There's nothing to find, [ oushi insists, practically griping, but it is ultimately a rather impotent thing. arguing with choso doesn't contain much satisfaction, because even if the man were to disagree he does it in such a mild, almost nonchalant way that it very quickly douses whatever fire oushi might have been working to start up.
not that this is necessarily a bad thing. it's good, as a matter of fact, because oushi has a bad habit of working himself up for literally no reason, or reacting perhaps too strongly to things. in many ways, the mild way in which choso handles him reminds him... unnervingly a lot about a certain silver-haired man back home. but that's about right where oushi slams the metaphorical brakes in his brain, or draws that deep line in the sand. if he continues to compare choso to itsuomi, he thinks he might actually go mad.
all this to say — oushi's grumbling is the last few sputters of a dying engine that might have been his protest. the second choso begins to strip, the smaller of the two immediately turns on his heel, busying himself with his own clothes. the need for a distraction makes for swift work of his own disrobing. and in complete and unexpected contrast to choso's own body, oushi's is almost laughably scarless.
stepping into his own stall — calling it that, too, is laughable; both men are just tall enough that the partitions that separate them matter very little. if oushi wanted to, all he needed to do was glance on over and he'd be able to see everything — he fusses with the taps. the water is quick to confirm this shower will be a cold one, but that's fine. he's finding his body far more over-heated than he expected.
he tips forward, letting the water douse his head, create rivulets down the curve of his spine. he tries not to let his mind wander, which of course means that it does.
...all those scars... they make sense, obviously. choso might not have said much, but oushi figures the life of a curse (or? half-curse??) isn't a kind one, and choso had said he fought and killed. obviously, the people he fights would fight back. still, it's kind of alarming to see that kind of proof, even it had only just been a glance...
.............................
oh, hell.
rather abruptly, he picks his head up. he thinks, okay, if he makes this quick, then it will probably go unnoticed. so he tries to make it quick. just a glance over.
but something in his brain miscommunicates, and what was meant to be a swift glance winds up being more of a full-body twitch, and the thing about moving that jerkily while standing in a puddle of water is — it's not a good idea.
briefly, he gets the sudden sensation he's falling.
( his hands grope, gently, for the knobs of the shower--there's a groaning of the pipes, as though displeased at having to pump water into two stalls, instead of just one, but the burst of cold over his head has his shoulders lifting, skin tingling and lifting with a shiver of goosebumps. another fiddling turn of his fingers has at least some lukewarm tinge to the spray--he settles for that, ducking his head down until his hair's slicked with enough water that he can take a palm and peel it back from his face.
oushi is likely doing the same. he's adamantly not looking, because it's impolite: even if he cares little for the propriety nature of human beings, especially given that he's changed and stripped and been torn out of his clothing more than once in front of others, he doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, especially after just teasing him about monsters.
still, his ears pick up the sound, and his body animates itself before he can really realize it: swift, like a battle. around the edge of the shower, into the next stall, where the water is decidedly icy--to catch oushi with his arms around his middle, chest to oushi's back, gently hoisting him up onto his feet again.
his eyes narrow, briefly, annoyed at the bottom of the shower, as though it could somehow be blamed. )
...We'll both use this one, then. ( quietly, as he draws his arms forward, rather than away--it means that oushi is still trapped between them, as he gently fiddles this way and that with the water knobs, until it's at least a tepid spray. )
The monsters nearly got you. You would have split your head open.
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choso.
There's nothing to find, [ oushi insists, practically griping, but it is ultimately a rather impotent thing. arguing with choso doesn't contain much satisfaction, because even if the man were to disagree he does it in such a mild, almost nonchalant way that it very quickly douses whatever fire oushi might have been working to start up.
not that this is necessarily a bad thing. it's good, as a matter of fact, because oushi has a bad habit of working himself up for literally no reason, or reacting perhaps too strongly to things. in many ways, the mild way in which choso handles him reminds him... unnervingly a lot about a certain silver-haired man back home. but that's about right where oushi slams the metaphorical brakes in his brain, or draws that deep line in the sand. if he continues to compare choso to itsuomi, he thinks he might actually go mad.
all this to say — oushi's grumbling is the last few sputters of a dying engine that might have been his protest. the second choso begins to strip, the smaller of the two immediately turns on his heel, busying himself with his own clothes. the need for a distraction makes for swift work of his own disrobing. and in complete and unexpected contrast to choso's own body, oushi's is almost laughably scarless.
stepping into his own stall — calling it that, too, is laughable; both men are just tall enough that the partitions that separate them matter very little. if oushi wanted to, all he needed to do was glance on over and he'd be able to see everything — he fusses with the taps. the water is quick to confirm this shower will be a cold one, but that's fine. he's finding his body far more over-heated than he expected.
he tips forward, letting the water douse his head, create rivulets down the curve of his spine. he tries not to let his mind wander, which of course means that it does.
...all those scars... they make sense, obviously. choso might not have said much, but oushi figures the life of a curse (or? half-curse??) isn't a kind one, and choso had said he fought and killed. obviously, the people he fights would fight back. still, it's kind of alarming to see that kind of proof, even it had only just been a glance...
.............................
oh, hell.
rather abruptly, he picks his head up. he thinks, okay, if he makes this quick, then it will probably go unnoticed. so he tries to make it quick. just a glance over.
but something in his brain miscommunicates, and what was meant to be a swift glance winds up being more of a full-body twitch, and the thing about moving that jerkily while standing in a puddle of water is — it's not a good idea.
briefly, he gets the sudden sensation he's falling.
and then suddenly he's not. ]
no subject
oushi is likely doing the same. he's adamantly not looking, because it's impolite: even if he cares little for the propriety nature of human beings, especially given that he's changed and stripped and been torn out of his clothing more than once in front of others, he doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, especially after just teasing him about monsters.
still, his ears pick up the sound, and his body animates itself before he can really realize it: swift, like a battle. around the edge of the shower, into the next stall, where the water is decidedly icy--to catch oushi with his arms around his middle, chest to oushi's back, gently hoisting him up onto his feet again.
his eyes narrow, briefly, annoyed at the bottom of the shower, as though it could somehow be blamed. )
...We'll both use this one, then. ( quietly, as he draws his arms forward, rather than away--it means that oushi is still trapped between them, as he gently fiddles this way and that with the water knobs, until it's at least a tepid spray. )
The monsters nearly got you. You would have split your head open.