[The blurred overlay of Haruka and Aak grins widely for that first moment of realization. The grin stays locked in place as Fuuta pulls him closer. He's been shaken by worse. He's been yelled at worse. He's had big guys up in his face getting spittle on his fur, so this should be nothing.]
[As each line is barked at him, though, the high of the initial anger leaves him. It spirals to him being chewed out for obvious things. It wasn't the kind of thing he could feel elated about. The grin slides away, the corners of his mouth fall down. It doesn't ever seem to hit remorse. It was fucked up, it was messed up- and, yea, he thought it'd be funny.]
[The questions hit in such rapid succession. He couldn't answer them, of course. In his experience, people never actually wanted the answer to stuff like that. They just want him to think about it and feel bad. So, the last question hangs in the air as the rest of the world starts to fill back in. The sound of the water lapping against their ankles and the sound of bystanders trying to assess if this drama was juicy enough.]
... yeesh, [a thoughtful and heartfelt response,] be mad at whatever fucked up your vision, not me.
[And so, he's tossed ownership of the blame immediately out the metaphorical window. Something in his insides feels twisted up, a part of him does feel bad, but he refuses to yield to it.]
no subject
[As each line is barked at him, though, the high of the initial anger leaves him. It spirals to him being chewed out for obvious things. It wasn't the kind of thing he could feel elated about. The grin slides away, the corners of his mouth fall down. It doesn't ever seem to hit remorse. It was fucked up, it was messed up- and, yea, he thought it'd be funny.]
[The questions hit in such rapid succession. He couldn't answer them, of course. In his experience, people never actually wanted the answer to stuff like that. They just want him to think about it and feel bad. So, the last question hangs in the air as the rest of the world starts to fill back in. The sound of the water lapping against their ankles and the sound of bystanders trying to assess if this drama was juicy enough.]
... yeesh, [a thoughtful and heartfelt response,] be mad at whatever fucked up your vision, not me.
[And so, he's tossed ownership of the blame immediately out the metaphorical window. Something in his insides feels twisted up, a part of him does feel bad, but he refuses to yield to it.]