Room 505, Thursday Late Evening
Kabuto had spent the past 24 hours in self-imposed exile. Those who knew him prior to his arrival at Fandom would realize that he was exerting a huge amount of restraint, staying there in his room rather than going out and inflicting wonton damage and destruction to everything around.
He was still furious about the note - which was now in teeny tiny shreds in his wastepaper basket - but it was a calmer anger, colder. The thinking, plotting kind of rage.
Yet he was keeping such plans only in his head, still sitting on his bed staring at nothing. Occasionally he'd clench his fists, a surge of blue-fire chakra skittering over his knuckles.
(door closed, post open!)
He was still furious about the note - which was now in teeny tiny shreds in his wastepaper basket - but it was a calmer anger, colder. The thinking, plotting kind of rage.
Yet he was keeping such plans only in his head, still sitting on his bed staring at nothing. Occasionally he'd clench his fists, a surge of blue-fire chakra skittering over his knuckles.
(door closed, post open!)