❖ . . .
he’d never been the type to stare. aside from the fact that it was plainly rude, it revealed a measure of interest that sen was in no way keen on displaying toward anyone. junki, for his all of his eloquence, had deemed it a social anxiety and sen, for all of his warm-hearted restraint, had refrained from launching his good friend through the nearest window.
in jest, of course.
naturally, there are exceptions to every rule. and the exception finds him today, when he calls a meeting—to discuss the successful outcome of a personal mission he’d endorsed himself—and the grand total of members that appear (the grand total of his small but mighty band of radical pro-mutants) is ravi.
sen stares.
by time he considers calling his good friend junki, he knows precisely how many eyelashes the male has—136 (an absurd number)—and just how long it’s been since he’s washed his face.
he hadn’t called a meeting for one-on-one time.
It’s then, that he swallows his personal double-helping of pride and rises from his desk, moving with his usual grace to the office door. “we’re going to the institution.”
