[Baroona knows better than to trust a drunk's word. Douglas has given him enough experience in that. Still, there's a lingering curiosity to how true her words are.
The more she seems to hate something, the more she actually likes it. Did that explain her weird behavior? There had never been a doubt in Baroona's mind that they were friends but had always figured her anger was sincere. Could it truly be just a cover-up?
And honorifics? Baroona didn't know what that was. He figured Mikoto had known that but could there be a chance that there was something else to it? That she permitted it out of fondness?
It all seemed so minor to mean anything.
He dismisses it. Spends the rest of the walk placating her mother with murmered comforts and quiet promises he may or may not keep in the future. Lulling her to sleep. By the time they arrive in front of what he thinks is a hotel, she's been asleep for awhile.
Troublesome.
It disrupts his plan of leaving her and running, hiding away so no one will see his face. So Mikoto will have less problems to deal with.
Looks like there's no avoiding it now.
With a sigh, he trumps up the steps, past the doorman and into the reception area, blinking wildly as he's faced with bright fluorescent lights and smiling receptionists. Their cheer fades as they watch him recover, stepping back a bit and glancing down. Fancy locales had never been his specialty.
"Can we help you sir?" A brave brown-haired women pipes up from behind the desk. He looks at her, bewildered and lost.]
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The more she seems to hate something, the more she actually likes it. Did that explain her weird behavior? There had never been a doubt in Baroona's mind that they were friends but had always figured her anger was sincere. Could it truly be just a cover-up?
And honorifics? Baroona didn't know what that was. He figured Mikoto had known that but could there be a chance that there was something else to it? That she permitted it out of fondness?
It all seemed so minor to mean anything.
He dismisses it. Spends the rest of the walk placating her mother with murmered comforts and quiet promises he may or may not keep in the future. Lulling her to sleep. By the time they arrive in front of what he thinks is a hotel, she's been asleep for awhile.
Troublesome.
It disrupts his plan of leaving her and running, hiding away so no one will see his face. So Mikoto will have less problems to deal with.
Looks like there's no avoiding it now.
With a sigh, he trumps up the steps, past the doorman and into the reception area, blinking wildly as he's faced with bright fluorescent lights and smiling receptionists. Their cheer fades as they watch him recover, stepping back a bit and glancing down. Fancy locales had never been his specialty.
"Can we help you sir?" A brave brown-haired women pipes up from behind the desk. He looks at her, bewildered and lost.]
I need Mikoto.