[It's a very tired shuffle of a stride that echoes through the garage, the dark fabrics of his clothes standing contrast to the pure white of his hair in the dim lighting and eerie stature of concrete.
He's not well. There's a limp to his stride, a pain to how he draws breath. But he walks regardless, eyes open and searching. He rarely ever finds anyone in here. But he checks, nonetheless.
The flash of blue at the rooftop grants him pause, and he's careful enough to keep some distance, trying to gauge what their local assassin is doing up here all on his own, or if he'll be observant enough to know he has company.]
[ He's not too sure why he ends up here, really. Back at the Academy, whenever his mind would wander, he'd end up in the Bio Lab— The pungent smell of chemicals, the faint gurgle of specimens in fluid. It was comforting. There's nothing like that here.
But the garage is quiet in a solemn way, and it's easy to settle and stare and let unfamiliar—familiar things hang about in a haze.
But he is his father's son ( even if it sounds off in his ears, in a way he can't describe ), and even off in something of his own world, Yugamu still listens. His muscles still tense. And his head still turns, even the faintest sounds of footsteps registering to those practiced ears. ]
Looking for some peace and quiet? [ The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it is there nonetheless. Teeth glinting like surgical steel. ] Or hunting for something a little different?
[His voice is a little weak, but he's at least trying to put on airs, arms crossing gingerly in front of him as he finds somewhere to lean his weight. It's very shaky, but it'll do for now until his legs fail him.]
You don't seem like the type to want to hear it, Yugamu-kun, but I do want to know whether you're alright. You put a lot of work into today.
[ Lonely. Not something he'd expect someone to peg him as, but he wonders if he can call it wrong. In times like this, he almost wishes he could ask the classic What should we do, Sumino-kun?, even if it's selfish. ]
I don't mind a bit of praise now and then, if that's what you're feeling like handing out. [ His voice is level, the usual easygoing tone. But there would be something in that visible eye, if Solomon could see it. ] And it's not like I haven't dealt with worse. I am a killer...this is nothing new to me, even if it's not exactly my favorite pasttime.
So go roles we have to put ourselves in. Just because it's something you've done before doesn't mean it's something that has to be comfortable. Even if it's something you must do, repeatedly, for whatever reason you have.
[There's a strain of sympathy to the phrase keeping it from being empty. He sees something there, in those eyes that don't quite meet his, and he tries to stay gentle in how to reach it.]
I'm surprised to hear you say that, given the skills you have. Do you not enjoy the work you do?
There's a quiet as Yugamu straightens up, the tension in his shoulders well-hidden. It's not something he's heard before, yet it feels weirdly familiar. There's a fog of conversations that don't click right, and it rakes his teeth across his tongue in frustration that he just can't remember what they are, filling his mouth with the grounding coppery tang of blood.
It takes him a moment to reply, unmoving, before he heaves what seems to be a sigh.]
I don't. Truthfully, I never have. [ And while he has admitted this to others here, this time it feels a bit more honest, a bit less lackadaisical. ] Killing with no loves leaves me feeling pretty empty, y'know? If I'm going to kill someone, I'd like it to be with love and care— and even better if they try to kill me back. Taking someone's life in a blink for money— or to fulfill some kind of selfish wish— has never been my thing.
What a weird personal code for a killer, you mean? My family thinks so, too; but that's just the life of the black sheep.
[ But hearing someone else call it tender is...surprising. He's just gotten used to the scorn and exasperation, even from the others. It's an odd feeling he isn't sure what to do with.
All the better to distract himself. ]
Why shouldn't it be? Isn't love one of the most important things in life? [ He's good at articulating it in his regular terms, the visceral excitement settling in all of his bones, the rush of blood and frenzied fervor. To try and lay it out normally is...not something he does often. ] It's a rush of feeling that could turn you inside out, a burst of euphoria that you can't get anywhere else...it's how you feel truly alive in those last moments, all that love and bloodlust colliding. When everything comes to an end, wouldn't it be better to have a hand guiding you rather than shoving you in?
[Solomon doesn't head to their meeting point right away, not when Noelle is so freshly on the mind. But he'll eventually slip his way past the rows and rows of spaces, the weeping voices of girls that echo, and up to the rooftop, one of his project satchels kept tightly in his pockets.
You up here, Yugamu, or does he have to go searching?]
[ That's fine. The quiet helps...or maybe it doesn't, with nothing but his own thoughts to gnaw at his veins and split them open. There's a single, fleeting thought of heading to the lab to steal some of what he'd gone and made for a certain someone just to feel something a little different, but whatever rational part of him he's got left directs him otherwise.
