There's a visible tension that pulls his body taut - the strings of a marionette tugged, tugged, tugged until his posture is straight. Perfect. No longer slouching over an iced coffee, no more weakness shown. It's not Shido and it doesn't matter. It's not him and-
Akechi knows that. Can tell because the man didn't come in ready to eviscerate him for allowing such a blunder, as if being transported to this world was his goddamn fault. The pixelated flaws apparent when the figure turns to face them. Smudges on the transparent orange tint in his glasses, sloppy goatee that curls around the wrong edges of his face-
Akechi's been around this man for years. Talked to him for years. Has studied that face for years because his daydreams include thin red lines wrapping around the whites of his eyes into his iris dulls to nothing. It's tinted glasses smashed into his face, until those shards poke out of hollowed cheeks. It's knowing both his hands can wrap around his neck and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze and-
There's a knife in his pocket. There's a gun against his leg. It's not Shido. It might feel better and-
Akechi - low and soft, pulls his thoughts back. Another person here. Maruki. Right. It's not Shido - it's a hollow look alike, gliding to their table with rumbling noise above them getting-
Overrun. Overridden. Akechi's mind is full of static and-
It occurs to him, for a brief moment, Maruki shouldn't be curling his fist, lowering his voice, tensing in all the wrong places. Shouldn't know Shido in a manner that makes the normally complacent and calm man's grip turn knuckle white.
No, he shouldn't know Shido at all. The bar conversation a negging, small thought as-
Akechi smiles, hands folded neatly atop one another, a wild, manic look in his eyes that doesn't match the precise, serene way his voice comes out.
The man's at the table now, hovering over them and pressed against the side. Akechi wants to kill him. Ignores the urge to say Sir.]
I have a quest for you two. A dangerous, perilous one. This truly is an unjust u̴̺̾n̴̼͆j̷̻͛ù̷̖s̵̀͜t̴͖̓ ̸͎̚w̸͎̃o̵͔͠r̸̟̿l̸͕̓d̸̩͆ u̴̺̾n̴̼͆j̷̻͛ù̷̖s̵̀͜t̴͖̓ ̸͎̚w̸͎̃o̵͔͠r̸̟̿l̸͕̓d̸̩͆, but I ask you hear me out.
[Says the booming, snarky voice. One spoken in the corner of quiet offices, after everyone has gone home. One Akechi's heard in I have a new target for you and his stomach flips. Churns. He hasn't blinked and-]
By all means, please state it. You know, you look quite familiar, though I can't place it. Are you in movies?
[What a FUNNY TRICK to PLAY ON AKECHI GORO.]
Well, it doesn't matter. I'll prepare you by saying we likely aren't interested, but we are willing to hear it out.
Even with all of the video game-themed ridiculousness invading their daily lives, this is beyond the pale. Maruki stares daggers at the pixelated facsimile of Masayoshi Shido, mouth set in a thin line and brows drawn down, eyes wild with fury.
Perhaps if he and Akechi hadn't had the discussion that they did in the club, both of them skirting around naming this man, he would have a better handle on his poker face.
As it stands, he feels no need to hide his ire. What's the worst that could happen? They have to do battle? Fine. They're strong. Shido is not. They'll win, easily and handily. He almost wishes that it would go that way.
But no– Nothing of the sort comes to pass. His gaze shifts sidelong to watch Akechi, the bright danger in his eyes as he speaks so evenly.
Eyes back on Shido. The voice that comes out is similar enough to what Maruki's heard from endless days and nights of campaign cars up and down the streets, radio sound bites, television interviews, but the glitchy staccato of some words sets his teeth on edge like chewing tinfoil. ]
The only thing you have to do is follow o̴̪̓r̴̙̀d̸͍̏ĕ̴͕r̵̖̐ ̷̼̋m̴̩̓y̶̺͂ ̷̨͂e̸̯̔v̷̰̕e̷̦̓r̶̲̍y̵̠̐ ̵̹́ǫ̶͗ř̵͖d̸͍͌e̶̩̕r̸̲͂ instructions, and you will receive all the riches you could hope for.
[ Oh, he hates it. Deeply, viscerally.
When he speaks, his own voice is tempered steel, flat and firm. Not a hint of that same poison-laced sweetness Akechi possesses. ]
There's nothing you could possibly offer that would entice us, so I wouldn't waste your time with that. Get on it with the request.
