accidental video post :: because tomorrow might be good for something.
[Audio is a dull static, like the sound of a powered-microphone buzzing and picking up nothing.
Kakashi stands in the bathroom, staring into the mirror over the sink. His mask is in place, but his face is lightly damp, as if he has been washing it. His forehead protector is pushed all the way up, over his head, to work as a headband, forcing his hair back from his face oddly, and probably not very attractively. His Sharingan eye is closed, but the scar is visible. A shallow bowl of water, the liquid just barely covering the bottom of the dish, sits on the edge of the bathroom countertop, washcloth on the bowl's rim.
Those that read human body language well will notice a tension about his shoulders; those that overlook such details might just be aware of something unsettling or exhausted about his stance.
His hands move from bracing him against the sink countertop's edge... to the cool glass of the medicine cabinet's mirror. He exhales heavily, closing his normal eye, and rests his forehead against his mirror image. For a moment, he stays there, and then he pushes off, relaxing back into an easy stance. He pulls the forehead protector down over his eye, ruffles up his hair back into place, and heads out the bathroom door.
A second later, he returns and reaches for the PCD he had forgotten about. The feed times out just before he retrieves it.]
Kakashi stands in the bathroom, staring into the mirror over the sink. His mask is in place, but his face is lightly damp, as if he has been washing it. His forehead protector is pushed all the way up, over his head, to work as a headband, forcing his hair back from his face oddly, and probably not very attractively. His Sharingan eye is closed, but the scar is visible. A shallow bowl of water, the liquid just barely covering the bottom of the dish, sits on the edge of the bathroom countertop, washcloth on the bowl's rim.
Those that read human body language well will notice a tension about his shoulders; those that overlook such details might just be aware of something unsettling or exhausted about his stance.
His hands move from bracing him against the sink countertop's edge... to the cool glass of the medicine cabinet's mirror. He exhales heavily, closing his normal eye, and rests his forehead against his mirror image. For a moment, he stays there, and then he pushes off, relaxing back into an easy stance. He pulls the forehead protector down over his eye, ruffles up his hair back into place, and heads out the bathroom door.
A second later, he returns and reaches for the PCD he had forgotten about. The feed times out just before he retrieves it.]