[It's early evening, after dinner but before nightfall, and Yukito is out on the sports track. He's jogging more than he is running, though it seems like he's been at it for a while - a light sheen of sweat has broken out across his forehead and his breathing is heavy. Finally, he takes a seat, shirking any bleachers to stretch out on a patch of
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Oh. Were they getting too long?
[He's speaking amicably. Most things Yukito say are amicable.]
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No.
[In all actuality, he was more bored than anything else. He couldn't write for obvious reasons and carrying a backpack only meant that the straps would be cut.]
I trim them to keep them healthy.
[That's what he was told anyway.]
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[Yukito approaches, then, looking for shears. He apparently hasn't noticed Edward's appearance yet.]
Would you like some help?
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[He lies back against the grass]
Feeling better?
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Sort of. I'm tired, but I still feel very.. energetic.
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