[Ugh, he's laughing. Matoba's eye rolls spare seconds before the hulking weight of his skull plops down into his lap, nestled nicely between his thighs. Thank goodness he's not face-down. How does his head manage to be so heavy when he's so brainless, anyway?]
[Glancing down with limpid distaste, slit red meets squinted gold, and in the comfortable quiet of birdsong and rustling trees, they simply look at each other. Matoba's hands take a few seconds to determine where to go, but one tucks across his waist and the other... comes to land atop Rokurou's head.]
[From past experience, one might expect him to begin yanking out every hair on his head- and while his fingers do initially rake into it- rather than clenching down, his nails merely scrape light at his scalp, a languid, repeated stroke through messy spikes, as his eye tears itself away and back to the birds.]
no subject
[Glancing down with limpid distaste, slit red meets squinted gold, and in the comfortable quiet of birdsong and rustling trees, they simply look at each other. Matoba's hands take a few seconds to determine where to go, but one tucks across his waist and the other... comes to land atop Rokurou's head.]
[From past experience, one might expect him to begin yanking out every hair on his head- and while his fingers do initially rake into it- rather than clenching down, his nails merely scrape light at his scalp, a languid, repeated stroke through messy spikes, as his eye tears itself away and back to the birds.]
Well? [He is still waiting for that answer.]