[centre][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmU2MDAxYi5VM1Y2ZFd0cElGSjVkVzV2YzNWclpRLCwuMAAA/gang-of-three.regular.png[/img][/centre][hr][b][right][color=696969]Class 2-C, Uesugi High, Fukushima
8:24 AM
[@AdmrlStalfos19][/color][/right][/b][hr]
[indent][color=cc3333][i]I don't wanna know your name
Cause you don't look the same
The way you did be- hm?[/i][/color]

Had it not been for the makeshift ball of paper that had bounced off his leg, Ryunosuke would have finished the line in his head. Occupied with quietly listening to his music, he paused. He never did like multitasking anyways- it was like juggling a sword and a chainsaw both at once to his mind, which preferred to focus completely on one task. In the words of Ron Swanson, "Never half ass two things, whole ass one thing."

Ryunosuke instinctively turned his head to whatever bounced off his leg. A crumpled ball of paper, which came in the direction of a girl not-so-subtly watching him, as if expecting something. He questioned if- yes, it was the girl that laughed at him. He paid no contempt, but rather intrigue as to what could be in the note. After pausing his song, he leaned down, and picked the wad up, still curious as to what its contents entail. Quickly unfurling it, he read the message:

[i][color=9e005d]We could've easily swapped seats, y'know[/color][/i]

The first thought that popped into Ryunosuke's mind was 'why?' In the moment, he wasn't quite able to rationalize himself why exactly she'd want his seat. Unless you were needlessly seeking attention (aha!) why would you want to be the center? Although it seemed like he had already answered his own question, Ryunosuke still would gladly accept the offer she had implied in the message. It was the perfect trade-off for him: he far preferred the window seat near the back: it was the classroom's sniper foxhole. He could sit back silently and watch everything from his angle, all the while unnoticed. Perfect.

Yet even then, not even Ryunosuke was sure how to put his emotion into words. Perhaps fireworks, the triumphant fist of a victorious military general, a primal victory cry? Regardless of whatever the feeling was, he merely smirked with a silent chuckle- the kind that occurs when a bit of air comes out of your nose, as if mildly amused or intrigued. Picking his backpack up, he slung it around his shoulder, walking over to the rear corner window seat behind the girl that threw the note at him. Wary not to draw any more unneeded attention caused by his movement, he took a seat nonchalantly, quietly muttering a [color=cc3333]"[b]thanks[/b]"[/color] as he put his music back on.


[color=cc3333][i]Okay, you think you got a pretty face
But the rest of you is out of place
You looked alright before
Fox on the run...[/i][/color]
[/indent]