applenet | COUNTDOWN: PUTTING THE M IN MORALITY 3.0

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COUNTDOWN: PUTTING THE M IN MORALITY 3.0

Did someone contact you during your dreams? Perhaps you were lucky and a few images of your past lives were revealed to you. Then maybe when your phone begins to act strange, you aren't as surprised. Maybe there's a feeling that you've seen this before... could it be a case of deja-vu?

You could all say it started with a strange icon that popped up on your phone that day. September 9th, 2017, a mysterious icon begins your decent into a different world.

Did you press it right away out of curiosity? Did you press it accidentally trying to dismiss it? Or did you wait long enough for it to cover your entire screen, forcing you to interact with it? Either way, congratulations! You've got...a Terms of Service popping up in front of you?

Terms and Conditions ("Terms")
Last updated: September 9th, 2017

Please read these Terms and Conditions ("Terms", "Terms and Conditions") carefully before using the http:/www.applenet.net website (the "Service") operated by AppleNET ("us", "we", "our", "horse", "goat", "sheep", "apple", "shapple" "etc.").

Your access to and use of the Service is predicated on your acceptance of and compliance with these Terms.

By accessing or using the Service you agree to be bound by these Terms and agree to be part of The Team. If you disagree with any part of the terms then that's too bad. You already agreed to them by reading this far. Don't worry, you're not alone in this! In fact, you've probably had a little bit of a warning, right? Your friends warned you in dreams? Hopefully they did cause otherwise, SURPRISE!

AppleNET has no control over and assumes no responsibility for content posted or user privacy. You further acknowledge and agree that AppleNET and its affiliates shall not be responsible or liable, directly or indirectly, for any damage or loss caused or alleged to be caused by or in connection with use of or reliance on any such content, goods, death, night shifts, or services available on or through any such web sites or services.

Governing Law
These Terms shall be governed and construed in accordance the laws, by which we mean with little regard to its conflict with any laws. Are you still even reading this? I bet no one really reads this. PS for all apple pie needs, please contact Luci at Luci@applenet.com

Changes
We reserve the right, at our sole discretion, to modify or replace these Terms at any time. If a revision is material we will try to provide at least 0 days notice prior to any new terms taking effect. What constitutes a material change will be solely determined at our discretion.

By continuing to access or use our Service after those revisions become effective, you agree to be bound by the revised terms. You don't have much choice cause it's time to start fighting back! You can do it! Or at least it will be interesting to see...

Contact Us
If you have any questions about these Terms, please contact us.

You quickly notice there is no contact number or address. Uhh---

DO YOU AGREE TO THESE TERMS?
Yes | Hell Yes | Man I Can'T Wait to See What this is About! | APPLES!
It really seems like you don't have much choice. After pressing one of the four buttons (one of them trailing off to the side of the screen), a new screen greets you.

21 DAYS REMAIN BEFORE FULLY AWAKENING

Hey! Welcome to your new half life. Something like that. I'm Luci! You don't know who I am, but I know who you are. Freaky huh? But that's okay, cause you got a few of your friends coming in too. Anyway, answer these questions, we're gonna have a fun time talking about them, I'm not being all fancy this time, got it? Don't worry if the answer sounds 'bad'. After all, you're gonna be working with the rest of us! What's the worst that could happen?

I mean, bad things could happen. But that's why there's other people to help you! CHECK IT OUT GUYS I DID A FRIENDSHIP THING. PS - If you see something from a guy called "Guts", he can be really mean sometimes, so be careful!!!

Are they... acting like they’ve just hired you for a new job? (And really being impolite too. Who is this Guts guy?)

The first (and only) question for today is:

Would you kill a man/woman?

1) Yes! That sounds fun.

2) Yes, but only because they killed someone I loved.

3) Yes, but only out of self-defence.

4) This question is confusing me because I am unable to reach a proper conclusion.

5) No! That's so wrong!

