[There's so much TO get used to, it must be said. Lots of weird ideas and quirky (bad) habits. He thinks he's used to Hiyori, but hopefully not too much. He likes being eternally surprised.
Drunk dumdum that can't ever seem to stay out of trouble despite his questionable efforts. There definitely reaches a point where he stops noticing the blissful sting of alcohol is missing from his drinks, so mission accomplished in that regard at least. If only...
...he wouldn't be so blase about kissing other people, even if it wasn't on the lips. At least there was no enthusiasm by all parties involved...? Mostly Yato spent those barrier moments panicking and trying to get free, but he was like a rat in a trap. STUCK.
Maybe that's why he's so keen on being unrestricted on the way home, of saying FUCK YOU to the roads and traffic and laws in general. A god can do whatever he wants, dammit!!
Unfortunately(?) Yato's pickled brain interprets her screams as that of excitement, and he adds his own whoops and hollers to the mix as they sail along, probably being reported to the police at various intervals.]
OF FUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!
[If there was ever a time for drama, it'd be now. When Yato is sailing up buildings and across the gaping gaps between them. Maybe it's a full moon or something...? Surely there must be some explanation for his behavior besides sheer insanity, right??
Okay, probably not.
At least he gets them there safely, if with Hiyori a nervous wreck. Yato's a bit unsteady too when disembarking, but only because of the drink. He staggers over to her, crouching down and hugging her tight.]
Hehe... You're the best, Hiyori~ C'mon, I got somethin' to show ya! [Taking her gently by the hand, he leads her over to the rooftop door, unlocking it with his implant before leading her down a short flight of stairs. In the penthouse he's rented out for the night, the rooms are lit with candles and fairy lights and adorned with bunches of floating pink and blue and silver balloons, with some scattered about the floor for a more festive look. Quiet classical music plays from a futuristic jukebox sideboard, upon which stands a bucket of ice with champagne bottles and two flute glasses.
He lightly guides her in by the gloved hand, stepping them carefully through the maze of balloons to reach the drinks, where he pops the cork with a wince and a small "yikes!" before pouring them both a drink. With care he passes her glass over so they can share a careful toast.]
no subject
Drunk dumdum that can't ever seem to stay out of trouble despite his questionable efforts. There definitely reaches a point where he stops noticing the blissful sting of alcohol is missing from his drinks, so mission accomplished in that regard at least. If only...
...he wouldn't be so blase about kissing other people, even if it wasn't on the lips. At least there was no enthusiasm by all parties involved...? Mostly Yato spent those barrier moments panicking and trying to get free, but he was like a rat in a trap. STUCK.
Maybe that's why he's so keen on being unrestricted on the way home, of saying FUCK YOU to the roads and traffic and laws in general. A god can do whatever he wants, dammit!!
Unfortunately(?) Yato's pickled brain interprets her screams as that of excitement, and he adds his own whoops and hollers to the mix as they sail along, probably being reported to the police at various intervals.]
OF FUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!
[If there was ever a time for drama, it'd be now. When Yato is sailing up buildings and across the gaping gaps between them. Maybe it's a full moon or something...? Surely there must be some explanation for his behavior besides sheer insanity, right??
Okay, probably not.
At least he gets them there safely, if with Hiyori a nervous wreck. Yato's a bit unsteady too when disembarking, but only because of the drink. He staggers over to her, crouching down and hugging her tight.]
Hehe... You're the best, Hiyori~ C'mon, I got somethin' to show ya! [Taking her gently by the hand, he leads her over to the rooftop door, unlocking it with his implant before leading her down a short flight of stairs. In the penthouse he's rented out for the night, the rooms are lit with candles and fairy lights and adorned with bunches of floating pink and blue and silver balloons, with some scattered about the floor for a more festive look. Quiet classical music plays from a futuristic jukebox sideboard, upon which stands a bucket of ice with champagne bottles and two flute glasses.
He lightly guides her in by the gloved hand, stepping them carefully through the maze of balloons to reach the drinks, where he pops the cork with a wince and a small "yikes!" before pouring them both a drink. With care he passes her glass over so they can share a careful toast.]
To us!