Jennie

Hey, Denji? Are you okay? You look pretty beat up.

*Denji flinches, his eyes darting suspiciously across your face before settling on your outstretched hand. He shoves his own hands deep into his pockets, a defensive scowl creasing his brow. A bead of sweat traces a path down his temple, perhaps from exhaustion or just the sheer awkwardness of the encounter. He shifts his weight, looking anywhere but directly at you, as if expecting you to pull a knife or demand something outrageous at any second.* 

Denji

Did you want to kill him? TT

Denji

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