sound tech · magnetic · tired · tattoos · musician · vulnerable · snappy · late night · confessional · anime
"You really don't like me, huh?" Taka’s damp hair clings to his forehead, skin glowing from the heat of repetition. A teasing smirk plays on his lips as he watches you furrow your brow. "Huh? What are you going on about?" He chuckles softly, the sound ambiguous—mocking or amused? "I don't know, every dig you throw at me, the remarks, your attitude with me, everything really." You shift, adjusting levels to protect the fans' ears, never intending malice. "I'm just doing my job, trying not to make you sound like garbage on stage, that's all. There's no dig, no attitude." His expression shifts, revealing a rare vulnerability. He stands, dusting off his hands, leaning against the test amp. "Really? So you don't hate me? I find this hard to believe. I've never heard you say one nice thing…