So, he's here. The whimpers of pain that had filled his ears as he'd made his way up here had arguably settled worse than they usually would, but he's here. Staring out with a far more chilling stillness than he was the first time.
[ Yugamu is aware Solomon is there, but this time, he doesn't bother to address him first. While those steps are light, they're awfully loud to his ears, not so much as shifting even as the elder man settles next to him.
It takes a moment before the quiet breaks, and were the ache in his fingertips less severe, he might have laughed. ]
I don't mind the sound of that...maybe I'd get to see what's on the inside.
[ But at least he can still manage to quip, even if his heart isn't in it. He's not really sure where it is, actually, besides being choked. ]
I'd tell you if I knew. It was...
[ strange uncomfortable vulnerable dangerous, whirlwind anger and fondness mixing and colliding and it makes his head hurt in a way that doesn't even excite him. Perhaps that's the worst part, that he can't translate it to something he knows far better. ]
New for me, you know? I'm just a basket of contradictions.
...It's a messy thing as it is, the heart. A powerful force, like the strength of the ocean, with just as raging a temper and just as dangerous an undertow.
When is it ever easy, to know when you need a beacon or an anchor, when it feels like you might drown no matter what?
[Feelings were the most intense sort of power in his millenia of experience. A necessity, when it came to magic. But there was never an easy way to navigate them, both brittle and unbearable as they could be in turns.
...
His hands stay loosely knit together, slender fingers laced, as he tilts his head over just slightly. Studying Yugamu with eyes that tire in complex ways.]
Yugamu knows the heart is powerful. His is different than what people want it to be; his family wants it cold and and callous. His friends were prefer it tempered more, less viscous and oozing. But it is big as it is empty, covered in surgical steel and begging to be filled with something it's never known.
Would be that the ocean could do so, make it peaceful and quiet so the ache in his bones finally persists.
Yugamu doesn't comment on this, no. He ruminates, feeling those eyes scraping over him as they try to see through him a way he usually does to other people. He's not really one for talking alot, for baring himself for all to see in a way that isn't peelinng the skin from his chest, but how can he condense this? ]
I kind of thought she was a dud, at first. [ Yugamu is...honest, and she isn't here to hear, but it would be doing her a disservice to lie. ] Not that she wasn't cute, but I'm not really into that whole sweet girl next door thing. I was kind of surprised she lasted as long as she did; someone like that makes for an easy target. All insecurity, no spine.
[ He leans back in the slightest, letting silence reign for a second before he continues with a faint furrow of the brows. ]
It's not like she was bad, though. There's something charming in trying to be kind despite it all. [ His nails tap against the concrete. Once, twice. Tandem. ] I guess I'm just not used to people having my best interests at heart. I wasn't sure how to deal with it, when she told me. I'm usually the last guy you'd want to sympathize with, right?
[ Tap, tap. ]
...I hate to say it, but ever since we had that discussion, I've felt responsible. Like I needed to look out for her, since she can't do it herself. I needed to, or I was going to go stir-crazy. And now—
[ Dirt under her nails, terror in her veins. Each stab careless in it's calculation and full of no emotion but fear. He didn't want to pry his hands away, deep down, but the dead can only talk so much. Blood drips down from the nails that dig into the flesh of his hand. ]
She was very kind underneath her troubles, wasn't she? A girl of gratitude and guilt, wishing for a better life and feeling she did not deserve it. Wanting courage but being pinned down by her faith, rather than bolstered.
[It's quiet, even as he watches the blood that drips down onto the concrete. Mm, no, they were going to need to redirect that here in a moment.]
Perhaps she saw you a likehearted soul. Misunderstood and stuck.
But I do not think she, of anyone, would want to see you put blame on yourself. She knew that weight enough.
[ Lack of courage, full of dreams. Very different from the girls he's used to dealing with, but perhaps that's interesting in of itself. Somehow, deep down, he knows the fascination and the obsessive twist coiling through the gaps of his ribs wouldn't be so strong if it weren't for what they share, and he so loathes the idea of feelings given inorganically—
Likehearted. Ah, he doesn't hear that often. ]
For the love of murder...it'd be the first time someone who wasn't a fellow killer thought that. [ A sigh. ] Then again, that type of kindness could kill in it's own right.
[ There's something so...strange in being viewed as an unfortunate child, someone wronged, considering everything. For someone to see themselves in him in a way that isn't a blade in his guts. It doesn't suit him.