6) No, but mostly because no one should know about my dark secrets.

7) No, I'm too pure.

8) No, but I'd pay someone else to do it. Guilt free, AND smart!

As you go to pick out an option... or try to exit out of it... you witness an all-too brief memory of a life you think isn't yours. A flash that makes you think you were hallucinating... or maybe something you've seen before in your mind. Your head hurts, your heartbeat increases dramatically, and you can barely see anything ahead of you...

Wait, did you already pick something? You don't remember touching the screen, but something's already been highlighted and pressed for you. Staring at the 'saving' prompt, you will later find out it was a deeper memory from your heart. It might terrify you, what you've picked.

After that, the program displays nothing else for a few seconds before a chatroom (appleNET chat v.301.02) boots up, with a username already attached to your account and a little icon, either a sword or a ship steering wheel, next to it. More worryingly, your answer is the first thing posted from your name. Not even a hi or hello.

Well good thing no one has any idea who you are... right?

But don't worry... this time you're not quite alone.

[OOC: The memory should only last for a few seconds, but it would be something significant that would surprise them. It could even be related to this question!

All mentions of their profession or other clues that might reveal who they are will be changed to [INFORMATION LOCKED]. However, due to the dream memories, their usernames will be a combination of the demon you chose for their Persona and their REAL name (not their AU one).

FOR PLAYERS ALREADY IN THE GAME: Your character now has their REAL name and their demon name. Additionally, NOTHING GETS CENSORED WHEN YOUR CHARACTER SPEAKS.

For the new players, have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Damn well better not. I'm not going to babysit a second time.

[it's easier for a comment like that to be taken at face value when he's crouched down and facing away from Kit. he had no desire to be relied upon, but at the same time he knew deep within his heart that there wasn't a brawl he wouldn't jump into if it meant being at the other boy's side. when had that happened?

he doesn't dwell on it long. his nimble pilfering more than occupies his mind, running rudimentary calculations on various trinkets as he systematically empties their wallets straight into the bagel bag. he saves Kurt for last, out of some mocking respect of his being the leader of this sorry gang; at the end of his shakedown he pauses, gaze lingering on the fallen boy's brass knuckles.

these Vincent really didn't need. they weren't worth all that much, and he himself didn't fight with such crude tools. but it made for such an appealing trophy that he found himself tugging them off all the same despite not being particularly inclined to do so on the regular. maybe he could mount them over the apartment doorway.

Kit's blood is still splattered across the metal where it had made a connection with his face. before he can even think he's dipping his head, tongue snaking out to get a taste.

...he was going to blame Hiei for that. without any indication of his previous action he drops the knuckles into the bag and stands once more, stopping only to retrieve the rest of his coffee from the stoop.]

You might as well not bother going to classes at this point.

[Did he just...?

It was difficult to tell from where he was standing, but Kit could have sworn that he saw Vincent lift the brass knuckles off Kurt's hand and proceed to swipe his tongue over the red that spotted them. That couldn't be right, could it? But there was no other explanation.

The way that made him feel was difficult to describe. Nauseated and panicked. Yet also unable to look away.

He was grateful for when Vincent finally moved and he found himself snapped out of his stupor. As his companion joined him again, he quickly put the slowly stirring apes on the concrete behind them, but not as quickly as he attempted to cast away his previous and very uncomfortable train of thoughts, however. If he didn't think about the other boy lapping at his blood, he wouldn't have a chance to be bothered by it. In theory, at least. But in reality, with the warmth still running down his cheek, it was virtually all Kit could think about...]

You might be right about that, but...

[What would he do if he didn't go to class? Stay in his dorm all day? The idea didn't sound very appealing, even if he could wisely spend that time tending to his plants or reading.]

But what? Someone going to check up on you?

