[Riku appears on the plane, still, but clearly unsettled. He takes off his blindfold and puts it away, the runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes as he tries to wrap his head completely around what he just went through. He should have expected... but...]
She looked... damn.
[He goes silent for a moment, staring up and off into the
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HIS LACK OF MANNERS IS APPALLING]
Who?
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... I'm sorry. [For talking about it. For not realizing. That it happened at all. Fill in your own reason. It grates on him that it's the only thing he can think to say.]
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Which leads him to wonder just what sort of person he's like in Riku's world. Maybe he's doing what the non-Plane Riku is doing. Ugh. The thought of being someone else, of being-- well, no one-- makes him sick to his stomach.
He's not, however, expecting an apology. A beat. He blinks.]
Why are you sorry? This is my mess, and I gotta clean it up.
[His lips curve into a very faint smile.]
They're depending on me.
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[And at the last bit... he nods. His expression softens, and if you blink, you'll miss the ghost of a smile that's gone about as quickly as it slipped past his defenses at all.]
Yeah. They are.
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Ever had sea-salt ice cream?
[Surely this is the best way to tell if someone is friend material or not.]
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I've heard of it. Never had it.
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All right. First chance I get, I'm bringing you some. I got another friend here who isn't a believer.
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