Such a strange, almost sour taste of normalcy, and yet that lingering flavor makes him want to chase it like a predator on the hunt. ]
...I wouldn't if I could help it. [ He doesn't like feeling like this, especially with that ever-familiar twinge of lust mixing with it, the smell of blood and death and urge to kill from before colliding into a volatile fever pitch as his fingers tap faster on the red-stained concrete. It's a terrible combination, and he knows it. ] All these emotions aren't good for an assassin, you know?
[He's surprised when he can't find Yugamu in his normal spot. So Solomon will go to searching in his strange patrol of the school, finally poking his nose in the chapel.
Ah. There's that messy bob of blue, like spotting a sliver of the ocean in the distant horizon.
He's in a new look today as he strolls quietly into the lab. The pen he had used in their impromptu sparring session only days ago now stays openly in his hand, flicking back and forth across his fingers.
Well. Some of them, anyway. One of his hands is bandaged, and there's a noticeable favor on one side if Yugamu pays close enough attention. At the nape of his neck, peeking against his collar, is a staining of black against his skin that definitely wasn't there before.
But his smile is easy, easy, even if his gaze falls strange as he strolls up closer.]
[ Well, he can't be sitting on the parking lot roof stuck in his thoughts all the time. Really, it's not even his usual spot outside of the post-trial fugue.
This is where he usually hangs out, ever since the insides shifted into something more comfortably familiar. There's a pleasantness among the test tubes and fumes, the powders and acids, all the possible combinations that could heal and harm in equal measure...
It's easy to lose himself in it. Or lose himself as much as someone with honed instincts could.
Yugamu is already paying attention the moment the doors open, gaze sliding from his project to the swing of creaky hinges. The face is unexpected, which shows in the flicker in his eyes, but it smooths out as fast as it came. ]
You'd be surprised how much time I spend in here. Since the infirmary's lacking, isn't this the next best thing for someone of my talents?
[ His tone is easygoing, but his gaze is darting to and fro, cataloguing things that weren't there. Bandage, hand. A shift to favor the side. And if those blues linger on an unfamiliar stain of black, that's nobody's fault but Solomon's. ]
But enough about me. You look like you've been up to no good, Sensei...are you going to give me all the dirty details?
Heheh... It does seem to suit you very well, all buried up like a potion master.
[He does see that wandering gaze, though, and his head shifts slightly, brows raising.]
What, me? Oh, I'd never get into trouble. [It's such a hammy delivery that he might as well be stapling a big red sign saying "UH OH" to his forehead.]
I would like to know if you've been able to do your task yet, though. [The pen flicks. Agitated, almost.] Or if you've helped someone else. Anyone else.
Yeesh, can we not use potion master? It feels so insincere...
[ He prefers Doctor Omokage, thank you. Or poisoner. Or something a little more grounded in reality.
But the cringe can wait...or this type of cringe can, in any case, because Solomon's attempt at deflection is arguably the worst kind. His blank features plaster on as the older man goes on, every little twitch catalogued away until silence reigns in the chapel itself.
When Yugamu speaks again, it's punctuated by an overtly exasperated sigh. ]
For the love of murder...I figured you'd try a little harder if you were going to lie to someone who can see through you, you know. I am a professional.
[ ...Sort of. ]
And maybe I have. Is there any particular reason that thought is making you look like a guy on death row? Because I have to say, I've had enough of being kept in the dark to last the next several lifetimes.
I promise my injuries have nothing to do with it. [Raising his hands in mock surrender.] Fandaniel and I got into a fight before the execution, and he came at me with a scalpel. You can check the wounds yourself if you don't believe me.
Though I have a feeling that's not quite what you mean.
[ These old men really love going at each other, huh? How many times is this now...what he wouldn't do for a quarter of that excitement, but the messiness isn't quite his thing. ]
And you didn't come to me first thing? I'm beginning to think you have no faith my abilities whatsoever.
[ But Solomon is right, because Yugamu is still staring, features blank except for that sharpened glint in blue. ]
Do you need me to spell it out for you? If you want, I could start pulling it out the hard way...I'm sure that could leave a lasting impression of what I can do.
[ There's something behind that agitation he doesn't like, and with the week passing by already, he's not willing to take any risks. ]
I wasn't exactly in a position to get up and find anyone, and if I'd crossed Fandaniel, he was agitated enough to start attacking the entire Troupe. I was lucky one of our little vehicles found me and took me to the infirmary.
