Kyouya Ootori ¥ 001
Who: kakkoii_kyou and somarium
Where: Wandering about snowy Somarium streets
Style: I can go either way ♥
Status: OPEN
[Kyouya is certainly under-dressed for the sudden wintry weather. One arm is crossed over his chest, insulating what little warmth is trapped inside his school uniform. With his free hand, he's acquainting himself with the Dreamberry. His own phone would have been more useful - but he will make do. At least it has minimal functioning and has a decent signal, although he is at a loss for how to access the web browser. And what happened to the numbers on his speed dial?
[And why was the contacts list so absurdly long? What a waste of memory. Who were all of these people?
[He had only partially scrolled through them before he reconsidered, deciding his phone was not adequate. He slid it back inside his pocket and removed his book. He required both arms to write in it, and so he let the cold rush in as he started jotting down notes, glancing up periodically as he passed a series of buildings, nothing apparently familiar. His pen stops midline and Kyouya frowns behind his glasses. His wrist jerks, dragging his hand down the paper in order to jot down in a less neat hand: ]
IF THIS IS TAMAKI'S FAULT, I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!
Where: Wandering about snowy Somarium streets
Style: I can go either way ♥
Status: OPEN
[Kyouya is certainly under-dressed for the sudden wintry weather. One arm is crossed over his chest, insulating what little warmth is trapped inside his school uniform. With his free hand, he's acquainting himself with the Dreamberry. His own phone would have been more useful - but he will make do. At least it has minimal functioning and has a decent signal, although he is at a loss for how to access the web browser. And what happened to the numbers on his speed dial?
[And why was the contacts list so absurdly long? What a waste of memory. Who were all of these people?
[He had only partially scrolled through them before he reconsidered, deciding his phone was not adequate. He slid it back inside his pocket and removed his book. He required both arms to write in it, and so he let the cold rush in as he started jotting down notes, glancing up periodically as he passed a series of buildings, nothing apparently familiar. His pen stops midline and Kyouya frowns behind his glasses. His wrist jerks, dragging his hand down the paper in order to jot down in a less neat hand: ]
IF THIS IS TAMAKI'S FAULT, I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!