(Untitled)

[cakefesta]

Who: Gintoki and Katsura
Where: In a haunted abandoned house during a thunderstorm.
Why: They're seven years old.
When: Right now
Other: In progress in comments

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[itsnotzura]

Katsura trailed inside behind the other man, hands deep in the sleeves of his haori, his own bag strapped across his back.

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura," was his immediate response, although it was distracted; the bug scuttling across the wall adjacent was taking up most of his attention [disgusting, this was so-].

He frowned at Gintoki, the other samurai's forced expression reminding him briefly of a constipated poodle he'd seen once. "You look like a constipated poodle," he added. Sandals quiet on the worm-eaten wood, he swiftly kicked Gintoki's bag to the tatami mat closer to the window. He dropped his own bag on the one nearer the door, face blank, as if he hadn't just wailed Gintoki's things across the room.

[cakefesta]

"You sound like a constipated poodle," he snapped back, his eyes roaming around the room and taking in the collapsed closet door, the aforementioned bug on the wall, the cracked shelf --

The sound of his bag being kicked across the room brought his attention back to Zura, and he impassively strolled over to where the other was standing, picked his bag up, and whacked him over the head with it.

"You really should have more respect for others' futons, oi!"

[itsnotzura]

Whump! Katsura's hair went flying with the blow.

"-Ah." The shorter man didn't seem to care much, as he knew for a fact that his own futon had been rolled by Elizabeth with care, and was not covered in space-dog feces.

The bug on the wall, perhaps bitter it was no longer receiving any attention, proceeded to run down the wall, across the floor, and over onto Gintoki's boot. Watching it, Katsura frowned more. "This place is filthy. Start crying about Casper already so we can leave, please."

[cakefesta]

A well-aimed flick of his foot sent the bug flying into Zura's hair, taking a step back and tapping the toe of his boot against the soggy tatami. "Sorry, Zura, but we won't be leaving anytime soon. Well, should I say, I won't be leaving."

A low rumble of thunder interrupted him, and for once Gintoki was almost convinced that Mother Nature had a sense of humor.

"That bug and that storm, however, might convince you otherwise."

[itsnotzura]

"I have no intention of- gnrk," he cut off, and Katsura's mouth thinned into a wide line as he attempted to brush the bug from his hair with as much dignity and grace as possible. 'Attempted' was of course the operative word; what actually transpired was a strange spasm of frantic motion which ended in a very, very squashed bug, a very disturbed and irate looking samurai, and a bruise on Gintoki's arm.

When the thunder hit, Katsura coughed loudly enough to drown it out of his own ears. "Ah, this place is so mouldy, koff koff," he said, voice a little less quiet than usual [actually pronouncing the word 'koff'].