Gunpoint Kiss- The Roleplay Before the Writing

He made a soft sound when her kisses resumed, as if he may have been startled out of a train of thought. Yet his frame only continued to fall gradually limp atop her, his face nestling against her warm, wounded throat again. He absorbed her skin and her affection, still paying half a muddled mind to the sensations where they remained connected; the subtle fluctuations of tension in her muscles with her every movement, the blissful heat shifting about his member.

But after some time drifting by, the moisture and closeness of the connection grew steadily less comfortable, and Kazuo gently lifted from her embrace. He was slow and careful in removing his hips from hers, as if wary of breaking something, and when they had fully parted he shivered slightly at the open air that met his crotch and the sudden lack of warmth there.

He hovered over Setsuko a moment more, his gaze shifting about their naked forms... and sense slowly restoring itself behind his dark eyes. Anxiety crept into his features. He felt exposed, and lifted away to crawl in pursuit of his boxers, pulling them on. With pleasure fading from his skin, the chilled air was beginning to seep in, and his body and mind felt spent after their excitement.

What he had done and what it might mean, and perhaps more importantly the self-control that had been abruptly and unexpectedly shattered to pieces, was slowly sinking in. His knees withdrew up toward his chest, and his arms wrapped about them tentatively. The more his senses came to light, the more confused and horrified he felt about what had happened. He felt panic begin to clutch at his chest; his soft breathing grew heavier at the weighted, suffocating fear closing in on his heart.

She savored the minutes as they drifted by, enjoying the serenity that fell over them and the feel of his hair tickling her nose. Her eyes fluttered open when he shifted, she allowed her arms to rest at her sides on the floor. Cold air drifted and clutched at the film of sweat wrapped on her skin; her eyes searched for his as he drew away from her, withdrawing from the refuge of her neck. Setsuko watched him, fascinated by the care he displayed when they parted. She shivered and became still, the emptiness between her thighs reached her heart, but the hollowness only lasted for a moment.

Setsuko looked up into his eyes as he stopped above her, but he did not seem to look back. She blushed but did not attempt to cover herself when his gaze swept over her, although he seemed to look at his own nude form, too. Kazuo left her, she noticed that he was retrieving his boxers nearby. With a heavy swallow, she sat up and shuddered. She needed warmth. Her smallclothes and dress were strewn nearby, but her frame only continued to sit.

A warm, almost trickling feeling attracted her gaze down, between her thighs. There was some blood smeared around her thigh. It was a darker shade of red, but there was not a lot; only a few red lines. Her eyes widened when she saw a milky, white substance that had stopped trickling down her inner thigh. She did not blink for a few moments, realizing that it was Kazuo’s seed but not caring about the implications. In fact, in a strange way, she was pleased with herself.

The hold of the small, sticky mess between her legs broke when her ears picked up the familiar sound of his heavy breathing. Her head whipped in his direction, concern flooded her eyes.

Setsuko found him nearby, partially clothed with his knees near his chest. Her insides grew cold as she slowly delved into her memories. The heavy breathing and his posture made it all too clear. A small breath escaped her as her throat grew tight, her vision got slightly blurry, but she held it all in. It definitely was not a good time to cry. She was not totally sure of what caused the sadness, but she was able to push it away and ignore it.

She had to help him calm down.

Without even considering dressing, she pulled herself on all fours and slowly made her way towards him. Her eyes observed him carefully, a hint of warmth inching its way into the gaze. She changed directions so that he could see her coming from the side, and stopped when he was at arm’s length. Setsuko’s hand lifted from the floor and reached for him. She stopped halfway, pausing as if in deep conflict, but her palm eventually found his shoulder, and her fingers rested on his skin.

She had to try.

Kazuo did not appear to notice his companion's approach at first. He remained still, dark eyes staring ahead through the floor emptily. His gaze only flickered to Setsuko's hand when it hesitated in the air just before reaching him, though he did not move or respond in the least. Upon contact, he flinched somewhat, staring down at her hand warily and not without some amount of anxiety seeping into his features. But her touch was still warm - a welcome sensation when the night air was crawling over his skin and just beginning to leave goosebumps in its wake.

Still, he did not move toward her, neither did he move away. His gaze just locked onto where their skin met somewhat nervously, like the girl's hand was some deadly scorpion or spider he did not want to rouse.

