[ Kim continues prowling through the aisles. It is not a reassuring sight; Kim is used to being the aggressor in situations like these, the skid and squeak of his boots signaling a relentless foe, projecting confidence as his shadowed silhouette drifts through the store. Once he makes his way towards the counter, however, it's easier to see the truth of him, if Robby is still capable: a small man, despite the weight of his footsteps, brow wrinkled in concern, the thick lenses of his glasses glinting with the sparse light coming off of the freezers that line the walls. Kim's fine brows rocket upwards as he catches a glimpse of the young boy hiding behind there, every inch of him reeking of fear and desperation. ]
...Robby? Is that you? [ He says incredulously, peering over the counter. It's me -- it's Mr. Kitsuragi. [ As though there's anyone else out there with his distinct voice. ] What's going on? Are you all right?
no subject
...Robby? Is that you? [ He says incredulously, peering over the counter. It's me -- it's Mr. Kitsuragi. [ As though there's anyone else out there with his distinct voice. ] What's going on? Are you all right?
[ What are you running from? ]