one who saves.

     ❝ Are you suggesting I sneak into various parties? … I like the way you think! ❞

     ❝ The new year is coming up, isn’t it? Which means there will be celebrations, right? And food? ❞

“『Allen Walker kissed me in private.』”

Ah, he’ll have to wash this off…eventually. Until he cares enough or he receives enough complaints regarding it, the only semblance of trying to clean himself of the sticky red is a swipe of a clawed thumb to his cheek. It streaks, but that’s of little concern. It’s as if he’s ignoring the the judgemental gaze on him, only bothering to lift his head at the question.

“So what? Do you expect me to judge whoever gets in my way, to see if they’re worthy to die or not?” His tone is flat, unimpressed. The horror, the guilt, the satisfaction– none of these things are present, the things usually around when one takes a life. It’s as if the action was no better than swatting a bug that was bothering him.

“If you pull a weapon on someone, you make an enemy of them. I kill all my enemies. It’s as simple as that, so you can save your preacher’s sermons for someone who gives a damn.”

There is no remorse on the other's part for what he's done and that's what unsettles Allen most of all. He's dealt with these type of people before, but they'd never had a monstrous look as he did. It was as if he were an animal that was incapable of feeling human emotion, but he's not an akuma that much the exorcist is sure of. But what was he exactly? There were no normal means of finding out, the only way was to ask and pray for an answer to be provided. "I'm...not entirely sure what to say after all of this." He was going to go on about how it was bad what he'd done, but it'd fall on deaf ears.

@cursedeye

   When one thought of the word ‘god’, magnificent things were brought to mind. Glowing divinity and pure grace, the judgement to determine what is right and what is wrong, and the power to enforce it. One thought of benevolence and wrath, and an existence beyond their very comprehension. They did not, however, think of shoplifting. And yet, to anyone who was keen enough to notice, that was just what the god of mischief found himself doing. Nimble fingers plucked the apple from the fruit street stand almost effortlessly, the stolen object already safely tucked away into Loki’s pocket before the stand owner had even turned his head. A few more steps and Loki would be home free, his lips already curling at the corners at the thought.

   And yet.

   ❝ May I help you? ❞ His voice was pleasant as Loki turned to face the boy who had just placed a firm hand on his shoulder, sly green eyes giving away nothing. ❝ In need of directions, perhaps? ❞

To think in this day and age he would still have to deal with petty thieves. Not that he's surprised or disappointed, only annoyed that the one committing the crime seemed to think he'd get away so easily. A firm hand is placed on the man's shoulder, squeezing in such a way to let him know that Allen knows exactly what he's just done and that's usually enough for someone to return whatever they had stolen, but not the time Instead, it's played casually but too bad Allen knows of what had just occurred. Eyebrows furrow and he gives a scoff at the question of 'needing directions' "I've been here for years, if anything the one who'll be needing directions should be you."

“『Hive City residents. My name is Kumagawa Misogi. And I am the advocate for the reigning, defending, undisputed dance champion of Hive City: Allen Walker. My client has asked me to inform you all that none of you can dance. Your dance moves are all shite and you should all feel bad. If you wish to prove him wrong, then he will be more than happy to take on any and all comers at the next dance event. Or, maybe he won’t! Maybe he thinks none of you are worth his time. Don’t hate me, I’m just an advocate.』”

“...”

“『Ack! I didn’t think you’d be around to hear that..』”

“『Allen Walker is my twink.』”

       Nill, by definition, never blended in easily. She was small, sure, but that’s not usually enough to keep eyes from resting against her wings no matter how big a crowd ( although if she was lucky, people she wouldn’t want bothering her didn’t. ) There’s a certain tone in lack of a voice that comes along with her trembling hands – buried in the creases she makes with the fabric in between fingers. Distantly, she remembers remnants of her own voice, but she doesn’t envy people who never lost their own. Figures that have only taken things from her from the start, or attempted to. ( excuse me. ) So when she’s called out to on the streets it’s never usually anything good, never anything that doesn’t leave an unpleasant feeling of gut-wrenching lump in her throat. ( i’m sorry for bothering you, but. )

       Dread that should have settled into her stomach doesn’t; a wayward lapse in usual reaction that surprises her more than the person in question. When he speaks to her, she watches the way he moves, from his apology to his fidgeting, to the golden mystery that takes just a moment to make home on her shoulder. It’s cute, and if it’s what brought him to initiate contact with her, then it can’t be bad either.

