Once they got down to business, Senku's eyes were focused on the task at hand and less at keeping up chatter, as long as Taiki didn't mind.

He flexed his fingers, picked up a brush, dipped it in ink and began carefully writing out the characters as he was instructed to.

Senku could've been an artist, if he had wanted to be. He had some talent, he clearly knew what to do with a brush, and yet his heart had taken him another way. The level of focus was intense, and something that rarely came out on board the train.

He wouldn't complain or take a break, he appreciated the pressure of time.