#it's so good YOU WRITE SO GUD- i love this brand of empathy he has this idea of projecting in a way that doesn't sound like

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable | the GBEP

Another glance at his front. He can't help it. They hadn't exactly signed up as extra aid to keep watch to this area with the idea they'd be getting fashion tips from random strangers he'd almost threatened to apprehend. To stutter a little through their thought process and reactions seems sensible enough.

Also because he's somewhat starting to doubt he's talking to an actual person. Or... a living one, at least. Which opens the door to a completely different set of problems, which he'd truly rather not step through today.

Or tonight, rather.

Or at any point in time, actually.

Calloused hand flattens the front of his clothes until his fingers curl around the hem of the bland shirt he's wearing under his jacket, lifting it up to stare down at it as though the fabric could materialise a visual representation of the colours just described.

They look up.

What an odd fella. Stiff, somewhat, but not really. Stiff in a way gentlemen are in Western shows, controlled like people of the elite, intellectuals, and superior to the smaller ones who don't have fine shoes, nor can they afford them. At the same time, though, he doesn't... seem... particulary arrogant? That small extra weight to self-importance that would have made assessing him easier.

His tone of voice, too, conversational, if, again, a little... stiff.

Though Seok-ju feels that's not quite the right word.

He blinks, tilts their head. "I'm... I'll be honest, I'm not quite sure what 'burgundy' and 'hazelwood' look like," a smile breaks out on their lips, like the sun through hazy, stern clouds. Not quite sheepish. Humorous, almost. "I like my fashion and my style, but... not an expert on the finer details like the actual proper names of colours."

"So," Seok-ju clears their throat, a casual little human error, tick, more than the actual need for it, "when you say replicate... You're a tailor? Or someone from that industry?"

Well, that would explain... wait, that would explain a lot actually. Fine suit, fine demeanour, fine everything. Seok-ju shoves his hands into his back pockets and relaxes with his elbows jutted out, like moments from replicating a mother scolding a silly child.

Although, the naturalism makes him wonder if 'industry' is the right word to apply here.

"Some sort of patrol, yeah," they concede, shifting their weight to rotate the stiffening joints of one of their ankle. Fine manner of speech and apparently very dedicated to his craft, which could both make him terribly innocent or... well... be a very good cover.

"It's nothing too serious, though, you don't have to worry. Nothing dangerous at least," a shrug. A kid missing is always a serious thing, even though too many in the precinct would argue that 19 years don't make a guy a kid, and he's a guy anyway, whatever could possibly happen to him.

Maybe that's why they'd had to volunteer. South Korea and its oh so inclusive laws for missing people. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have seen a young male-presenting adult most likely wearing a Doosan Bears baseball shirt, beige school uniform trousers, white running shoes and a sports bag?" A tilt of his head to the side again and tragically for himself, the face he makes is doubtful enough that he can't help recognise that some of his fellow officer's thoughts might have begun slipping into their head. "About this height," lifts his hand to hover, flattened palm facing the ground, an arm width over his head. "Potentially in distress, appearing lost, or unapproachable. Maybe in the company of someone else?"