It's not the subdued rage of Joker or the volatile anger in his own twisted heart - it's a combination of the two. Simmering. It's an explosion waiting to happen and Akechi-
Can't wait for the day it spills over into something distorted and new.
Maruki has been mad at him. Their interactions aren't always calm. Rarely, these days. Too many truths seeping through the frayed edges of their image, too much comfort in their similarities to keep hidden. Akechi's disturbed by how easy it was to settle into.
But he rips his gaze away - the false Shido's voice is static to his ears. It doesn't matter. He hates the pathetic amalgamation more because it's a fucking taunt on a goal within reach in reality. This shitty copy-
Infuriates him.
It says something - Akechi doesn't register a word and a choice pops up over a request he didn't understand, dialogue bubbles appearing from sharp points against their table.
> Accept > Decline
And Akechi doesn't hesitate to slam his hand against the > Accept option, even while the creature is still posturing. Mumbling. Twisting pretty little lies into promises that settle and slot perfectly into his skull.
He didn't ask to kill - Akechi knows that. He never asks for that first. It's subtle, little things that become larger, more grandiose. Cause a psychotic break - that person is evil. Make their employee cause a scandal - the corporation owes too much.
Turn a gun on father who gave up his life for a false idol.
Turn a gun on a mother whose only crime was acquiring knowledge.
QUEST ACCEPTED - a deluge of lines appear on a table note. Akechi ignores it and waits -
For the creature to approve. Nod and disperse into distorted body parts made of gold that clatter to the ground. The promise of riches scattering at their feet. An arm from a statue touching Akechi's heel.]
This world is something else, isn't it?
[And he takes another sip of disgusting, cold coffee.]
[ Akechi's palm slams down on the table and Maruki's caught staring at it, at the sudden appearance of the note, when the pixelated Shido analogue quite literally falls apart in front of them.
It rips a noise from him that's more derisive scoff than anything else, though there's shock in it, too. His wild stare moves from the table to the disembodied golden statue, then to Akechi's eyes. ]
Yeah. Something else.
[ He doesn't have the stomach for his own drink anymore, simply rolls the cup between his palms. ]
That felt a bit– pointed.
[ He doesn't know what he's saying. ]
It could have been any newly created cognitive manipulation to speak to us, but it was– someone familiar from our reality.
[ His jaw is still so tense that an ache is beginning to radiate up toward his temples. ]
[Tension keeps his voice taut, despite the obvious forced inflection to make his tone easygoing and friendly. It distorts the intent entirely and he covers it all up with a sip of his drink.
It doesn't matter what they accepted. He kicks the golden idol by his foot and watches the flicker of light it creates as it slides to the next table.]
As for what we accepted, I've already forgotten.
[The note would tell them, if Akechi wasn't curling the letter under his fingers to hide in his fist. A cognition of egotistical nutcase - he can gather what the options are, though he doubts the lackluster copy holds the same need for power. He won't look. It doesn't matter. The paper will be kept for safekeeping, disappear like everything else or end up a pile of ash - the whole ordeal was fucking meaningless.]
You were getting somewhat heated. I have to say, that was a surprise. Are you familiar with him?
[ He was getting somewhat heated. Maruki takes a moment to calm himself; deep and even breaths in through the nose, out through the mouth. A forced relaxing of his shoulders, unclenching of his jaw. He looks down at the remnants of the coffee, wishes he could drink it to busy himself and buy time before answering–
But it's really not necessary, is it? He's fine raising his eyes and watching Akechi for a moment while he considers his words. He doesn't need an excuse to be quiet. ]
Yes, I am. I'm going to assume that you are at least passingly familiar too.
[ Even if Akechi wasn't investigating the psychotic breaks and mental shutdowns, he's still an intelligent, observant, informed citizen of Tokyo. There's no way he's avoided hearing of Shido during an election cycle turned absurd.
Maruki smiles at him then, but it doesn't reach his eyes by far. ]
[A little. Too much. A lot. Nothing at all. Practiced words come out of his mouth in expectation of - Akechi Goro to come out in support Masayoshi Shido. It's one of the last comments he heard in the media before being pulled, as he watched red drain down the bathroom sink. Promoted by Shido. Curated by Shido. It's pointless for him to even state anything when the world is cultivated for that man to succeed, with no small part owed to Akechi himself.
He laughs - soft, bitter and into his cup at the same time Maruki speaks again.
