[impressions]
Chiaki Nanami:
[►]He’s…a very dignified fellow, again reminding her of Kuzuryuu, albeit less “gangster” and more “stately”. She’s sensing a lot of aggravation that slides along her own nerves like briars, but Chiaki’s good at controlling herself.
"Then I’m sorry," she murmurs after a pause, pulling her sleeve back into place. Fair enough, it’s an obviously unneeded gesture when their emotions are flying back and forth between them.
She entirely puts the game aside for now—something tells her he isn’t patient like the rest of her friends. He probably wouldn’t tolerate her attention going elsewhere. And it’s…rude, maybe, but she never means it like that.
He prefers to call her by her “family” name—Nanami—that’s…fine, since it’s a sort of formality common to Japan as well. His comments about her skirt makes her arch an eyebrow, but she crosses her legs and sits all nice and primly for him.
And then stifles a yawn. If he thinks this skirt is short, wait until he sees Junko. A swell of unease rises in her at the memory of the supermodel’s forced kiss upon her, but she brushes it aside, hoping Ciel didn’t notice. She ignores the comment on her skirt and instead focuses on replying to his introduction.
"Hm." She nods a little. "Phantomhive-san," Chiaki continues, going for the most formal approach she can. "We’re going to have a little problem…" There’s a pause as she trails off, getting her thoughts together. Then she lifts her eyes back to him. "We’re from different time periods, so some things here and about me might be a little strange to you…I think. But I’m sure we’ll be fine," she finishes mildly. "If you have any questions about anything, I’ll answer them."
❝ ；— His brows furrow but nevertheless, Ciel notices a title attached to his name. He places the lass in location to some Asian country. The dialect something he was unaccustomed to, something he couldn't pinpoint. Being addressed by last name by those he just met, and even those he's known for years, was just another formality he faced as Earl, but the honorific, a little detail that set them apart, just an inch. She was so kind, almost irritatingly so, but she was soft-spoken, and it made it easier to relax. He leaned to the side of the chair, balled hand supporting his chin as the boy continued to look down. She, in all due respects, reminded him of his mother.
Her proposition and etiquette in sitting more ladylike are not unaccounted for, and each second became a lot easier to take on now. Much different than before, he takes a breath and quickly exhales. He couldn't lose his temper like that again. It was undignified, and uncalled for.
Different time periods, different locations. A little astounding how much effort was put into collecting. Ciel doesn't have many questions floating around besides when and where she was born, though he wasn't as interested in revealing his own past, as he was more invested in knowing whom he shared a room with. Evidentially, social status was disregarded here. Admittedly, there's not much he can do, having spent the last few years relying on the help of a supernatural butler and three above par servants. He's already made such a sharp impression, but he becomes a bit agitated in his spot at the prospect of making a bigger fool of himself.
Unless the raising of women is so violently different between their cultures, he wondered if she'd pick up on cleaning and other chores. Other questions begin to flock to his mind, but Ciel only mentions one.
"Do you know how to make tea?" — ；❞
