[ It stops. The Luggage stares at him. It turns the direction Yosuke pointed, it's feet doing a complicated tap dance over a graveyard of canned goods. It stared at the door. It turns back to him and partially opens its lid with what could only be interpreted as a menacing grin. ]
[ The Luggage didn't care about the door. It didn't care about the words coming out of Yosuke's mouth. What it did care about was an outstretched, pointing hand. Nothing looked more inviting for a nip than that hand did at this precise, crucial moment. For one thing, it resembled many of the other grasping, sticky fingers it had the pleasure ridding their owners of. For another, it was right there.]
[ It strode forward and with a maw lined with too many teeth and the hinge strength of stubborn, rusted iron, tried to take a bite. ]
no subject
[ The Luggage didn't care about the door. It didn't care about the words coming out of Yosuke's mouth. What it did care about was an outstretched, pointing hand. Nothing looked more inviting for a nip than that hand did at this precise, crucial moment. For one thing, it resembled many of the other grasping, sticky fingers it had the pleasure ridding their owners of. For another, it was right there.]
[ It strode forward and with a maw lined with too many teeth and the hinge strength of stubborn, rusted iron, tried to take a bite. ]