Atsuko tapped the pencil against her lips, studying the soft marks made on the canvas. She picked up the picture she had been copying, a picture of a fruit market she had taken earlier that month. For some reason, the pumpkins were proving difficult. She squirmed in her seat, realizing she was just distracted.
She leaned over to her bag and pulled her phone out, smiling cheerfully as she began a new text message. She typed it out quickly, and pressed the send button.
... Not that that was particularly unusual, and neither was the fact that instead of being a decent student, he was simultaneously making a soy, maple syrup latte, a triple shot americano and some really weird marble mocha with several different pumps of syrup in it (raspberry, peach, and mint?) that Taichi had to physically restrain himself from cringing at while he made it.
No, what was unusual, in the case of the stoic giant, was the soft jingle of tunes that came from his back pocket. A jingle that made his fluid motion of pouring milk into the latte gradually slow to a stop, and his gaze flicker towards his cashier gesturing another person up to the till. He called something out to her. Her name, probably, and then something about a coffee break. She returned it with a deep frown that creased her forehead and a snappy reply about how baristas aren't allowed coffee breaks.
He only answered with a hint of a smirk and a pat on her shoulder after he'd slid the three to-go cups over the counter and left out the side. A couple minutes later he was leaning against a wall, ankles crossed, hand in his pocket and cellphone to his ear, calling up the pretty pink-banged painter he'd just received a text from.
"Just so you know," he started once he'd been answered, without so much as a hello, "calling me Tai-chan all the time isn't gonna make me open up to it any faster. Or at all."
While he spoke, his eyes trailed along the mural across from him. The very same the girl on the other end of the line had painted a few months ago. He was quite familiar with it (as one might be if they passed it multiple times a day) and could probably stare at it for an indefinite amount of time, but in this particular case his eyes were searching for the clock hanging close to the top of it. It was just after one.
"Aren't you suppose to be in class?"
Or maybe she was in class and she'd just felt like texting him. ....And you'd decided to phone her. Taichi leaned forward, pushing himself off the wall. His mouth opened and closed a few times, eyes narrowing down on stone tiles at his feet.
"...Um, unless you, uh, are in class."
Pause for a few beats. When he spoke again, his voice lowered and picked up... quite a bit.
"...If you're in English do not mention you're talking to me, I owe some book report I haven't paid Ichikawa to do for me yet. I swear to God that guy hunts me down the days I bother showing up at school. I wouldn't put it past him to rip the phone out of your hand."
