jigokulogs | [OPEN] only god can see what i've become.

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[OPEN] only god can see what i've become.

⬤ Andy @ the CR Meme ⬤
⬤ Permissions Post ⬤

Who ⬤ Andromache of Scythia (now of Enma) & YOU!
What ⬤ The bastard woman drinks and brawls her way through May substories
When ⬤ Throughout the month of May
Where ⬤ A bar, a backlot, and a bloody arena
Content Warnings ⬤ Profanity, violence, substance use, sex, etc. To be updated as needed!

A | MOON MEDICINE / SUBSTORY #1

[ This might be the most alive she's felt since arriving in hell. Whatever the fuck was in that medicinal mochi — it's like being high on cocaine and bloodlust at the same time. It feeds into that part of her that has always loved a fight. That up-close and personal shit where you can practically smell your opponent's breath. That's what she was raised on, seven thousand years ago on the Eurasian steppe — heir of the warrior-queen, bare and bloody on the battlefield, her mother's axe in her right hand.

No axe now. No battlefield either. Just the dirty alley out behind some dive bar. But that look in her eye is the same now as it was back then, wild and bright as she slams her fist into the unrecognizable pulp that was formerly the face of the yokai who had gotten fresh with her inside. Her knuckles are split open, but she doesn't seem to notice. Tunnel vision, everything else utterly irrelevant while her opponent is still standing — and he is, just barely. Just enough to take another clumsy swing at her, a move so obvious and slow that, in her violent fervor, she barks out a mean laugh, teeth bared. Bracing herself, she lets gravity do most of the work as she catches her victim by the clothes and flings him out of the alley towards street —

Right into anyone unfortunate enough to be passing by. ]

B | VEND ME A DREAM / SUBSTORY #2

[ Normally, on a day like this, Andy would have found some way to drink herself into oblivion by now. But she's spent most of her time in hell hungover, and somewhere between the constant headaches and violent nausea, she figured her newly mortal body was probably begging her for a break from the bottle. But being both idle and sober lends itself too readily towards her tendency to wallow uselessly in her own misery, so when the shirime approaches her with its winking butthole and a request for item A5, well...

Fuck it. It's not as if she has anything better to do.

That's how she winds up in that backlot, leaning up against a porno vending machine with a dwindling cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth as she flips through Juicy Peaches. The look on her face is one of stoic apathy, but either she's bored or the asses within are just that compelling, because she's still turning pages. This page in particular has her head turning slightly one way, then the other as she considers it. Out loud, to nobody in particular: ]

...That's a fucking fish.

[ Given the context, she might mean that literally. Only one way to find out. ]

C | BRUISED & BLOODY / SHUTEN TERRITORY ARENA

[ She'd been beating up people for free in bars this whole time, so it seemed only practical to at least get paid for that shit. The booze and cigarettes don't pay for themselves — and gods forbid that Andy hold a regular nine-to-five. She'd rather have her bones broken. Besides, she makes for a good underdog bet. Compared to some of the monstrous yokai that have stood opposite her in the ring, Andy looks decidedly ordinary. A woman who is neither particularly tall or strong. Nothing to betray the centuries she's spent mastering different ways of using her body to cause others pain. Except maybe that certain look in her eye. Something sharp. Something a little mean.

On one of the nights that she fights, she might find herself facing off against another Lost Soul in her next match. Or maybe afterward, with her left arm hanging loosely from its socket, she might be looking for someone to lend her hand — hopefully someone who isn't too squeamish to shove a shoulder back in. Otherwise, after the fighting is done, she makes a habit of smoking a cigarette right outside the arena, usually more interested in indulging that bad habit than patching herself up. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On Enma business?

[ Oh, god. ]

God, the fucking dolls.

[ He's so goddamn sick of them. He doesn't particularly trust Enma with something of that sort of immeasurable power either - which he knows is rich coming from him; if this appeared at home, he would be doing his very best to do precisely what Andy is doing now. First they appear everywhere, then they give him nightmares, then they drive the Detective to being disturbed to the point of delirium, and now this. ]

And that's worth crippling these boys for life, is it? [ He says sharply. He hasn't put down his firearm yet, though he's not pointing it at anyone either. ] You've made your point. Get your boot off his hand.

