♫ e i g h t - [ v i d e o / a c t i o n ]
[The communicator is clipped to Yosuke's belt and comes on when he accidentally smacks against the button with his hand. He's positioned weirdly, standing on a chair dragged from the Town Hall. Of course, this makes him too tall for the little croft, so it's more of an awkward crouch than a stand. He's tying wide strips of leather to the beams of the roof, and the current one he's working on is half tied around two of them while he works on stretching it and securing the other end.
Unseen on the feed, his headphones are around his ears and, possibly audible over the feed (albeit in a tinny way), are blasting out a catchy pop song.
And, perhaps even worse...]
Wish I could shut my playboy mouth~!
How'd I turn my shirt inside out?
Inside out, right!
Control your poison babe~!
Roses have thorns they -dammit! -
[He fumbles his grip on the leather, which flaps out of the loose loop he'd twisted it around and sways towards the floor. He nearly topples off his precarious perch, but manages, somehow, to right himself and grab the leather. He wobbles a moment, but takes a steadying breath and begins re-looping the leather.
It takes him a moment again, working in silence except for the tinny scratch of the music, before he starts humming. From the humming, it's not long until -]
Just dance!
Spin that record babe!
Da-doo-doo-doo~!
Just dance!
Gonna be okay!
Duh-duh-duh-duh~!
Dance! Dance! Dance!
J-J-Just dance!
When I come through on the dance floor checking out that catalo - Oh - come on!
[He stumbles, the leather slithering out of his hands again, and his hand missed, comes crashing into the communicator, and cuts out the exclamation along with the rest of the feed.
Unseen on the feed, his headphones are around his ears and, possibly audible over the feed (albeit in a tinny way), are blasting out a catchy pop song.
And, perhaps even worse...]
Wish I could shut my playboy mouth~!
How'd I turn my shirt inside out?
Inside out, right!
Control your poison babe~!
Roses have thorns they -dammit! -
[He fumbles his grip on the leather, which flaps out of the loose loop he'd twisted it around and sways towards the floor. He nearly topples off his precarious perch, but manages, somehow, to right himself and grab the leather. He wobbles a moment, but takes a steadying breath and begins re-looping the leather.
It takes him a moment again, working in silence except for the tinny scratch of the music, before he starts humming. From the humming, it's not long until -]
Just dance!
Spin that record babe!
Da-doo-doo-doo~!
Just dance!
Gonna be okay!
Duh-duh-duh-duh~!
Dance! Dance! Dance!
J-J-Just dance!
When I come through on the dance floor checking out that catalo - Oh - come on!
[He stumbles, the leather slithering out of his hands again, and his hand missed, comes crashing into the communicator, and cuts out the exclamation along with the rest of the feed.