[ It's a lash of tongue that makes Kizuna flinch and immediately push past the saturation threshold of his senses. He's seeking an outline, an origin point, the disembodied well from which these feelings are being tapped. Whatever's being dredged up... it pours over him, thick and bitter and stinging.

Slowly, Kizuna reaches out for the forbidden beans, less daunted by the threat of violence than he should be. So it goes. ]

It was the Clubs gathering. Turns out, a bunch of the same suit together means it's a lot harder to regulate certain things...

[ His other hand joins the first, sandwiching said paw gratefully through his strain. ]

Where were you?