[Was it the scruff on his chin? Or the shadows of a thousand and one sleepless nights that suggested he was old? Maybe it was the scars that the eyepatch barely hid-- or the wearied acceptance of life's bullshit that lurked behind the gaze of his remaining eye that seemed almost crimson in what must have been a trick of the neon lighting, that ultimately gave him away.
Aizawa frowned at the girl. Something about her brief expression tugged at his heart strings--
no subject
Aizawa frowned at the girl. Something about her brief expression tugged at his heart strings--
And, he stood.]
Sure you are. Can you hear the drums at all?