NOCT OVERFLOW

[swordhardy]

OVERFLOW & EVENTS

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[swordhardy]

[ Rokurou doesn't refute Shinsou's statement even if he doesn't necessarily agree—it seems like dangerous territory to tell the boy that he seems like the type that could cat-prowl in through someone's slightly ajar window without leaving behind any evidence. While he shambles toward the front door, the daemon remains comfortably on the bed, smile ever-present with arms tucked comfortably in a cross over his chest as Shinsou tries to piece together his night. Just another coming of age moment, aah?

His lips do purse to form a circle when Shinsou holds up the key. He hadn't noticed it when he came inside, but since the door hadn't been locked, it isn't terribly surprising. So either someone gave it to him or he found it outside beneath the mat—all in all, pretty innocent. The room is still in a perfectly fine state, not a puddle of vomit to be seen as proof that he had snuck in like goldilocks and slept in the bear's bed.

He's about to suggest they just leave since it doesn't look like anything's broken when the young hero freezes again. Curious, the daemon tilts his head, already fondling for the phone in his pocket. ]

Sure. [ tap tap tap, his phone lights up as it segues into connecting and ringing Shinsou's line, ] I figured those weren't your clothes. Think you swapped with someone?

[ Ah, does that mean his phone isn't here? That would be the biggest problem if so. ]

It's ringing.

[formant]

( dangerous territory, certainly, because those sound like villainous actions, and shinsou would never allow himself to do something like that. he could act stupid when drunk, sure (doesn't everyone?), but he has to believe he wouldn't go about throwing moral convictions built up over a decade-plus out the window once his blood-alcohol concentration reached a certain threshold.

sure, the supposed crime afoot here is relatively victimless — he hasn't even managed to make much of a mess — but it's still breaking and entering, and shinsou is still enough of a boy scout that it makes him feel doubly sick to his stomach to think about.

so he has to believe a good samaritan had taken pity on him at some point in the wee hours of the morning (not too much of a stretch, given the state he is in now) and with great magnanimity extended the hospitality of their own home... or he had somehow managed to find or procure the key on his own. regardless, he's already planning on trying to make whatever restitution he can before he moves on from this place. )

Of course they're not, ( he mutters in half-undertone, sounding aghast. the only thing keeping him from scavenging an actual shirt from the dresser nearby is an aversion of doing any further Crime. ) I... think something happened to what I was wearing, so...

( his expression contorts; he's trying to remember, but... the details are a blur. why does fire keep registering when he tries to pry at that particular part of the evening?

"it's ringing." he waits. and waits... and waits a moment longer.

nothing. he groans, pinching at the bridge of his nose. )

I must've... left it somewhere, or - ran out of batteries, maybe...

( yeah, it's a Problem. )

[swordhardy]

I don't know a lot about phones ... but do they ring if they're out of battery? It's probably at the bar you were at.

[ Or club or bonfire or wherever Shinsou ended up during the course of the night. There are plenty of party spots around, and even that doesn't discount the fact that he could have dropped it somewhere strange along the way between point A and point B. Or someone having taken it. Broken. Dropped in the ocean, forever lost. Snatched by some unknown stalker making a shrine to Shinsou and his magnificent shock of purple hair as they speak. ]

Uhhhh, you know what? Let's just get you a new one.

[ Or find it later, but no need to stress about that right now. Instead, Rokurou turns his attention back on to the more affronting piece of evidents: Shinsou's garish shirt. It might be distinct enough to stand out against the blur of the evening with a little bit of digging.

Plucking at the sleeve, ]

Focus on this instead. Does it jar any memories? Did you take it from here last night when you got in? [ ah............. ] You—don't tell me you went streaking...

[ Is this the type of drunk Shinsou's turned out to be?? Not impossible. It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, they do say that. Maybe alcohol really makes the kid lose all his inhibitions and cut loose. Real loose. ]

[formant]

No... If it's out of batteries, it's dead.

( not that it couldn't be brought back to life, of course, but...

he really doesn't want to think about having to get another one. out of vague curiosity he'd once looked up how much a replacement cost, and it was way out of his price range, even with how modest his current living expenses were (the main factor being that his level of manna generation was similarly modest, as if to keep pace with it). he would also squirm to have any help offered to him, so the best option by far at this point was to... try to backtrack and find it. or maybe someone could find it, charge it (if it needed it), and try to return it to him? that seems a little too optimistic to expect... )

I'd rather not... ( despairing...

he lists further and further away from rokurou at the tugging at his sleeve, crossing his arms (not that it really helps...) and looking perfectly aggrieved. he would really rather not focus on this either, but it's unavoidable at this point. he might not want to go out and buy another phone, but he might acquiesce to going out and buying a more functional and less critically embarrassing shirt. at first the only response he gives is a low, creaking groan from the back of his throat, but at rokurou's last suggestion, he turns to him sharply. ) Of course not!! ( he's seen what kind of drunk he is!! kind of. not that shinsou really drinks to excess all that often (usually only when around bad influences, cough cough). sure, his inhibitions tend to lower just the same as anyone else's, but he doesn't lose them all the way. and it would take nothing more than cataclysmic event to force him into something like streaking... )

I, ah, ( pinching the bridge of his nose again, brow furrowing as he tries to sift through the muddy parade of half-memories, ) I think something - happened to my other one. ( it definitely caught fire. either he was at a bonfire or... doing something less advisable and more dangerous. he can't recall, but maybe at some point. ) I think someone gave me this because it was, uh... better than nothing.

( that, and he probably hadn't cared quite as much then as he does now... )