[He inhales, more bracing than usual, as he casually pivots and starts to pace. The pen still twirling, the mark on his neck prominent whenever he turns.]
I would... would really, really like you to answer my question first, Yugamu. A simple yes or no. Please. There's only...
[Another inhale. The pen grips tight into his palm, then forced out.]
There's only so much I can do, to make this agitation go away right now. You of all people should understand. Correct?
[ ...That doesn't bode well, and it shows with the tilt of his lips downward. Perhaps Fandaniel can talk on the end of a knife again, if things get that high; Solomon is not a fighter, but Yugamu is. ]
Then I'll look at it later.
[ Simple, factual. Call him overconfident, but he'd rather check for himself.
There's something...disconcerting, in watching Solomon pace about, muscles coiled with tension he doesn't normally have. He's beginning to have a fleeting idea of why, pieces slotting together from the waver in his voice and every twitch of his anxious fingers.
Whatever Yugamu was working on is set aside, momentarily abandoned and forgotten. ]
...Yes, I have.
[ The blood's gotten under his nails, sated the urge and broiling storm in his head. It's why he's here now, calmer than before.
He won't say what he wants to ask, because he wants to see if he'll hear it first from the man himself's mouth. ]
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WEEK ONE - POST TRIAL
He's not well. There's a limp to his stride, a pain to how he draws breath. But he walks regardless, eyes open and searching. He rarely ever finds anyone in here. But he checks, nonetheless.
The flash of blue at the rooftop grants him pause, and he's careful enough to keep some distance, trying to gauge what their local assassin is doing up here all on his own, or if he'll be observant enough to know he has company.]
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But the garage is quiet in a solemn way, and it's easy to settle and stare and let unfamiliar—familiar things hang about in a haze.
But he is his father's son ( even if it sounds off in his ears, in a way he can't describe ), and even off in something of his own world, Yugamu still listens. His muscles still tense. And his head still turns, even the faintest sounds of footsteps registering to those practiced ears. ]
Looking for some peace and quiet? [ The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it is there nonetheless. Teeth glinting like surgical steel. ] Or hunting for something a little different?
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[His voice is a little weak, but he's at least trying to put on airs, arms crossing gingerly in front of him as he finds somewhere to lean his weight. It's very shaky, but it'll do for now until his legs fail him.]
You don't seem like the type to want to hear it, Yugamu-kun, but I do want to know whether you're alright. You put a lot of work into today.
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I don't mind a bit of praise now and then, if that's what you're feeling like handing out. [ His voice is level, the usual easygoing tone. But there would be something in that visible eye, if Solomon could see it. ] And it's not like I haven't dealt with worse. I am a killer...this is nothing new to me, even if it's not exactly my favorite pasttime.
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[There's a strain of sympathy to the phrase keeping it from being empty. He sees something there, in those eyes that don't quite meet his, and he tries to stay gentle in how to reach it.]
I'm surprised to hear you say that, given the skills you have. Do you not enjoy the work you do?
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There's a quiet as Yugamu straightens up, the tension in his shoulders well-hidden. It's not something he's heard before, yet it feels weirdly familiar. There's a fog of conversations that don't click right, and it rakes his teeth across his tongue in frustration that he just can't remember what they are, filling his mouth with the grounding coppery tang of blood.
It takes him a moment to reply, unmoving, before he heaves what seems to be a sigh.]
I don't. Truthfully, I never have. [ And while he has admitted this to others here, this time it feels a bit more honest, a bit less lackadaisical. ] Killing with no loves leaves me feeling pretty empty, y'know? If I'm going to kill someone, I'd like it to be with love and care— and even better if they try to kill me back. Taking someone's life in a blink for money— or to fulfill some kind of selfish wish— has never been my thing.
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Is there a reason, you think, that love should be so important in something as final as death?
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[ But hearing someone else call it tender is...surprising. He's just gotten used to the scorn and exasperation, even from the others. It's an odd feeling he isn't sure what to do with.
All the better to distract himself. ]
Why shouldn't it be? Isn't love one of the most important things in life? [ He's good at articulating it in his regular terms, the visceral excitement settling in all of his bones, the rush of blood and frenzied fervor. To try and lay it out normally is...not something he does often. ] It's a rush of feeling that could turn you inside out, a burst of euphoria that you can't get anywhere else...it's how you feel truly alive in those last moments, all that love and bloodlust colliding. When everything comes to an end, wouldn't it be better to have a hand guiding you rather than shoving you in?
