[For the longest time, Hakuryuu doesn't move, eyes fixated on the room around him. It was by no means a mansion, but it had everything a person could want in one. Heating, a TV, a bed...and the fact that Fudou had confirmed this to be his...it's all a little overwhelming for him. He's not some caveman that doesn't know what a TV is, hell, he remember watching it when he was younger. But when he got older and more exploitable by Fifth Sector, the barracks became home. You learned to forget about such luxuries like a television, and things like food and one of the better beds often became the priorities.
With a small breath, he stands up, pacing around the place with his head held up high, inspecting the ceiling and the walls, craning his body over (while keeping those pajamas bound tightly to his chest by his arms) to look at the heater, to see what magazines were on the table. Everything had that 'new' feeling to him, possibly in the best way he could have ever imagined. But there's a small nagging feeling in the back of his head, one that he's been fighting ever since Fudou had picked him up.
"How long will this last?"
After his lap around the room, he finds his way back to the futon, plopping down on it once more and looking more at the pajamas that lay in his arms. His thumb brushes over the fabric, obviously freshly bought and ready to be worn. And in turn, his face begins to soften as well, red eyes losing their sharpness and a smile starting to form on his face as he traces the collar of the shirt.
It's not until Fudou speaks up that he snaps out of his little daze, looking up as if he had been caught daydreaming (well, he had), and standing up almost immediately. Those pajamas remain in his arms, ready to follow]
Yes.
[He was beginning to sound like a broken record at this point, but it's not like he could mess up if his mouth kept shut, right? He moves closer to Fudou, eyes locking with the cool blue ones of the man's, and it's obvious just how much they softened in the time he left and came back.]
no subject
With a small breath, he stands up, pacing around the place with his head held up high, inspecting the ceiling and the walls, craning his body over (while keeping those pajamas bound tightly to his chest by his arms) to look at the heater, to see what magazines were on the table. Everything had that 'new' feeling to him, possibly in the best way he could have ever imagined. But there's a small nagging feeling in the back of his head, one that he's been fighting ever since Fudou had picked him up.
"How long will this last?"
After his lap around the room, he finds his way back to the futon, plopping down on it once more and looking more at the pajamas that lay in his arms. His thumb brushes over the fabric, obviously freshly bought and ready to be worn. And in turn, his face begins to soften as well, red eyes losing their sharpness and a smile starting to form on his face as he traces the collar of the shirt.
It's not until Fudou speaks up that he snaps out of his little daze, looking up as if he had been caught daydreaming (well, he had), and standing up almost immediately. Those pajamas remain in his arms, ready to follow]
Yes.
[He was beginning to sound like a broken record at this point, but it's not like he could mess up if his mouth kept shut, right? He moves closer to Fudou, eyes locking with the cool blue ones of the man's, and it's obvious just how much they softened in the time he left and came back.]