( there's at least some measure of humor forced into his voice, even if it's just by instinct; it's a shitty joke, a shitty pun, and they both know it, by the slight graze of tomura's mouth up into a smile. there's something to be said for finding comfort in the familiar, where he's been a person that's never really had anything familiar to lean on in his life; having tomura here next to him, acting just the same as always, helps settle him a little, grounding him in the moment. he'd never thought he'd have anything close to full trust in the guy, during their first meeting: but they've been through hell and back, and tomura is much more of a leader than he often gives him credit for.
at the very least, he's willing to sit with him and mooch off free drinks, and he likes that about him, even if he won't say it out loud. misery loves company, and even if tomura isn't quite as miserable as he is, at least he's here to help make it less of an overwhelming weight on his shoulders.
with a long breath, he pushes his elbows into the bar so that he can sit up, properly. it won't be good if he takes a shot and spills it all over himself; long fingers reach for the glass, holding it up to eye level to ascertain the contents. )
If we're sticking with this stuff, I got...what, another three shots in me before I puke.
( a drawling estimate, which maybe betrays how much he's had to drink already: even sitting up for this long is making him want to slump back to the bar. )
A toast, yeah? To stupid fucking heroes sticking their fucking noses everywhere they shouldn't.
( a little jingle of his glass in the air in indication, before he tips his head back and swallows the shot--immediately sliding the glass back onto the bar top. at this point, it doesn't matter how nasty it tastes. )
Can't believe I'm stuck seeing him fucking--walking around--everywhere. ( the words blur together in disgust, anger, a little excitement. ) Just wanna kill everyone he touches.
no subject
( there's at least some measure of humor forced into his voice, even if it's just by instinct; it's a shitty joke, a shitty pun, and they both know it, by the slight graze of tomura's mouth up into a smile. there's something to be said for finding comfort in the familiar, where he's been a person that's never really had anything familiar to lean on in his life; having tomura here next to him, acting just the same as always, helps settle him a little, grounding him in the moment. he'd never thought he'd have anything close to full trust in the guy, during their first meeting: but they've been through hell and back, and tomura is much more of a leader than he often gives him credit for.
at the very least, he's willing to sit with him and mooch off free drinks, and he likes that about him, even if he won't say it out loud. misery loves company, and even if tomura isn't quite as miserable as he is, at least he's here to help make it less of an overwhelming weight on his shoulders.
with a long breath, he pushes his elbows into the bar so that he can sit up, properly. it won't be good if he takes a shot and spills it all over himself; long fingers reach for the glass, holding it up to eye level to ascertain the contents. )
If we're sticking with this stuff, I got...what, another three shots in me before I puke.
( a drawling estimate, which maybe betrays how much he's had to drink already: even sitting up for this long is making him want to slump back to the bar. )
A toast, yeah? To stupid fucking heroes sticking their fucking noses everywhere they shouldn't.
( a little jingle of his glass in the air in indication, before he tips his head back and swallows the shot--immediately sliding the glass back onto the bar top. at this point, it doesn't matter how nasty it tastes. )
Can't believe I'm stuck seeing him fucking--walking around--everywhere. ( the words blur together in disgust, anger, a little excitement. ) Just wanna kill everyone he touches.