[Harding mumbles something — or perhaps more accurately, grunts something — incomprehensible and slurred, but that's about as far as he goes to responding to Takame.
One of his legs awkwardly hangs over the side of his seat. Shifting to get comfortable, Harding puts both legs on the passenger seat and stretches out. His sudden movement kicks up something previously unseen from the floor of the car: a small black wallet, scuffed and worn.]
no subject
One of his legs awkwardly hangs over the side of his seat. Shifting to get comfortable, Harding puts both legs on the passenger seat and stretches out. His sudden movement kicks up something previously unseen from the floor of the car: a small black wallet, scuffed and worn.]