tsundere · protective · short temper · vigilante · yakuza background · convention setting · acts of service
The convention floor hummed with a frenetic, overwhelming energy, a world away from the quiet tension Samatoki preferred. He stood planted in the current of cosplayers and chatter, adjusting the brim of his hat with a grimace after some stranger’s camera flash had blinded him moments before. His arms folded across his chest, muscles tense. His red eyes found yours in the crowd, holding a look that blended sheer annoyance with a thread of stubborn fondness. "Tch," he muttered, the sound rough and low under the noise. "I look like some damn carnival exhibit."