And you there! [ He says, voice like a whip in the still air as he turns to face the gang members she's taking on. Just like that, his entire bearing has changed from the mild man she had met on the street to something harsher and more authoritative. ] Do you have any idea how long it will take to recover from a wound like that? You'll never hold a weapon again. You'll never even hold a pen again. Is it really worth it?

If it is... I would love to know why. Go on. Let's hear it. What makes these worth spilling blood over?

[ Yup. The fucking dolls.

Andy gives Kim a deadpan look, but after a moment, obliges the man by lifting her foot off of that mangled hand. For all the good it does now anyway. Damage done. Point made. Even if she regrets it later, she can't take it back. Maybe there's a lesson somewhere in that — something about power and its abuses — but she can't be bothered to dwell on it right then either. Later, in a more self-loathing mood perhaps.

At least Kim's impressive authority seems an effective weapon against the two remaining gang members. Somewhere between the example Andy made of their friend's hand and the sharp command in Kim's voice, their resolve appears to have wavered. No, this isn't fucking worth it, they decide — it probably wasn't before, with just Andy, but now it definitely isn't. She can see it in their faces, how the last shreds of their willpower crumbles under Kim's questioning, and she exhales with impatient tiredness, stepping away from their crippled companion with a wave of her hand. ]

Take him. If you get him to a clinic quick, maybe he'll still be able to grip his dick with that hand.

[ Those youths don't need to be told twice. Hurriedly, they retrieve their friend before beating a hasty retreat. ]

They probably owe you their lives. [ She comments mildly, turning towards Kim. ] Wonder if they fucking know that.

It doesn't matter if they know it or not, [ Kim snaps. ] It's besides the point.

[ He doesn't expect thanks for anything he does, really. He knows that most of what he does is just patching up holes in a system that will spring two more by the time he's through with it. Any hope of doing more than that has died long ago, and it certainly hasn't sprung anew in a place like this, where violence is the norm and the anger bubbling beneath the surface has so much incomprehensible history to it. But the last thing they need to do, as newcomers, as outsiders, is to make it worse.

It's not even as though Kim can claim his own innocence. He's broken bones he shouldn't have. Shot at people he didn't have to, caught in a spell of horror and alarm, trying to protect himself instead of doing his damn job. But past mistakes does not mean that he can condone new ones. ]

I wasn't just asking them, you know. I'm asking you. What about these dolls is worth all that?

[ It has to be worth it. At least, Kim has to be able to justify it within his own head as worth it. There are certain crimes you learn to let go, that you learn to document a certain sort of way in your reports so that the MoralIntern has no choice but to listen, to cater to their tendency to rely on what is written on paper instead of what is in what remains of their souls. Andromache is a new cop, perhaps, but she is not a young woman, and not new to violence. It's only now that he's trying to get a handle on what forms her violence have taken in the past, and for what reasons. He raises a brow at her, spine rigid. ]

Just following orders?

[ The honest and disappointing truth is that Andy's not convinced anything about this situation is worth all that. That's not what determined the amount of force she used against her victims. She was hardly thinking at all. The violence was natural. Habitual. Justified by the fact that they had approached her, weapons in hand, too cocky and too young to understand that they were out of their depth with this woman. Her better nature — her mercy, her compassion — these things have been dulled down here in hell, weakened by her aimlessness. Her detachment. And so she hadn't held back either — even if she'd had the skill to achieve the same ends by less brutal means.

Now, in the face of Kim's questions, she feels a twinge of conscience. Maybe a little regret. Something to feed to her self-loathing later. ]

Those fucking dolls are dangerous. [ She answers finally, glancing away to wipe a bit of stray blood from her face with her sleeve. Not even really sure whose blood that is. ] And I gave them a chance to hand that shit over peacefully.

[ One brief, fleeting chance — one she knew rebellious little assholes like them would never take. ]

What did you want me to do? Say please?

No. I want you to act appropriately as an officer of the law.

[ By all means, she is acting appropriately as an officer of the law. The things that Kim has seen, the things he's heard of, the things that happen underneath his nose and then get neatly swept away by people with greater authority than whoever it is got the shit kicked out of them, the things that he has let slide knowing that nothing would ever get done...

