[ that flaxen shade of hair has lost its uniqueness in a less homogenous environment than their home country, and its style is far different than last he remembers it. though they had texted over their watches before his unfortunate... statuefication, and he'd been made aware of his schoolmate's many years on him, seeing him like this in the flesh... ]

[ all that well-muscled flesh he turns his head towards at the familiar sound. his voice isn't so very different: low and dry, joyless, gritted a bit more with age but identifiable. it feels like that's all that remains familiar, and golden eyes take a moment to adjust, pupils lens-flickering into recognition. ]

Nanami-kun. [ the honorific is simultaneously natural and odd, now. his eyes linger meaningfully on the one missing, his fingers twitching, moving between them with some desire to do... something. after a beat, it withdraws, seeming to think better of invading personal space. instead, he taps a palanquin holder's head twice with his fan, and all of them move in unison to deposit the thing in a quiet corner. ]

All right, everyone, break time. Thank you for your hard work~. [ silk sheets and pillows and Getou luxuriously draped upon them, but he pulls his feet up beneath him to give Nanami room to sit, patting the spot with just a hint of playful suggestion. ]

Is that what you want to talk about? My "entrance"? [ haha. ]