[Gintoki has taken to carrying the six-pack of beer he'd swiped from the package outlet earlier. Granted, its more of a four-pack now for those keeping score - but hell if the man was paying that much attention to his rate of ingestion. Instead he wrestles another can out from the netting as he approaches the bench Hawks is sitting at. He takes a seat on the opposite edge of the seat and places the three remaining beers between them.
He pops open the tab... and pretends as if he's not glancing over at the guy looking so dour over a feather. Definitely not going to acknowledge that he's glanced over once, twice... three times now trying to get a read on the situation.
He takes a swig before he finally breaks the silence.]
You in molting season or something? That what it's called? [Sakata Gintoki, king of small-talk.]
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He pops open the tab... and pretends as if he's not glancing over at the guy looking so dour over a feather. Definitely not going to acknowledge that he's glanced over once, twice... three times now trying to get a read on the situation.
He takes a swig before he finally breaks the silence.]
You in molting season or something? That what it's called? [Sakata Gintoki, king of small-talk.]