If this is truly Hell, then that's why he's here. Among other reasons. There is no reason to believe that Enma officers are any better than the dirty Revacholiers he calls his colleagues. But he would yell at them too, for what little good it would do. He expects better from Andromache as well, not because he has any grasp on who she is as a person, but because she has by all means demonstrated that she's someone with brains rattling around in that skull of hers, as hungry for violence as she may be. ]

I understand what appropriate force is. Surrounded by people with weapons, that can be your only recourse. [ They're lucky to be alive. Someone less confident in their skills would have taken out their firearm, and would have been right to do so; if it's between them and your life, Kim will always choose his life. But Andromache is clearly capable enough to deal with them without a gun, which means that she's capable of dealing with them without permanently disabling them as well. ] But breaking the kid's hand like that? Grinding it into the dirt? That wasn't because you were threatened. He was already down. It was because you wanted to do it.

[ He strides over to where one of the Haniwa sits, undisturbed, and picks it up. It stares back at him with its empty, jarring gaze. It's an eerie little thing to be sure, capable of things that Kim doesn't yet understand, and yet it's small, seemingly insignificant.

If he tucked it away in his bag right now, he wonders if Andy would be just as eager to smash his face into the dirt. ]

[ There's the impulse to push back — because when was the last fucing time she acted appropriately as an officer of the law? Not in the last century. Probably a lot longer than that. She had tried, now and then. But there had always been too many rules, too much red tape. Fucking bureaucracy and other inconvenient shit that stood in the way when a precise bullet could do the job quicker, cleaner. So she'd never really been a proper officer of the law, had she? It had always been Andy the bounty hunter, Andy the mercenary — freelancer, assassin, body guard, spy — and not because she couldn't play by the rules. No. She just didn't want to.

The privilege of fucking power. Maybe she'd never completely let go of being regina.

But he isn't wrong to scold her either. His point isn't wrong — she was cruel, unnecessarily so, and that isn't something she'd even argue — but his point isn't wasted on her either. The woman is cruel, yes. But that's not all she is. Maybe he knows that. Maybe he just decided to believe it, even without any real proof. Still, the effort alone — that he would try, betting on the existence of her better nature — that might be even more effective on her than the scolding. ]

I can't take it back now. [ Her eyes follow him as he picks up the little haniwa, but she doesn't make any moves to stop him. Instead, she digs into her jacket for her cigarettes and lighter. ] And I don't have any more fucking excuses. So. What are you looking for? A promise that I'll do better next time?

[ She doesn't move to take it from him. Not immediately, anyway. That's interesting. A part of Kim wants to see how far she would go to do her duty in this respect, but he's not willing to put up a fight over it; if she were to ask for it, he would hand it over. He just wants to see how deep this bridled aggression goes and what is the cause of it. It's not as though Kim is unfamiliar with violence for violence's sake. He just doesn't know how it manifests in this woman, someone who is as likely to direct it inwards as she is outwards. ]

When did I ever ask for an excuse? [ His shoulders rise and fall as he sighs, the nylon of his jacket softly rustling against itself. ] It's not as though you answer to me.

[ By all means, she has more authority than he does. Most people here do. That's a secret to neither of them. If she wanted to, she could easily pin him to the ground under the guise of seizing the Haniwa, could put him under arrest for obstruction of duty. Kim can think of five different laws back home he could write himself up for for doing this. ]

Will you do better next time?

[ Does she even want to? ]

[ He's right. She doesn't answer to him. And she doesn't have to engage with this fucking conversation at all. It isn't as if there will be any tangible consequences — the Department sure as fuck doesn't care how she gets its business done. In all honesty, she should be taking custody of that fucking haniwa and getting on with things. That was the point of all this, wasn't it?

Yet here she is. She still hasn't moved towards him. Hasn't tested the space between them even though she could surely give Kim the same treatment she gave those gangbangers. No. All she's done is light herself a fresh cigarette, eying Kim through the plume of smoke as she exhales. His question hangs heavily in the air between them, untouched for several long moments.

Finally: ]

Why the fuck does my answer matter to you?

[ Why does he care if she does better next time? And why she care if he does? ]

Because, generally speaking, I prefer that as few people get mutilated as possible.