I'm not a fan of his politics - of course he wouldn't be. It's why he's an enemy. On a list.]
The Detective Prince is supposed to show his support on his policies when we return - isn't that funny? I wonder if his appearance was a reminder of that task. Perhaps we're closer to getting closer to escaping than we think. Maybe that man was a good omen.
Maybe so. That's an optimistic take on the situation. I should try to follow suit.
[ This isn't like him, he knows that. Or– it is like him, but in a way Akechi hasn't had reason to see yet. Even the few times he's been angry in Somnius, it hasn't been anything like this.
Most days, he feels so far from the man that he was when he left Tokyo that it's nearly unreachable. At times like this, he still has one foot in that reality. In his old professor's office, spitting Masayoshi Shido's name and laying the connections he'd drawn bare. So many things have changed since the day he appeared in Somnius. If nothing else, this is a good reminder that his rage has not.
Still. He shakes his head after a moment, offers Akechi a more genuine smile. ]
Sorry. I shouldn't allow myself to be so thrown by a cognitive manipulation – especially not a ridiculous video game-themed one. I'm sure there's no repercussions if we ignore that quest.
[ A thoughtful pause. ]
Or perhaps there will be. We could leave this cafe and enter into a boss battle.
[Ignore it. Don't. It's all irrelevant. Akechi has quests and tasks to fulfill in reality. A false idol is meaningless.
What holds relevance now -
Is Maruki's reaction. His words. Boss battle rings louder than it should. A yacht filled to the brim with the scum of humanity, Maruki among those warped into rats through the halls. Akechi has gone over and over and over. Has stepped through those disgusting, ornate doors into rooms more sickening than the last. Every death in reality by his own hands makes the world more disturbing in Shido's palace. Akechi checks every single time.]
A boss battle - do you really think it would come to that? Actually, let me rephrase -
[Slow. Quiet. Tense. He wants to burn the ship to the ground, watch the filth of humanity sink into the depths of that ocean, let the rats float to the surface and find no ground left to attach to.
He can't fucking wait and-
His cup is placed back on the table - gentle and without a clink. Akechi's always eager to fight. Attack. Conquer. Dominate.
Shido is different. There's a plan to be followed, a path to tread and a world for only Akechi Goro to see. Maruki may be with him in distorted, vivid words. In memories, but he does not belong there.]
They're talking at cross-purposes here. Maruki was merely making a joke about the current absurd circumstances they find themselves in – really, video game cognitions in a medieval peasant's village? – but the way Akechi answers–
Measured. Low. Pulled so taut, one sudden move could snap the strings.
It's more serious than the situation warrants if all they have to worry about is Somnius' special brand of bullshit.
Does he think that Maruki would try to take down Masayoshi Shido?
No. Maybe. But there's something more at a play. He doesn't know yet. He feels so close to knowing, it's maddening.
For the time being, all he can do is take Akechi's words with the gravity they deserve and nod. ]
Heard and understood, Akechi.
[ Don't bother trying.
If you find yourself there, leave. If you manage to get in, refrain.
There's something. There's something. ]
We ought to get out of here, don't you think?
[ Maybe they'll run into a ridiculous monstrosity to fight. It might be good stress relief.
Or maybe they'll run into another nightmare from home and he'll have Akechi's reactions in his peripherals, pieces of the puzzle he's been solving for months slowly coming together. ]
[Heard and understood - the latter part impossible for him to fully comprehend.
Heard and understood - like he fully grasps the goddamn situation he's in. We ought to get out of here with golden idols in his peripherals. A taunt from a god he can't see hammering a nail into his skull, bit by bit. Caffeine isn't helping. A drink isn't helping. Dan in the background isn't fucking helping.
Leaving would help. A battle, a walk - anything that doesn't involve sitting here in this uncomfortable chair, staring at the swirls on the table and walls.
But he doesn't move. His fingers stay wrapped around the rapidly cooling cup, the too bright gold twinkles in flickering candlelight in the corner of his eye. He should move and doesn't. Should leave, but won't. Decides he wants to stay anyway because the pathetic doppelganger may return in a swirl of fury when a job is left undone.
He offers an all too pleasant smile and removes one hand from the cup to wave towards the door. Offhand. Casual.]
Before I forget - do be careful. Often it doesn't matter who accepts the quest, there's a great deal of collateral involved in any choice. Try to stay cautious on your way home.
