[It takes a few tries, but Takame is able to separate the holders with his fingernails, while edging the wallet closer to him. Now that he has it in his hand, he'll be able to flip it open and get a good look at the photograph nestled inside. The image looks washed-out and yellow, as if the picture were taken years ago. Adding to this is how delicate it is; with a few fingers, Takame would be able to wedge a finger into the holder and take the picture out by inches, feeling how soft and thin the film is, like it could fall to pieces under the smallest bit of force.
click]
Drop it.
[The sight Takame is greeted with when he looks up is a simple one: Harding has his handgun pointed at him. He's sitting on his back, pressed up against the door just enough to give him the perfect line of sight to aim at Takame's head. His trigger finger is deathly still.]
no subject
click]
Drop it.
[The sight Takame is greeted with when he looks up is a simple one: Harding has his handgun pointed at him. He's sitting on his back, pressed up against the door just enough to give him the perfect line of sight to aim at Takame's head. His trigger finger is deathly still.]