[Week 1, Wednesday: Junko]

[purrtagonist]

["conflicted" or "uncertain" wasn't a look Akira wore often-- he was otherwise far too confident in himself, in his ideals, in his choices for that. but this night, the night before the first official murder of the game that doesn't come with "special instructions," he wanders the streets with it plastered on his features like a mask]

[which is absolutely not the look he wants to be sporting when he runs into Junko near the Miyoshita Park underpass. especially since she had been the first one to tell, stubbornly and defiantly, that he didn't intend to participate in Player Erasures. Reaper or not]

[(see how long that resolve lasted? see how long it took for him to break, if only because watching his fellow soft Reapers carry the burden of killing alone twisted at his gut? kind of pathetic for the guy who shot god in the face with the force of his rebellion, isn't it?)]

[well, whatever. he tilts his head towards her slightly, carefully constructing a neutral expression, so she can't read him like an open book. is glasses, at least, help with that]

You're out late.

Comments

[purrtagonist]

Fine. I'll accept fifty percent of the responsibility.

[he's the one who asked for backstory]

But for what it's worth, I consider this an equal exchange of goods and services.

[him not fucking up a murder, and her buying him dinner and telling him about herself. it's a bit uneven, buuuut. . .]