[ How they left things at the club still sits with Maruki, may never truly leave him.
He hears that tone, those words of warning. Sees that saccharine smile and that carefree gesture.
Nothing passes over his face at all for a moment. Pure static snow, a perfectly blank expression before he settles back into his seat, ankle crossed over knee, and folds his hands in his lap. ]
No. I'm good here.
[ If Akechi wants to get rid of him, then he better do it as himself, not as the Detective Prince.
If not– they're both staying until he decides to leave. Maruki has nothing better to do.
[The petty annoyances around him all disperse and retarget Maruki the second he slides back into his seat. The moment his face shifts into an expression of pure neutrality that Akechi's come to recognize and hate - a visceral sensation in his gut, his chest, rising and looming like an eruption on the brink.
An eruption he wants to see in others. In Maruki. He can match that petulance in spades and-
Late morning shifts into afternoon. Akechi waits for him to leave. He doesn't.
They don't talk again - phones come out, cups refilled, snacks purchased and set between them untouched. A peace offering ignored and refused by both.
Akechi doesn't stand. Doesn't move. Barely crosses and uncrosses legs and arms in the hours against the shitty chair.
Maruki doesn't either.
The world behind windows gets darker - Maruki is still fucking there, comfortable and quiet as he runs his thumb along the phone screen.
He hates Maruki Takuto with every fiber of his being - doesn't understand what this obstinance does for him. Understands it a little too well, when he thinks too long on it, and forgets to drown out thoughts with glasses of water.
It's annoying. Irritating. Infuriating in the way Akechi almost texts him his immense displeasure about instead of continuing this charade and-
Comfortable. Calming. Two sensations he's so unaccustomed to happening in tandem, he would rather tear through Maruki's throat with blunted butter knife than acknowledge it again.
So he doesn't. Akechi shifts - hits Maruki's leg in response with his foot. 'My apologies' he says, for the first time in hours. Thirty minutes later - a response comes with a whap of Maruki's napkin against his head - light and covered up with an exaggerated stretch and a 'Sorry' that doesn't sound apologetic at all.
Unfuckingreal.
Dan leaves. Everyone leaves. Shitty looks come their way. Tables cleared. Windows shut. Employees vanish and-
Finally, Akechi has to relent for the sake of shopkeeper glaring daggers at two people who held a table all day ordering water and the bare minimum to eat.
The pastry is still untouched. Akechi grabs it when he stands to leave and-
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cw: violent thoughts lmao
There's a visible tension that pulls his body taut - the strings of a marionette tugged, tugged, tugged until his posture is straight. Perfect. No longer slouching over an iced coffee, no more weakness shown. It's not Shido and it doesn't matter. It's not him and-
Akechi knows that. Can tell because the man didn't come in ready to eviscerate him for allowing such a blunder, as if being transported to this world was his goddamn fault. The pixelated flaws apparent when the figure turns to face them. Smudges on the transparent orange tint in his glasses, sloppy goatee that curls around the wrong edges of his face-
Akechi's been around this man for years. Talked to him for years. Has studied that face for years because his daydreams include thin red lines wrapping around the whites of his eyes into his iris dulls to nothing. It's tinted glasses smashed into his face, until those shards poke out of hollowed cheeks. It's knowing both his hands can wrap around his neck and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze and-
There's a knife in his pocket. There's a gun against his leg. It's not Shido. It might feel better and-
Akechi - low and soft, pulls his thoughts back. Another person here. Maruki. Right. It's not Shido - it's a hollow look alike, gliding to their table with rumbling noise above them getting-
Overrun. Overridden. Akechi's mind is full of static and-
It occurs to him, for a brief moment, Maruki shouldn't be curling his fist, lowering his voice, tensing in all the wrong places. Shouldn't know Shido in a manner that makes the normally complacent and calm man's grip turn knuckle white.
No, he shouldn't know Shido at all. The bar conversation a negging, small thought as-
Akechi smiles, hands folded neatly atop one another, a wild, manic look in his eyes that doesn't match the precise, serene way his voice comes out.
The man's at the table now, hovering over them and pressed against the side. Akechi wants to kill him. Ignores the urge to say Sir.]
