( yeah, well, all of his weird demons aren’t here right now and this certainly hadn’t been the case for the ones in the hell makoto had come from, so in makoto’s eyes, it is a him-problem.
there are many reactions to what kazuya just said that one might expect—alarm mingling with something which looks concerningly similar to disappointment isn’t exactly one of them. but of course it’s in his nature to be disappointed by something like that! it might be convenient to kazuya, but as inconvenient as it was to deal with in the aftermath, blood is… something of a fixation, an enjoyment that makoto often specifically pursued (for those who would let him). the color of it, the heat of it, the taste of it, the way it felt on his fingers and against his skin… it just seems like it would make a lot of things rather underwhelming if that blood just evaporated after a few seconds. and his expression reflects this more than he might have preferred.
ultimately he doesn’t even say anything, heaving a sigh and turning toward the shelves to pick through the clothes. he is more closely examining a black, button-up shirt with a collar when he does reply in a grinding tone, ) Well, good for you. Mine doesn’t.
( and it just tends to get everywhere. it’s specifically the wound at his neck—it tends to draw attention, and for better or for worse, makoto has found he rather likes it when people mess with it, and it just tends to bleed a lot. it’s embarrassing. )
no subject
there are many reactions to what kazuya just said that one might expect—alarm mingling with something which looks concerningly similar to disappointment isn’t exactly one of them. but of course it’s in his nature to be disappointed by something like that! it might be convenient to kazuya, but as inconvenient as it was to deal with in the aftermath, blood is… something of a fixation, an enjoyment that makoto often specifically pursued (for those who would let him). the color of it, the heat of it, the taste of it, the way it felt on his fingers and against his skin… it just seems like it would make a lot of things rather underwhelming if that blood just evaporated after a few seconds. and his expression reflects this more than he might have preferred.
ultimately he doesn’t even say anything, heaving a sigh and turning toward the shelves to pick through the clothes. he is more closely examining a black, button-up shirt with a collar when he does reply in a grinding tone, ) Well, good for you. Mine doesn’t.
( and it just tends to get everywhere. it’s specifically the wound at his neck—it tends to draw attention, and for better or for worse, makoto has found he rather likes it when people mess with it, and it just tends to bleed a lot. it’s embarrassing. )