there's a certain sort of art in the way her fingers push down her headphones to hang loosely around her neck, her mouth turning up with mild amusement when she raises her hand in greeting. the lit cigarette rests between her index and middle finger — raon uses it as an excuse, a time stopper in conversations where she doesn't quite know what to say or do. she takes a drag now.
however calculative and sceptical her own gaze is, jiyu's is even sharper though raon isn't able to sense any immediate animosity behind it. she can't find the words to describe what it feels like, sitting in front of the other's watchful eye like this. being looked through, not at, is the closest that comes to it and raon wonders briefly what type of person jiyu thinks she is. what type of person jiyu is, even.
she finishes her drag and runs out of methods to delay a conversation. her eyes crinkle instead, voice light when she talks. "hey, fashionista."
it would be mocking if it wasn't for the fact that raon's raon and jiyu's jiyu. she scoots to the left, taps the bottom end of her cigarette once against the bench she's sitting on like she'd been reserving a seat for her all along. maybe she has been, ever since spotting jiyu's familiar figure flittering towards her across the otherwise gloomy campus. she tilts her head, and like she doesn't know what the answer's going to be—
"what'cha need from me?"
@infrasense / 01.