Her first instinct was to pull him closer, to hide him in the refuge of her chest, but she would have to act slowly, delicately.

Her hand lingered on his shoulder, his skin was cold, and thin as if it was a shred of film pulled over hard bone. She watched him, he was looking at her hand, eyeing it with fear. It was certainly an encouraging sign, as he did not protest or pull away. Setsuko lowered her head as she started to move. Her back curved and her knees met the floor, she was careful not to put pressure on his frame. After licking her lips nervously, her head tilted back up. She moved her hand away, only to reach for his face. Her palm and fingers cradled his smooth skin, allowing her thumb to run over his cheekbone and below his eye, where she had slapped him previously.

His gaze shifted to her only fleetingly as she moved, mostly focused on the hand at his shoulder. His eyes followed the hand when it drifted upward, and he flinched again once it reached his face; his breathing picked up a moment more before he tentatively pulled his face away out of her touch, his gaze moving off along with it. The youth didn't seem to be panicking any more, but his dark eyes were still distant, his mind seemingly detached on some level.

Her touch was still warm and inviting... but his face, of all things, was not accustomed to such gentle contact, and the meaning behind that contact still unsettled him.

Setsuko’s eyes became void as he pulled away from her fingers, his warmth went away and the cold air became her only company. The bones curled helplessly with the absence of something to touch, to hold.

Confusion seeped through the void of her eyes and into the rest of her features. Kazuo had stopped panicking, yes, but she could tell that he was still uneasy. Her index finger cushioned itself between bleeding lips as she studied her companion.

While her thoughts were still addled by residue afterglow, she was still able think clearly. Moments passed, and the forefinger lowered from its place.

Was he afraid of her?

She knew that he feared her touch moreover than, well, her. But he still lost his self-control and rather than kill her, he kissed her, among other things. Setsuko still was not totally sure of what that meant, but her hand came back to life with warmth and gently clasped around one of his, her fingers interlocking around the knuckles and open gaps.

There was another few minutes of his sitting, staring through the floor. His shivering had ceased, but his breath was heavy, focused, a calm he had to consciously maintain.

He jumped at the touch of her hand meeting his, glancing down at the contact anxiously. His brows furrowed. His breathing started to pick up again, and after only a moment he pulled away, shifting over to climb to his feet without looking at his companion. A troubled look continued to linger in his face while he collected his pants, stepping into them, and remained as he worked at his belt.

He felt uncomfortable. And nervous. It occurred to him he barely knew where he was, like he might as well have been on an alien planet.

But he still knew why he was here, and the thought was reassuring. The usual cool, vaguely bored look settled into his dark eyes as a more familiar desire churned in his mind; blood. He felt like blood. Just experiencing the craving for it soothed him somewhat - it was a craving that was routine, familiar, comfortable... not like that which had so possessed him minutes before.

Her eyes followed him when he pulled away once more and rose to gather his pants. Setsuko looked down at the floor for a moment before wordlessly rising to amass her strewn clothes. She was quick to clothe herself, but had the rigidity of an automaton. As she buttoned the front of her dress, her attention drew to how numb the tips of her fingers were.

Everything was so cold. It was not just the cool air, she felt her insides become frozen, enough to make her start to shake. She was as confused as ever, now. Her hand ventured to the side of her head and clutched the raggedy, messy black hair. The other wiped at her neck so that she could inspect the smeared crimson wrought from Kazuo’s hunger.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

The thought was sudden, and it scared Setsuko. It melded into the existing confusion and began to torment. More questions flooded her mind, too many to register; questions that only her companion could answer.

She looked over at him. Pain was apparent in her gaze, but so was anger. Her palms itched for conflict, but an eerie gentleness had become her aura. Setsuko set off towards him again, her footsteps were hesitant and slow, she stopped when she was near. Her cool forehead became warm when she rested it upon his back, hit him softly with the side of her hand and then wrapped her arms around his shoulder and stomach. She shut her eyes and buried her face deeper into his skin.

Don't go.

Kazuo's slender frame jolted to attention as if he may have been startled out of a thought when he was embraced.

His first impulse was to whip around and push Setsuko to the floor. And then kick her. And then shoot her until her pained writhing became the limp flailing of a doll. His gaze darted for his Uzi, and a rush of panic seared through his mind at why he had ever put it down.

