If Honey had one thing to complain about after rebirth, it was the lack of cake.
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"3-E?"
The blond nodded, his purple eyes slightly narrowing as his mind drifted to one annoying redhead.
"Yes, we must put them in their place."
The strawberry blon...
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"My oh my, did the little mouse get lost?"
The chilling voice taunted into the silence of the forest. The tall man carelessly observed as the teen rolled to the ground, body limp and strawberry blond hair scattered across his face and covering his features. 192cm, slicked black hair, a scar carved over his left eye, and a pair of cold glasses— this was the Divine Soldier.
Craig Hojo.
::
"..."
The air was crisp and chilly. There was no warmth apart perhaps from the poor one that emanated from the human body. He held a phone close to his ear, his other hand rhythmically drumming against the table as he received the other person's words.
There wasn't much to add to what the other was saying. What's more, it didn't seem like the caller wanted an answer at the moment. The man was half-informing, half-venting, to be honest. The tone, the pace of his voice— sharp, concise, straight to the point, everything was there. Yet, it was undeniable how he would add some useless details or insight into his feelings.
Words flowed like a river, steadily and calmy— but also unstoppable. It was unlike the male not to control his feelings.
Kyoya only listened. His face was unreadable, merely painted with his usual apathetic expression. The crafted smile on his lips peacefully rested— he was so used to wearing it that sometimes he forgot to take off the mask.
The drumming of his fingers against the cool surface halted with the pause of the caller's voice. He allowed himself to reach for his new cup of espresso, the drink already lukewarm from the weather. Yet, Kyoya did not seem to be feeling the cold. He didn't shiver, his teeth didn't clack, and apart from his usual light coat, he had nothing over his clothing.
He habitually drank the bitter liquid, feeling some loss at the lack of scathingly hot beverage against his throat. Nevertheless, he didn't showcase any emotion on his face, resting the cup on the table once again before he began to trace the cool rim with his fingertip.
He listened, eyes flitting to the faraway hill and dome from time to time, and after a minute, the voice stopped. It sharply halted, like it was forcefully stopped, and Kyoya guessed that Takashi had to go— or that Karasuma or another colleague of his was nearby.
