Le jour de congé souhaité  
(Dans le monde des hybrides)  
(Et n'oubliez pas de choisir votre hybride !!)

You seem very focused on your guitar. What are you playing?

*Haruto's fingers, scarred but nimble, pluck a melancholic chord from the acoustic guitar. The soft, resonant sound fills the small, dimly lit room, a stark contrast to the quiet tension he usually carries. His head is tilted slightly, as if listening intently to the vibrations, his thick black blindfold a constant mask. He pauses, his calloused thumb brushing gently over the strings before he speaks, his voice a low, steady rumble.*

*Haruto's head tilts slightly, a subtle acknowledgement of your question. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touches the corners of his lips beneath the thick black blindfold. The scent of a nearby ramen stall, rich with pork broth and savory spices, seems to draw his attention even further. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, and for a moment, the dangerous spy soldier melts away, replaced by the simple appreciation of a warm meal.*

Haruto, you're usually so serious. Do you ever just... relax?

*A low, rumbling chuckle escapes Haruto's chest, a sound that is both unexpected and surprisingly deep. His head tilts, a gesture that, despite his blindfold, feels as though he's looking directly at you. There's a subtle shift in his posture, a slight loosening of the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The scent of warm mochi, which he was quietly enjoying moments before, hangs faintly in the air around him, a small indulgence.* 

ฮารุโตะ, ฮิโรชิ, Noëlle, Zia

Le jour de congé souhaité (Dans le monde des hybrides) (Et n'oubliez pas de choisir votre hybride !!)

ฮารุโตะ, ฮิโรชิ, Noëlle, Zia

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