getting in and out was.. more difficult than he expected. and though he expected quite a bit of security for a man like akande, that was certainly something. looking at it, he sees the holes in the security his own family had; how was that not taken advantage of?
  he managed to get through, something he knows heâll owe someone for, and was gone before anyone even noticed. quite a bit of work for simply delivering a gift - or maybe thereâs a threat resting in the undercurrent: akande is not out of a shimadaâs reach. despite that, thereâs no tricks to the tie, no traps or bugs; he figures heâd lose what standing he has if he tries something so juvenile. but, heâs no fool, and knows better than to try to leave a gift in that spot again. security will undoubtedly be stiflingly tighter.Â
  itâd been a few hours since he left, and his racing heart finally settled down when heâs a good several miles away. a ping on his phone sends it skyrocketing again, and he checks the message. it seems mild enough, so he goes for it.
[ txt :Â ĺ ] ask you if you like the gift, of course.
[ txt :Â ĺ ] though i apologize for leaving it in such a personal place, if it bothered you.
[ txt :Â ĺ ] i do hope to get to see you wear it someday. itâs 24k.
â @olutojuogun || cont. | genji
âGiftâ. Akande scoffs, golden gaze sliding to his armoire where he had stashed the tie. What favour does the clan-less Shimada wish to curry with him? Obviously something grand by the ostentatiousness of the gift in question. Too bad that Akande does not feel magnanimous enough to grant such a thing.
Especially given the fact that his own security measures had been broken so casually. His lips turn down into a sharp frown, but instead of responding to the text, he sets down his phone on his dresser and pulls up his security feed on his pad. He set up his security himself, had it tested multiple times, and hired competent people; where, exactly, did he go wrong? What crack in his defence led to Shimada slipping into his room---in his private quarters---to give him---what? A gift? For what purpose?
That...he still does not know. The lack of answers infuriates him like a gnat buzzing around the room or an itch under his skin. The knowledge that all he has to do is text said gnat to get his answers does very little to soothe the rage under his sternum. He sets the pad down, his grip so tight it starts protesting faintly against the abuse.
Akande stalks to his kitchenette, flipping up the tab on his electric kettle and digging through his tea chest for his motherâs herbal brew. It does very little to relax him, which is why he sends this text:
[txt]Â You are wasting my time with childish antics.
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