(that revelation is at least enough to distract makoto from the unexpected and unpleasant splash of reminiscent domesticity from home. his eyes narrow, the gears in his head clearly turning as he does the calculations. )
Ranked up…? But you were—
(in the basement. yep. and makoto has kazuya’s (former) card, so he knows full well what rank he had previously been and how many he might have had to turn in to apply for such a promotion. he gives his friend a Look, but he doesn’t say anything. no, he doesn’t particularly want to hear him chirp for the third or fourth time about how much he’s getting laid in here. it’s not really makoto’s business. he shakes his head, moving on.
the emotional landscape visible in his expression shifts, however, as kazuya admits that he’s the first he’s invited over since the promotion. his eyebrows draw together, uncertain, though more that he’s just… well, it’s strange to feel distinguished in this way. he’s only ever been distinguished by others for things he didn’t really want to be. ) Because… why, because I was the first one you met here?
( so his brain tries to find more logical explanations than emotional ones.
interactions with makoto tend to be the gradual weakening and tearing down of various defensive barriers and levels of mistrust—unfortunately, it tends to have to happen even with one he considers himself close to. at least in this instance, it happens quickly. there are very few things makoto actually misses from earth, but food is actually one of them, and he’s aware that cooking for someone is an act done from the heart. his expression slowly pieces itself together from surprise into something tentative and fragile; he always feels strange and uncertain accepting the kindness of others, as if he fears breaking it. )
I… I would have come even if that wasn’t the case. ( hell, even if the food was dosed, probably even then? though that wouldn’t make too much sense, considering kazuya had seem far more intent on the PG-13 aspects of this 24 hours rather than the unrated ones. he offers a small, sheepish smile, glancing about. ) And I suppose I could eat. ( he feels his own gracelessness at accepting the offer, and his cheeks burn both with the feeling of heart-warming consideration and embarrassment at that. ) Do you want to show me what you’ve made?
no subject
Ranked up…? But you were—
( in the basement. yep. and makoto has kazuya’s (former) card, so he knows full well what rank he had previously been and how many he might have had to turn in to apply for such a promotion. he gives his friend a Look, but he doesn’t say anything. no, he doesn’t particularly want to hear him chirp for the third or fourth time about how much he’s getting laid in here. it’s not really makoto’s business. he shakes his head, moving on.
the emotional landscape visible in his expression shifts, however, as kazuya admits that he’s the first he’s invited over since the promotion. his eyebrows draw together, uncertain, though more that he’s just… well, it’s strange to feel distinguished in this way. he’s only ever been distinguished by others for things he didn’t really want to be. ) Because… why, because I was the first one you met here?
( so his brain tries to find more logical explanations than emotional ones.
interactions with makoto tend to be the gradual weakening and tearing down of various defensive barriers and levels of mistrust—unfortunately, it tends to have to happen even with one he considers himself close to. at least in this instance, it happens quickly. there are very few things makoto actually misses from earth, but food is actually one of them, and he’s aware that cooking for someone is an act done from the heart. his expression slowly pieces itself together from surprise into something tentative and fragile; he always feels strange and uncertain accepting the kindness of others, as if he fears breaking it. )
I… I would have come even if that wasn’t the case. ( hell, even if the food was dosed, probably even then? though that wouldn’t make too much sense, considering kazuya had seem far more intent on the PG-13 aspects of this 24 hours rather than the unrated ones. he offers a small, sheepish smile, glancing about. ) And I suppose I could eat. ( he feels his own gracelessness at accepting the offer, and his cheeks burn both with the feeling of heart-warming consideration and embarrassment at that. ) Do you want to show me what you’ve made?