( his eyes narrow, and something in him worries, gnaws at the details--it's never good to go first, as though turning his back on this person might be the worst thing he can do. he doesn't know what's inside the confines of that deep red cape, doesn't even really know what the stranger looks like, and for a moment, he wants to be contrary. wants to demand that the stranger shuffle himself out the window first. he'll get his back.
but then--the size difference. it pains him, but he's pretty short compared to this guy, so it's likely meant to be something of a solace, for him to get helped up through it.
that, of course, just puts him in a worse mood. )
I don't need help. ( yes, he does. climbing onto the desk is all good and well, but no matter how strong he is, he can't haul himself up to that window without a little help. ) ...Hang on.
( it scares him, rattles him in irritation, but: he unclips the buster sword, holds it for one long moment before he turns to the stranger and, with little ceremony, lifts a foot so that he can use the stranger's hand as a boost. when he finally can get his arms folded on the windowsill, he shoves the buster sword through the opening first, hearing it clatter outside before he hoists himself through the window.
--and, of course, lands in something of an awkward roll on the cement outside, his bare arms scuffed up by the landing. )
no subject
but then--the size difference. it pains him, but he's pretty short compared to this guy, so it's likely meant to be something of a solace, for him to get helped up through it.
that, of course, just puts him in a worse mood. )
I don't need help. ( yes, he does. climbing onto the desk is all good and well, but no matter how strong he is, he can't haul himself up to that window without a little help. ) ...Hang on.
( it scares him, rattles him in irritation, but: he unclips the buster sword, holds it for one long moment before he turns to the stranger and, with little ceremony, lifts a foot so that he can use the stranger's hand as a boost. when he finally can get his arms folded on the windowsill, he shoves the buster sword through the opening first, hearing it clatter outside before he hoists himself through the window.
--and, of course, lands in something of an awkward roll on the cement outside, his bare arms scuffed up by the landing. )