particularly enjoy it when it’s done to him, or at least not when he has full control of just who that person slathering their eyes over him is. he tries to be polite by way of being casual; truthfully, nudity itself is a rote issue for him after the last six months or so. that having been said, it’d be challenging not to notice the healing wounds on esi’s arm and torso. if he were to try to cross-examine makoto’s reaction, it’s… layered. his expression ends up a mask, hard to read one way or another, but his eyes are a little more telling—a bizarre mixture of bright attentiveness and… the faintest hint of concern?
in the end he accepts the proffered undergarment with a summary, ) Thank you, ( before beginning to undress in a matter-of-fact way himself. he strips off his trousers before taking off his underwear to replace it with the pair that esi had handed him… wait, is this silk? he hums. ) How fancy. ( regardless, what is there to say about this body of his? he has a slight mental detachment to it because it’s not his. his head may be sewn onto it, but this body had been ordered and given to him by his master, apparently created for him somewhere in hell. the skin is smooth, unblemished, and death pale, and as J had ordered it to his own specifications… well. he is well-equipped to be positively noteworthy, though not to the extent where it might seem disproportionate, given how short and slight he is.
he ruminates over the questions as he puts his trousers back on. ) I’m not sure… Seems like it would be an unsportsmanly way to stonewall your opponent, if it did take the points from you. ( and that isn’t really the spirit of the game, is it? he glances over to esi, expression questioning. it hadn’t been part of it, but, ) Do you— …Did you want to trade, or…
( or he could just go commando for a while?? makoto doesn’t think he minds much either way. his own underwear—a rather plain pair of black, cotton boxer briefs—are certainly far more basic than what he’s wearing right now. otherwise, he guesses he can just put them in his pocket or something. )
I guess that’s that. ( his points haven’t been subtracted, so… he should get those points in five minutes? ) Your turn.
no subject
This particular game seems to be all about things being “a little sudden…”
( even if the truths and dares it’s giving them so far are… well. interesting. )
Alright, then.
( even still, makoto doesn’t exactly want to act a lech and ogle him—this mostly comes from a place of understanding that he doesn’t always particularly enjoy it when it’s done to him, or at least not when he has full control of just who that person slathering their eyes over him is. he tries to be polite by way of being casual; truthfully, nudity itself is a rote issue for him after the last six months or so. that having been said, it’d be challenging not to notice the healing wounds on esi’s arm and torso. if he were to try to cross-examine makoto’s reaction, it’s… layered. his expression ends up a mask, hard to read one way or another, but his eyes are a little more telling—a bizarre mixture of bright attentiveness and… the faintest hint of concern?
in the end he accepts the proffered undergarment with a summary, ) Thank you, ( before beginning to undress in a matter-of-fact way himself. he strips off his trousers before taking off his underwear to replace it with the pair that esi had handed him… wait, is this silk? he hums. ) How fancy. ( regardless, what is there to say about this body of his? he has a slight mental detachment to it because it’s not his. his head may be sewn onto it, but this body had been ordered and given to him by his master, apparently created for him somewhere in hell. the skin is smooth, unblemished, and death pale, and as J had ordered it to his own specifications… well. he is well-equipped to be positively noteworthy, though not to the extent where it might seem disproportionate, given how short and slight he is.
he ruminates over the questions as he puts his trousers back on. ) I’m not sure… Seems like it would be an unsportsmanly way to stonewall your opponent, if it did take the points from you. ( and that isn’t really the spirit of the game, is it? he glances over to esi, expression questioning. it hadn’t been part of it, but, ) Do you— …Did you want to trade, or…
( or he could just go commando for a while?? makoto doesn’t think he minds much either way. his own underwear—a rather plain pair of black, cotton boxer briefs—are certainly far more basic than what he’s wearing right now. otherwise, he guesses he can just put them in his pocket or something. )
I guess that’s that. ( his points haven’t been subtracted, so… he should get those points in five minutes? ) Your turn.