( his attention is tugged back to kazuya as he puts his hands on the table to lean in closer to him, whispering with such conspiratorial furtiveness that he at first believes that this is some sort of joke. but the moment overstays its welcome, and makoto slowly starts to piece together from his knowledge of kazuya up unto this point that he’s… being entirely serious. makoto’s eyes narrow. when he had asked J about this exact thing—about how he had thought that, if he were to be a demon, he might have horns or wings or a tail or something like that—the older demon had laughed scornfully at him before telling him that, no, he wouldn’t be given any. any he would have, he would have to obtain for himself.
he had never really explained how. makoto had taken it as a staunch refusal, not yet understanding exactly how his body works. he still doesn’t. )
What do you mean, ( he ventures, tone of voice still low and cutting, perhaps implying that if this were somehow a joke or was perhaps something kazuya was just offering half-heartedly, then that wouldn’t be well-received at all, ) Are you offering to tear them off and give them to me?
no subject
he had never really explained how. makoto had taken it as a staunch refusal, not yet understanding exactly how his body works. he still doesn’t. )
What do you mean, ( he ventures, tone of voice still low and cutting, perhaps implying that if this were somehow a joke or was perhaps something kazuya was just offering half-heartedly, then that wouldn’t be well-received at all, ) Are you offering to tear them off and give them to me?