[... well, sure, but Akira, as someone who didn't give much of a shit about any of that kinda stuff (so long as people weren't actively hurting one another — please ignore the hypocrisy here), wouldn't have thought that Kira would have that much depth in his decision-making process.
But, anyways.
The impact of his knuckles against the guy's face is satisfying in a way that unsettles him a bit; it's been so fucking long since he's fought, since he's wrapped his hands around something and torn it to pieces, that the violent impulses become a little difficult to filter out, bubbling up at inopportune times. He's thinking he's lucky, too, that this idiot might provide at least a small outlet for that.
Except...
He hadn't really hit him lightly. Certainly with a lot more weight than a guy of Akira's rangy stature might be able to throw, and the guy does stagger to regain his balance, but he'd felt pretty... solid, as far as people to punch were concerned.
It's either this curiosity, or the sluggish train of his thoughts ferrying this curiosity through the crowded avenues of his brain, that inhibit his usually very sharp reflexes, allowing the punch to connect right below the rise of his cheekbone.
Akira can't help but stagger a bit too, shocked by the sting of the blow and the ache to his jaw and the taste of blood in his mouth, and then he knows. This guy... he ain't no garden variety human.
A long, slow, toothy grin spreads across his face.]
I wasn't under the impression we came here to be all polite.
[And then he's rushing at Kira with blurring, inhuman speed, shoulders lowered in an attempt to just flat-out tackle him to the ground.]
no subject
But, anyways.
The impact of his knuckles against the guy's face is satisfying in a way that unsettles him a bit; it's been so fucking long since he's fought, since he's wrapped his hands around something and torn it to pieces, that the violent impulses become a little difficult to filter out, bubbling up at inopportune times. He's thinking he's lucky, too, that this idiot might provide at least a small outlet for that.
Except...
He hadn't really hit him lightly. Certainly with a lot more weight than a guy of Akira's rangy stature might be able to throw, and the guy does stagger to regain his balance, but he'd felt pretty... solid, as far as people to punch were concerned.
It's either this curiosity, or the sluggish train of his thoughts ferrying this curiosity through the crowded avenues of his brain, that inhibit his usually very sharp reflexes, allowing the punch to connect right below the rise of his cheekbone.
Akira can't help but stagger a bit too, shocked by the sting of the blow and the ache to his jaw and the taste of blood in his mouth, and then he knows. This guy... he ain't no garden variety human.
A long, slow, toothy grin spreads across his face.]
I wasn't under the impression we came here to be all polite.
[And then he's rushing at Kira with blurring, inhuman speed, shoulders lowered in an attempt to just flat-out tackle him to the ground.]