[ Incomplete. ]
Who: Hojo-hakase, Lucrecia, Vincent, Jean, Kazuki, Cloud, OPEN TO ALL BALL-GOERS~.
When: Same Ball Time.
Where: Same Ball Channel.
Rating: PG at present.
Warnings: None at present.
Summary: Hojo arrives! And he has a costume, much to his irritation.
Hojo relished in the knowledge that everything he did, he did with reason. A specific, mostly work-oriented reason, reason that produced results, reason that educated, informed, or - at the very least - produced a reaction that one could consider satisfying. He came to the ball with no intention at all to mingle - at least not in that pleasurably inane sense of making small talk. He had business plans there, had good reason being there, and it was only that knowledge that had made the whole unfortunate fiasco worth involving himself in.
As such, he didn't come in a costume. Clothe himself like a fool to appease others? Hojo stepped through the barrier and into the hall, labcoat fluttering at his ankles in the draft. Hardly. There was, in putting oneself on display in such a manner, an air of vulnerability and also a desire for attention, to be seen and acknowledged and spoken to and complimented. Whether he blended in or not, whether he was approachable or not, he had no patience for meaningless small talk - and no desire to look anything short of serious to those who might recognise him.
So looking down to see that, at some point in the proceedings - presumably as he'd stepped across the barrier of the open doorway - his outfit had been replaced, was more than a little bit aggravating. What had once been a white, open coat was now black and clasped shut, fitting his long and spindly form tightly across the top and flaring from the hips down. A stiff collar - black, with a white band set into it - pressed uncomfortably at his throat, and he tugged at it with no little aggravation. A cross sat around it, resting on his collarbone. His hand, still shattered, remained in a sling over the top - once white, now black.
A priest, of all things?
He pushed his glasses up his nose, frowning.
Sometimes, there was no protecting against stupidity.
When: Same Ball Time.
Where: Same Ball Channel.
Rating: PG at present.
Warnings: None at present.
Summary: Hojo arrives! And he has a costume, much to his irritation.
Hojo relished in the knowledge that everything he did, he did with reason. A specific, mostly work-oriented reason, reason that produced results, reason that educated, informed, or - at the very least - produced a reaction that one could consider satisfying. He came to the ball with no intention at all to mingle - at least not in that pleasurably inane sense of making small talk. He had business plans there, had good reason being there, and it was only that knowledge that had made the whole unfortunate fiasco worth involving himself in.
As such, he didn't come in a costume. Clothe himself like a fool to appease others? Hojo stepped through the barrier and into the hall, labcoat fluttering at his ankles in the draft. Hardly. There was, in putting oneself on display in such a manner, an air of vulnerability and also a desire for attention, to be seen and acknowledged and spoken to and complimented. Whether he blended in or not, whether he was approachable or not, he had no patience for meaningless small talk - and no desire to look anything short of serious to those who might recognise him.
So looking down to see that, at some point in the proceedings - presumably as he'd stepped across the barrier of the open doorway - his outfit had been replaced, was more than a little bit aggravating. What had once been a white, open coat was now black and clasped shut, fitting his long and spindly form tightly across the top and flaring from the hips down. A stiff collar - black, with a white band set into it - pressed uncomfortably at his throat, and he tugged at it with no little aggravation. A cross sat around it, resting on his collarbone. His hand, still shattered, remained in a sling over the top - once white, now black.
A priest, of all things?
He pushed his glasses up his nose, frowning.
Sometimes, there was no protecting against stupidity.