I have a quest for you two. A dangerous, perilous one. This truly is an unjust u̴̺̾n̴̼͆j̷̻͛ù̷̖s̵̀͜t̴͖̓ ̸͎̚w̸͎̃o̵͔͠r̸̟̿l̸͕̓d̸̩͆ u̴̺̾n̴̼͆j̷̻͛ù̷̖s̵̀͜t̴͖̓ ̸͎̚w̸͎̃o̵͔͠r̸̟̿l̸͕̓d̸̩͆, but I ask you hear me out.
[Says the booming, snarky voice. One spoken in the corner of quiet offices, after everyone has gone home. One Akechi's heard in I have a new target for you and his stomach flips. Churns. He hasn't blinked and-]
By all means, please state it. You know, you look quite familiar, though I can't place it. Are you in movies?
[What a FUNNY TRICK to PLAY ON AKECHI GORO.]
Well, it doesn't matter. I'll prepare you by saying we likely aren't interested, but we are willing to hear it out.
no subject
Even with all of the video game-themed ridiculousness invading their daily lives, this is beyond the pale. Maruki stares daggers at the pixelated facsimile of Masayoshi Shido, mouth set in a thin line and brows drawn down, eyes wild with fury.
Perhaps if he and Akechi hadn't had the discussion that they did in the club, both of them skirting around naming this man, he would have a better handle on his poker face.
As it stands, he feels no need to hide his ire. What's the worst that could happen? They have to do battle? Fine. They're strong. Shido is not. They'll win, easily and handily. He almost wishes that it would go that way.
But no– Nothing of the sort comes to pass. His gaze shifts sidelong to watch Akechi, the bright danger in his eyes as he speaks so evenly.
Eyes back on Shido. The voice that comes out is similar enough to what Maruki's heard from endless days and nights of campaign cars up and down the streets, radio sound bites, television interviews, but the glitchy staccato of some words sets his teeth on edge like chewing tinfoil. ]
The only thing you have to do is follow o̴̪̓r̴̙̀d̸͍̏ĕ̴͕r̵̖̐ ̷̼̋m̴̩̓y̶̺͂ ̷̨͂e̸̯̔v̷̰̕e̷̦̓r̶̲̍y̵̠̐ ̵̹́ǫ̶͗ř̵͖d̸͍͌e̶̩̕r̸̲͂ instructions, and you will receive all the riches you could hope for.
[ Oh, he hates it. Deeply, viscerally.
When he speaks, his own voice is tempered steel, flat and firm. Not a hint of that same poison-laced sweetness Akechi possesses. ]
There's nothing you could possibly offer that would entice us, so I wouldn't waste your time with that. Get on it with the request.
[ They don't! Have time!! For this bullshit!!! ]
no subject
It's not the subdued rage of Joker or the volatile anger in his own twisted heart - it's a combination of the two. Simmering. It's an explosion waiting to happen and Akechi-
Can't wait for the day it spills over into something distorted and new.
Maruki has been mad at him. Their interactions aren't always calm. Rarely, these days. Too many truths seeping through the frayed edges of their image, too much comfort in their similarities to keep hidden. Akechi's disturbed by how easy it was to settle into.
But he rips his gaze away - the false Shido's voice is static to his ears. It doesn't matter. He hates the pathetic amalgamation more because it's a fucking taunt on a goal within reach in reality. This shitty copy-
Infuriates him.
It says something - Akechi doesn't register a word and a choice pops up over a request he didn't understand, dialogue bubbles appearing from sharp points against their table.
> Decline
And Akechi doesn't hesitate to slam his hand against the > Accept option, even while the creature is still posturing. Mumbling. Twisting pretty little lies into promises that settle and slot perfectly into his skull.
He didn't ask to kill - Akechi knows that. He never asks for that first. It's subtle, little things that become larger, more grandiose. Cause a psychotic break - that person is evil. Make their employee cause a scandal - the corporation owes too much.
Turn a gun on father who gave up his life for a false idol.
Turn a gun on a mother whose only crime was acquiring knowledge.
QUEST ACCEPTED - a deluge of lines appear on a table note. Akechi ignores it and waits -
For the creature to approve. Nod and disperse into distorted body parts made of gold that clatter to the ground. The promise of riches scattering at their feet. An arm from a statue touching Akechi's heel.]
This world is something else, isn't it?
[And he takes another sip of disgusting, cold coffee.]
no subject
It rips a noise from him that's more derisive scoff than anything else, though there's shock in it, too. His wild stare moves from the table to the disembodied golden statue, then to Akechi's eyes. ]
Yeah. Something else.
