Doumeki walked slowly in the general direction of his high school, waiting for a certain someone to finally show up.
"Hey, it's Mr. Expressionless! Check it out, guys! Still no muscles in that face? Or is it all muscle, and no expression?" The mutters didn't bother him. Nor did the titters that followed. It wasn't worth his time, and he never bothered with countering the just-plain-stupid remarks; he had too much dignity.
But he could always count on the kitty to do something about it: whether supernatural or just plain interesting.
The boy tripped and fell forwards just as a black-haired blur raced by. He screeched an apology over his shoulder as he twisted around the people in the crowd that shouted and arched itself away from the insistent blob that was Watanuki, probably running for his life from invisible monsters again. He'd passed so fast he hadn't recognized Doumeki, who could have just dealt with the darn thing.
He wondered if Watanuki regarded himself as possessing of dignity. Was it an object to him, to be lost and found, given and taken? Or more of a pet that you feed and protect, shelter and care for? Some regarded it like they did their shadow: permanently affixed to their person.
Doumeki doubted, somehow, that Watanuki felt that way.
But he'd still ask, right along with what was for lunch, and whether or not there was sashimi.
