There's no way I'll back out now!

     In retrospect, perhaps he was deserving of his sentence— to be cast from the world he once knew; however, this was undoubtedly a bizarre punishment, if he should even consider it as one. Then again, one could see this as a chance to redeem himself, unfortunately, Kuja had scarce interest in bettering himself for the vermin here who were wholly undeserving of it. Not that he was bitter by any means, no, he would simply not go out of his way to bring things to fruition or failure. In this scene, he would be a mere observer. For now, at least.

     This city was magnificent in itself, so much so, that it would even put the dark city of Treno to shame. It was easy to see that this place was far more advanced technologically speaking, and while it would take some time to adjust, he would hardly be fazed by it. Though… While the city was far from disappointing, he took more interest in the walls that circled the bustling metropolis. Knowing fully well that they were allowed to come and go as they pleased, he would still like to obtain the knowledge as to why they were set up.

     If he wasn’t set on returning to the city by nightfall, perhaps he would have searched for the exit himself, but that was obviously not the case. Spindly fingers reached out to the person walking in front of him and lightly tapped their shoulder to gain their attention. To not waste his or the other’s time, he decided to curtly inquire his request.

     ❝ Excuse me, could you show me a way out of this city? ❞

"Oh, uh-- sorry?" The question took a few moments to register in his mind. Of course he'd thought of getting out of here- they all probably had at some points- but for someone to outright ask? He was a little surprised- just a tiny bit- that eight heads hadn't snapped in their direction with some kind of threatening gaze.

Turning to properly address the stranger, he thought a little harder. "To my knowledge there's... uh, there's the outskirts of the city. It's mostly countryside for people who can't deal with the loud city atmosphere, but..." Come on, think. Surely if a city had no exit, it would be more like a prison than a place full of sustainable life? "... I... can't say for sure there's an exit I know about."

     ”Well, I am a very busy person.” With a practiced sigh, her arms folded over her chest, expression momentarily arrogant before it softened considerably to convey she was teasing. “But I’m making time! You’re getting escorted by a high fashion model, lucky you!”

     Her occupation was thrown into conversation to distract, to provide an explanation for that familiarity he may sense as her voice perked up again and again to lead them both precisely where she wanted. Whether he would choose to lay in the comfort that came from dismissing an uneasy feeling or continually question it with that studying gaze of his, there was no true escape. If there was anything she’d mastered, it was dealing with repressed memories. Granted, nothing was yet certain and it’s only been seconds into their interaction, so she only hummed, hidden intentions reasonably buried for the moment.

     ”Apartment block four, right? Yikes… talk about far. Hope you’re ready to make this up to me.” With a tone that made it impossible to tell if she was serious, a giggle left her perfectly hydrated lips. She takes off just as confidently, strutting in the necessary direction for him to follow suit.

  He pushed a smile- "Ah right, I definitely owe you one," insert friendly-enough sounding laugh. "Work just took a little more out of me than I thought it would, y'know?" because, hey, maybe she did. Granted, her skin didn't look as under-kept as someone stressed out by work's would've been, and she didn't have any visible suitcases under her eyes that'd keep her awake at night. Then again, she is a model.  

   Hinata couldn't exactly put his finger on what about her was making him so... paranoid? Someone once told him something about trusting your gut feeling at all times- that what makes human's different from animals is that our consciousness allows us to predict bad omens and tell apart light from the darkness- but he couldn't help but try and push down that kind of behavior. Maybe it was just the fact that she was famous. Maybe it was just that she was treating him like they'd had some kind of banter between them in the past. Maybe it was just-- No, please. I am 19 and I am not having girl trouble out of all things. And anyway, she seems nice enough. 

     It’s simultaneously a shame but a pleasure that her predictions lessened in their likelihood while trapped within the boundaries set by this world. If she could have her way, it wouldn’t be the talentless prep student that stood before her now, but the cruelly cold symbol of hope the efforts of that school had amounted to. Having to take into consideration this nearly-impossible-to-calculate factor of this world’s randomized bringer of people, she could only plot for every potential scenario— and that in itself was a little mundane, if not nothing new.

     Disappointment aside, she fared quite fine by her lonesome, having long murdered those who’d been by her side for all her life. Knowing she may be able to embrace that intensity of despair again was something of a relief, but more than recreate what’s been done, she wanted… exactly that— more.

     As she’s standing there ever so casually, she couldn’t help but revel in his tired expression. The excitement he needed in his life was going to hit him faster than a trainwreck, and she was fully prepared to give it. She can appreciate when things don’t go her way, too! It’s a refreshing taste, if nothing else, and as the male asked his harmless question, she could only wonder just where-oh-where in time he might have come. In any case, a pleasantly pitched tone would respond in kind.

There were always survivors to some weak extent. Those who had avoided the heard of conflict, those who had fled while they had the chance— many were still keen on living long lives. There would always be survivors of everyone's old lives who'd stand as relics and puzzle pieces to build his past up.  Hinata hadn't met many of them himself, or maybe he had and it was just his own memory failing him. It wasn't exactly akin to fine crystal in terms to how it held up, but here and there he recognized something. A smell, a taste, but rarely an actual person. 

Truth be told, Hinata was just a little jealous. Jealous of everyone who had met up with someone they knew from before, and everyone who had rekindled their old relationships and friendships with those who remembered them in return. He, on the other hand, hadn't experienced that. There was that voice that stuck in his mind, and a name he couldn't quite recall- but it definitely stood on the tip of his tongue every time he was asked for his own. 

But- no, this girl was definitely someone. And the look on her face... her long pink hair, her red red nails, that iconic fashion sense... She had to have been something to him, but what the specifics were had been lost in what catacomb everything else ran to.