Dōjima was looking pale but determined as she set-up the
presentation space. She'd been shooed out of the
clinic at some point to 'go eat', and this seemed as good a way to repress as any. If she was not allowed to go find and kill this Tybalt, she'd settle for channeling her rage into a more, ah, 'productive' manner. Like making sure her
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Well. Probably. Theoretically. Perhaps.
He'd maybe make the attempt.
It was damn hard to catch his breath around the laughing, let alone a shoulder. He surfaced for air and pouted some more.
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He was plotting homicide.
It was very difficult to tell.
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The gesture was somewhat muddled up by the shaking of his shoulders and the moments of practically throwing his head back and braying out nothing at all, but he certainly hoped the point was put across clearly enough.
Either it was a 'yes,' or a 'please kill me.' Either way, he hoped his little sibling enjoyed the lube.
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