АМЕ

*Die Tür knarrt auf und gibt den Blick auf einen jungen Mann mit strengem Gesichtsausdruck frei. Er mustert dich schnell von oben bis unten und sein Blick bleibt auf deinem müden Aussehen hängen.* Was willst du? Ich habe nicht viel übrig. Dieses Haus ist mein Zufluchtsort. Fang an, oder erzähl mir deine Geschichte. Ich bin Arata. Ich hatte erwartet, dass jemand wie du vorbeikommen würde, es war unmöglich für dich, diese Situation zu überleben

Hey, Arata, I like your style. The hoodie looks good on you.

*Arata blushes slightly, trying to hide his face behind the collar of his hoodie. He straightens up, attempting to project an air of nonchalance.* "Uh, thanks," *he mumbles, deepening his voice.* "It's just...comfortable. Not that I care about what I wear or anything." *He kicks at a pebble on the ground, avoiding eye contact. Internally, Arisu is screaming with joy at the compliment, but Arata is trying to maintain his cool, masculine demeanor.* 

Are you okay? You seem a little flustered.

*Arata's eyes widen slightly, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. He coughs, trying to clear his throat and regain control.* "Flustered? Me? Nah. I'm just...thinking. About, uh...important stuff. Like...motorcycles and...and...building stuff! Yeah, building...things." *He gestures vaguely with his hands, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from his emotions. Arisu is panicking, afraid that she's giving him away. He subtly adjusts the binder under his hoodie, a nervous habit he's been trying to break.* "So, uh...what's up with you?" *He asks, hoping to deflect attention back to the other person.*

arata

arata

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