[h2][color=fff79a]Iwao - Sharehouse[/color][/h2]

The thudding of footsteps and the slamming of a door were, to even the most oblivious of inhabitants, pretty damn hard to ignore in a cramped, thin-walled sharehouse like this. For Iwao, straining his ears against his common sense for anything out of the ordinary, it had been like staring down rolling thunder.

He swallowed a quartet of orange caplets, having nearly had a minor drowning incident once the radio flickered back to life and began to describe a missing person report destined for, impossibly, the day to come. Black hair, square-framed glasses... fit Mochi. The problem was that, unlike [i]his[/i] habitual standout scalp, those two descriptors described just about seventy-five percent of the young men that lived in Tenoroshi. As had as it spooked him, that could be anyone either missing already or bound to be.

Maybe it was him rushing through the entrance right now, scared of missing dinner and in no more danger than that.

His knuckles had faded, despite only seconds passing since he'd swallowed the pills. The mind was a powerful thing indeed. Unwilling to let this uncertainty eat at him, given that and all, Arizawa ambled out of his room to greet the new arrivals and (hopefully [for once]) face the music for his destructive tendencies.

[color=fff79a]"[i]Yo[/i], shit."[/color]

...Seemed the only music he was facing was something punky. Rather than the still very much [s]missing[/s] [i]unaccounted for[/i] Mochizuki, he was met with the ragged breaths and wild eyes of Fumiko and Otoya. These two weren't lazy by any means, but he knew them well enough to know that neither looked at a dead sprint as their example of a [i]lark[/i].

[color=fff79a]"You guys alright?"[/color] He asked after a moment, eyes narrowing as he glanced between the pair before settling upon the door. Shit, if this disappearance thing was a bunch of abductions they'd just dodged... 

His right hand, acting just below the level of a conscious command, curled itself into a loose fist at his side. There were a million reasons why it didn't need to. They were on campus, it wasn't even completely dark yet, you name it— but nonetheless, he could feel the idea growing in his head and shaping the unknown on the other side of that door into its image. Like a good horror movie, it didn't matter that it wasn't real.

[color=fff79a]"You look fuckin' [i]spooked[/i], somebody chase you?"[/color]

By the way, Pot, we really need to talk about what you've been saying to Kettle.

[@Crowvette][@banjoanjo]