. LOGOMANCY .

❝ I dunno, man. ❞ Zanka sighed, his already ragged patience fraying further. ❝ Whatever kind you wa—HEY! ❞ Confusion shifted to ire, immediately snarling upon being so aggressively touched, of being interrupted. Great. He'd lost Rudo. It was obvious by the younger's thousand-yard stare and trembling words. He knew that once Rudo had gotten a taste of the baked treat that he'd go feral. Already Zanka's proposed good deed was turning into an unenthused onus. And judging by the way Enjin snickered at his groan of discomfort, he knew their leader didn't just have expectations now. It was a silent command to stick to his word.  ❝ Just. One. ❞ An attempt to shake Rudo's hand off failed. If anything, his grip seemed to tighten. Zanka was dangerously tempted to bend the younger's fingers painfully backward, but instead, he carefully pried them from his uniform to extricate his shoulder safely. ❝ No one needs to put up with your inevitable sugar-induced coma like last time. Pick one. And stick with it. ❞ The jeep finally, thankfully, came to a stop. Home sweet home. Sighing, Zanka was the first to slip out, eager to get away. ❝ Rest first. THEN pie. ❞ Was Rudo even listening? Eyes narrowed into vehement slits as he reached back into the car to try to shake the other from his sweet reverie. ❝ Look, maybe if you behave, I'll get ya' two. Okay? Ugh, I'm gonna regret this… ❞

The first light trickled through grime-caked glass, painting the cramped quarter's innards a spectral hue. Nikaido rose with the sun, stretched lingering sleep away, and went about her typical morning routine. A new day, the same as always. A new page within a new chapter, moving further and further away from the cacophonous memory of another world until it was reduced to a distant rustling. Bottling emotions, putting a cork in thoughts and feelings, was her specialty. One, who wanted to hear it anyway? And two, despite it all, she was happy now. Mostly. She had her home, her restaurant, her comrades. Most importantly, she had Kaiman. Again. Still. But regardless of her gratitude, the rustling of the past would still occasionally come knocking.  Clean and dressed, Nikaido made her way downstairs. She chuckled to herself at the dark shape just outside the Hungry Bug's window, looming where it sat. It was almost expected at this point, it seemed, for her friend to arrive earlier and earlier.  ❝ Good morning, Kaiman! ❞ She greeted immediately upon stepping outside, albeit his expression indicated anything but good. The ascending daylight, shifting through silver-toned smog, cast Kaiman in a bizarre light. A hazy glow that made Nikaido think of a halo, a nimbus effect causing him to appear insubstantial, as if she were being visited by a spirit instead. The light had another unsettling consequence. The way it'd glint off Kaiman's eyes, as if suffering some sense of delirium. After a moment of silence, she gently asked, ❝ Can you even stay awake long enough for me to make the first batch of gyoza? ❞ Carefully, her hands found their way beneath his arm, attempting to help him stand. She didn't press for answers, never having been one to force him to speak, even after all they'd been through together. She let him come to her, always, on his own terms, when he was ready. She'd do so now, and when Kaiman finally felt the need to get whatever nasty ailment that was needling away at him out of his system, she'd listen without judgment. The look he wore indicated the past may knock again soon, like the voice of a new self or maybe just another apparition. Not real, not entirely, but there all the same. Maybe it was time to open that door. Together. Not because they were certain of who existed on the other side. They should open it together simply because it was a door, and they've known there was a door, and that's what doors are for. Opening and closing. Walking through. Starting over. Starting again. ❝ At this point, maybe I should just give you your own key, yeah? ❞ Nikaido asked through a purposefully lighthearted laugh, prompting them to enter the restaurant together. Neon hummed and fizzled to life after flicking the switch of the open sign, and then she went behind the counter, trying to focus on food prep for the first batch of customers. ❝ It'd be easier on you in the morning… Rather you rest in here instead of straining your backside out there. 'Sides, you know the types around this part of town. ❞