[he's teasing, of course. they both probably knew at this point that there really wasn't anyone who could keep Kit on a tight leash unless he wanted them to.

the rest of his croissant sounded tempting after all of that exertion, but Vincent refrains. there was still the taste of copper in his mouth, and he wanted to run his tongue across his teeth and soak all of it up before it completely dissipated. it wasn't something he'd do if he knew that he'd been caught in the act, for certain.]

No, it isn't that.

[Kit glanced at him and...

For goodness sake, Vincent! Stop. That.]

I didn't plan for this.

[And now that things had gotten so far out of hand that even an attempt to save his schedule was out of the question, it seemed Kit didn't really know what to do.

Well, besides put a shirt on. Much as the cool morning air was helping the burns more than stinging them, his skin was still spotted with coffee from Vincent's earlier assault. Whether or not he went to class, he needed to clean up and put on a fresh pair of clothes. Which would mean an inevitable trip back to the dorm, but not before it meant an uncomfortable train ride back to campus.]

[make him??? or make him aware he's been seen, that ought to lock things up pretty quickly.]

Shocking.

[Kit Florentine, without a backup plan to deal with every infinite possibility in the universe? truly the world must be coming to and end. at least Vincent seems to be getting a great deal of amusement out of his companion's distress, if the smug look he shoots his way is any indication.

the fact that most of this was probably his fault helps a great deal, too.]

Be quiet.

[With a glance back over his shoulder at their four downed adversaries, Kit considered his options. Kurt and his band of idiots would likely leave them alone for today at the very least, making it much less dangerous to hang around Hagu for a little while. And if he was with Vincent...

He frowned at that thought. He wasn't in prime condition, but he didn't need protecting. Even if he did appreciate the way Vincent hadn't hesitated to have his back, he could have taken care of those four on his own. Albeit coming out much worse for wear than he had.

In any case, the former thought was presuming that Vincent would even remain with him, and he had no reason to bank on that...did he?]

Do you know a good place around here to shop for clothes?

Or what, you'll bleed on me?

[the fight had done wonders for Vincent's mood, it seems. he still looks like an angry spring ready to uncoil right in someone's face, but there's a distinct air of contentment to him as he continues stomping on Kit's bruised ego as much as he pleases.

the following question even elicits a small chuckle from him, albeit not particularly kind. it's mostly due to the images such a request had conjured up.]

Not in your style, no.

[but if you want some punk shit he can probably hook you up if you ask nice.]

Maybe.

[Turning his attention back to his companion, Kit peeled his hand off his cheek and held it out for Vincent to see the bright red scarlet streak that was spread across his palm. The gash across his face wasn't deep, but it had bled enough, as head injuries tended to do, and it would probably continue to be a problem until he was able to properly dress it.]

Anything black is fine.

[It was obvious that his usual preference for plaid and pastels simply would not do in his current state. And since black wouldn't show blood...it looked like he was more than a little willing to trust the other boy's fashion advice.]

[he shouldn't do it. he absolutely should not push his limits after skating so close to the edge already. but as Kit holds his bloody hand out for the sole purpose of sassing him, once again Vincent finds his inability to ignore a challenge overpowering his common sense.

so he takes the offered hand gently in his own, inspecting it for a brief moment...before leaning forward ever so slightly and sponging away the blood with his tongue. his eyes remain locked on the other boy the entire time, daring him to make even the smallest sound of protest.

and then, just like that, it's over. Vincent's straightening up as if nothing had ever happened, continuing to hold his companion's hand just long enough to tug him into a turn as he alters their course for the nearest clothing shop he frequented.]

Keep up, then.

[Was it that his heart skipped a beat, or that it simply started beating too fast for him to register? Kit wasn't certain. He knew only that, as Vincent's tongue darted across his palm and he had all the proof he needed of his earlier observation, that he didn't dare move. Didn't dare speak. And didn't dare breathe.

Not until his hand was released again and Vincent was leading the way.

