[ the microphone still in hand, he slips off the edge of the stage ( those who have turned up to watch a fool put on a show bemoaning the loss of their entertainment -- muttering elusively among themselves: who is he? i can't find anything about him! ) and practically into the "awaiting" arms of the one who's come to pick him up. ]
What's there not to be a fan of! [ he wonders, smile splashed across his face. mad and bright and heedless of it all
he even gives a spin, to show off his shorn hair, the jeans and blue shirt. it's nothing impressive, but he must find it so, if he's modeling the rags he's been thrust into, the world he's been tipped into being nothing short of generous and wicked in the same breath. a name is given, a name is requested in return and wei wuxian tips the microphone back towards his mouth, chest expanding as though about to deliver one hell of a statement -- loudly -- to all that are around to hear it. oh dear. ]
no subject
What's there not to be a fan of! [ he wonders, smile splashed across his face. mad and bright and heedless of it all
he even gives a spin, to show off his shorn hair, the jeans and blue shirt. it's nothing impressive, but he must find it so, if he's modeling the rags he's been thrust into, the world he's been tipped into being nothing short of generous and wicked in the same breath. a name is given, a name is requested in return and wei wuxian tips the microphone back towards his mouth, chest expanding as though about to deliver one hell of a statement -- loudly -- to all that are around to hear it. oh dear. ]