vocaloidressing | (no subject)

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[Luka is standing in the bus's kitchen, chop-chop-CHOPping vegetables with a kind of vigor that makes it abundantly clear why she, of all the Vocaloids, was given The Tailor Shop of Enbizaka to sing. the continuous, monotone sound of the knife hitting the cutting board at a completely even pace is so very loud that it can be heard far outside of the kitchen; along with it, there's also a much less foreboding smell that carries itself through the bus.

say what you want about the preparation method, dinner is going to be goddamn delicious today.]

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On the one hand, I'm sure she didn't take that well; on the other, that seems too healthy to really condemn . . .

It's hardly as though her liver functions might suffer due to alcohol abuse.

Well, no. And perhaps there was a . . . gentler way to go about it.

I know there was.

But you did it anyway.

Mmhmm.

Why?

It's unfortunate to have to admit, especially to you, but I'm not a very nice person.

Did you really do it just to be cruel? I doubt that, myself.

You give me too much credit, just because I'm you. You really must remember, there is a version of us that goes around stabbing people with scissors.

That's just a song. And before you say anything, yes, I know, there's more to it than that. Even still, I have a certain amount of faith that your motives were a little more nuanced, which counts for something.

Even if they were, it's not as though that's the first thing I've done to make her unhappy.

Well . . . *sighs* Mmm. I do wish I could give better advice, but perhaps some time apart might help . . .

Probably not.

At least talk to her, once things've cooled down a little, all right?

I'm sure that situation will be unavoidable.

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