Denji wasn't one to hide his discontent. The job that was promised to be so important, so worthwhile, turned out to be a mind-numbingly boring chore. If he didn't pay attention for even a half of a second, Aki was on his case just like now, proving to be unfavorable company. At least when he and Power worked together, there was entertainment, play mixed with work, even if the Blood Fiend was most definitely annoying at times. Despite the negatives that came with being Aki's partner, however, Denji had begun to actually enjoy it. A little. Kind of. If you squinted and tilted your head, the growing fondness was detectable, although he'd never admit as much aloud.  ❝ Huh? ❞ The startled exclamation was obnoxiously loud, mouth obscenely dropping open while his exhausted eyes unclouded into a state of annoyance. The question had felt pointed, making him suddenly troubled at the silly notion that the elder could somehow read his thoughts. That was beyond stupid though. Even he knew that. ❝ When d'you start caring about what I think? ❞ With a faint sneer, he glared at a plume of cigarette smoke before turning his head away. Regardless of his chuffed response, Denji straightened his back and sped up, just enough so that his stride could stay aligned with Aki's. Side by side, elbows briefly bumping into one another—like schoolyard buddies, but instead of keeping an eye out for bullies on the route home, it was for devils. ❝ All that's on my mind right now is what we're eatin' after being stuck together all damn day. ❞ As if on cue, his stomach growled, making his white lie a bit more believable. ❝ D'you even think about anything else besides work, dude? ❞

That face. That fretful, pitying face. When aimed directly at him, it wreaked minor havoc, a trickle of unease that near-tormented him as much as his comrade's dreamy perversions visibly etched across his visage. Along with the sense that this was a losing battle, a little voice in the back of Fenriz' head reprimanded him for the odd, skittish behavior; so brave in the heat of battle against a horde of trash beats, but a cowardly pup with its tail between its legs because of an unusually tender touch. (The voice sounded like his mother, but she'd also warned him to be careful of strangers as a small child, so who could say if it was truly her spirit in passing or just his simmering guilt blending with insecurity?) Fenriz really should have left. Should leave. Now. He was almost free… Through vacillation of body and mind, instead of rushing into the street, his hand dropped heavily from the door handle, and he twisted and turned and collected himself to face Neela once more. He'd stay after all.  ❝ Alright… ❞ Fenriz exhaled heavily through his nose, wearily giving the clinic's owner another once-over. Another step forward. Another pained wince. ❝ I'm sure I'll be just fine, but alright. ❞ It took a moment longer than desired, but he slowly made his way back to the chair he'd previously occupied and once again sat down, gingerly now compared to before. ❝ Just don't make too much of a fuss like you did with this guy. ❞ Tongue dragged across his upper lip, cocking his chin forward toward Verglas' comatose form. Then, beneath his breath, yet still audible enough for Neela to catch, ❝ Everyone seems to love you anyway, so have at it… ❞

The shimmer caught between his teeth nearly sent her into a whorling descent of madness. Ringing overwhelmed her ears from the utter shock and betrayal, like the violent aftermath of a cartoon piano plummeting several stories with a mighty CLANG! of broken keys and strings. Despite the stress-induced tinnitus and her trembles causing her teeth to clatter, Guita could still faintly make out the elder's words... The weight of his hands somehow managed to rightfully orient her, thankfully, bringing her back down to earth. As Enjin continued his bribery (and as she waited for her mouth to catch up with her brain in order to formulate words), Guita did the limited math in her head. More glitter. A pack was 0.07 ounces or 2 grams. Packs normally came in pairs of 8, but she'd seen even double that before. Times that amount of glitter by two. The X of the equation was a currently indeterminate amount of candy, as weight was highly dependent on type. The outcome of just glitter alone would have exonerated Enjin, sufficient enough for his sparkling absolution, but the addition of a sweet treat was so severe that if the elder asked her to forget about this whole fiasco, her immediate response would be ❛ Glitter? What glitter? ❜ when prompted. ❝ Take me to the store so I can pick the colors, and THEN we have a deal! I wanna pick my candy too! ❞ Guita confidently sing-songed, as if she were driving a hard bargain. The craft shop wasn't far, at least, situated in the first district of town while the candy shop was in the neighboring district. An easy trip for them both. Happily humming, she curled her pinky around his and shook on it for good measure. Spurred by newfound excitement, she suddenly flung her arms around Enjin's neck in a tight hug. ❝ Then ALL is forgiven!❞ After what seemed like a precious moment, Guita pulled back just enough to fix her uncle-not-uncle with an unsettling, unblinking, ruby red stare. One that contained a thinly-veiled threat that only a child could concoct (which typically alternated between tattling and stealing sweets and sacrificial displays of immolation depending on perceived severity). ❝ We do have some free time now… Right? ❞ Her arms tightened, just a little. If Enjin ran away, he'd be dragging her along with, like a heavy iron collar. ❝ When do I get my candy? And my glitter? ❞