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So you believe they walk similar lines, in a way..
Do you think that there's anyone that deserves to be lonely, rather than loved, when they face death in the eyes?
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WEEK TWO - SATURDAY POST TRIAL
You up here, Yugamu, or does he have to go searching?]
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So, he's here. The whimpers of pain that had filled his ears as he'd made his way up here had arguably settled worse than they usually would, but he's here. Staring out with a far more chilling stillness than he was the first time.
How's it going, old man. ]
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With a sigh, he lowers to his knees next to the young man. It's a heavy quiet. One that would feel suffocating wihout exposure.]
You could shatter men with a gaze like that, you know. [Quiet.]
Where is your mind wandering off to, Yugamu?
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It takes a moment before the quiet breaks, and were the ache in his fingertips less severe, he might have laughed. ]
I don't mind the sound of that...maybe I'd get to see what's on the inside.
[ But at least he can still manage to quip, even if his heart isn't in it. He's not really sure where it is, actually, besides being choked. ]
I'd tell you if I knew. It was...
[ strange uncomfortable vulnerable dangerous, whirlwind anger and fondness mixing and colliding and it makes his head hurt in a way that doesn't even excite him. Perhaps that's the worst part, that he can't translate it to something he knows far better. ]
New for me, you know? I'm just a basket of contradictions.
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...It's a messy thing as it is, the heart. A powerful force, like the strength of the ocean, with just as raging a temper and just as dangerous an undertow.
When is it ever easy, to know when you need a beacon or an anchor, when it feels like you might drown no matter what?
[Feelings were the most intense sort of power in his millenia of experience. A necessity, when it came to magic. But there was never an easy way to navigate them, both brittle and unbearable as they could be in turns.
...
His hands stay loosely knit together, slender fingers laced, as he tilts his head over just slightly. Studying Yugamu with eyes that tire in complex ways.]
...
What sort of person was she to you, Yugamu?
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Yugamu knows the heart is powerful. His is different than what people want it to be; his family wants it cold and and callous. His friends were prefer it tempered more, less viscous and oozing. But it is big as it is empty, covered in surgical steel and begging to be filled with something it's never known.
Would be that the ocean could do so, make it peaceful and quiet so the ache in his bones finally persists.
Yugamu doesn't comment on this, no. He ruminates, feeling those eyes scraping over him as they try to see through him a way he usually does to other people. He's not really one for talking alot, for baring himself for all to see in a way that isn't peelinng the skin from his chest, but how can he condense this? ]
I kind of thought she was a dud, at first. [ Yugamu is...honest, and she isn't here to hear, but it would be doing her a disservice to lie. ] Not that she wasn't cute, but I'm not really into that whole sweet girl next door thing. I was kind of surprised she lasted as long as she did; someone like that makes for an easy target. All insecurity, no spine.
[ He leans back in the slightest, letting silence reign for a second before he continues with a faint furrow of the brows. ]
It's not like she was bad, though. There's something charming in trying to be kind despite it all. [ His nails tap against the concrete. Once, twice. Tandem. ] I guess I'm just not used to people having my best interests at heart. I wasn't sure how to deal with it, when she told me. I'm usually the last guy you'd want to sympathize with, right?
[ Tap, tap. ]
...I hate to say it, but ever since we had that discussion, I've felt responsible. Like I needed to look out for her, since she can't do it herself. I needed to, or I was going to go stir-crazy. And now—
[ Dirt under her nails, terror in her veins. Each stab careless in it's calculation and full of no emotion but fear. He didn't want to pry his hands away, deep down, but the dead can only talk so much. Blood drips down from the nails that dig into the flesh of his hand. ]
She just deserved better. That's what I feel.
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[It's quiet, even as he watches the blood that drips down onto the concrete. Mm, no, they were going to need to redirect that here in a moment.]
Perhaps she saw you a likehearted soul. Misunderstood and stuck.
But I do not think she, of anyone, would want to see you put blame on yourself. She knew that weight enough.
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Likehearted. Ah, he doesn't hear that often. ]
For the love of murder...it'd be the first time someone who wasn't a fellow killer thought that. [ A sigh. ] Then again, that type of kindness could kill in it's own right.
[ There's something so...strange in being viewed as an unfortunate child, someone wronged, considering everything. For someone to see themselves in him in a way that isn't a blade in his guts. It doesn't suit him.
