Well I suppose this could be worse.
[Sasori is clutching onto a small bag full of various tools and paint, perhaps afraid that he'll lose it in the clutter that covers every surface of the apartment. Including the ceiling, where globs of paint hang menacingly, poised to drip at any moment.
In the few clear spaces are paintings, drawings, sketchpads
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It's like he's bothered by my very presence, and there's not a lot I can do about that, considering that I can barely move without knocking something.
And don't get me started on what that sets off.
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[Mello can understand that. Paranoia's no stranger in his life]
Alright, I'm going to get you started. What happens?
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You're never satisfied, are you?
[With a short, irritated sigh, Sasori bats one of the sketchbooks onto the floor.
In response, Hajime turns around with a yell, pencil raised as though to attack, his gaze going straight through Sasori.]
"Why- l-look, I'm not getting in your w-way...I...Why?!"
[Hajime sort of... curls in on himself, and sits shivering, perched on top of the stool, his gaze fixed firmly on the now open sketchbook. From his side of the room, Sasori watches, passive as always.]
Strange. Earlier he just threw things.
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I'm not sure I want to know how he got paint on the ceiling like that.
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You're an artist, then?
And as for the ceiling... he was painting something earlier, I think.
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I am, can't say I'm very good, but I try. Haven't been able to draw much sine I got here, though.
But how did it get up there? He must've been flinging it at the canvas or something....
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Well I can't say I approve of his methods, but at least it can't hit me.
It had better not stay there after he's turned back into a spirit, though...
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