[Ichimatsu hates being touched, hates strangers, and yet in his mind, the music is moving at a sharp pace into his pace -- that's how it should be. As Guzma leans way too intimately into his space, Ichimatsu leans back to accommodate like a natural, letting his weight fall partially into the broad hand cupped over his back. Gross. He wants to throw up. But his smile hasn't faded; if anything, it turns a little bit crooked.]
Heheh... if you don't like it, go ahead and die.
[Or so he says. The hand that whips up to grab a fistful of clothing at Guzma's shoulder seems to convey a different intent. He eases his feet back under him, starts gently pulling at the big bastard's shirt to lead him into a slow, gliding twirl. He doesn't break eye contact except to scan the swirling scenery behind them.]
[A sneer abruptly bubbles up through his throat, and he leans in close with a meaningful flick of his pupils past Guzma's shoulder. Incoming behind you, asshole.]
no subject
[Ichimatsu hates being touched, hates strangers, and yet in his mind, the music is moving at a sharp pace into his pace -- that's how it should be. As Guzma leans way too intimately into his space, Ichimatsu leans back to accommodate like a natural, letting his weight fall partially into the broad hand cupped over his back. Gross. He wants to throw up. But his smile hasn't faded; if anything, it turns a little bit crooked.]
Heheh... if you don't like it, go ahead and die.
[Or so he says. The hand that whips up to grab a fistful of clothing at Guzma's shoulder seems to convey a different intent. He eases his feet back under him, starts gently pulling at the big bastard's shirt to lead him into a slow, gliding twirl. He doesn't break eye contact except to scan the swirling scenery behind them.]
[A sneer abruptly bubbles up through his throat, and he leans in close with a meaningful flick of his pupils past Guzma's shoulder. Incoming behind you, asshole.]