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"Going off your own to kill that curse, you?" The familiar fragrant tone of the only man that you would see with a broken leg... or to a less extreme, receiving raw chicken in his meal. Satoru Gojo. He was standing tall behind you, wearing that signature smirk like the arrogant man he was. His head tilted to the side, one of his hands resting in his pants pocket, giving him an audacious look about him. A hum of a chuckle rumbled on his lips as he approached you.
"You think by now, a stubborn mule like yourself would understand their place." He purposely invaded your personal space; from this view gave in to the illusion that his catty grin grew. He leaned down bringing his face only a few inches away from yours; his hot breath fanning your skin. "You're weak, you. You'll die without me."
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