Because you can't stop talking and you're w-way too casual about it.
[Saying so outright isn't going to help patch this bridge though. She might grimace, glance away shamefully, but "sorry" never quite makes it past her lips. He's pushing ahead anyway. Her lack of tact is a persistent malfunction. Even when she wants to have a pleasant conversation, the words come out in all the worst combinations.
It's so much easier to evoke charm in a book. There she has the room to breathe, the plot, omniscient awareness. She's already aware of their hidden value in each character, how to navigate their flaws, and make them agreeable to one another. Her readers were always remarking that her characters felt like real people. Fukawa disagrees.
If they were comparable, she'd know what to say about things like living in a bad town on the coast. Moving by the ocean, or liking hiking. Does she congratulate him, or say she's sorry about before?
Fukawa hesitates.
A moment too long, he's already asking her a question.]
Uh — T-Tokyo. [She doesn't think it matters which part because canon doesn't specify, he wouldn't know. And besides that?] But most of it is gone now, so. I was in Towa City for a while. Trying to f-fix the complete disaster there.
[Fukawa hugs her arms around her middle. Are they salvaging a conversation, or prolonging unnecessary pain? She watches the end of his cigarette. Every time he sucks new air in the embers blaze anew. A bright red eye wrapped in singed paper.
She feels queasy, suddenly. She looks to the mangled pumpkin instead.]
So. What was it, anyway? The creature you were carving. It's a H-Halloween thing, right?
no subject
Because you can't stop talking and you're w-way too casual about it.
[Saying so outright isn't going to help patch this bridge though. She might grimace, glance away shamefully, but "sorry" never quite makes it past her lips. He's pushing ahead anyway. Her lack of tact is a persistent malfunction. Even when she wants to have a pleasant conversation, the words come out in all the worst combinations.
It's so much easier to evoke charm in a book. There she has the room to breathe, the plot, omniscient awareness. She's already aware of their hidden value in each character, how to navigate their flaws, and make them agreeable to one another. Her readers were always remarking that her characters felt like real people. Fukawa disagrees.
If they were comparable, she'd know what to say about things like living in a bad town on the coast. Moving by the ocean, or liking hiking. Does she congratulate him, or say she's sorry about before?
Fukawa hesitates.
A moment too long, he's already asking her a question.]
Uh — T-Tokyo. [She doesn't think it matters which part
because canon doesn't specify, he wouldn't know. And besides that?] But most of it is gone now, so. I was in Towa City for a while. Trying to f-fix the complete disaster there.[Fukawa hugs her arms around her middle. Are they salvaging a conversation, or prolonging unnecessary pain? She watches the end of his cigarette. Every time he sucks new air in the embers blaze anew. A bright red eye wrapped in singed paper.
She feels queasy, suddenly. She looks to the mangled pumpkin instead.]
So. What was it, anyway? The creature you were carving. It's a H-Halloween thing, right?