( well, he doesn't suppose wataru would be less than tentative about coming near him with the show eichi made of his annoyance. expected, but still a little lonely.

he draws up his knees halfway to rest an elbow on one, resting his jaw against the slanted back of his hand. he looks at wataru with a sort of ... interest, a little different than his starstruck gaze of before, a little bit flattered by wataru's assessment. he is a bit disappointed to hear he had no taste, but he has a guess as to why.

(he doesn't think his disappointment is strange, though. if he had to go through the sudden shock of being fed upon, he might as well have been entirely worth the trouble.) )

Mmm . . . That sounds about right, I think. Of my kind, I was always the warmest, physically—most malleable, consequently. "Soft," in your words.

( nicer than the words used by the scientists. he watches toy with his own tentacles, a sort of shyness uncharacteristic to the wataru he'd met last time. it makes him feel somewhat pleased, having been the cause of it. )

. . . You're strange, though. Smooth, with a strange bend; bumpy along the underside. ( especially when . . . mm, his wings settle against his back, resting. ) You're not unlike the things I used to be put with, to see how we'd interact. They were all sorts of sharp edges; a little bit rough, and . . .

( ... he offers a hand, a finger partly outstretched, as if to invite a perched bird. )

. . . Perhaps I dislike your texture a little less, I think.