And even then his pulse didn't stop racing. He felt dizzy. Like he might throw up or worse, like he wanted Vincent to do that again. And it took everything he had to keep from staring down at his hand where he could still feel the fresh damp track that Vincent's tongue had left. Took all he had to breathe in deeply and exhale slow. To find his center and ground himself and focus on the task at...on what he needed to do.

He fell into step beside the shorter boy, refusing to look at him but well aware of him at his side. Too aware even.]

[the silence is more than welcome as Vincent's brain catches up with his goddamn overblown ego while the pair of them eat up the concrete on their journey.

what the hell was that? why the fuck did he think that was a sane, rational course of action to take? indulging in a bizarre curiosity had been fine when it remained a private action, but even his Satanic persona couldn't explain away whatever emotions the second time had been charged with. those thugs must have rammed him against the wall harder than he'd initially realized, because clearly some brain damage had taken place.

worst of all...it really was a sweet taste. even as he internally berates himself, Vincent finds that he's been absently sucking on his cheek and relishing the flavor the entire time. it's a little repulsive, the realization that he wouldn't mind getting a deeper bite sometime.

his hand brushes Kit as he moves to shove it into his pocket, and it takes every muscle in his body to keep from leaping straight into the air.

thankfully the store isn't far off by the time he makes that little slip. speeding up to carry himself away from the other boy and his own embarrassment, Vincent wrenches the door open without even checking to see if it was open. he doubted there'd even been a lock on this door.

the interior is small, dingy, and likely selling drugs out of the back room on weekends, but the products themselves appear to be in fine shape. aside from the death metal blaring at an unreasonable volume for so early in the morning, it seemed an almost pleasant place to shop - and certainly what one would picture whenever they imagined where Vincent bought all his chains.]

[Vincent wasn't the only one who felt electrified by the sudden brushing of their hands, and only Kit's fierce concentration kept him from leaping out of his own skin. It was nothing. It meant nothing. Such brief contact was purely accidental.

And yet...

Following the way Vincent had sampled his blood not once, but twice, Kit could scarcely help thinking that maybe the gesture had been a little bit deliberate.

Luckily for them both, the little clothing shop not only proved to be nearby, but a perfect distraction as well. The music that assaulted them as soon as the front door was opened and they stepped inside was unlike any Kit was used to and he very nearly recoiled at the sound laying siege to his ears. The lack of natural light was also rather alarming, as was the sheer volume of unusual looking articles of clothing on display.

It was the perfect excuse to put some distance between him and his companion, to peruse the merchandise and not have to worry about coming into contact with Vincent again and feeling like he might spontaneously combust. Except, still sporting blood on his hand and cheek, handling any of the clothes on his own was difficult, making most of his browsing by sight alone. Currently, he seemed the most interested in the long black hoodies on display, arguably boring compared to what he usually wore...but capable of concealing his mess of scars and burns.

Probably, though, it didn't really matter what he picked. It all looked the same to him, anyway.]

A sweater should suffice, right?

[even if they hadn't chosen to make things extremely awkward between each other, it's highly likely that Vincent would have wandered away at some point regardless. this is one of his favorite places to shop, and he could never resist doing a little browsing.

eventually however the same thought plaguing Kit occurs to him, and he reluctantly cycles back around to find his erstwhile compatriot. he's got some indescribable article of clothing tucked under his arm, something with far too many hooks and rivets to be remotely comfortable. he stares at the display the other teen is eying for a moment before giving him a flat stare over the question.]

Like I know how damn cold you get.

[and as if it were his problem anyway. but, even so...it's inhumanly depressing to be in one of the most varied clothing stores he knows of and watch his companion home in on the most boring items possible. if he let Kit get any of these it would be an affront to his reputation.

amateur.

with a loud, extremely put-upon sigh, Vincent disappears around the other side of the display. he honestly doesn't know why he expected to not have to lead the other boy around by the nose with this kind of thing, but here they were all the same. he might possess an uncommon level of trivial knowledge, but he was a complete imbecile when it came to niche fashion.

after a few moments he returns, a hoodie slung over his shoulder in what he's 99% certain is Kit's size. when he'd been around the other boy long enough to discern his body proportions he doesn't know, but it's helpful in the current situation.]

