The quiet, deafening ring of the ghost room barely bothers you, but the fiery glower of the pink haired male does. He’s infuriating.

He crosses his legs as he stares at you, and you blankly gaze at him nonchalantly. You couldn’t concern yourself with ignited another heated argument with him. It’s either him insulting you or his fanatic rants about Jolyne and his urge to eventually marry her.

You honestly couldn’t care less, and you declared that to his face a minute ago, so he currently sits atop the piano silently scowling at you. His plump pink lips pull into an unpleasant frown.

He absentmindedly taps his finger on his exposed thigh as if it’s a sign of his ticking temper awaiting to blow at you; the male is clearly displeased at your remark.

No matter what, Anasui finds you to be a pest, a nuisance he’d rather see die than converse with. He doesn’t even understand what the rest of the group sees in you, but apparently it’s just him you have an issue with.

Even Foo Fighters tolerates him more than you do.

The male sneers at you, and his eyes squint more narrowing at you in disgust. His painstakingly pleasant voice cuts through the air.

“You don’t care for my love of her? I might as well end of you right here if you plan on interfering regardless.”