a bowl of eastern comfort | naegi & fujisaki
Nervous fingers itched at the back of a nest of thick chocolate hair, and bright amber eyes shifted about as if looking for a distraction, or something else to look at. Most people these days did this sort of stuff through texts or over the phone or on some instant messaging service; some safe and distant networking, which may, as he thinks about it, be a better option in most cases. But no-- for this occasion and for this specific person, Naegi Makoto made the commitment to approach in person.
It's not like I'm making a confession or any huge proposition, but for whatever reason, my heart seems to beat faster than normal. This sort of thing happens pretty often, I guess. I'm not that remarkable with girls, after all, when it comes to stuff like this.
Eyes alighted upon the slim and diminutive figure of the little girl seated there, whose face had some deep and intimate relationship with her computer screen that they remained so close at almost all times. Back when he first came to school, he was nervous about disturbing her work, but as time went on, the realization that Fujisaki Chihiro was far more outgoing and friendly than she gave herself credit came as a welcome and comforting one to him, and they became fast friends. Though, never before had he come with a request like this to her, and that selfsame nervousness of first contact returned to him to give pause to his tongue and feet, giving himself time to compose himself and prevent some stuttering disaster.
But, like any challenge, social or otherwise, Naegi wouldn't hesitate to take the chance and leap headfirst. Not that he was particularly reckless, no; his decisions involved careful deliberation and much thought, but never did he back down from a challenge with hope of success in view. And with a quiet breath, he stepped forward, and spoke with clarity and measured sureness.
"Hey, Fujisaki-san. Are you doing anything this afternoon?"