[ Rules of survival say, you see someone with a problem, you either hope you're it and they're on the brink of expiry (bad), or you walk away slowly but surely, with the traditional enthusiasm of a snail for an uphill crawl (perfect).
Shinji has spent fourteen proud years of an unremarkably pathetic life perfecting the awkward twitch. He has excelled at being that one person on an abandoned road whom people can't help side-eyeing, giving a wide berth or a graceless pat on the back, because, lighten up, little guy. Stay safe. Eat some protein.
So, he recognises the trend of antisocial volatility when he spots it in this one strange man, and he has the good sense to mentally clap for the performance. He won't be the newbie who lets the suspicious sniffing or cautious paranoia get to him. He has lived much of his life in a city, avoiding stray glances in public transport and pointedly pretending not to notice anyone else's inconvenience. He is learned in the way of shrug-and-carry-on.
But it's a quiet night, he's aware of the robe uniform, and, you know. Sometimes you see a fellow freak cruising on his merry way, and you have to huddle. To hell with survival, this is Shinji sliding almost close enough to be a daring five steps away from the man's personal space, and murmuring: ]
...ahhhhhhh. Sorry. You'll look strange. To them. Not to me. But to them.
wildcaaaaaard
Shinji has spent fourteen proud years of an unremarkably pathetic life perfecting the awkward twitch. He has excelled at being that one person on an abandoned road whom people can't help side-eyeing, giving a wide berth or a graceless pat on the back, because, lighten up, little guy. Stay safe. Eat some protein.
So, he recognises the trend of antisocial volatility when he spots it in this one strange man, and he has the good sense to mentally clap for the performance. He won't be the newbie who lets the suspicious sniffing or cautious paranoia get to him. He has lived much of his life in a city, avoiding stray glances in public transport and pointedly pretending not to notice anyone else's inconvenience. He is learned in the way of shrug-and-carry-on.
But it's a quiet night, he's aware of the robe uniform, and, you know. Sometimes you see a fellow freak cruising on his merry way, and you have to huddle. To hell with survival, this is Shinji sliding almost close enough to be a daring five steps away from the man's personal space, and murmuring: ]
...ahhhhhhh. Sorry. You'll look strange. To them. Not to me. But to them.