The Deck, Saturday Morning
There was a Dante sitting on the deck, his feet propped up on a table, leaning back in his seat. He had a motorcycling magazine in hand with half-naked girls on the cover, and if you looked him directly in the face, you could have easily mistaken him for the Dante who usually lived in the dorms.
But this one had long, perfectly white hair, and wore a red vest over a black shirt, and looked slightly older, and also somehow even more like he did not, particularly, give anything one might charitably call 'a shit'.
"Hmph," he said.
Magical island? Ugh. Such a hassle.
[[ open with an SP warning. dante is now his classic anime self. and thus concludes my posting spree. ]]
But this one had long, perfectly white hair, and wore a red vest over a black shirt, and looked slightly older, and also somehow even more like he did not, particularly, give anything one might charitably call 'a shit'.
"Hmph," he said.
Magical island? Ugh. Such a hassle.
[[ open with an SP warning. dante is now his classic anime self. and thus concludes my posting spree. ]]