Gaius had a similar device to the one given to him, but it still did not change the fact that he was terrible at it.

TO: ????? FROM: ERSTON

     To: ERSTON          From: Byakuran

Confidence, too. The way he cocked his head, the way the smile on his face seemed carved into it, almost, like he’d barely gone a day without some sort of smirk — it said volumes, and a whole lot more than that.

And he was looking for him. Now, wasn’t that interesting?

The spot he had taken up was the perfect place for a rendezvous: on bordering a violent gang block to the west, a street of brothels to the east, it offered a great vantage point of anything and everything that went on, only just barely toeing the line of safety.

Even as Izaya turned to regard the newcomer, he could see a man and woman fighting in the street, shoving, yelling, flaunting their anger who anyone who wanted a free show. Typical stuff for this hour of the day, but it was pretty great! And the stranger didn’t seem fazed, not one bit.

It was in noting all that that he took stock of the other,

Opened his mouth,

And let loose.

'Actually, I would,' he began, smiling in a friendly little way that set the tone of the whole conversation. It was basically like they were in Sector One, talking about the weather — except, this was a little more important. 'Lucky you, asking me. If you'd asked any of the other people here, they probably would've spit on you — stole your wallet, too.'

Izaya gave a little nod of his head towards the bickering couple, where the man was now pulling on the woman’s hair as she dug her fake nails into his arm. The company this place kept had never been very friendly.

'-or, no.' He tilted his head to the side, eyes flashing like he'd thought of something just now. It wasn't a new revelation or anything, but he sure made it seem like one. 'Luck doesn't have anything to do with it — you seem like you're not too bad at judging character.

'I'd bet you I'm right.' Again, Izaya smiled at the man, but the curve to it was different this time: sharper, more direct. 'After all. You're looking for an “informant” — I know where he is — and in fact…'

He straightened some, assessed the white-haired man for a second time, and stuck out his hand in clear, pleasant invitation.

'I'm him. Orihara Izaya.

'Or, as you probably know me better, “that informant guy.”'

The title itself would be something he'd make sure to remember. If this guy, in all his rumored glory, was actually worth something to him, he'd be sure to keep him as close as needed. If not? He'd discard him, yet keep his name if there ever came a time for it's usage. Who knew what he might need it for in the future, no? He wasn't one to give fake identities, but all the while, at least he knew something he could hand out if his resources ran dry. Not that he was planning on doing that or anything, though.

Expression remaining forward and welcoming to better match the other's, or well, keep it on a level where only genuine niceness could be detected, he ignored their surroundings and once more began to speak. "If they were capable of sneaking it out of my pocket, they'd find nothing but a few coupons to a few cafes in other sectors, fufufu. I don't keep any money I earn on me unless I need it for something immediately. You could probably guess why, seeing as you seem like a smart, cautious person." Though the tone he wore was nothing other than playful, there was a slight hint of mockery coated across the last of his words. After all, he hadn't the faintest idea what this man was like or how intellectual he might be. For all he knew, he was dumber than a brick. Or well, he had to be somewhat more keen than that. He did, of course, notice that luck hadn't any destiny or fate in this meeting. Or maybe it did? Maybe Byakuran had just asked the right person at the right time for the right information?

Impossible. He'd gone out of his way to avoid those who looked as if they wouldn't tell him anything and had found someone who seemed as if they had. His glory, as clean cut and instinctual as it was, wouldn't be undermined by any sort of luck. He'd done this all himself and could continue to do such. Judging who would be easier to throw out of his way or not, he did have a noticing eye for humans and did know who to avoid because they'd be too annoying to kill or who might be useful. Perhaps it just wasn't exactly what the informant was thinking, however.

As the conversation continued and ran over a new path to a hand being held out and a revealing of who exactly this person was, purple hues blinked, a slight confusion rousing into them. 

So this was exactly who it was he was looking for. After having walked and talked around for however many hours he'd spent on his search, he'd finally found him. Mr. Informant, otherwise now known as Orihara Izaya. How strange. How, actually, really unexpected. This man, as fragile appearing and polite as he was, was somehow affiliated with handing out underground news? Ha! How badly he wanted to keel over and laugh a bit. Sure, the guy seemed as if he might be quick with his thoughts, as he had looked as if he'd had an epiphany back a few moments, but to be in such a dangerous environment with that attitude? How did he survive?! It was one thing to be smaller yet stronger, as the Millefiore boss had such a way himself, but to be so open with introductions and what not? Aha! How did he do it?

Then again, thinking a bit more into the situation, there's no denying he too would be the same way. Granted a bit more childlike, he'd display a charm of sheer charisma had this been the other way around and he was being asked for directions of where someone was rather than doing the asking. That being noted, he'd probably not be taken seriously too. Perhaps such a quick underestimating was stupid of him so early on, no? Feh. As far as he was concerned, this Izaya was just another normal person in an abnormal world. There wasn't any anything more or less to it.

"Looks like you are right, then!" His features working to wipe the prior doubt from his face, he popped his gum with a loud snap. "I was hoping to find you today to ask you a few things about this city. You see, I'm new and naive here and I want to know everything about what goes on in the town and who to avoid." Not that he would actually do that, but whatever. What Mr. Information didn't know wouldn't hurt him! Regardless, the offered hand was taken into his own (after having wiped it on the back of his jeans) and held onto into a shake. Firm, yet still loose. He wouldn't want to seem too aggressive yet too recessive, right?