[Who knows why his brain alerts him 'hey, she's probably talking to you'. After all, there's only like-- four or five people who call him 'senpai' with any sort of regularity. And that voice isn't any of them. But he's also the only dead asshole laying across the beach here like he's auditioning for a Kojima game. And so he sits up at the call, brows furrowing as she picks up her pace, a few things clicking into place.
1. She's from Gekkoukan. He'd know that uniform anywhere. 2. Wow she's really running hard directly at him. 3. Where is this beach, anyway?]
...Huh? [A nice and simple question of an answer. He's not getting all the way up, hell no. She's the one coming up into his space. But he'll at least stay upright as she approaches, one leg bending up so his foot rests on the sand, the other still straight out in front of him.
He doesn't recognize her face, either. And he's sure as hell not wearing his uniform. (It might not even exist these days. And if it does it's definitely a centimeter or a dozen too short in the legs since he's not sixteen anymore.) And so he follows his useless questioning noise up with:]
wow who is gonna fix that door, huh???
1. She's from Gekkoukan. He'd know that uniform anywhere.
2. Wow she's really running hard directly at him.
3. Where is this beach, anyway?]
...Huh? [A nice and simple question of an answer. He's not getting all the way up, hell no. She's the one coming up into his space. But he'll at least stay upright as she approaches, one leg bending up so his foot rests on the sand, the other still straight out in front of him.
He doesn't recognize her face, either. And he's sure as hell not wearing his uniform. (It might not even exist these days. And if it does it's definitely a centimeter or a dozen too short in the legs since he's not sixteen anymore.) And so he follows his useless questioning noise up with:]
How'd you tell?