[ with a whirl, tsuna composes himself, or at least tries to, quickly facing armada and standing erect. he swallows— hard, dry. without a word he follows close behind, head low and mind in a rapid buzz. when they are to come to a stop, tsuna nearly stumbles, regaining his balance and hurriedly standing straight, arms at his sides, hands behind his back, fingers fidgeting— he looks up every so often, at armada, only to have his site fall to the ground with anxiety every time.
the silence is nerve wracking— but he didn't know what took first place, whether it was armada's presence, or the heavy air over his shoulders, or his stomach, or the brief silence itself. ]
no subject
the silence is nerve wracking— but he didn't know what took first place, whether it was armada's presence, or the heavy air over his shoulders, or his stomach, or the brief silence itself. ]