He looked handsome, stupidly easily too. Hanazaki doubted that Kurama needed help getting an outfit together but that man really did have a great dress sense. Hanazaki recently learnt more of his own since the modelling stint, it didn't last too long due to his tics, but it was nice for the moment. He got a few good portfolios done for his resume but anyways, attention returned to the moment. His eyes glistening with his smile turning larger, and even laughing as he twirled on the spot. Showing it all off. "Thanks, Kurama! Ya lookin' amazin' as-as-as always." Hanazaki felt the warmth pool in his cheeks, but he dismissed it, instead happy to look towards the place chosen.
He wasn't at all expecting it from Kurama personally, he didn't seem like a hole-in-a-wall type of guy but again, Hanazaki was glad to see it. This difference to his own assumptions of someone else who was well put to together and in a world that wasn't something he could fully fathom for himself. "Not gunna like, I laughed at the shop name-name-name. It's perfect for a Tekken background." He snorted to himself at the image in mind, fingers clicking away with a silencing slap on his thigh. Rolling his lips, he looked away when Kurama stepped forward with his words, Hanazaki scrunched his nose twice before he shook his head. "Plenty romantic. I'm swooning personally. Chicken and handsome mmman for a date? Ten out of ten so far." He cracked a smile… though a sudden nervousness pinched at his shoulders. The last comment didn't click into place until he stepped inside.
Inhaling deep, exhaling longer - he took a moment to get his legs to move and shuffle inside… though, when he did, he didn't know what to do but blink. Empty? No one was around? Sure, that took a lot of pressure off his shoulders to not make a scene or cause a fuss with his tics, he still felt odd. "Hey Kurama?" He turned to his date, brow raising as a thumb tossed over his shoulder with the clear… nothingness in the seats. "They closed?" He stepped aside though to stand beside his date, looking back and forth a touch before moving a bit closer to the blonde man. "This is how horror mmmovies start, y'know?" Hand to the detectives arm, he held on for a bit of support as his head jerked and mind finally connected the dots.
"Holy… Did you book it-it-it out?" A whistle, lip pop and then a laugh as he relaxed almost instantly, leaning onto Kurama with trembling shoulders as he has his moment of relief and disbelief. "No way… A chicken shop just for us-us-us?" Oh, how his nervousness bubbles out, the jittery twitch in his brow relaxed, his shoulders lowered with his mind falling into a lull. Instead, the salt'n'peppered haired man could only gleam with more hope for something great with this night, not only was Kurama not bothered by his movements or noises, he even planned ahead in that short amount of time. A good chicken place, a quiet place for just the two. "Dude… " Hanazaki was a little breathless now, seeing this place out of the horror elements but instead of the romantic haze that no one else would see when told about it later. "I'm excited. Thanks." Now though, Hanazaki boldly took Kurama's hand, tugging him forward with a giddiness renewed.
"Let's sit in the mmmiddle!"
When Hanazaki twirled, Kurama blinked twice before a quiet laugh escaped him, brief and soft. Of all the dates he’d been on—and there honestly hadn’t been many worth remembering—nobody had ever spun in a circle to show off their outfit. It was endearing in a whimsical sort of way. Kurama gave a small nod at the compliment, the corner of his mouth still faintly curved upward. “I try.”
Hanazaki ( @nvrcmplt ) was right to think Kurama wasn't the hole-in-the-wall type of guy. Most of the places he frequented were high-end restaurants, expensive lounges, and private clubs. Even his diet was strict—organic everything, minimal grease, barely any processed food. But this was all information Kurama considered unimportant. He promised Hanazaki a good date, so his own preferences were irrelevant to achieving that. That's how Kurama viewed it anyway.
“Tekken?” he repeated, head tilting slightly before remembering his college days. “—Oh, you mean the fighting game. People still play that?” Kurama’s gaming knowledge had apparently frozen somewhere around the late 90s to early 2000s. Tetris and Pac-Man were about the extent of his video gaming experience. Beyond that, he preferred board games, cards, things he could physically hold.
When they stepped inside, warm lighting spilled across the small restaurant, soft and golden against dark wood tables and faded walls cluttered with handwritten menu signs and framed pictures. The smell of fried chicken lingered in the air, while faint noises drifted from the kitchen—dishes clinking together, oil crackling softly, the owner already prepping. Kurama slipped his hands into his pockets as he looked around the space. The place really was a hole-in-the-wall. Small enough that other customers coming in and out would’ve made it unbearable.
He watched in silence and amusement as Hanazaki put the pieces together. Kurama stiffened for half a second when the hand landed on his arm. He was always awkward about physical touch, but Hanazaki seemed to be the touchy type, so Kurama didn't pull away.
“A chicken shop just for us,” he repeated. “It’s nothing fancy, but the owner owes me. And they make decent food. Besides, I prefer not competing with a crowd for attention.”
When Hana grabbed his hand, Kurama let himself be tugged forward. “The middle it is.”
He followed him toward the center table, coat shifting neatly as he sat down across from him. The chair creaked faintly beneath his weight.
“You should know,” Kurama said while glancing at the menu already sitting on the table, “they don’t serve fries here. Just cheesy mashed potatoes.—Interesting business strategy to say the least. I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
Before much else could be said, the owner emerged from the kitchen. A stocky older man with flour dusted across the front of his apron and the kind of face that looked permanently exhausted. He greeted Kurama casually enough, clearly familiar with him, before turning his attention toward Hanazaki with obvious curiosity.
“What can I get you two to drink?”
“Just water for me,” Kurama answered easily before looking in Hanazaki’s direction.
