▓ ▒░ ;; The taller boy doesn’t offer any further commentaries, instead opting for silencing his snort. It’s not originative of an ill intent, no; rather, it’s a reflection of pensive thoughts. He knew Akashi was, vulgarly phrased, loaded, and Nijimura was familiar with the feeling of lenient amusement that followed the mere reminder of such fact. He’s seen his chauffeur around (mere glimpses caught by his curious, wandering side glances) and the luxurious thing he drove, and a part of him would never, no matter how accustomed he was to his underclassman’s oddly mature personality for a 14-year-old, stop feeling the slightest bit impressed by the redhead’s own apparent indifference towards his wealth.
Well, he supposes it was to be expected. He did grow up in that environment.
He wasn’t envious; on the contrary, the Captain was rather fond of the simplistic life he and his family led. Having extra money to spend would be nice, undeniably so, but Nijimura couldn’t imagine living any differently, nor did he particularly wished for it — not strongly, that is. He remained indifferent himself towards this topic regarding his vice-captain’s life, never one to pry or care.
The door of their destination reaches Nijimura’s sight, and he wastes no time in reaching it and knocking once, twice, thrice before frowning and opening the door when no invitation came.
▓ ▒░ ;; ❝Nobody’s here,❞ he mutters, feeling more than hearing his words resonate through the empty office. He enters nevertheless, the cool air emanating from the AC a welcome contrast to his hot and sweaty skin. He doesn’t allow himself a moment to cool down, holding the door open for Akashi and inspecting him for any signs of discomfort. It’d be an easier job to carry out if only the boy wasn’t always so damn guarded, but the black-haired teen deems it sufficient for now.
▓ ▒░ ;; ❝Looks like we haf’ta do this ourselves,❞ or rather, he has to do it himself, for the redhead was injured, after all, and there was no way Nijimura would let him do anything but rest. Well, no problem by him — he hopes the sentiment is reciprocated, but gives no time for second thoughts as he rummages the office for the needed materials. Like it or not, Akashi was going to accept his help. ❝You should probably sit down.❞
Ah, what was needed, again? Oh, right, right, right. Bandages, ice, ointment…
…aspirins, probably tylenol, blah, blah.
(Although he most likely—
—should not give out medications without a certified adult’s permission.)
He focuses on finding ice first of all, satisfied when a positive outcome greets him and briskly returns to Akashi’s side.
▓ ▒░ ;;❝How’re you doing?❞ he asks roughly, but not unkindly. Steel gaze fixes on the shorter’s arm, trying to determine the extent of the damage before gently yet firmly pressing the ice pack against it. ❝D’ya think it’s just sprained?❞
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