But as the warmth of another body rippled across his skin, he found he wasn't moving for his gun. The boy shivered once as if caught by a chill, before the tension that had been building in him steadily drained back out. Despite his discomfort with the situation, his reignited bloodlust, and the nagging thought at the back of his mind that his weapon was not on his person nor was his vest, suddenly all he felt like doing was lying down to rest with the foreign warmth that was currently at his back.

Sex was the last thing on her mind, even though her lips pressed against the curved bone near his spine, where his arm met the shoulder. Setsuko closed her eyes and tasted his skin, leaving a stain of blood when she withdrew. Her legs shifted so that she could be nearer, the arm around his shoulder lowered to join her other at his stomach.

She pulled him closer and the side of her face nestled into Kazuo’s back. Her confusion cleared a thick fog, and her only thoughts were about the boy she was holding. Setsuko sighed and felt happiness that her companion was not pulling away.

She did not doubt reality for a second, she was not dreaming. Pure bliss flowed through her entire body, a delicate contentment that was growing stronger. Yet, she also felt vulnerable, as if her bliss could be shattered at any moment. Her breathing perked up a bit to alleviate the feeling, neck shifting so that her nose pressed against his skin.

He shivered at the kiss that latched onto his back. He tensed reflexively when her frame stepped closer against his, and as her arms snaked around his waist to reel him in. But soon enough the tension faded away again. He could feel the girl's warm breath across his skin.

His gaze, hollow and downcast, shifted, regaining some amount of focus to peer down at Setsuko's hold on him. The boy felt strangely tired, in a peaceful way that was unfamiliar to him; like he had no other thought or care in the world but for sleep. That in itself made him slightly anxious. His hand moved to the metal collar at his throat, feeling along its edge absently for a minute. Then the hand drifted down, hesitating for only a moment before reaching Setsuko's arm, tentatively, as if nervous her flesh might turn to dust if he wasn't delicate enough. His brows knit as his touch moved across warm skin before reaching her hand. He hesitated again there, before his fingertips slid in between her knuckles to gently pry her hand away and her arms apart so he could move free.

It was not a forceful motion but a tender one, and once Kazuo was free from her hold, he finally retrieved his vest from the floor to strap it back on, and then - still feeling exposed - grabbing his dress shirt to also pull on. The front of the white article was spattered in faint, scattered specks of red.

Dark eyes shifted to the couch thoughtfully. It seemed obvious his mind was churning over either if he wanted to rest or perhaps where he wanted to rest. Maybe not so obviously... also if he wanted to rest alongside his companion - who was invitingly warm and whose frame had started to take on a peculiar appeal Kazuo found he was struggling to douse from his mind.

A small grin tugged at the pointed edges of her bloodied lips; she welcomed the touch of his reach running over her arm. As his fingers interlocked with the gaps in between her fingers, her breathing picked up. No sadness shattered her bliss when he opened her arms to walk away, although she hungered for his warmth. Setsuko was surprised at the tender movements that her companion displayed. Her smile widened.

As Kazuo pulled the vest and his shirt over his torso, Setsuko looked away; her gaze crawled out of the clear, but slightly spotted window to bask in the midnight blue. Imaginary hours pulled at her eyes, which were becoming heavier by the second. The exhilarating vigor of sex had begun to fade, and the muscles around her hips ached from exertion.

She needed sleep, and desired nothing more than to rest with him, if he wanted to. There were beds upstairs, but sje doubted that her companion would want to lie down. The idea made her uneasy, anyway. Lying down would make them vulnerable. At least with the couch, they’d be a little more alert.

The couch itself seemed more welcoming than before. The cushions were long enough to allow someone to recline into the soft backing and a need for the soft blue fabric pressed on her skin. Setsuko’s tired eyes shifted so that she could look at Kazuo; her head tilted to the side when she noticed that he was looking at the sofa, too. It only took her a few slow, weary steps to sit down. She sighed as the cushions hugged her tired muscles, enjoying the cradling sensation of the couch’s arm as the small of her back pressed into the corner where it met the back.

She did not want to sleep just yet, though.

The backs of her hand shifted so that they rose just slightly over her knees. Her arms were not outstretched, but it was clearly an invitation for him to come.

His gaze shifted suddenly, attention pulled out of his thoughts by the movement of his companion drifting for the couch. He watched her carefully, as if he had never used a couch before and was observing her to learn. But as her hands gave a subtle gesture for him, his dark eyes pulled away, sweeping across the floor until coming to his submachine gun.

