The Ghost of Etcetera seems unfazed by the scene. Maybe one just sees a lot of shit as a memory ghost thing. He continues chewing on his own piece of peppermint bark, giving one of those hand-wobbling ehh sorta gestures.
Over by the press, Kokichi gets to his feet with a great deal of effort. Like this, his own injuries are more obvious – there's a small puncture wound on one upper arm, and a matching one in his back responsible for all the blood trailing across the floor. It left a streak down the whole back of his uniform, intense against the white fabric.
He makes it as far as the steps up to the catwalk before swaying dangerously. Grabbing at the railing to steady himself and scowling at his own weakness, he says, "Kaito."
The other boy, Kaito, looks down to him and curses softly before moving to help. He catches Kokichi under the arm and helps him up the stairs, supporting him until he's standing in front of the control panel and the camera tripod. Kaito leaves him there, leaning against the railing, and heads back down to the hydraulic press. He takes off his jacket and lays it across the metal surface of the press.
Up on the catwalk, Kokichi fusses with the angle of the camera, aiming it down at the press and frowning. "Leave that one sleeve hanging out. With the hole in it."
Kaito follows the instructions, arranging the bloodied sleeve of his jacket to hang off the edge of the press. And then, horrifyingly, he lifts himself up onto it and lays flat, careful not to disturb the jacket's placement.
Again checking the scene through the camera, Kokichi gives a weak chuckle. "Scared yet, Kaito?" he says, adopting a grin. "You can't react at all if this is gonna work. No chickening out or pissing your pants!"
On the press, Kaito makes a face. "Just start it up." A pause, and then his expression levels into something determined as he looks up at the massive metal plate hanging above him and closes his eyes. "I trust you."
Kokichi's grin fades, smoothing over into something blank and unreadable. Wordlessly, he hits a button on each the camera and the control panel, and the hydraulic press begins to close.
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Over by the press, Kokichi gets to his feet with a great deal of effort. Like this, his own injuries are more obvious – there's a small puncture wound on one upper arm, and a matching one in his back responsible for all the blood trailing across the floor. It left a streak down the whole back of his uniform, intense against the white fabric.
He makes it as far as the steps up to the catwalk before swaying dangerously. Grabbing at the railing to steady himself and scowling at his own weakness, he says, "Kaito."
The other boy, Kaito, looks down to him and curses softly before moving to help. He catches Kokichi under the arm and helps him up the stairs, supporting him until he's standing in front of the control panel and the camera tripod. Kaito leaves him there, leaning against the railing, and heads back down to the hydraulic press. He takes off his jacket and lays it across the metal surface of the press.
Up on the catwalk, Kokichi fusses with the angle of the camera, aiming it down at the press and frowning. "Leave that one sleeve hanging out. With the hole in it."
Kaito follows the instructions, arranging the bloodied sleeve of his jacket to hang off the edge of the press. And then, horrifyingly, he lifts himself up onto it and lays flat, careful not to disturb the jacket's placement.
Again checking the scene through the camera, Kokichi gives a weak chuckle. "Scared yet, Kaito?" he says, adopting a grin. "You can't react at all if this is gonna work. No chickening out or pissing your pants!"
On the press, Kaito makes a face. "Just start it up." A pause, and then his expression levels into something determined as he looks up at the massive metal plate hanging above him and closes his eyes. "I trust you."
Kokichi's grin fades, smoothing over into something blank and unreadable. Wordlessly, he hits a button on each the camera and the control panel, and the hydraulic press begins to close.