[The visceral reaction upon sight of him is more welcome than Fukawa would know. It feels familiar, and in his current state of mind, warranted. Mismatched eyes flick upward in a brief glance — he sees the mistletoe, just as he's seen it strewn around elsewhere, and he's aware of the associated tradition even if he doesn't understand it. Who would be compelled to kiss simply from standing beneath a plant?
Unlike Fukawa, he hasn't seen any monsters, so the solution here seems obvious.]
Calm down. I don't want anything to do with you either, least of all this.
[Whatever murderous rage had possessed him during their last encounter has vanished, and in its place is a morose, ill, unhappy young man. He turns away from her and starts down the opposite street, hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. If she doesn't stop him, he'll make it to the next corner before they get punked by sprites...]
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Unlike Fukawa, he hasn't seen any monsters, so the solution here seems obvious.]
Calm down. I don't want anything to do with you either, least of all this.
[Whatever murderous rage had possessed him during their last encounter has vanished, and in its place is a morose, ill, unhappy young man. He turns away from her and starts down the opposite street, hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. If she doesn't stop him, he'll make it to the next corner before they get punked by sprites...]