There was an unpleasant clenching in his stomach upon laying eyes on the abandoned weapon. Seeing the Uzi on the floor, even out of his reach for the moment, made him anxious over his turn of behavior again, and especially how stupid he had been to ever put the gun down. Kazuo stepped briskly to retrieve it, feeling a fresh wave of calm as the strap was pulled onto his shoulder.

His hand grazed over the metal, which had grown cool with neglect. The memory of its typewriter noise, the feel of its gunfire in his hand, and the smell of its smoke made him suddenly more awake, and the impulse to turn around and shoot Setsuko to pieces for the alien sensations she was inciting in him was momentarily renewed. But the rush soon faded... and instead Kazuo slowly followed after his companion to the couch. He paused before sitting, however, gazing over the seat in front of him as if he could not remember how to sit down. But another minute, and he did turn around to lower onto the couch beside Setsuko. Hesitantly, warily, he leaned against her somewhat - vaguely surprised at the pleasantness of the warmth that greeted him again - though his hand cradled the Uzi on the other side of his lap. His rather stiff posture and restless, dark eyes made it clear the boy was far from perfectly comfortable at their closeness, though - at least not yet.

Her eyes became wide when Kazuo fetched the Uzi, suddenly remembering that he had cast it aside to attend to her. She released her breaths in quiet, rhythmic intervals and went cold with tension. Setsuko found that it was hard to swallow and one of her hands left its hovering over her knee to grasp the damp and circuitous black hair that was tucked behind her ear.

The activity of her fingers tangling in her hair was calming, but idle fidgeting could only comfort for so long. She looked at her companion for a second when he made his way towards the couch, and then at the floor. The thin and translucent skin of her eyelids drifted over her sight and remained; until she felt the cushions sink with weight beside her. Kazuo was close, now; she became tense when the hesitant pressure of his leaning frame awakened her skin.

She wanted to pull him closer and trail clumsy kisses over his face, but the Uzi caught her eye. However, the weapon did not stop Setsuko from embracing him in the front with one arm. Her grip was not tight, but it was enough to hold him steady. A kiss was planted on his cheek and she rested her forehead on his shoulder. Kazuo’s body was warm and her mind eased knowing that he was near. She still maintained a sense of alertness since the submachine gun was near, but it was wavering and inconsistent.

The boy drew a breath when an arm crawled across his front, and he eyed the appendage warily. Her touch was still foreign to him despite their period of intimacy. He gave a slight flinch again at the kiss on his cheek, and another as Setsuko leaned closer - but soon enough he seemed to relax, his breathing steady and restful. So it continued until his head began to slump forward, and his eyes fell shut without much protest.

Drifting in and out of different layers of sleep, Kazuo could occasionally hear and feel the breathing beside him that echoed his own. He could feel the warmth of their bodies seem to simmer contentedly before pooling together between them. Though it was an alien sensation, it was at once a soothing one - as was the presence of the submachine gun in his hand on his other side.

She closed her eyes and her breathing became more consistent and steady.

Setsuko was happy. It was an unfamiliar feeling at first, a feeling that erupted when he had kissed her and it seeped in like condensation along with surprise. Was it right to be happy, though? Was it right to find solace within a killer’s embrace? She made an uneasy sound and burrowed deeper into Kazuo, moving her head closer to the crook where his neck and collarbone met. His warmth and his scent slowly lulled her to sleep.

Consciousness had not fully disappeared, as the girl was still aware of her companion next to her. While she wanted to drift into a deeper state of sleep, it was advantageous to be alert and ready to move if an intruder attacked. She could hear him breathing, and it was strange how such a simple function became exciting, new, and private just by being closer. As if she was thanking Kazuo, she shifted slightly to brush her lips against his clothed collar and remained there.

Setsuko fought against the coming state of deep sleep, telling herself to stay where she was to revel in his warmth, but dreamless sleep eventually gathered her mind and cloistered it within its walls.

Though hours dragged by, and the depth of the boy's sleep continued to fluctuate as he rested, he eventually stirred again long before the sun was due to rise. Dark eyes flickered open drowsily, a troubled expression crossing his face at how long he felt he had slept as he took a long breath and stretched somewhat.

