conductorofideals
Click-click-click. The heels of two small boots made clicks on the floor as the Harajuku-dressed one entered the meeting spot, hairspray-stiffened mint hair idly swishing faintly. Lavender contacts look around as though they didn't already know where they were headed, and then settle on the owner of one pair of red headphones.
Anyone else might have mistaken them for, well, just what was on the tin: an ambiguously gendered alternative-fashionista. However, the person they were here to see would know immediately that what's visible about them wasn't the entire spectrum.
They smiled faintly as they adjusted their path directly to the other -- there was really no use in beating around the bush. Staring up at the man with the shades and the headphones, they spoke, an airy and light voice with just as little distinction between 'masculine' and 'feminine' as their appearance.
"Aah... Kitaniji, Megumi. Yes?"
