Talk ASL to me! [Flyss]

I hate the way that loose pants fall victim to my hips, a struggle for traction waging far too strongly upon the bone, as if my existence was but a whisper and the cloth that consumed my legs was but a laugh; none-the-less, though, I still managed to grab and clothe myself with the sweatpant-like article this morning, each stringed loop along my waist digging deeper into my skin, mind figuring that the closer I inched to my death, the less my appearance became a factor to my comfort. 

It never really was, to be honest, but the capitol and its glamour surely does things to you, despite. 

When I see him wave over to me- that younger boy from 9 (Taurus, was his name?) wave over to me- I make a curt motion back, head nodding in a way that was almost deceitful, and my eyes lacking a trust but possessing it at the same time. He must have wanted me to come over, and even if he hadn't, I did anyways, my feet doing an automatic and carrying me over to the station he had been working at in the moments previously. From what I could see, calloused fingers were busy at sculpting a trap, and when I joined the boy, eyes dully bright with curiosity, I couldn't help but let my fingers begin to move despite the fact that language was a barrier for my side of the interaction. 

Sweet. What exactly is that?