[ There's a glance spared towards the shade that Nanami is working his way towards, the offer outstretched between them but not something particularly binding. The way that this man both seeks solace and rejects it is interesting to him, if not a little too familiar: and rather than argue, or object with some tart refusal, he slumps an arm down to find the handle of the buster sword, in the dirt. He's not going to leave it there, despite the fact that he knows no one else would try to take it--too heavy.
The sword is important. Even as he swings it onto his back, the metal clicking into place, and the weight of it bears down on his shoulders: he doesn't mind it.
There are a few sturdy tables, various barrels and jugs and lackluster cups gathered around them, and though they're not the only ones to find some refreshment in the shade, they're also not crowded for space. It reminds him of back home, in a way, that backwater country feeling, where the others all know each other and, once again, he's left out of their proceedings.
With a slight frown, shifting, he decides he's going for a beer, rather than lemonade, juice, or even water. It's been that kind of day. ]
You don't look like you did this kind of thing back home. [ In lieu of sitting, he's standing, one hand jutted onto his hip while the other brings the cup to his lips, swallowing down a mouthful of cold liquid like he's used to drinking it. He isn't. ] Office job?
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The sword is important. Even as he swings it onto his back, the metal clicking into place, and the weight of it bears down on his shoulders: he doesn't mind it.
There are a few sturdy tables, various barrels and jugs and lackluster cups gathered around them, and though they're not the only ones to find some refreshment in the shade, they're also not crowded for space. It reminds him of back home, in a way, that backwater country feeling, where the others all know each other and, once again, he's left out of their proceedings.
With a slight frown, shifting, he decides he's going for a beer, rather than lemonade, juice, or even water. It's been that kind of day. ]
You don't look like you did this kind of thing back home. [ In lieu of sitting, he's standing, one hand jutted onto his hip while the other brings the cup to his lips, swallowing down a mouthful of cold liquid like he's used to drinking it. He isn't. ] Office job?