[ He doesn't have the stomach for his own drink anymore, simply rolls the cup between his palms. ]
That felt a bit– pointed.
[ He doesn't know what he's saying. ]
It could have been any newly created cognitive manipulation to speak to us, but it was– someone familiar from our reality.
[ His jaw is still so tense that an ache is beginning to radiate up toward his temples. ]
What did we just accept, exactly?
no subject
[Tension keeps his voice taut, despite the obvious forced inflection to make his tone easygoing and friendly. It distorts the intent entirely and he covers it all up with a sip of his drink.
It doesn't matter what they accepted. He kicks the golden idol by his foot and watches the flicker of light it creates as it slides to the next table.]
As for what we accepted, I've already forgotten.
[The note would tell them, if Akechi wasn't curling the letter under his fingers to hide in his fist. A cognition of egotistical nutcase - he can gather what the options are, though he doubts the lackluster copy holds the same need for power. He won't look. It doesn't matter. The paper will be kept for safekeeping, disappear like everything else or end up a pile of ash - the whole ordeal was fucking meaningless.]
You were getting somewhat heated. I have to say, that was a surprise. Are you familiar with him?
no subject
But it's really not necessary, is it? He's fine raising his eyes and watching Akechi for a moment while he considers his words. He doesn't need an excuse to be quiet. ]
Yes, I am. I'm going to assume that you are at least passingly familiar too.
[ Even if Akechi wasn't investigating the psychotic breaks and mental shutdowns, he's still an intelligent, observant, informed citizen of Tokyo. There's no way he's avoided hearing of Shido during an election cycle turned absurd.
Maruki smiles at him then, but it doesn't reach his eyes by far. ]
I'm not a fan of his politics.
no subject
[A little. Too much. A lot. Nothing at all. Practiced words come out of his mouth in expectation of - Akechi Goro to come out in support Masayoshi Shido. It's one of the last comments he heard in the media before being pulled, as he watched red drain down the bathroom sink. Promoted by Shido. Curated by Shido. It's pointless for him to even state anything when the world is cultivated for that man to succeed, with no small part owed to Akechi himself.
He laughs - soft, bitter and into his cup at the same time Maruki speaks again.
I'm not a fan of his politics - of course he wouldn't be. It's why he's an enemy. On a list.]
The Detective Prince is supposed to show his support on his policies when we return - isn't that funny? I wonder if his appearance was a reminder of that task. Perhaps we're closer to getting closer to escaping than we think. Maybe that man was a good omen.
no subject
Not I'm supposed to–
Maruki will most certainly remember that. ]
Maybe so. That's an optimistic take on the situation. I should try to follow suit.
[ This isn't like him, he knows that. Or– it is like him, but in a way Akechi hasn't had reason to see yet. Even the few times he's been angry in Somnius, it hasn't been anything like this.
Most days, he feels so far from the man that he was when he left Tokyo that it's nearly unreachable. At times like this, he still has one foot in that reality. In his old professor's office, spitting Masayoshi Shido's name and laying the connections he'd drawn bare. So many things have changed since the day he appeared in Somnius. If nothing else, this is a good reminder that his rage has not.
Still. He shakes his head after a moment, offers Akechi a more genuine smile. ]
Sorry. I shouldn't allow myself to be so thrown by a cognitive manipulation – especially not a ridiculous video game-themed one. I'm sure there's no repercussions if we ignore that quest.
[ A thoughtful pause. ]
Or perhaps there will be. We could leave this cafe and enter into a boss battle.
[ That might be fun. ]
no subject
What holds relevance now -
Is Maruki's reaction. His words. Boss battle rings louder than it should. A yacht filled to the brim with the scum of humanity, Maruki among those warped into rats through the halls. Akechi has gone over and over and over. Has stepped through those disgusting, ornate doors into rooms more sickening than the last. Every death in reality by his own hands makes the world more disturbing in Shido's palace. Akechi checks every single time.]
A boss battle - do you really think it would come to that? Actually, let me rephrase -
[Slow. Quiet. Tense. He wants to burn the ship to the ground, watch the filth of humanity sink into the depths of that ocean, let the rats float to the surface and find no ground left to attach to.
He can't fucking wait and-
His cup is placed back on the table - gentle and without a clink. Akechi's always eager to fight. Attack. Conquer. Dominate.
Shido is different. There's a plan to be followed, a path to tread and a world for only Akechi Goro to see. Maruki may be with him in distorted, vivid words. In memories, but he does not belong there.]
