[ Nishikiyama's fingers curl about the cigarette when Mine turn. Eyes swim across the span of his back, to the ink carved into it, in a thoughtful silence. A winding silver waft of tobacco smoke spirals over the uncolored kirin when Nishikiyama takes a drag. Hearing what Mine says, his lips tug into a dry smile. His eyes move up in the same moment that Mine's head turns to the side to acknowledge his attention. ]
You'd better put up a good fight with something like that on your back. People will expect you match it.
no subject
You'd better put up a good fight with something like that on your back. People will expect you match it.
[ It's praise. ]