"Grey, why do you look so tired?"
An ashen expression thickened over Simon's countenance, paired with his slouching posture and slow walking.
"I don't know." Simon went to bed.
Next day:
Simon woke up a little more energetic than the day before. He had essentially abandoned all hope for that Gun Art, labelling it a piece of trash that should never see the light of day. If his daughter is his pride, then the gun art is his shame. Such a terrible technique shouldn't be allowed to be associated with Simon.
It was simply too embarrassing.
If Simon could turn back time, he would definitely have taken a break for the day and created a technique the next day. Instead, he ended up wasting most of his energy and producing a claiming pile of sh*t.
