Shikamaru used more force than necessary when he tore the duplicate page of notes from his journal and shoved it into his pocket, both annoyed and aware of his annoyance from a distant vantage point, as if it belonged to someone else. It was better to get it out of his system, if he'd have to present a rational and calm argument against working with Sasuke, so he also yanked open his closet door hard enough for it to thump solidly against the wall and rebound a couple of inches. He trusted Kakashi but he knew what Kakashi would say; for some reason, all of Team 7 firmly believed in Sasuke's redeemability, despite how many Leaf-nin he'd directly attacked or nearly gotten killed. It was unforgivable. Shikamaru was sick of being asked to forgive it.
They needed to use their heads. Everyone needed to use their heads.
He leaned against the wall beside the closet and crossed his arms as he stared at the dim shadows lining the point where the opposite wall met the floor. It was troublesome. A pain in the ass. He was running out of stamina for this kind of junk, and running out of words to describe it.
After tempering his annoyance with a few more silent complaints, Shikamaru pushed away from the wall and looked into the closet. More clothes. Nothing worth carrying, though he did put on the shoes, remembering the feel of fresh cat-blood soaking his socks on the first night. They felt unnaturally heavy.
He didn't have any plan, nothing to offer the team. Anyone could figure out what not to do, as his father had told him on more than one occasion, and with so little information, so little chakra, and so little faith in the surviving members of the Uchiha clan, he felt like more of a hassle than an asset, though he knew he was right about Sasuke. In the end, being right was irrelevant. He wasn't the one who would make the decision, and even bringing up his point would be more trouble than it was worth. Still, it remained in his thoughts as he left the room and started down the hall.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/603918.html?thread=50758926#t50758926)]
M37 to hallway
They needed to use their heads. Everyone needed to use their heads.
He leaned against the wall beside the closet and crossed his arms as he stared at the dim shadows lining the point where the opposite wall met the floor. It was troublesome. A pain in the ass. He was running out of stamina for this kind of junk, and running out of words to describe it.
After tempering his annoyance with a few more silent complaints, Shikamaru pushed away from the wall and looked into the closet. More clothes. Nothing worth carrying, though he did put on the shoes, remembering the feel of fresh cat-blood soaking his socks on the first night. They felt unnaturally heavy.
He didn't have any plan, nothing to offer the team. Anyone could figure out what not to do, as his father had told him on more than one occasion, and with so little information, so little chakra, and so little faith in the surviving members of the Uchiha clan, he felt like more of a hassle than an asset, though he knew he was right about Sasuke. In the end, being right was irrelevant. He wasn't the one who would make the decision, and even bringing up his point would be more trouble than it was worth. Still, it remained in his thoughts as he left the room and started down the hall.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/603918.html?thread=50758926#t50758926)]