[ it surprises him, Toji’s laughter. it kicks the legs out from under choso’s annoyance, snuffs whatever sparks of anger or irritation may have flickered to life.

it is the realest thing he has heard come out of this man since they began to spend time together, and for a moment he can’t look anywhere else. choso, absurd, ridiculous creature choso, he watches Toji light up like he’s never seen the like before, eyes fixed on the poetry of fingers and filters and the pad of a thumb flicking the lighter to life.

it sounds loud to his own ears when he sucks in a breath. shakes himself out.

pay attention, choso, there’s cake to take care of. ]

Those are even dirtier than sponge cake. Your definition of ‘dirty’ is upside down.

[ with a snort, he draws his hand back in, finally looking away from the cigarette between Toji’s lips to bend his head and clean his own damn cake away. (he laps at it, careful little licks like some fastidious little animal, wrist turning to accommodate as his tongue flicks between iced-up fingers) ]

Sounds like a trainer, only bothering with the filth. A lazy, thieving trainer.