There, now you can stop embarrassing yourself.

White foxes...did you know they're my favorite?

[Kit didn't think his own tastes were so bad, they were simply more varied in color than what could be found in any gothic or metal-themed outlet. Excepting anywhere that sold pastel goth, he supposed. On that note, the sweater Vincent returned with was perfect, and Kit's expression even said so! But he couldn't help thinking he would have liked it better in a vibrant fuchsia or even a bold navy blue...

It didn't matter, of course. He wasn't looking for color today. Black was precisely what he needed and Vincent had...well, he'd helped Kit find precisely what he needed without his even asking. That was actually nice of him.

Curiously nice, even. And a touch worrying after the incident that had taken place prior to their entering the store. Was Vincent feeling alright? He had hit his head pretty hard...and then there'd been the way he'd fallen after kicking Shades into Bandanna, too. Kit was the one bleeding, but the one who'd taken worse damage was his companion. Such that, without even realizing it, he'd wandered a little closer to Vincent, hand reaching out to the fanned hair across his forehead as if to inspect beneath.]

[with his gaze momentarily distracted as he tries to make certain they haven't forgotten to grab anything, Vincent allows his companion's wayward hand to get closer than it has any right to be. as soon as he feels the fingers against his forehead he's jerking back violently, glaring at Kit with a mix of surprise and bafflement.

what the hell was that about? it could only be the product of how banged up he'd gotten today, but even so...if he was being honest with himself, of course, he'd be able to admit that what had upset him the most was how pleasantly cool he'd found the other boy's fingertips.]

A fox is a fox. They're all the same.

[he brushes off whatever that odd encounter was with a heavy scoff before heading towards the register. that, at least, was a completely honest answer - colors may differ, but the animal was indistinguishable between all its varying species to him. it was stupid to think he'd chosen this one specifically because of his companion's tastes.

so stupid.

the man at the register is almost (if not more) as surly as Vincent himself; they seem to have some sort of silent relationship as he dumps the contents of their purchase unceremoniously in a heap on the counter. along with whatever article of clothing he'd chosen for himself were several wicked looking piercings that would only appear more ominous once affixed in somebody's face.

with a cock of his head backwards to indicate Kit, he finally speaks up again.]

He's paying.

[ah...well, it seemed that he was still himself after all.]

[Kit wasn't sure what was more offensive, the way Vincent had jerked away, brushed off his comment, or insisted he pay for everything he'd dumped on the counter. What the hell did he think he was made of? Or was this some sort of petty revenge for brushing his forehead with his fingers?

He had half a mind to refuse and leave the store without a damn thing Vincent had dumped by the cash register, and without Vincent, too! But he didn't. Instead, he found himself giving in and producing his Eddan card, handing it to the surly teller with a scowl of his own.

He wasn't happy about this. Having coffee thrown in his face and being targeted by those imbeciles they'd left sprawled on the sidewalk down the street had hurt, but being treated like he was a disposable convenience was salt in the wound. And it irritated him more to realize that fact. He hadn't cared so much before about having real companionship. Friends came and went, if they could even be called such. He didn't need anyone. So why was Vincent different?

Why did his partner have to be Vincent at all?

He practically wrenched the teller's hand off when he took back his card, returning it to his wallet after the sale was complete. This would be the last time he allowed himself to be so generous to the other boy...]

You can carry it all.

Be pretty damn hard for you to wear it if I do.

