(don't think shin doesn't notice just how smooth that hand is. something is wrong. so wrong. what? his own is extremely calloused, not only due to such activities, but because that's simply what happens when you train in music instruments for so long. he could burn the tips of his fingers and not feel it.

he drags the stick, a simple shrug as he releases the smoke from his lungs through his nose.)

I haven't been here too long. Two months, at most. It was fine. We had festivals, and minor problems like birds trying to rip my piercing from my face. Then, when we were working during Tanabata, the kidnapping happened, and someone...

(god, the crack. the thumping. he hates even remembering it, the inhale of smoke longer and the release as well, as if he was delaying to say it.)

I saw a murder the first time. It wasn't nice.