[ That's the easy answer. And a true one. But her question sends him for a loop anyway; she's touched on one thing, which is that Kim would not necessarily intervene if he saw just anyone doing this. Part of being here means understanding that a certain amount of cruelty is simply the way this place works. To step in every time he sees something happening, particularly if both parties seem to have lethal intent in mind, would mean coming to an early death. He was able to intervene here because a part of him had faith that Andy wasn't going to come after him next.

Foolish thought. He hardly knows the woman. He shouldn't assume that she wouldn't do the same out of -- what, some misplaced sense of obligation for Kim showing her basic human decency her first day here? Stitching her up when she hadn't even known he was going to be in there in the first place? It would be nice if that were the case, but neither of those things are monumental, in Kim's mind. It's not as though they belong to the same clan, as though they spend time with each other in their off-hours, as though he is one of the many people she has intimately shared her time with. He's just Kim, from the convenience store.

It's just a gut instinct. The very thought curdles as soon as it reaches his brain. He does not, as a general rule, believe in trusting his gut; he prefers logic, reason, facts. He's got a damn good reason for it too. There are people he's done more for than Andy who wouldn't bat an eye at making his life a living hell if he happened to get in their way. He contemplates her through the smoke clouding her full expression from view, feeling decidedly watched, but not yet seen.

Slowly, he reholsters his firearm. ]

And I think you could do better than this. If you wanted to. The difference is in the wanting.

[ His faith has never amounted to much in the past, but he'll stand by what he says. This is what will show her character, deep down: whether she wants to be better than what her instincts may drive her to. ]

I prefer to spend my time with those that do.

[ Maybe he doesn't know — how much it mattered to her, being shown a little human kindness in that moment of raw and painful vulnerability. She'd been stripped of everything — her boys, her purpose, her power. The things that she'd used to define herself, to give the mercurial soul of "Andromache" some recognizable shape. She'd stood there on the precipice of a terrible, impulsive choice — and he'd pulled her back. Saved her from her own despair. Her own cowardice. Without knowing a damn thing about her. Without knowing who or what she was.

That wasn't a small thing. Not to her. And now — despite seeing the worst parts of her, seeing her at her lowest, watching her come and go bloodied from petty fights — he still thinks it's worth saying these things to her. Appealing to her conscience, even though evidence has shown her to be violent and volatile. It's right that she stays her hand now. That she lets him speak his piece. And listen.

That's the least that she owes him, isn't it. ]

Shouldn't want to be more than we're capable of being. Sets you up for disappointment. [ She says that, turning her head away to exhale another mouthful of smoke. But when she glances back again, it's to look Kim in the eye, and there's no trace of her usual wryness when she goes on, finally: ] I'll try. That's all I can promise.

Mmh. [ Kim's expression is inscrutable. Part of his demeanor is hard-won, earned through years of learning how best to keep himself from getting hurt. The other part is entirely natural; Kim has never been a particularly expressive person, and what had read as being socially defunct as a young child now allows him to simply look as though he's careful, collected, composed. In truth, he's trying to read her, to figure out what's going on in that brain of hers. It's clear that there's more to Andromache than what meets the eye, but he doesn't know what that is. Even after their conversations, he knows vanishingly little about her: just her name, her favourite brand of cigarettes, that she reacts violently to unease, both towards others and towards herself. ] I expect only what people are capable of, [ he says firmly. ] Whether or not they believe that they're capable doesn't necessarily reflect the reality of the situation. Besides, [ he adds, rolling a shoulder in a shrug, ] you hardly need to warn me against disappointment.

[ Disappointment is the guiding force of Kim's entire life. It has been nothing but disappointment after disappointment. Disappointment in Dolorianism, in the reality of his parents, in the communists and moralists alike, in the RCM. There has never been anything in Kim's life that he has believed in that has not disappointed him, including himself. After all that, no disappointment could possibly shatter him now.

He closes the distance between them and holds out the Haniwa. A peace offering. ]

You'll try, [ he says firmly. ] I'll hold you to that. All it takes is practice, you know.

[ To try again. Like a muscle you had forgotten existed, slowly creaking back to life, sore with disuse but not yet withered away. ]

[ Andy's eyes stay fixed on him as she reaches out for that olive branch, her hand closing slowly around the haniwa before she takes it and carefully places it into her jacket pocket for safe keeping. Some part of her almost resents that she knows he's right about her. He's seen her too clearly now. Can he tell that she cares too much for this appeal to go unheard? That, despite her violence, her cruelty — she still carries inside her a worn and battered idealism? Maybe it's just a shot in the dark he's taking, but that doesn't mean his aim wasn't true.

