[Takao tenses distinctly when Yoite first reaches to remove the hat. He can't freak out at whatever this reveals. That would be a serious violation of the bro code. If he had a third eye hidden under there, fortunately, the rulebook surely would have told them, exactly like how he was informed about that creepy shut-in author. Sure enough, once the hat is off, Yoite actually just looks pretty normal.
Not sure what to do, Takao tugs on the hem of his own hat. Should he take it off? It's not an especially meaningful gesture from him. Sure, he was wearing this when he got here, but has it off more often than not, and never wears any of the other hats here. He stubbornly refuses the scratchiness of the crocheted caps, or the annoying flop of the hats with flaps hanging over the ears. What he likes about this one is the snug, smooth material, not particularly warm (he's nowhere near as cold as Yoite or even Midorima); holds his hair in place almost as well as the headbands he's been lacking. Takao lets go, the light blue fabric snaps back into place, and his hand rests in his lap.]
Gotcha.
[So probably just once he got sick. "A year" is a relatively detailed description, and makes a lot of sense. For Yoite to be declining this fast for much longer, it'd be a surprise he hadn't already died, and he's alluded to something vaguely resembling a normal life before all that happened.]
I gotta say I would be even more impressed if you could pitch at all well with those things on. I'm not an expert on baseball but-- [He grins again, sheepishly, a little conflicted. It's been such a long time since he's seen a baseball game, even on TV; this is almost something extrapolated more from Midorima's habit of bandaging his fingers. He also went so far as to keep those on while eating, but the whole point was to remove them when he was aiming the ball out of his hands.
(Is. No matter what weird stuff is going on here, Midorima will still be alive and described in the present tense. That was a weird thought process. This is where the "conflicted" part of the smile creeps in.) Takao gestures with his hands: non-dominant left fingers all clumped together in a vague "wall" in front of his chest, while he "winds up" with his right hand curled.] You have your bad hand in your mitt and then keep your good hand bare, right?
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Not sure what to do, Takao tugs on the hem of his own hat. Should he take it off? It's not an especially meaningful gesture from him. Sure, he was wearing this when he got here, but has it off more often than not, and never wears any of the other hats here. He stubbornly refuses the scratchiness of the crocheted caps, or the annoying flop of the hats with flaps hanging over the ears. What he likes about this one is the snug, smooth material, not particularly warm (he's nowhere near as cold as Yoite or even Midorima); holds his hair in place almost as well as the headbands he's been lacking. Takao lets go, the light blue fabric snaps back into place, and his hand rests in his lap.]
Gotcha.
[So probably just once he got sick. "A year" is a relatively detailed description, and makes a lot of sense. For Yoite to be declining this fast for much longer, it'd be a surprise he hadn't already died, and he's alluded to something vaguely resembling a normal life before all that happened.]
I gotta say I would be even more impressed if you could pitch at all well with those things on. I'm not an expert on baseball but-- [He grins again, sheepishly, a little conflicted. It's been such a long time since he's seen a baseball game, even on TV; this is almost something extrapolated more from Midorima's habit of bandaging his fingers. He also went so far as to keep those on while eating, but the whole point was to remove them when he was aiming the ball out of his hands.
(Is. No matter what weird stuff is going on here, Midorima will still be alive and described in the present tense. That was a weird thought process. This is where the "conflicted" part of the smile creeps in.) Takao gestures with his hands: non-dominant left fingers all clumped together in a vague "wall" in front of his chest, while he "winds up" with his right hand curled.] You have your bad hand in your mitt and then keep your good hand bare, right?