[and the other things were his in the first place, so of course he'd be carrying them. it surprises even Vincent how surly he's being about what should be a pretty reciprocal action, given that he'd just forced the other boy to foot the bill. what the hell was his problem?

it couldn't possibly be the obviously cold way Kit was acting after he'd pulled back. he'd practically made it his motto that he didn't give a damn how other people saw him - often went out of his way to ensure that he was looked at with fear and revulsion. the fact that someone was upset, likely with him, shouldn't prick at him as painfully as it does.

who the hell did Kit think he was, making him feel as if he'd done something wrong in balking at getting so close? what the hell was wrong with his own mind that he found himself angry at having the same thing done to him? if the other boy didn't want to be near him, that was hardly his problem.

...wasn't it?

the thoughts continue flying around his skull, battering his brain mercilessly. unable to voice any of them, he simply grabs his bag and practically shoves the hoodie into the other teen's arms before stalking towards the exit.

this was a mistake. all of this had been a mistake.]

[Let him go, Kit thought as he clutched the sweater to his chest and Vincent stalked toward the store's exit. If he left and didn't come back, that would be better for the both of them, wouldn't it?

It wasn't like either of them had asked for this partnership to be thrust on them. They hadn't begged the gods or summoned demons to contort their fates and make this shared curse the one they couldn't escape.

There were times when Kit relished Vincent's company. He could and did inexplicably trust him to have his back in a fight, just as he would have the other boy's. He was able to let his guard down around him, to be more like himself than he'd ever been with anyone in a very long time. Those were things he should be glad for, but he wasn't. Because with them came the crushing self-doubt that he was making a mistake by letting anyone get so close, that this was doomed to blow up in his face or end in more pain than even he could endure.

At least if they both walked away now they would be spared that...right? They wouldn't need to worry about crossing one another again, or whose feelings were hurt by what was said or not said, or done or not done. It would be over.

...his feet were moving before he'd realized.

As he tugged the sweater on, carefully juggling his uniform shirt and jacket so as not to get them stuck in the sleeves, he hurried after Vincent and dropped a heavy hand down on his shoulder. He didn't want this to be over. For reasons he couldn't fathom, he didn't want to lose Vincent.

His hand didn't remain there long, just enough to announce his presence before he fell into step silently next to the other boy. It seemed using his words was still difficult.]

[just fucking let me go had been the very same thought swirling around in his own mind as he made for the doorway. whatever strange bond fate had forced upon them didn't matter; they didn't even like each other.

those had been his thoughts. and yet, when he feels the pressure of a hand on his shoulder, Vincent can't disguise the flash of relief in his eyes when he looks up to find its all too familiar owner. the door gives him a convenient excuse to look away again, but it was enough.

he has no idea where they're supposed to be headed, but that doesn't much matter right now. nothing's been resolved but he already feels more at ease than he had several seconds ago, allowing them to walk close enough to each other that their clothes occasionally brushed. the hoodie looks far better on Kit than it has any right to, a thought made all the more disconcerting by the feeling of near possessiveness it brings out in him. he'd picked that thing out, after all.

silence is welcome, then. neither of them could attempt to plumb the strange depths lapping around them if they both remained in their own minds. he has no inclination to break that safety net.]

[Even as they left the store, the door crashing shut behind them, Kit wasn't sure he had made the right choice. Another fight or misunderstanding was an inevitability between him and Vincent. But right or wrong, it was done. And it was a decision that was startlingly easier to live with than letting Vincent walk out of his life.

He felt the same flooding relief as the other boy when he didn't jerk away from his touch this time, or even hiss at him and tell him to go. He'd been afraid of that, if he was being honest with himself. Probably, if that had been Vincent's reaction, Kit would have gone his own way once they'd left the store. Even though what he wanted was to stay by the other boy's side, he would have completely abandoned the notion and, metaphorically at least, he would have run.

Physical pain was nothing. But his heart was more fragile than he cared to admit.

It was fortunate then that he was permitted to stay silently at Vincent's side, though even he wasn't quite sure where they were going. Hagu had little to offer anyone their age apart from an assortment of arcades, outlets, and dive bars where underage patrons were at least allowed to play pool. All the rest the district was known for were activities Kit had no intention of engaging in.