But now she's seen him too. Just a little. A glimpse. She knows he must be some kind of idealist too. Because he's asking her to be better, telling her he believes it when she says she'll try — even after all that talk about disappointment.

Finally: ]

I'm sure you will. [ Hold her to it, that is. And she won't shy away from that either, whatever ends up happening from here. A bit wryly, then: ] The delinquent youth of Jigoku-cho should probably thank you for it.

[ But they both know that's not the point. He's said as much. ]

One of these days, it might be novel for us to run into each other under circumstances where you don't need to do damage control.

[ Kim grimaces. ] Don't say that. I might change my mind.

[ He doesn't want the delinquent youths to thank him for anything. Or, frankly, to know that he even exists. Being that Jigoku-cho's Lost Soul population skews so young, it's been impossible for him to truly stay away from them, and he has more than enough kids in his life for his liking. Still, he relaxes a little now that Andromache has demonstrated she's at least receptive to the idea of being a little lighter on the wanton violence front.

He exhales slowly, lips pursing, and finally holsters his gun. He doesn't know her well enough to know whether or not she'll do better, truly -- or whether or not it's even wise for her to do better. This is an unpredictable and violent city, after all, and they will be forced into drastic measures more often than not. ]

Damage control is my specialty, I'm afraid. [ He glances down at his watch. It's getting late. He sighs, then begins gathering up his things. ] But if you're willing to point out that I've done that much, then you must be willing to repay me. I think you owe me dinner.

[ He's hungry, Andy. Chop chop. ]

[ Oh? Andy seems a little surprised by that, but not unpleasantly so. No, in fact, she looks a bit amused at his assertion. The way he says it, dinner almost sounds like a challenge. And far be it from her to refuse a challenge. ]

Alright, officer. [ Wryly, as she takes another leisurely drag off her cigarette: ] My treat.

[ With that, she steps towards the pavement, fully expecting Kim to come walk beside her. It won't be anything fancy, but she knows a hotdog stand around here whose owner won't care much if they sit around and smoke afterward. ]

This will be the first date I've been on in hell.

It's not a date.

[ All right, he's pretty sure Andy knows damn well it's not a date. Still, he wouldn't be Kim Kitsuragi if he let a quip like that go unpunished. After that whole hubbub, Kim is back to looking thoroughly unruffled and unbothered, hands already joined together behind his back as they begin to stroll through the city. It is a skill of his; even though this city still fills him with unease, he walks as though he was born here. ]

Though if it was, and it would be your first -- then I think your, ah, roommate is slacking off. Surely the two of you can manage one.

[ Even Kim would demand as much. He thinks. ]

[ She would have been disappointed if he hadn't corrected her. It's almost as if she'd said it explicitly just to hear him shut her down. The corner of her mouth quirks upward wryly when he does, smoke wisping around that faint little smirk as she gives him a bit of a sidelong look. With a pointed dryness: ]

You make it sound like he's my boyfriend.

[ Ever a mercurial creature, she seems in the mood to humor the subject the current matter — and somehow more present now, somehow more Andy in this moment than the dead-eyed creature that had thoughtlessly crushed a young man's hand under her boot not too long ago. ]

Should I be hurt you rejected me? [ She's not. She knows he's not interested, and she suspects why. Logistics, as it were. ] It's not because there's someone else, is it?

Uh-huh, [ Kim says, fixing her with a look that makes it clear that he's neither impressed nor convinced by her attempts to play this whole thing off. Why she's doing it, Kim couldn't say. God knows he hasn't even met the man she's currently living with -- he doesn't even know his name. For all he knows, he already knows him, and she's out there shacking up with -- well --

No, actually. He can't imagine her with most of the men he knows. They're all too young by half. It isn't as though Andromache is a young woman, but she certainly looks younger than him. ]

No, [ he answers, patient, long-suffering. ] It is because it's not a date. [ He arches a brow at her. ] Not all of us can simply fall in... cahoots with someone our first week here.

