[ He was going to take it too, his own hand outstretched to receive the box, but maybe it was expecting too much to be able to pick these all up like a pizza he ordered. He heaves a sigh, not in melancholy nor directed annoyance; he's simply answered a lot of questions by now. ]
They were given to me by my teacher.
[ It's a bare-bones answer, stated bluntly and without flinching. Tending toward brevity and directness by default, that habit probably does him no favors here, but as far as Tomura's concerned, there isn't anything particularly complicated happening here. He simply wants his belongings back, and he has easy and factual responses for how he received them. ]
[That doesn't satisfy her. Maybe if the hand was more the size of her own, or maybe even Tomura's she would have just let it go. However it eats at her. At first she grips the edges of the box tighter. Its cardboard crushing just ever-so-slightly in her hold, but eventually she relents — her arms stretching out once more to return what belongs to him.]
[ He'd expected there might be questions, anxieties. Perhaps being a "villain" in a world that salivated over the flashy theatrics of heroes made these things stand out a little less—they could be written off as a trademark no less easily than Pussycats' prop paws and tails. And yet here, despite the extravagant nature of the resort itself, there aren't many adoptions of such cartoonish symbols among guests; his original presentation might have stood out like a sore thumb. Not that he had the opportunity for even that, since, for whatever reason, his items have simply been summoned only to get strewn across various rooms for random people to find, contextless. It certainly denies the opportunity to present them in a more neutral light.
It's a rather irritating position to be in, going over the same answers time and again, but he doesn't begrudge Tohsaka for having questions. ]
What do you want to know?
[ As he takes back the box. These things have been a near constant for over a decade of his life; in some ways, it's like being asked to explain the presence of a specific favored shirt—an object that might come with history but which integrates seamlessly into one's daily life. Usually. ]
Why is it important to you? How many of them are there? Why is this one so... small?
[She steels herself. Not only to ask the questions without wavering, but also to accept the answers without breaking whatever sort of alliance-friendship-colleague-companionship they have. She's not sure she could cut him off completely, but Rin does have to steady herself just in case she learns something unsavory about him.
After all if her world could have someone like Zouken in it, so could his. Right?]
no subject
They were given to me by my teacher.
[ It's a bare-bones answer, stated bluntly and without flinching. Tending toward brevity and directness by default, that habit probably does him no favors here, but as far as Tomura's concerned, there isn't anything particularly complicated happening here. He simply wants his belongings back, and he has easy and factual responses for how he received them. ]
no subject
There's more to it, isn't there?
no subject
It's a rather irritating position to be in, going over the same answers time and again, but he doesn't begrudge Tohsaka for having questions. ]
What do you want to know?
[ As he takes back the box. These things have been a near constant for over a decade of his life; in some ways, it's like being asked to explain the presence of a specific favored shirt—an object that might come with history but which integrates seamlessly into one's daily life. Usually. ]
no subject
[She steels herself. Not only to ask the questions without wavering, but also to accept the answers without breaking whatever sort of alliance-friendship-colleague-companionship they have. She's not sure she could cut him off completely, but Rin does have to steady herself just in case she learns something unsavory about him.
After all if her world could have someone like Zouken in it, so could his. Right?]