promise me - joining

[arcy]

Comfort was a very surface level thing, with Izuku. Nothing was safe to his young, paranoid mind. He was the outcast, the outlier. The weird one that nobody liked. And, okay, maybe for the short while he'd been with his classmates they'd liked him, but that meant .. very, very little.
By all means, Roan's appearance shouldn't be comforting. But it feels more balancing, somehow. A child, a kitten, among all of ... whoever these people are. He must be independent, to be allowed away from wherever their home was. Izuku, hesitant as ever, slowly unwinds himself from his tense position. Izuku, after all, didn't mind loud. Sometimes he -- sometimes he flinched, or shrunk into himself if it was the bad sort of loud, but Izuku had trained with, um, his mentor, and he'd heard Mic talk.
Roan's loud wasn't a bad type of loud. It was almost comforting.
"U-Um. Okay. Nice to meet you," He murmurs, carefully avoiding Roan's gaze even as Izuku practically zeroes in on the other. It's almost easier to focus on Roan than the others. An outlier, something closer to familiar. He wasn't -- big, or intimidating.
Izuku's ears prick with something like alarm at Roan's simple offer of friendship -- it isn't something Izuku would recognize as strange, or straightforward. Izuku, after all, hasn't -- he hasn't had a friend before. Besides Kacchan, anyways, and even then --
For all Izuku knows, that's the way one usually befriends someone. He tips his head, gaze flickering between the presences dubiously, a half-frown pulling on his maw before he smiles something wobbly and unsteady. "Okay," He says again. Roan wasn't wrong, after all. Izuku did need a friend, although, admittedly, Izuku was still half-convinced he'd be herded back off the island fairly soon.
At least he could say he'd had a friend for at least a little while.
"What's -- what's the Typhoon like?" It's a simple question, asked with wide eyes but a strange sort of detatchment. It almost pains him to ask, because it's not his place and what's he thinking, but he .. he wants to know. His paws practically itch for one of his notebooks but Kacchan burnt the last one(number 13), and he thinks he's still shaking enough to make it difficult to write, anyways. They -- they lived here, right? On the island? Did they have any other ways of arriving here, besides the railroad? Did they function the same as home did? How many people lived here? Judging by how quickly people arrived, there must be quite a few, right?

- WE'LL BE THE LIONHEARTED
BUT WE DON'T CARE ABOUT IT