[ Cahoots. He thinks she'll appreciate that phrasing a bit more. It's true, though; Kim has not been with anyone for many years, and he doesn't forsee that changing. ]

[ Cahoots.

Andy looks at Kim for a long moment, then turns her head away as a short, rough laugh abruptly escapes her. She's not sure what it is, exactly — the wording itself, or the fact that it's Kim who uses it. Kim, arching that single eyebrow in her direction as he encapsulates the chaos of her questionable cohabitation with the phrase "falling in cahoots." ]

Ah — [ She clears her throat, buying herself a second by taking a drag off her cigarette, though that does little to conceal the small, wry smile that lingers around the corners of her mouth. ] First of all, it was a hookup. It just... Kept going. [ Wryly then, because she knows how that sounds: ] I don't pretend to be in control of my life.

[ One of her little sidelong looks. ]

Honestly, you might know more about me than he does. And sometimes I think I sort of like it that way.

[ Kim's lip quirks up as Andy lets out a bark of laughter, studiously looking off to the side as though it doesn't affect him in the least, as though that wasn't his intent in the first place. ]

Mmhm. You're in full control of your life. If you want a hookup to end, all you need to do is leave. [ He has always found it very, very easy to do so. ] But I suppose it must have presented something of enough value to get you to stick around.

[ He's not impressed with the excuse that it's beyond her control. It's just a convenient lie for someone unwilling to face up to the truth of the matter. He supposes he can sympathize; relationships can be terrifying things, though Kim has never found himself in one entirely by accident. ]

I'm surprised to hear you say that, though. I barely know anything about you. And I'm not the one who's seen you naked.

[ Full control might be giving her more credit than is really due, but she knows when she's being called out. Not willing to give her even an inch, is he? Yet, she finds she sort of likes that about him. The challenge of knowing the man. Of having a rapport with him. If she didn't enjoy it at least a little, she wouldn't be here. And they definitely wouldn't be going for dinner, the way friends do. ]

You make it sound easy. [ Though in truth, she's generally found it easy too. As long as a hook-up is nothing more than that. Men and woman alike have found her impersonal and even cruel. How many times as she left a one night stand out in the cold without so much as offering her name? Too many to count. Wryly then, an admission that Kim has probably earned but won't be surprised then: ] Guess I must like him a little.

[ That's more than she'd admit to most. But what difference does it really make? Kim's already seen more of her than she might have allowed willingly. Though maybe that's just the excuse she uses — so that she can let herself have this. This companionship, whatever either one of them does or doesn't want to call it. ]

Hundreds of people have seen me naked, officer. [ That might even be a conservative estimate. Wryly then: ] You're the only one that's seen me try to blow my own brains out. That's intimacy of a kind.

Just a little, hm? Cute.

[ Kim has never liked anyone well enough to live with them. Not officially. Not formally. He always had his excuses: he kept odd hours, he had nightmares, his space was too small, he lived close to the Precinct and didn't want to sacrifice his short commute. He's fairly certain every partner he's ever had saw through it in the end, which is that he was a very private man and that he was unable to make that commitment, to truly join his life with another.

If Andromache is normal in that meaning she likes someone a little, maybe all those men who called him frigid were right. ]

I suppose you're right. [ It's the sort of intimacy that, Kim thinks, should be kept far, far away from anyone who holds any love for that person. He's glad he bore the brunt of it, not her partner. ] But that is not something you begin to discuss in the first month of a relationship. That was just a... serendipitous coincidence.

[ One that he's deeply grateful for. If he hadn't been there, would anyone else have stepped in? He deliberates on his next words carefully. He could let it go. He would prefer not to talk to her about her mental health, and he thinks she would prefer not to hear it. ]

I never did thank you for the cigarette, did I? So: thank you for that. It was nice not having to waste my money on a whole pack just to get a stick of tar. [ He keeps his gaze straight ahead of them, casually regarding a family of ayakishi blustering their way through the neighbourhood across the street. ] You smoke much more than I do. It would be a shame if I were no longer able benefit from your expertise.

[ Keep coming in during his shifts, Andy. He likes knowing you're still around. ]

[ A little, or a lot. It probably doesn't really matter how honest Andy chooses to be with her words — they both know he isn't fooled by her. He's probably never been fooled by her. And maybe she's stopped always trying to. Now, instead of being a wall between them, her deflections and half-truths are more of a game. Inside jokes between two people who have rarely indulged in the pleasure of simple friendship.

