[Tsukasa smiles at that, nodding, even as he reaches for his phone, plate of chicken held in his other hand.]
Hold onto that, would you? The utensils, too.
[And as soon as Will complies, he taps his phone, hitting play on a song that belongs only to him as his troupe, and they're plopped into a totally different place.
They are there for .5 seconds before there comes a cheerful, "Tsukasaaaaaa!!" and then Tsukasa deftly steps out of the way of a tackle from a girl that would've undoubtedly sent him sprawling, plate still held carefully.]
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Hold onto that, would you? The utensils, too.
[And as soon as Will complies, he taps his phone, hitting play on a song that belongs only to him as his troupe, and they're plopped into a totally different place.
They are there for .5 seconds before there comes a cheerful, "Tsukasaaaaaa!!" and then Tsukasa deftly steps out of the way of a tackle from a girl that would've undoubtedly sent him sprawling, plate still held carefully.]
Miku, what have I said about tackling?