Hates that slimy pretense at geniality, hates the way something cold and sharp creeps into it, hates the casual tone of voice that accompanies it. Gen says nothing, but he also isn't really listening to what Makoto's saying -- it's probably bullshit anyway, it's usually bullshit that accompanies those sorts of saccharine-sweet smiles. Instead, his focus is on looking Makoto over, taking in those graceful movements, the odd color of his eyes, those lurid scars.
Maybe Makoto can feel the quiet intensity of that stare raking over him. It's probably for the best that he does. Because there's no other warning before Gen abruptly reaches forward in response to those honeyed words.
It's not a particularly hurried or quick movement. Instead it's controlled, deliberate, a very purposeful invasion of Makoto's private space to gauge how he reacts. Gen makes to wind his hand into the luxurious cascade of Makoto's hair, closer to the scalp, and tug his head to one side -- not meant to be violent or painful, but again, deliberate. Prodding at Makoto to see how he reacts.
If he shies away from the reach of fingers, that's fine; he'll take it as a victory that he got the guy to balk. If his hand's smacked away, that's fine too; any reaction is better than nothing. But ideally, Gen wants to accomplish the double purposes of making it clear he has no qualms about using physical force, and also getting a better look at the scars at Makoto's throat without his hair falling in the way. ]
The hell are you, anyway?
[ The question's breathed at a quiet, surly deadpan, so close to Makoto's face that most people in his position would find it discomforting. That's the point. True to his image of being a delinquent thug, Gen's knee-jerk response to anything he dislikes is to try to exert control over it. And so far, he's not really liking what he sees of Makoto. ]
absolutely! in the meantime i'm just hyped to see makoto around hehe, we support a horrible lad
Hates that slimy pretense at geniality, hates the way something cold and sharp creeps into it, hates the casual tone of voice that accompanies it. Gen says nothing, but he also isn't really listening to what Makoto's saying -- it's probably bullshit anyway, it's usually bullshit that accompanies those sorts of saccharine-sweet smiles. Instead, his focus is on looking Makoto over, taking in those graceful movements, the odd color of his eyes, those lurid scars.
Maybe Makoto can feel the quiet intensity of that stare raking over him. It's probably for the best that he does. Because there's no other warning before Gen abruptly reaches forward in response to those honeyed words.
It's not a particularly hurried or quick movement. Instead it's controlled, deliberate, a very purposeful invasion of Makoto's private space to gauge how he reacts. Gen makes to wind his hand into the luxurious cascade of Makoto's hair, closer to the scalp, and tug his head to one side -- not meant to be violent or painful, but again, deliberate. Prodding at Makoto to see how he reacts.
If he shies away from the reach of fingers, that's fine; he'll take it as a victory that he got the guy to balk. If his hand's smacked away, that's fine too; any reaction is better than nothing. But ideally, Gen wants to accomplish the double purposes of making it clear he has no qualms about using physical force, and also getting a better look at the scars at Makoto's throat without his hair falling in the way. ]
The hell are you, anyway?
[ The question's breathed at a quiet, surly deadpan, so close to Makoto's face that most people in his position would find it discomforting. That's the point. True to his image of being a delinquent thug, Gen's knee-jerk response to anything he dislikes is to try to exert control over it. And so far, he's not really liking what he sees of Makoto. ]