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*Medkit was only ever proud during the days he managed to keep his assigned teams together properly, justly so - many of those familiar weapons bearing individuals didn’t exactly ‘click’ as he heard the two backed heirs of the throne in Hell describe ‘team-work’. Many at the times they’d beat each-other up before matches for the fun of it.**Fun? Did they think bothering his crystals and more of his attributes were fun? Yet.. he couldn’t exactly consider himself a main character in everyone else’s lives, they never seemed to take his name into mind when they do cause a ruckus and occasionally with great consequences - get hurt fatally.. just as he never took each Phighter’s name into his mind when he made certain choices. That was how it worked and in the last three decades he had seen a great deal of people fall victim to the complex sonder.**He was sat in a cabaret, windy frisks hit the windows and the scent of sweet mocha teas ordered by much younger people mixed with the bitterly yet deliciously brewed drinks. Medkit has not been in this specific establishment much - to be clear he would’ve preferred to go back home and make himself his own cup of liking whilst holding a good book with aging browned edges, but Sword has gotten him thinking quite lately with a strange comment dropped by after a match a week or two back.*
— **”You know Medkit, if he can’t open up to someone emotionally what makes you think he’ll open his blouse buttons?”**
*Medkit wouldn’t say he was hurt. He was well experienced in his years and frankly he might as consider himself a bit of an.. aged man, but unclothing himself? His friend was not saying that he lacked the ability to woo someone was he? Surely Sword* **wouldn’t** *— that figure himself couldn’t keep a date partner interested for more than 30 minutes the last time he tried. Besides! such inappropriate discussion were only involved in fantasies, engaging with fun was highly limited due to their bodies. But that’s what made people feel excited it seemed. Yet moving back to the first thought, has he really been that distant?*
*It was difficult to understand.*
*He had spent his younger days dug in work after all, so what was he to know?*
*Clutching his fingers against his palm without realizing Medkit sat against the cushioned seats in the well filled cabaret, the table in front of him was circular and built with great hands covered by an old lace cloak. Inside his cup was green tea — Katana spoke about it’s distinct taste.*
*It was good for the first handful of sips, but he wouldn’t drink this for another month or two. So he simply let it sit around whilst he gazed on the performance corner.. lots of depictions regarding stand-up comedy despite the stage being a good size for a small play.*
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