It would’ve been almost poetic, dying at the hands of his newfound obsession. Partly because Yamato knew it would be futile to cover up, that Takiishi would find Blue and destroy everything and everyone he loved so easily. What’s his was his, and Takiishi, despite apathetic appearances, didn’t like anything of his to be tampered with. And after that was all said and done, Yamato and Blue could torment each other in the afterlife, maybe. Coalesce in the aether. If they didn’t go to Hell for their earthly iniquities, Yamato would simply create his own iteration.  But death never came. Cursing himself for getting lost in reverie, he managed to temporarily catch Blue's knee between his thighs before any serious damage had occurred. He wasn't quick enough, however, to dodge the next attack, taking the brunt of the force to his cheek. Though stumbling from the aftershock, he could only laugh further. The throbbing in his head was a symphony, the pain throughout his body fuel for the interminable pyre he carried within.  ❝ Careful letting people get dirt on you, Bluey, ❞ he seethed, voice ecstatically ragged. ❝ You're just GIVING me ideas! ❞ Yamato allowed the first and second hits to land, blocking the third with a vice grip. The following assault was halted, arm ducking under Blue's knee and hiking it up. With a bone-crushing headbutt, Yamato released his hold on the elder and roughly pushed him back. He half-expected Blue to fall on his ass, but even if he managed to catch himself, the sight was deliciously humorous.  ❝ ‘Sides, you really think I’d listen to you? You can't even take me down… ❞ An insidiously seductive undertone had wormed its way through the double entendre, in the way his head drooped forward, heavy-lidded eyes swallowing the elder whole. Tongue visibly pressed to a pronounced canine before dragging across his blood-caked bottom lip. Disgusting. Yamato wasn't even trying to fight anymore, not really, but he'd happily keep going until he destroyed Blue's spark. ❝ Blue, Blue, Blue, Blue, BLUE… ❞ He ambled forward, chuckling breathlessly. ❝ One wrong move and I'll spill all I know, and I'm not just talkin' about your li'l broken toy. You REEEALLY gotta watch who you're speaking with… ❞

❝ Are your expectations of me that low? Or do you just gotta puff up and posture to make it seem like you're not scared I'll wipe the floor with you like last time? ❞ His question carried a challenge, but was primarily cast to hide that Soshiro was, in fact, right on the money. Maybe it would be good to get a few hits in though, he thought. Get his blood pumping… But the Yamazon box not-so-discreetly hidden under his zip-up hoodie called to him like a cardboard siren. Within laid the recently released, sold out RG 1/144 #37 God Gundom model he was desperate to speed-build and post on his socials. ❝ Kinda' weird, y'know, ❞ Narumi growled softly, trying to shrug the other's hand off of him (and failing miserably). It was a struggle figuring out what bothered him more, his plans being interrupted or Soshiro's attempt to call him out on his lazy behavior. ❝ Being that eager to lose, people might start calling you a masochist. ❞