[He can't quite resist a faint scoff at the mention of an appropriate way to conduct law enforcement; his experience hasn't given him a particularly great amount of faith in the profession. He never did learn exactly how the Kirijou Group covered up what happened to Amada's mother, whether they actually came up with another corpse to pin as the "drunk driver", or if they simply bribed the cops not to go digging into the story that was provided, but none of the possibilities are encouraging. The state of things with less supernatural affairs hasn't been much better, either.
All of that is hardly relevant in a place where the starting condition has been a mass kidnapping, though, and Shinjiro lets the moment pass without further reaction. It's not like the point is an important one under the circumstances, anyway. He rolls a shoulder, a bit more casual of a gesture than he really feels.]
...S'fine. Ain't like I'm used to bein' one.
[This might actually be the first time, now that he thinks about it? Awkward.]
I can crash on your couch, if you got one. No need to worry about blankets or anything. And I'll be out by morning.
[He almost wants to offer to make breakfast, in something like recompense for being allowed to stay, but it's too personal of a thing. Sharing a meal together would be more like something friends would do, and that's not what they are.]
All right. The couch it is. Make yourself comfortable -- it isn't as though I have any personal possessions here. User the shower if you like.
[ He's cagier about his real home. Every item on every shelf says something different about him, something deeply personal, interests he has hidden away, secret loves he harbours, evidence of a life colourfully lived. Though the apartment he's living in now is objectively much nicer, it is devoid of anything that hints that someone with a personality lives here. Even if he had access to such things, he wouldn't use them. It would feel far too much like putting down roots.
And so Aragaki is the unwilling spectator of the rest of Kim's evening; he rustles himself together some shabby dinner (and offers Aragaki a plate, though doesn't argue if he doesn't want it), done without any real ineptitude but also without any skill, has a smoke, and mulls over some crosswords at the kitchen table before bed. Most people would consider this routine to be rather sad, the sort of thing relegated to a dreary montage in a film attempting to drive home just how lonely a bachelor is before he finds the girl of his dreams, but the entire effect of it all is rather cozy. This is a man who has settled enough in his life to know what he likes and what he doesn't, and what he likes is a good crossword every now and then.
Once he washes up and heads to bed, he stops in the doorway. ]
Let me know if you need anything. If you hear anything, feel anything. I don't expect anything terribly harsh, but I don't know what to expect at all. Hopefully you can get some sleep despite it all.
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no subject
All of that is hardly relevant in a place where the starting condition has been a mass kidnapping, though, and Shinjiro lets the moment pass without further reaction. It's not like the point is an important one under the circumstances, anyway. He rolls a shoulder, a bit more casual of a gesture than he really feels.]
...S'fine. Ain't like I'm used to bein' one.
[This might actually be the first time, now that he thinks about it? Awkward.]
I can crash on your couch, if you got one. No need to worry about blankets or anything. And I'll be out by morning.
[He almost wants to offer to make breakfast, in something like recompense for being allowed to stay, but it's too personal of a thing. Sharing a meal together would be more like something friends would do, and that's not what they are.]
no subject
[ He's cagier about his real home. Every item on every shelf says something different about him, something deeply personal, interests he has hidden away, secret loves he harbours, evidence of a life colourfully lived. Though the apartment he's living in now is objectively much nicer, it is devoid of anything that hints that someone with a personality lives here. Even if he had access to such things, he wouldn't use them. It would feel far too much like putting down roots.
And so Aragaki is the unwilling spectator of the rest of Kim's evening; he rustles himself together some shabby dinner (and offers Aragaki a plate, though doesn't argue if he doesn't want it), done without any real ineptitude but also without any skill, has a smoke, and mulls over some crosswords at the kitchen table before bed. Most people would consider this routine to be rather sad, the sort of thing relegated to a dreary montage in a film attempting to drive home just how lonely a bachelor is before he finds the girl of his dreams, but the entire effect of it all is rather cozy. This is a man who has settled enough in his life to know what he likes and what he doesn't, and what he likes is a good crossword every now and then.
Once he washes up and heads to bed, he stops in the doorway. ]
Let me know if you need anything. If you hear anything, feel anything. I don't expect anything terribly harsh, but I don't know what to expect at all. Hopefully you can get some sleep despite it all.