It was a block or maybe two before he spoke up at all, and it was as they were approaching a gas station. Gently, he nudged Vincent with his elbow and indicated he wanted to stop there.]

[his eyes flick over to the indicated location before obligingly changing his course. with no real purpose in their gait he had no reason to reject the idea, even if he couldn't imagine there being much Kit would need there aside from a bottle of water or gum. at the very least he could pick up another pack of cigarettes during the stop. lord knows he needed them more than ever after today.

in more than a few ways, Vincent is glad that they still haven't broken their silence. there was cowardice in that gratitude, to be certain, but for once he didn't care. let there be a calm before the next storm for just a little longer.]

[That feeling was mutual, and Kit made no attempt to break their silence even as they entered the store. There were a few things such places would reliably carry, and Kit made a beeline for the back to procure them: rubbing alcohol, skin adhesive, gauze, and medical tape. Most of the bleeding from the gash across his cheek had stopped by now, but properly dressing the wound would not only keep it free from infection, but it would reduce the risk of scarring, too.

He paid little mind to Vincent as was picking the items out, but as he made his way up to the counter, he couldn't help looking around for the other boy. The lingering fear that he might have used their separation as an excuse to leave made him nauseous, but when he caught sight of Vincent's short head the relief he felt was even more disturbing.

As the items were set down, Kit indicated that he'd be paying for whatever his friend was buying, too. And that he also needed the key to the bathroom.]

[while Kit sought out the contents of a makeshift first aid kit, his companion made his way to the counter to peruse the various cigarettes on the wall. despite being such a punk in every way, his upbringing had been privileged and that still insidiously crept into his habits; his preferred brand, for example, was extremely high quality and a bit pricey.

the mystery of what the other boy had wanted was solved when he returned with an armful of medical equipment. truth be told, after everything that had happened he'd nearly forgotten about the cut on his face. red was such a naturally pleasing color on Kit that it had faded from his consciousness as something that was meant to be there.

whether it was out of pride or some strange, mute way of making up for his fit at the last store, Vincent proceeded to foil the other teen's generous (and self-promise breaking) offer. as the cashier slid the bathroom key over, he used that as an opportunity to get his card in before anyone else and pay for everything. guess he'd just have to deal with it.]

[It couldn't be helped. That promise had been made in misguided anger, and once the feeling had been quashed, Kit had only wanted to make amends for the friction between them. It seemed as though Vincent had a similar idea, however. And, whether it was because he didn't want to fight or because he respected Vincent's decision, Kit didn't contest his ploy to fit the bill.

As the bag was handed over along with the washroom key, he even offered his companion a small nod, inviting him to follow.

The entrance was outside the store itself and across the lot, and not as terribly maintained as some might expect of rest stops in Hagu. At its worst, there was a rust stain in the sink, some toilet paper on the floor, and a flickering light overhead, but otherwise everything was clean. Certainly suitable enough to use to clean his wound — except its lack of a mirror. In its place, someone had scribbled on the wall in what appeared to be a midnight blue shade of lipstick...

just assume u look like shit

If it weren't so annoying at the moment, Kit might have chuckled.]

This will make applying the adhesive a bit trickier.

[well, that was something of a mild surprise. Vincent chalks it up to the other boy's being afraid he was going to suffer the humiliation of being ditched if he let him out of his sight and didn't dwell too long on the matter. there was no reason not to follow along, anyway.

unlike Kit, his companion has no such feelings of irritation when he casts his gaze inside the bathroom and finds it missing the most important element for this trip. he laughs, leaning against the open doorframe and crossing his arms. that was about what they should have expected for a place like this.]

Just use your phone like every other teenage girl.

[that was probably the wrong way to put that out considering he was (potentially) attempting to plaster over their earlier...whatever that was, not to mention his exceedingly intense and unspoken appreciation for Kit's hair, but it's too late now. the words had just flown out of his mouth as naturally as breathing.]

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