Maybe that day was just a serendipitous coincidence. But without that — without her nearly fatal impulse to put a gun to her head — they might have never bothered with one another at all. Each with their respective walls stacked high around themselves. Neither an especially easy person to be close with, for one reason or another. Both playing their cards close to their chest.

Now she knows him. Not much — where her walls might fold when the right man makes her breakfast, Kim's are a veritable fucking Jericho — but she knew enough to leave him that cigarette. And she knows enough to understand the unspoken meaning behind his words. ]

It was just a cigarette. You don't have to thank me for shit like that. [ But there's a subtle, almost imperceptible warmth in underneath her usual wryness that betrays her. ] Honestly, I should probably quit. Bad fucking habit.

[ She says that, even as she takes another drag off her cigarette before gesturing with it in the direction of a little ramen stall up ahead. The counter can only seat four people, but that's plenty of room for the pair of them, and whatever the old yokai manning the stall is cooking, it smells incredible. ]

Looks promising. What do you say, officer?

You should quit. It's unhealthy. Especially the volume of cigarettes you consume.

[ Normally he wouldn't say anything - it would be hypocritical of him, all things considered - but she did open herself up to it. He says it lightly, though, knowing that she won't be quitting anytime soon. Of her vices, smoking is the one he's least concerned about. He's not going to pass up an opportunity to give her shit, though. It's not his instinct with most people, but it's how they seem to have fallen into step, speaking to one another with the sort of familiarity of those who have known each other for years instead of a scant few months.

Maybe it's just that few people are as inclined as Andromache is to joke around with him, liable to take his unmoving exterior as a lack of humour, a lack of warmth, instead of seeing what he's actually saying. It's not something that bothers him. If it did, he would try to change it as he did when he was younger. Nowadays, he's comfortable with it. It doesn't mean that it's not nice to have a relationship run counter to that, however, and he falls into step beside her neatly, comfortably, looking idly at the stall she's stopped in front of. ]

Oh! [ His eyes light with recognition. ] I ate here the day I arrived. It's where I met Kamui, in fact -- you've met him, I'm sure. He works at the 7/11 with me. [ It's been long enough that he almost feels nostalgic. ]

Nice kid. [ He knows Kamui is older than he looks. He thinks he's a nice kid anyhow. He nods at the stall. ] I'm up for it if you are.

[ She doesn't mind. In truth, it's been a long time since anyone bothered to scold her like that — the way you scold someone you care about, because you worry about things like their health. It's almost a novelty. And maybe a little sad that it even feels that way. Small mercies, though — she doesn't have to dwell on it. Instead, she gestures for Kim to go ahead and choose a seat at the stall. Seems as good a place to eat as any. ]

I know him. [ It's hard to read the mildness of her tone, but underneath it is a thread of subtle fondness. She knows Kamui, yes, and she likes him too. A nice kid — and not a bad shot either. ] Ran around in the tunnels together when I first got here. I've seen him at the gas station a few times.

[ Once Kim is settled, she picks the seat next to him. ]

Hell's a small fucking world, isn't it.

Uncannily so. I always thought Hell would have more people... and maybe one or two people I know, at that, [ Kim says lightly, settling himself in one of the stools. He remembers the woman behind the stall, an ayakishi who had frightened him terribly the first time they'd met, and the way he had completely ignored her in order to get some modicum of control over his own emotions. From the sour look she's giving him, she remembers him too. ]

Good evening, madam, [ he says, nodding his head politely at her. ] Do forgive my rudeness the last time we met. It was my first day here, and I was -- rather out of sorts, so to speak.

[ The jorogumo behind the counter scowls, but apparently an adherence to etiquette is enough to make her soften, and she relents. ] Oh, it's fine, I suppose. [ She eyes Andromache, then, eyes moving inhumanly quickly across her features. ] What will you be having?

[ Kim merely gestures for Andromache to speak. A little shamefully, he has relied on a few safe foods during his time here, uncertain as to what everything is, and what would curdle on his decidedly Revacholiere palate. He may as well just copy Andy. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OPEN] only god can see what i've become.

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