[b]Gratia Mindaro - Cafeteria [/b]

He actually had no fucking idea. He had been legitimately flummoxed by her question. Had he ... never noticed that his fucking hair made a fatass couch potato seem like an unmoving object? That was ridiculous. But the sheer confusion Gratia could see on the other teenager's face, the motion of the lines and creasing of the skin; she was dealing with somebody who didn't even fucking know how their own body worked.

It was irksome. 

"[color=66cd00]Your hair,[/color]" she continued flatly, tone still unchanged even as her onyx eyes met that of Michael's gray, "[color=66cd00]it fucking moves for no real reason. Why the hell do they do it?[/color]"

Were they emotion-influenced? She wanted to fucking know. Because the huntress was going to understand the shit behind it no matter what it took. Even if Schwarz had no ability to answer. 

"[color=66cd00]Have you not fucking noticed at all?[/color]" she asked, unwaveringly bored.