#sal02

[screensland]

[screensland]

[screensland]

[screensland]

[kaitouing]

take your tail back ok

So, as it goes, when you are a thief, you are expected to overcome a myriad of obstacles. More so than there are stars in the sky, because humans produced effusions of possibilities from will power alone, and he'd found the police were like stars ready to burst within a second of provocation. He never had any particular fear of heights, of breaking the law, of messing with people to the point of treating them like children in his daycare centre of chaos, therefore he took to the role he had so boisterously taken on quickly, constructing heists with a million little mess ups and a smaller amount of successes. To put it simply, Kaito was irrevocably good at sinking into the situation, he could sit in quick sand calmly (probably after a minor freak out) and figure out what he had to do to rope his way into safety, a sense of security, or a comfort zone. It was something he had been taught as a child, and he followed it closely.

Except, unlike flying solo or piloting a plane on pure intellectual whim, Kaito had never had to truly face one of the most irrational fears he had. It came across as not only strange to others, but even he could not understand where it had stemmed from, or why people found it so odd. The mystery behind the phobia was, naturally, an obstacle for recovery, and he'd never thus far been forced to accept or move on from it.

Until today, but as expected, the shrillest of shrieks rose from his loud mouth the moment he laid eyes on what he could only identify as a tail. If, for some awful and imperative reason he had to done the features of an animal, he probably wouldn't have minded something fluffier or fitting to his dog-like personality of adulation and self praise, but this-- no, this took the cake.

The next scream, no more than a few seconds after the first, took the form of his fiance's name, as if they were not just a few rooms away and Kaito had to call out to fire-fighters while trapped in a burning house. Certainly, he probably felt that way, the flames of inconsolable hysteria licking at him as he charged from the bathroom (he hadn't noticed it upon waking up, because either he was drowsy or the extra body parts were just as normal as an arm or a leg to the human body) to the hall, then back into the bathroom, and finally to Sal's room. Walking it off was not successful and, as privacy was not that big of a deal to the magician, he made no room for preservation the moment he entered the bedroom.

“Why--” He belted, grabbing at the tail protruding from the larger section above his backside, “--do I have this!?”

Touching it did not make him feel better. Squeamishly, he released the – whatever it was, and then looked down at it in horror. His lip pouted and aggravation overwhelmed him, before he gripped the end once more and tugged heavily, only making him wince like a little girl. Like that had somehow made a point and had not been an attempt at removing the spectacle, the brunet looked back at the “shark” with a look of betrayal.