Such a strange, almost sour taste of normalcy, and yet that lingering flavor makes him want to chase it like a predator on the hunt. ]
...I wouldn't if I could help it. [ He doesn't like feeling like this, especially with that ever-familiar twinge of lust mixing with it, the smell of blood and death and urge to kill from before colliding into a volatile fever pitch as his fingers tap faster on the red-stained concrete. It's a terrible combination, and he knows it. ] All these emotions aren't good for an assassin, you know?
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WEEK THREE - TUESDAY
Ah. There's that messy bob of blue, like spotting a sliver of the ocean in the distant horizon.
He's in a new look today as he strolls quietly into the lab. The pen he had used in their impromptu sparring session only days ago now stays openly in his hand, flicking back and forth across his fingers.
Well. Some of them, anyway. One of his hands is bandaged, and there's a noticeable favor on one side if Yugamu pays close enough attention. At the nape of his neck, peeking against his collar, is a staining of black against his skin that definitely wasn't there before.
But his smile is easy, easy, even if his gaze falls strange as he strolls up closer.]
Cooped up somewhere new today, aren't we?
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This is where he usually hangs out, ever since the insides shifted into something more comfortably familiar. There's a pleasantness among the test tubes and fumes, the powders and acids, all the possible combinations that could heal and harm in equal measure...
It's easy to lose himself in it. Or lose himself as much as someone with honed instincts could.
Yugamu is already paying attention the moment the doors open, gaze sliding from his project to the swing of creaky hinges. The face is unexpected, which shows in the flicker in his eyes, but it smooths out as fast as it came. ]
You'd be surprised how much time I spend in here. Since the infirmary's lacking, isn't this the next best thing for someone of my talents?
[ His tone is easygoing, but his gaze is darting to and fro, cataloguing things that weren't there. Bandage, hand. A shift to favor the side. And if those blues linger on an unfamiliar stain of black, that's nobody's fault but Solomon's. ]
But enough about me. You look like you've been up to no good, Sensei...are you going to give me all the dirty details?
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[He does see that wandering gaze, though, and his head shifts slightly, brows raising.]
What, me? Oh, I'd never get into trouble. [It's such a hammy delivery that he might as well be stapling a big red sign saying "UH OH" to his forehead.]
I would like to know if you've been able to do your task yet, though. [The pen flicks. Agitated, almost.] Or if you've helped someone else. Anyone else.
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[ He prefers Doctor Omokage, thank you. Or poisoner. Or something a little more grounded in reality.
But the cringe can wait...or this type of cringe can, in any case, because Solomon's attempt at deflection is arguably the worst kind. His blank features plaster on as the older man goes on, every little twitch catalogued away until silence reigns in the chapel itself.
When Yugamu speaks again, it's punctuated by an overtly exasperated sigh. ]
For the love of murder...I figured you'd try a little harder if you were going to lie to someone who can see through you, you know. I am a professional.
[ ...Sort of. ]
And maybe I have. Is there any particular reason that thought is making you look like a guy on death row? Because I have to say, I've had enough of being kept in the dark to last the next several lifetimes.
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Though I have a feeling that's not quite what you mean.
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And you didn't come to me first thing? I'm beginning to think you have no faith my abilities whatsoever.
[ But Solomon is right, because Yugamu is still staring, features blank except for that sharpened glint in blue. ]
Do you need me to spell it out for you? If you want, I could start pulling it out the hard way...I'm sure that could leave a lasting impression of what I can do.
[ There's something behind that agitation he doesn't like, and with the week passing by already, he's not willing to take any risks. ]
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[He inhales, more bracing than usual, as he casually pivots and starts to pace. The pen still twirling, the mark on his neck prominent whenever he turns.]
I would... would really, really like you to answer my question first, Yugamu. A simple yes or no. Please. There's only...
[Another inhale. The pen grips tight into his palm, then forced out.]
There's only so much I can do, to make this agitation go away right now. You of all people should understand. Correct?
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Then I'll look at it later.
[ Simple, factual. Call him overconfident, but he'd rather check for himself.
There's something...disconcerting, in watching Solomon pace about, muscles coiled with tension he doesn't normally have. He's beginning to have a fleeting idea of why, pieces slotting together from the waver in his voice and every twitch of his anxious fingers.
Whatever Yugamu was working on is set aside, momentarily abandoned and forgotten. ]
...Yes, I have.
[ The blood's gotten under his nails, sated the urge and broiling storm in his head. It's why he's here now, calmer than before.
He won't say what he wants to ask, because he wants to see if he'll hear it first from the man himself's mouth. ]
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cw gore i guess AGAIN i live in hell
cw: gore
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