His gaze wandered until finding his bag on the floor by the table in the kitchen. A fleeting glance to the girl nestled against him was all the regard he spared Setsuko before lifting to his feet from the couch. A few steady footsteps across the floor later, and Kazuo was reaching down for his bag, hauling it onto the table and then checking his map and the time. There remained a number of hours until the 6AM report, even. He stretched again, torso arching as his hands raised only to crane back down toward his shoulder blades and direct his elbows upward. Next, the youth rummaged into his bag again until retrieving his bread, standing there at the table to take a few bites. His eyes were glazed with drowsiness as he stared ahead blankly while he ate.

Some consciousness clawed into her mind as she felt movement beside her, but it was not enough to wake her up completely. She emitted a small sound of protest when the warmth was suddenly absent. With support of Kazuo gone, she became aware of her placement. She blindly turned around to rest her head on the arm.
It was not as comforting and warm as the boy, but it would have to do. She was nescient to the passing of time, the long hour and mere seconds became the same thing.

Soon enough, she stirred and awareness tore through her brain, causing her eyes to split open. Setsuko's passion-strained muscles ached and her back was bruised and her ravaged throat stung; a peaceful stillness hovered in her body despite the pain. Kazuo's presence was missed and her inability to see him caused a blossom of panic to take root in her stomach.

Did he leave?

The panic was alleviated before it could make her cold and question solitude, she saw him standing in the kitchen, chewing on a piece of bread in the kitchen.
Her muscles released their grip when she stood on the cold floor and stretched. It was still dark, but the sun would come as the hours crept by. Setsuko walked towards the kitchen, stopping to lean on the doorway. Her arm fell to her side lazily as the other hand snaked across her elbow. Memories of their tryst had been playing in her mind since she had awoken; she was looking at him with affection, with no hint of lust. With a few steps, she reached a place next to him, but did not get too close.

"You okay?"
Setsuko was less hesitant to speak now, but she knew that she would have to be quick and wary of her diction.

He appeared undisturbed by Setsuko's moving, and when she reached his side, he glanced at her briefly. But another minute, and his dark eyes shifted to her again. Kazuo gazed over her frame, her face, her wounds and bruises, looking detached and vaguely perplexed, as if she was a stranger and he was wondering how she'd been hurt - not in a concerned way, just a curious way.

Eventually, the faint interest in his eyes dropped, and he turned so his gaze returned to staring off elsewhere, giving just a shrug in answer before taking another bite of the bread in his hand.

She frowned when Kazuo shrugged and gave him a peeved look before sighing and unfurrowing her eyebrows. Setsuko felt the involuntary spasm of her lower lip as it twitched.

“Ka-” Her voice stopped suddenly, teeth kneaded the inside of her mouth in thought. “Kazuo-kun,” Another pause, this time to hope that he would not mind her using an honorific. She knew that he had a voice, with all of the sounds he made during her short time knowing him.

“Why are you so quiet?” Despite the harsh emphasis on the last word, no ill intent carried on in her voice, only mere curiosity.

At just the beginnings of his first name, his dark eyes flickered to his companion warily. And at the honorific, his eyes narrowed, and a nearly visible layer of ice frosted over his form; though the bristling through his frame was subtle, the raw aura alone of his contempt could be felt in the air.

But at her question, his sudden venom seemed to drain away. His gaze drifted off again. The remains of his bread sat in his hand, and though it didn't look like he was going to eat any more of it for now, he wasn't putting it away yet, either.

Despite his appearing to think over Setsuko's question, however, Kazuo only shrugged again. If he had a reason, he didn't look keen on explaining.

Setsuko swallowed through her tightened throat; she was frightened by his darkness, even though it had boiled away with her inquiry.

It was not relief that came to replace her fear, but something just as primeval: anger. It burned inside of her like a dry fire, but her face remained as cold and expressionless as stone. As her anger continued to simmer, he shrugged; pain broke through her blank shell and Setsuko sighed.

She knew well that her companion had no intention to speak, she also knew that something more important was at hand, and that her part of their deal was far from over.

But something still hurt her heart.

Slowly, she stepped away from her place. Her footsteps were quiet as she approached him from behind and rested her forehead on Kazuo’s back.

