[ Coaxingly spoken as it is, there’s an undercurrent of amusement in Ichigo’s voice as he moves toward Naruto, his unhurried gait that of a predator stalking particularly difficult prey. It’s slow and measured, so controlled that he wastes not an ounce of energy more than necessary.
There’s deliberation in the way the smirk slides across his lips. And there’s something wild and wicked in his eyes. ]
[ alksfhgsjfkg mental keyboard smashing, it begins! Naruto's recoiling already. See that, Ichigo? One step back, finger pointed at the approaching young man. He's heard about this and it's all wrong. Motions which should have a warrior's grace have shifted and Naruto recognizes that. This is Ichigo, but it's not, and it's the 'not' which forces that tiny retreat. ]
Hold it! Hold it right there! You got me mixed up with someone else!
Yeah, yeah, you totally do! See, I'm not him! So-- uh. [ Oh hell, he's run out of bullshit. Think fast. ] Uh.
It won't be fun, 'coz I'm not him! So you stay right where you are, damnit!
NO! [ Kneejerk reaction. Spluttered out as he catches himself on the cusp of taking another step back. He forces himself to stop. No more retreats. It's not acting as a deterrent in the least.
So he needs to find one. Really damn fast because Ichigo is still getting closer. ]
No tellin' me ideas. No tellin' me anything. You gotta turn around and go back-- Back. Nn. Home! You shouldn't be here.
[ He stops when that hand presses against his chest. Not because he has to. Not because Naruto makes him. But because he wants to. Because that's part of the game.
Ichigo's head tilts, eyes fixed on the young man in front of him. ]
There. Stopped.
[ But his hand lifts and he runs his fingertips over the back of Naruto's hand. On the second stroke, his fingers curl, dragging his nails over his skin. ]
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