| [Oct. 20th, 2009|05:46 pm] |
Hiro took a slow bite of the mochi as a bulwark against Ginta's too-fervent proposition, taking a moment to savor the juxtaposition of salty leaf and sweet red bean. Not answering right away.
"You know, don't you," Hiro observed, "that if you keep stacking your questions like that, I can only answer half of them at most?" It was the opposite of the well-known interrogation technique that Kotoe-san had used to such great effect: remaining silent until the target couldn't help but fill the space with words. Idly, Hiro wondered what questions Ginta was avoiding having to answer.
Ginta's pleading look had intensified; Hiro suspected that Ginta might have been bouncing in his seat if not for the ungainly--and most certainly heavy--metal trap encircling his leg, limiting his movements. Really, he looked about ready to attempt a careful bounce or two anyway, leg injury or not. Tempted to hold out and determine whether Ginta would actually begin to quiver with impatient anticipation, Hiro nevertheless felt pressed to relent on the grounds of basic human decency.
Relenting, of course, didn't necessarily mean actually acceding.
"Somehow, I don't think anything involving stealing a wheelchair from the nurses is going to go over particularly well on my record," he said, as if it were the lamentable yet unavoidable conclusion from an elaborate line of thinking. "You might be able to manage that kind of thing," he added, "but I thought Intel were supposed to be the smart ones." |
|