He did not look at Setsuko as she moved off, but exhaled almost sharply enough to make a sound when the contact came at his back, as if she had startled him. His gaze dropped down to the bread in his hand and studied it intently for the sake of something to look at - something to concentrate on while his breathing, though easy-paced, grew heavier, like he might've been refraining from lashing out... but his face was blank.

A slight furrow in his brows, and Kazuo put the remainder of the bread back into his bag. He turned and stepped away from Setsuko to pause and face the living room, eyes glazing momentarily as his thoughts wandered to pondering if the cat had gone far or if it would come back. His gaze followed the path the feline had taken to the door. But he had no plans of going to look for it. If he really wanted to kill something he could go out for another goat.

Or better yet, hunt down some other participants. His hand lifted to knead over his face as he thought on just how long it had been since he had killed the boy at the clinic. Too long.

With the support of the warm body gone, Setsuko’s head dipped forward. A sigh as sharp as steam left her lips; it sounded as if she was surprised and pleasured, like Kazuo suddenly touched a breast or betwixt her legs. Her assailed neck craned and her head tilted up, making the sound once more.

Rather than following his gaze, she looked out the window, which held the barn in a crackling, wooden frame. Her eyes narrowed, she felt like she forgot something. She made it a point to block out what had happened to the cow as she sifted through her thoughts.

Wait.

There was something missing.

A pale hand went over the silken ribbon, flinching when she realized that two things were missing. The shears were on the countertop, but the wakizashi...the blade.

It was still there.

Maybe she wouldn’t need it. The boy had a submachine gun. But what if they got separated? Shears would be useless. She felt sick at the thought of going back to the barn, but she had to.

“I’ll be back.” Setsuko’s voice was cold, and she started to feel nauseous.

-

She made her way towards the doorway, not really feeling her legs as they walked. The night air embraced her face when it poked out the doorway, and it welcomed the rest of her body as she stepped out. Invisible hands turned her head towards the dark barn, which loomed against the trees.

Its darkness came alive and started to pull her inside.

She started to walk towards the construct, starting at a slow pace and then ran. With a harsh grip, she grabbed onto the door like it was a brake. Setsuko did not waste any time; as soon as she found the blade, it was retrieved. Its heaviness was familiar, and having some protection was comforting. The wakizashi was sheathed and fixed onto the ribbon.

Before she could even turn to leave, a squeal startled her. The pigs that were awake in their enclosure were now alert. Her eyes widened and drifted towards the rabbit cages which were now devoid of life. The small creatures which were scurrying about a few hours ago were now bloodied. Then, the cow’s pen came into sight. The girl could not look away from the spot.

Something else caught her attention in the dark corner; the cat was sitting on the shelving inside the pen, its eyes reflecting light. She pursed her lips and bristled. The yellow orbs were inviting her to come. To come and see the carcass that she made with steel.
Guilt was short-lived and Setsuko began to reassure herself that the cow was sick. But doubt slowly destroyed her confidence.

There was something wrong.

She wanted to run away to the house to be near Kazuo again, but the desire to look again intensified. Her legs were like jelly, but she was able to reach the pen and look down. A look of utter terror creased her face.
The cow had not been sick at all, it was in labor. What remained of the calf had been pushed out and was lying dead with its mother on the floor.

A cry erupted from her throat and she ran out of the barn and into the house. She fell on her behind on the floor in the living room near the couch, brought her knees to her chin and buried her face away.

Kazuo's head lifted to look at his companion when she spoke again. A slight pout overcame in his face in confusion, but when his gaze shifted away as Setsuko headed for the door, his brows knit into a more troubled expression. He felt a faint burn of anxiety build his chest, but he didn't understand why.

Kazuo did not know what it was to worry about someone.

He tried to soothe the feeling with a drink of water, and then occupied himself pacing - not without a few glances out the window for signs of his companion - until Setsuko returned. Only then did the anxious pressure in his chest wane away... but he put no thought to the timing.

The girl rushed past him back to the couch, but sat suddenly on the floor instead and curled up there, hiding her face in her knees. Her running had made him grip the Uzi, and he peered toward the door she had come from, but didn't see any apparent cause for urgency. He even strode briskly for the door to glance around outside, submachine gun in hand, but still found nothing for Setsuko to panic over. Confusion continued to permeate his features as Kazuo turned to walk back to his companion by the couch, and he gave her a careful kick in the side - little more than a prod of his foot - to get her attention and cast a questioning look down at her.