Tezuka was looking at me queerly again.
"Spit it out, what is it," I inquired, with a hint of disdain.
She squinted then stopped – looked almost in pain.
"The problem, you know, was it your brain?"

I stood there, in shock, looking back queerly.
"Rin, I trust that you know, I think of you dearly."
"But please, when you say such things, I doubt it severely."
I continued looking, confused and amused, how she struggled sincerely.

Rin thrust her gaze downwards, adjusting her stance.
Shook her head wildly, as if in a trance.
I looked on in fear, but then – almost by chance:
"Ahh, it must be the thing in your pants!"