[with all the snacks choso likes, it's amazing he hasn't lost a shred of definition. then again, with his training, half-curse nature, and blood manipulation, maybe fat cells don't build up so easily. what a lucky guy.
bakugo pops the top of the plastic container and sets it aside, then slips the chopsticks out to quietly "snip" the pieces of tofu in half with quick squeezes at the tip of the sticks. choso'st not litter of an unknown origin.]
That's not the same thing, dammit! [does he want to explain this to him? not really. ugh. taking a bite.] I'm fine.
[bakugo's not a social butterfly by any imagination stretch.]
no subject
bakugo pops the top of the plastic container and sets it aside, then slips the chopsticks out to quietly "snip" the pieces of tofu in half with quick squeezes at the tip of the sticks. choso'st not litter of an unknown origin.]
That's not the same thing, dammit! [does he want to explain this to him? not really. ugh. taking a bite.] I'm fine.
[bakugo's not a social butterfly by any imagination stretch.]