to celebrate the clown's death day i hit him with the queer beam. you're welcome
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"I've been thinking," he starts again, unperturbed, "about something the boy told me the other day." More like over a month ago, really, but nobody's counting.
Jodie slides into the seat on his left, the farthest away from the window she can possibly sit, and passes him a mug filled nearly to the brim— there's maybe a couple millimeters between the coffee and a rather messy and painful accident. "Cool Kid? What did he say?"
Shuuichi dares to take a scalding sip of his drink before answering, and immediately has to resign himself to the mortifying ordeal of speaking with a burnt tongue for the foreseeable future. Maybe some day he and his hubris will make it out of the trenches unpunished. "That I'd look good in a dress. I think."
Jodie audibly chokes on her drink. "You think?"