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Hearts were things beyond our ability to control.
Every time it rained, Kisuke would dwell on that thought. Such things had always been the purview of a mind like his own He'd liked little more than to wait for a warm evening, when the insects were particularly loud, and to sit out on the porch with his legs dangling, considering the heart.
He was busier in Darrow, but he still found the time to do nothing at all, which was when he would tend to get the really good thinking done. Tonight it just made him frustrated, so that eventually he made his way away from the window of his little apartment and out onto the streets, where the rain on the roads made everything an artful play of electric lights. The sort of realer than reality that tends to grace night scenes in movies. He appreciates it, and the puddles are no problem, with the wooden geta he wears made for the express purpose of rising feet above the elements.
The jittery feeling of escape having been driven from his joints, he moves to lean against a street lamp by a bus stop and fish for a smoke, when he catches the feel of a familiar soul. He hadn't been expecting to find Mike Pinocchio out here, but nor did he dislike the coincidence. In the mood that Kisuke was in, he could hardly think of a better person to happen past. Mike had given him a pleasant skin-crawling when he'd met him, and Kisuke liked to have his fix.
"Walking or taking ths bus?" he said, without turning his head to meet the man's face.
Every time it rained, Kisuke would dwell on that thought. Such things had always been the purview of a mind like his own He'd liked little more than to wait for a warm evening, when the insects were particularly loud, and to sit out on the porch with his legs dangling, considering the heart.
He was busier in Darrow, but he still found the time to do nothing at all, which was when he would tend to get the really good thinking done. Tonight it just made him frustrated, so that eventually he made his way away from the window of his little apartment and out onto the streets, where the rain on the roads made everything an artful play of electric lights. The sort of realer than reality that tends to grace night scenes in movies. He appreciates it, and the puddles are no problem, with the wooden geta he wears made for the express purpose of rising feet above the elements.
The jittery feeling of escape having been driven from his joints, he moves to lean against a street lamp by a bus stop and fish for a smoke, when he catches the feel of a familiar soul. He hadn't been expecting to find Mike Pinocchio out here, but nor did he dislike the coincidence. In the mood that Kisuke was in, he could hardly think of a better person to happen past. Mike had given him a pleasant skin-crawling when he'd met him, and Kisuke liked to have his fix.
"Walking or taking ths bus?" he said, without turning his head to meet the man's face.
