( the reaction is interesting--this guy feels like the type that loves the sound of his own voice, or at the very least, loves to talk, and yet suddenly it's like he's clammed up, stumbling slightly, and unable to lift his chin to meet their gazes. he doesn't really blame him: it's strange to stare back at someone in sunglasses and not know where they're looking, but even so, maybe he's ruffled the guy's feathers a bit with his teasing.

there's a point to this whole thing, anyway--he's making some progress here, then.

with another little laugh, he readjusts in his chair, slouching against the back of it--his knees remain open, a casual, comfortable sort of stance, though his eyes are narrowing slightly behind his lenses. )

No ghosts? Then what do you feel, here? ( his lips twist into something of a pout. ) Nothing at all? You're going to break my heart, Reigen-san. Am I not your type?