( he doesn't say thanks. if anything, the surprise on his face says enough.
and the drunken relief at getting to sate his hunger bulges like a muscle cut, the squish of the manjuu from paper to hand to mouth like a splay of blood against tongue, as if the need came from somewhere else, from a recollection of being so hungry that one might faint, meticulously picking at a wooden bowl with dirtied fingers until every grain of rice from it made its way through his teeth. he munches and munches, unable to pinpoint the flavor beyond its wheat-flour encasing, occasionally taking breaks to swipe away remnants of the filling from the corner of his mouth with a thumb.
—which he totally fails at, by the way. when he's done, there's still some leftover.
when izou finally appears ready to say something, a hand reaches out hurriedly in an attempt to slap it on the friendly-stranger-who-bought-him-something's shoulder and steady himself, the other quick to cover his mouth. either he's still chewing, or... uhmm, maybe he's feeling sick? he's not gonna— )
he won't...
and the drunken relief at getting to sate his hunger bulges like a muscle cut, the squish of the manjuu from paper to hand to mouth like a splay of blood against tongue, as if the need came from somewhere else, from a recollection of being so hungry that one might faint, meticulously picking at a wooden bowl with dirtied fingers until every grain of rice from it made its way through his teeth. he munches and munches, unable to pinpoint the flavor beyond its wheat-flour encasing, occasionally taking breaks to swipe away remnants of the filling from the corner of his mouth with a thumb.
—which he totally fails at, by the way. when he's done, there's still some leftover.
when izou finally appears ready to say something, a hand reaches out hurriedly in an attempt to slap it on the friendly-stranger-who-bought-him-something's shoulder and steady himself, the other quick to cover his mouth. either he's still chewing, or... uhmm, maybe he's feeling sick? he's not gonna— )