Far, far too accurate. They can bond over the fact that they are chronic workaholics or something.
He gives her a puzzled look, and then averts his eyes. The way Lenalee looked at him made him terribly uneasy- it reminded him of the same look his sister always gave him. Like she was looking through him at the monster underneath. He didn't like that- that scrutiny. And Lenalee was obviously not stupid.
He shifts and there's an awkwardness behind his predatory grace- a perpetual uncertainty. That's the problem. He no longer thinks of himself in human terms or fitting in and it's where he slips up so often. He doesn't need light because he has various ways of 'seeing'. He doesn't need a mask because the only reason he takes in oxygen is to speak.
"There's nothing in here that would make me sick." He explains and says gruffly. "C'mon. We're wasting time." He marches into the chaotic, dusty gloom, the floor creaking ominously under his considerable weight. He peers around, expression sour as ever as he realizes he has no clue where to begin.
no subject
He gives her a puzzled look, and then averts his eyes. The way Lenalee looked at him made him terribly uneasy- it reminded him of the same look his sister always gave him. Like she was looking through him at the monster underneath. He didn't like that- that scrutiny. And Lenalee was obviously not stupid.
He shifts and there's an awkwardness behind his predatory grace- a perpetual uncertainty. That's the problem. He no longer thinks of himself in human terms or fitting in and it's where he slips up so often. He doesn't need light because he has various ways of 'seeing'. He doesn't need a mask because the only reason he takes in oxygen is to speak.
"There's nothing in here that would make me sick." He explains and says gruffly. "C'mon. We're wasting time." He marches into the chaotic, dusty gloom, the floor creaking ominously under his considerable weight. He peers around, expression sour as ever as he realizes he has no clue where to begin.