[Because he certainly hopes it was. Hard to persevere when the other half involved has half a mind to cut the demonstration short because she found the decay of his stoic dignity amusing. Don't think he couldn't tell. Idiot.
'Show me again,' huh? How else was he supposed to react to that?
He leans back against the chair a little, feeling the sudden solid pressure against his chest, and keeps his arm where it is. He's almost content to just sit here in the silence for awhile, but silence means having to think.
It's during times like this he wishes more like Iori. It's a sentiment that he has every intention of taking to his grave, but it’s still there nonetheless. The thought exists. He doesn't know Junpei well by any the sense of the word (and hasn't any intention to), but he wishes he could copy Iori's way of pulling legitimate conversation out from thin air. How he could turn around an otherwise unsalvageable conversation (doomed to decay into awkward silence) with a single random comment, usually with a dumb joke or something else equally asinine tacked on. Maybe a complaint no one took seriously. Shinjiro knows that type of person isn’t him, and never could be—Junpei can stand looking stupid and not being taken seriously; Shinjiro can barely tolerate people saying "thank you" (because what the hell do they know?)—but every now and then, in simple moments like this, Shinjiro wishes that he could, even though that kind of talent is something he never thought he’d need. To make people laugh without it having to be accidental.
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[Because he certainly hopes it was. Hard to persevere when the other half involved has half a mind to cut the demonstration short because she found the decay of his stoic dignity amusing. Don't think he couldn't tell. Idiot.
'Show me again,' huh? How else was he supposed to react to that?
He leans back against the chair a little, feeling the sudden solid pressure against his chest, and keeps his arm where it is. He's almost content to just sit here in the silence for awhile, but silence means having to think.
It's during times like this he wishes more like Iori. It's a sentiment that he has every intention of taking to his grave, but it’s still there nonetheless. The thought exists. He doesn't know Junpei well by any the sense of the word (and hasn't any intention to), but he wishes he could copy Iori's way of pulling legitimate conversation out from thin air. How he could turn around an otherwise unsalvageable conversation (doomed to decay into awkward silence) with a single random comment, usually with a dumb joke or something else equally asinine tacked on. Maybe a complaint no one took seriously. Shinjiro knows that type of person isn’t him, and never could be—Junpei can stand looking stupid and not being taken seriously; Shinjiro can barely tolerate people saying "thank you" (because what the hell do they know?)—but every now and then, in simple moments like this, Shinjiro wishes that he could, even though that kind of talent is something he never thought he’d need. To make people laugh without it having to be accidental.
But he supposes there is something he could do.]
Hey. Feel like going outside for a minute?