[ shiro startles as the curtain is yanked to the side. his gaze keeps in line with surprise in the following beats, eyes tracking over keith’s – mostly – bare shoulders, down his tank and to familiar orange. one, two, three shifts of his gaze and then he blinks, gaze now on keith’s face, words filling the space between them. shiro’s still wearing the safari shorts and boots that don’t belong to him, but he makes no move to finish changing. he smiles instead, slow-curling and sweet on relief as he nods minutely, confirming: ]
I want to too.
[ there’s a nervous twitch in the immediate aftermath of that. barely anything at all, but there nonetheless: he wrings the vest in between his hands, fingers pinching needlessly. he’s quick to recover though and soon, drapes the vest over his left arm, grabbing his pants and utility belt, as well as one lone glove, off the chair, soon adding those to the pile of clothes he catches in the crook of his elbow to hug to his torso. ]
We can go to my cube. Change in peace and figure it out from there.
[ he bends down as he talks, metal fingers clasping hard at the cuffs of his boots. he holds them dangling at his side as he straightens up. ]
It’s almost dinner time, isn’t it? We can–
[ and the minute runs out. ]
Where are my stars? [ shiro doesn’t even attempt to finish the thought, instead wrinkling his nose and twisting his lips on a wince. ] You better not be milking out each other’s o-faces. Save that for the camera, lovelies~
[ shiro tips a glance in the direction of the call, staring for an extended beat even though he can’t see anything through the heavy draping of material. if he remembers correctly, the location of this makeshift dressing room isn’t far off from the entrance. if they peel back the curtain beyond the chair that was previously acting as shiro’s dresser, then it’s almost a straight shot to the communal area door. with that settled in his mind, shiro looks back to keith, the right side of his mouth pulling harder.
the responsible thing would be to politely tell lon sheremi they've changed their minds, so they're bowing out. but. ]
He doesn’t seem like a runner. Race you to the exit?
LISTEN he's making... progress. he even bought a big bed w keith in mind!
I want to too.
[ there’s a nervous twitch in the immediate aftermath of that. barely anything at all, but there nonetheless: he wrings the vest in between his hands, fingers pinching needlessly. he’s quick to recover though and soon, drapes the vest over his left arm, grabbing his pants and utility belt, as well as one lone glove, off the chair, soon adding those to the pile of clothes he catches in the crook of his elbow to hug to his torso. ]
We can go to my cube. Change in peace and figure it out from there.
[ he bends down as he talks, metal fingers clasping hard at the cuffs of his boots. he holds them dangling at his side as he straightens up. ]
It’s almost dinner time, isn’t it? We can–
[ and the minute runs out. ]
Where are my stars? [ shiro doesn’t even attempt to finish the thought, instead wrinkling his nose and twisting his lips on a wince. ] You better not be milking out each other’s o-faces. Save that for the camera, lovelies~
[ shiro tips a glance in the direction of the call, staring for an extended beat even though he can’t see anything through the heavy draping of material. if he remembers correctly, the location of this makeshift dressing room isn’t far off from the entrance. if they peel back the curtain beyond the chair that was previously acting as shiro’s dresser, then it’s almost a straight shot to the communal area door. with that settled in his mind, shiro looks back to keith, the right side of his mouth pulling harder.
the responsible thing would be to politely tell lon sheremi they've changed their minds, so they're bowing out. but. ]
He doesn’t seem like a runner. Race you to the exit?