( there's a soft, non-committal sort of grunt as fuuta mutters to him, at first, as though he's not fully paying attention; sure, the set-up is pretty lame, the kind of amateur porn that some of the stupid hero kids might get off watching back home, and sure, the downtime is almost egregiously long, especially for something that should, in theory, be relatively one-and-done. what's the point of porn having a plot, anyway? no one's watching for all that: they'll just skip forward until the fucking happens. the thought at least is a little amusing; it means his lips curl faintly, slightly distant, before flattening out to his usual expression again.
it's boring, but not a total waste of time: because it's honestly a little fascinating to be there to begin with, decked out in a set that looks precisely like how he imagined school back home would be.
because it would have been like this, right? his gaze goes up towards the placards with the school rules, printed and framed primly above the sliding windows--it drops down to the desks, to the cubbies in the back of the room, to the larger glass windows that show some impossible scene of cherry blossoms and bright blue skies, something that he's sure they're fabricating from a screen or paintings or both. most of elementary school, and the beginnings of middle school, are a blur to him, framed only in painful memories of training, loneliness, incompetence, rage: it's a different thing entirely to see something like this, where the extras are all meant to be laughing and teasing and having a good time.
it doesn't feel quite right: like maybe he's not supposed to be here at all. but he's not about to leave fuuta here, especially not with the way he feels--begrudgingly, he has to admit that he can shrug off a lot, but leaving fuuta, knowingly, in the middle of a porn set would be a bit much for him.
one of his hands lifts, toying with the loose tie around his unbuttoned collar; while fuuta looks the part of a perfect student, he's been done up himself to be something of the class delinquent: his shirt untucked, his collar and tie loose, his jacket slightly oversized. the little nudge makes him glance down at him, breathing out a silent chuckle, before he offers a playful eyeroll. )
Yeah? ( his voice is low, bemused, while his gaze focuses out across the classroom, as though gauging who else might be noticing them. ) You want to get fucked over a desk in some other part of the set, huh? Naughty little rabbit.
( a brow lifts, almost in challenge, as he glances back down at fuuta. ) Go out along the back wall, the door's already open there. I'll meet you in two.
( he can always use the excuse of taking a smoke break, if anyone stops him. )
no subject
it's boring, but not a total waste of time: because it's honestly a little fascinating to be there to begin with, decked out in a set that looks precisely like how he imagined school back home would be.
because it would have been like this, right? his gaze goes up towards the placards with the school rules, printed and framed primly above the sliding windows--it drops down to the desks, to the cubbies in the back of the room, to the larger glass windows that show some impossible scene of cherry blossoms and bright blue skies, something that he's sure they're fabricating from a screen or paintings or both. most of elementary school, and the beginnings of middle school, are a blur to him, framed only in painful memories of training, loneliness, incompetence, rage: it's a different thing entirely to see something like this, where the extras are all meant to be laughing and teasing and having a good time.
it doesn't feel quite right: like maybe he's not supposed to be here at all. but he's not about to leave fuuta here, especially not with the way he feels--begrudgingly, he has to admit that he can shrug off a lot, but leaving fuuta, knowingly, in the middle of a porn set would be a bit much for him.
one of his hands lifts, toying with the loose tie around his unbuttoned collar; while fuuta looks the part of a perfect student, he's been done up himself to be something of the class delinquent: his shirt untucked, his collar and tie loose, his jacket slightly oversized. the little nudge makes him glance down at him, breathing out a silent chuckle, before he offers a playful eyeroll. )
Yeah? ( his voice is low, bemused, while his gaze focuses out across the classroom, as though gauging who else might be noticing them. ) You want to get fucked over a desk in some other part of the set, huh? Naughty little rabbit.
( a brow lifts, almost in challenge, as he glances back down at fuuta. ) Go out along the back wall, the door's already open there. I'll meet you in two.
( he can always use the excuse of taking a smoke break, if anyone stops him. )