       Actually, in this moment, this is the least frightened she’s been since waking up this morning.

       She takes a second to think, but she smiles nonetheless, hand reaching up to place on top of Tim, and giving a nod. Maybe it’s because they share a similar trait? She’s received a good first impression, though, so she rubs the top of Tim’s head, giving a more enthusiastic smile as affirmation that she likes him, too. Or…she hopes this person understands, but it’s fine if he doesn’t. 

When she looks up at him, eyes filled with curiosity as she watches him fidget around and search for some kind of answer to give her as to why he'd come over, it's like nothing's changed. Even though she doesn't know him, even though she is by all means a blank slate in this city, there's a sense of familiarity with her on his end that doesn't go away and instead brings another wave of a feeling he can't quite describe. It's a cross between being both elated to be able to speak with her this time around but also sad that he can't do it with any familiarity and that they basically meet each other as strangers once again.

It almost seems intentional that this had happened ( and was no doubt part of some weird plan Timcanpy had concocted seeing as he'd had to deal with various ramblings about the young lady in question ) and Allen's silent for a long moment.

'Why isn't she...signing?' he asks himself only to remember that she, in fact, would have no knowledge of having been able to do that as she is right now. And he feels stupid for even thinking about it. Timcanpy on the other hand is as relaxed as ever, nuzzling into her shoulder in a smugly kind of way that makes Allen frown up for a moment before speaking again. "He can be overly friendly sometimes, sorry about that." And as he says so, the golem sticks it's tongue out at him and goes back to nuzzling into it's current interest to which Allen clicks his tongue in response, then turns his attention back to Nill and gives a lopsided smile.

It's different as she passes him by and he turns to look at her as she walks, the bag he'd been holding in his arms slowly falls away from his grasp and onto the ground, miscellaneous items spilling as Timcanpy, who had been perched onto his shoulder under that moment, dives to gather them up as Allen continues to not pay any attention. This time...he's determined to talk to her, if only for a moment and so before he can think of what he could even possibly say to her, his feet move on their own and before he knows it, he's calling toward her. "Ni--Excuse me!" He catches himself before using her name, it'd be weird after all. "Ah...I'm sorry for bothering you, but--" He fidgets for a moment, fingers twiddling together as he searches for an excuse as to why he approached her and in that moment Timcanpy drops the bag he'd been holding onto Allen's head ( which prompts a really loud "Ow!" ) and settles right onto Nill's shoulder after that's done. 

Allen rubs his head, "--Tim likes you." It's a terrible and random excuse, but it'll do for now and it's good to start conversation.

“『If you’re going to kiss me, then just do it. Don’t tease me, you naughty boy.』”

And just like that, it was as though the two had never been separated. Chaos and Order, coexisting and clashing at the same time. Animosity poured from the two in waves that could very well kill someone just by being near them.

“『But since you’re my best friend ever, I’ll promise! Maybe. Probably not. Who knows, really?』”

“My taste in men is terrible, but I don’t think I’d ever be willing to go low enough for you, don’t get your hopes up.” They’re both smiling, but anyone who knew either of them knew it wasn’t because they liked one another at all.

“『.. Ew. They let you back in here? That is to say, I’m happy to see you here! My best friend in the whole world, Allen-chan! Did you come to talk about Fire Red and Leaf Gree-』”

Taking things into consideration was not his strong suit. For example, taking into consideration that he should have brought matches along. Whoops.

“『.. Well, that’s a bust.』”

“Some days it feels like they put me back here with the sole duty of making sure you don’t do anything stupid or destructive.” Allen then proceeds to take the gasoline can out of Kumagawa’s hands and throw it god knows where and get right up in his face.