Don't bother trying. Am I clear?
no subject
They're talking at cross-purposes here. Maruki was merely making a joke about the current absurd circumstances they find themselves in – really, video game cognitions in a medieval peasant's village? – but the way Akechi answers–
Measured. Low. Pulled so taut, one sudden move could snap the strings.
It's more serious than the situation warrants if all they have to worry about is Somnius' special brand of bullshit.
Does he think that Maruki would try to take down Masayoshi Shido?
No. Maybe. But there's something more at a play. He doesn't know yet. He feels so close to knowing, it's maddening.
For the time being, all he can do is take Akechi's words with the gravity they deserve and nod. ]
Heard and understood, Akechi.
[ Don't bother trying.
If you find yourself there, leave. If you manage to get in, refrain.
There's something. There's something. ]
We ought to get out of here, don't you think?
[ Maybe they'll run into a ridiculous monstrosity to fight. It might be good stress relief.
Or maybe they'll run into another nightmare from home and he'll have Akechi's reactions in his peripherals, pieces of the puzzle he's been solving for months slowly coming together. ]
no subject
[Heard and understood - the latter part impossible for him to fully comprehend.
Heard and understood - like he fully grasps the goddamn situation he's in. We ought to get out of here with golden idols in his peripherals. A taunt from a god he can't see hammering a nail into his skull, bit by bit. Caffeine isn't helping. A drink isn't helping. Dan in the background isn't fucking helping.
Leaving would help. A battle, a walk - anything that doesn't involve sitting here in this uncomfortable chair, staring at the swirls on the table and walls.
But he doesn't move. His fingers stay wrapped around the rapidly cooling cup, the too bright gold twinkles in flickering candlelight in the corner of his eye. He should move and doesn't. Should leave, but won't. Decides he wants to stay anyway because the pathetic doppelganger may return in a swirl of fury when a job is left undone.
He offers an all too pleasant smile and removes one hand from the cup to wave towards the door. Offhand. Casual.]
Before I forget - do be careful. Often it doesn't matter who accepts the quest, there's a great deal of collateral involved in any choice. Try to stay cautious on your way home.
oh, easiest tag of my life
He hears that tone, those words of warning. Sees that saccharine smile and that carefree gesture.
Nothing passes over his face at all for a moment. Pure static snow, a perfectly blank expression before he settles back into his seat, ankle crossed over knee, and folds his hands in his lap. ]
No. I'm good here.
[ If Akechi wants to get rid of him, then he better do it as himself, not as the Detective Prince.
If not– they're both staying until he decides to leave. Maruki has nothing better to do.
This is a good lesson. ]
no subject
An eruption he wants to see in others. In Maruki. He can match that petulance in spades and-
Late morning shifts into afternoon. Akechi waits for him to leave. He doesn't.
They don't talk again - phones come out, cups refilled, snacks purchased and set between them untouched. A peace offering ignored and refused by both.
Akechi doesn't stand. Doesn't move. Barely crosses and uncrosses legs and arms in the hours against the shitty chair.
Maruki doesn't either.
The world behind windows gets darker - Maruki is still fucking there, comfortable and quiet as he runs his thumb along the phone screen.
He hates Maruki Takuto with every fiber of his being - doesn't understand what this obstinance does for him. Understands it a little too well, when he thinks too long on it, and forgets to drown out thoughts with glasses of water.
It's annoying. Irritating. Infuriating in the way Akechi almost texts him his immense displeasure about instead of continuing this charade and-
Comfortable. Calming. Two sensations he's so unaccustomed to happening in tandem, he would rather tear through Maruki's throat with blunted butter knife than acknowledge it again.
So he doesn't. Akechi shifts - hits Maruki's leg in response with his foot. 'My apologies' he says, for the first time in hours. Thirty minutes later - a response comes with a whap of Maruki's napkin against his head - light and covered up with an exaggerated stretch and a 'Sorry' that doesn't sound apologetic at all.
Unfuckingreal.
Dan leaves. Everyone leaves. Shitty looks come their way. Tables cleared. Windows shut. Employees vanish and-
Finally, Akechi has to relent for the sake of shopkeeper glaring daggers at two people who held a table all day ordering water and the bare minimum to eat.
The pastry is still untouched. Akechi grabs it when he stands to leave and-
He hates Maruki Takuto.]