[ he's always been a light sleeper - one has to be ready for threats at any time if one lives a life of crime. Which means he spends only a brief moment groaning groggily when he hears a voice; immediately afterwards, his eyes snap open, and he's darted up onto his feet with impressive speed. He looks like he's ready to fight - his gaze is broad, muscles taut, as he tries to survey exactly what happened here.
There's dirt on his shirt. There's dirt on his face. There's a sort of nasty, rusty taste lingering in his mouth. Worst of all, there's a cute girl standing nearby and taking it all in, looking worried about him. Why does it always have to be a cute girl? ]
-- That was an inconvenient spot for a nap, wasn't it? Er... [ the joke is more to make himself feel better than anything. he's slowly recalling the events that led up to this point, and they're not good. Not good at all. ] ... I didn't hurt you, did I?
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There's dirt on his shirt. There's dirt on his face. There's a sort of nasty, rusty taste lingering in his mouth. Worst of all, there's a cute girl standing nearby and taking it all in, looking worried about him. Why does it always have to be a cute girl? ]
-- That was an inconvenient spot for a nap, wasn't it? Er... [ the joke is more to make himself feel better than anything. he's slowly recalling the events that led up to this point, and they're not good. Not good at all. ] ... I didn't hurt you, did I?