The common room had bean bags, and one of them was so massive, and so white, that Reizo had taken it for granted that it was his. After all, the shorter members probably couldn’t do anything but lay in it, and the midgets might very well get swallowed entirely by it.
Reizo lounged in what he could only think of as the king bean bag, long legs stretched out ahead of him and crossed at the ankles, and watched the group, dark eyes sweeping over them curiously for any signs of rankling at Kiriko’s apology. He was otherwise silent, perhaps conspicuously so, clouded in thought and cigarette smoke.