Member
Shiro Kawabata
Shiro’s reaction time was honed to quite the aptitude. It had to be, such a characteristic was vital to a Rogue, and especially an Assassin, the generally dubbed glass-iest of the three archetypes. His mind had already processed the origins of Kosuke’s hands and their respective vectors, so rather than acting in defense of the blatant encroachment of his body and simultaneous burst of his personal bubble, the orange haired student decided to lease adequate time for the scene to pan out.
The guy was fast. His management over his speed was second to none, as expected of a person who’s versed in making instantaneous alterations to his rocket’s trajectory. After the silent interrogation session came to an end Shiro gave his uniform a firm tug to remedy any creases. ”Jokes on you, evil-doer!” The boy suddenly set the air ablaze with a jutted finger, ”I have already prepared in advance for pickpocketing creetons such as yourself! I keep my wallet in my rear-pants pocket, where surely nobody would ever dare to explore!” With his lone finger now wagging high up along with his chin, Shiro stuck a pompous stance, exuding self-confidence and idiocracy simultaneously. He was obviously joking, but felt the need to throw out some verbal bait to redirect the attention of anybody nearby who may have picked up on Kosuke’s hushed words.
”Well, it was just a hunch emnine. I didn’t even indirectly refer to your handle. Hell, I don’t even know your name yet. But let’s save introductions for later,” Shiro subtly leaned over towards his comrade’s shoulder, a hand cuffed over his mouth, ”Okay, Ocketray Ancerlay?” He topped off his show of prowess in pig latin with a blaringly obvious wink.
It was then that an all too familiar chirp drowned the air in its electricity. No. Oh, no, no, no. All those hours he spent managing trade transactions and acquisitions of funds. The student angstily tingled with PTSD as the head honcho of the merchant guild strolled over in a body of biological flesh instead of a composition of one’s and zero’s. Lassoed under her arm was a victim. And he had the nagging sensation that the perp was in their presence. ”I’ve read enough manga to know what happened here…” He thought in contained alarm and offered a silent prayer and his condolences to the brunet, presumably her personal punching bag when a venture doesn’t turn out to be as lucrative as projected. Though as Maribel herself had alluded to and where Kosuke’s vision was probably locked on at the moment, it may not be the worst position out there. Speaking of the latter, his threat had dwindled tirely in face of the cerulean maelstrom.
Naturally, Shiro wouldn’t falter in slipping in his own version of humor. ”HEY! KOSUKE IS AN INDEPENDENT MAN WHO DON’T NEED NO WOHMANE!” The student retorted with a deriding “hmph” as he swung his leg around Kosuke’s, leaned on his shoulder whilst paying head to the cyanic locks, and snapped in a Z formation with his free hand. As a mostly playful mind who could respect the jesting, Maribel had hopefully deduced at this point this to be a greeting of sorts. ”Anyways,” The boy continued while releasing the fellow Sweeper from what was probably one of the most horrifying moments in his time on this planet. ”Been having a fine day, your Cerulean Highness?” He asked affably complemented by a genial bow. For a moment his eyes fell upon Alex to transmit a message, ”Now tell me, where did the mean lady touch you?”
For being in the presence of a king, individuals who soared echelons far beyond the term omnipotent, Shiro was surprisingly relaxed. After all, the leader has been vicariously receiving fragments of his personality through her peons, she should already have a grasp on the person behind Paper Moon. The times without Leviathan by his side were rocky to say the least, but they managed to compile organized accounts concerning resources. In other words, the highly trained and versified Cobalt and Ebony merchants had to watch as Paper Moon cowered in a corner fruitlessly.
”And your friend?” He queried, his eyes still locked on the girl, ”Now the real question is, whose hair is a richer tint of cyan? Yours or Kosuke’s?” Just like that, the random passerby hastily vacated the hallway. With his posture relaxed as usual, the boy let the question linger up in the air, unsure of how long it would be before they could grab a gift for Asahi.
@TheWindel@McFazzer@RoflsMazoy
