キラー。

Luckily, Kira has a FRIEND that knows just HOW to track down anyone living if they're somewhere on the world wide web.

Fingers fly across the keyboard to type in a few combinations of Kinjo, Bando, and even Kinnojo. He almost starts to sweat, but thankfully the internet gods are on HIS side today. His lips ALMOST twist into a satisfied grin, but then the problem appears . . . the account is LOCKED. Joe leans back in his chair for a moment to think over his options: their search comes to a SCREECHING halt, or it's time for the bookstore owner to pull out the BIG guns.

❝I have an IDEA, but it might take a few days for it to work . . . It just depends if he accepts my friend request.❞

What he doesn't explain is that he's NOT going to be using his own personal account. Instead, Joe logs out of it and types in a fake email that . . . has its USES. What pulls up is a webpage that poses as a young woman with a bubbly attitude, the brightest smile, and a lust for life. Who could resist adding Joe in THIS fashion? So far, he's had VERY good luck in getting closer to either his affections or those he deem enemies with it.

Just this time, he'll let the bogus account be used for someone else's sake.

Pulling back up the editor's profile, he clicks the 'add' button. Brown-coloured hues stare at the screen for a moment before he turns his head towards Kira. He's about to say that's ALL he can do at this current moment, but something he DOESN'T expect to happen already occurs . . . he's friended back almost INSTANTLY. This makes him do a double-take. Seems like this guy is either DESPERATE for a friend, or he wants to hookup.

"..."

Every man had his... proclivities, certainly.

However, Kira wouldn't be amiss to say that what he just bore witness to wasn't, at the very least, bizarre. It's more than enough to make him cant his head slightly back, genuinely feel the arch in his back as he reeled further backwards. One leg had started to twist, implicating Kira in a quick retreat from whatever this endeavor had started to turn into. Whatever this was (lying about your identity on the internet-- while masquerading as a girl, of all things... would he have been remiss to deem that as "too much information"?) was certainly not what he had in mind.

It's not enough to create a pit in his stomach, but the mere sight of it was odd. It took Kira balling his hands up into tight fists at his sides for him to actually stay put-- if he wanted results, he'd have to cast his doubts aside for the time being. What else was there to do? He's already admitted -- which required his pride to take quite the beating, by the way -- this wasn't something he's used to. Without thinking, Kira's revealed a weakness.

"... I see," comes the only response Kira's managed to dredge up out from the discomfort that's been brewing within his gut. He tries not to let it show, but there's always going to be a slip up-- no matter how little, no matter how minuscule... Kira's come to understand one thing: no one man is perfect. "Should... we be worried about how quick that was?"

Imperfection comes in the form of a hand, halfway furled atop his stomach as if to scratch at an itch that didn't exist. Rather, it's an itch that never existed in the first place. It's something that shouldn't exist.

Nonetheless, Kira takes an opportunity: he takes one step back, so as not to "crowd" over Joe. A convenient excuse. He's more than sure it wouldn't matter in the end. After all, Joe was a... ahem, a "professional"; it'd only make sense that he needed some amount of space. Kira didn't need to see every single pixel the monitor had to offer, after all.

In fact, it might've been better that he couldn't see everything. It might spare him from any further... hm, unpleasant surprises.

"Either way, it's..." he began in a low drawl, other hand coming up in an inquisitive curl a mere inch or so beneath his lip, "...good, I suppose that he's, ah... open-minded?"

Canting his head ever so slightly forwards, Kira dipped his chin into the fleshiest part of his palm as his hand's now come up in a crawl, concealing a solid portion of his lips. Eyebrows form into a knit. What's the next best... smart move?

"Could you," Kira pondered out loud, gaze averting to steal away a few more moments of consideration before proceeding, "just, uh... I think the word would be to "scroll" through his posts? I'd like to see if he's currently on vacation or something of the sort..."

Lips formed into a thin line alongside a suddenly tight jaw. Kira swallows-- has to remind himself to do so. What he saw so far... it offered very little insight other than the typical: privileged, careless... all play and no work-- worthless.

Reze muses before a carefree shrug follows. It's not like she gives a single SHIT about this part-time job. She thanks her lucky stars that the owner is too busy with catching up with the news than watching her customer service skills like a hawk. There's none of that 'if you can lean, you can clean!' mentality here: just wasted hours spent fixing caffeine-addicted people drinks and the occasional muffin that needs heating up.

It's almost NICE to live the life of the country mouse. Once she has Josuke's beating HEART in her hand, then she can experience actual peace and quiet. Although . . . it might not work out as she hopes if Kira keeps CHOKING like this. Reze is relying on him to be her eyes and ears out there as she pretends to have responsibilities to get close to a SPECIFIC group of highschoolers. Was it a mistake to include the Stand-User into her plans? The Bomb Devil isn't sure at this point. Maybe she can salvage this by talking Kira off whatever ledge he has put himself on.

That's when a pleasant smile crosses her lips as fingers push bangs away from her eyes so she can look upon him properly. In order to keep her hands busy, she closes her school notebooks slowly and places it to the side. It's then she adjusts how much lead is sticking out in her mechanical pencil. The last thing she wants to do is smack him upside the forehead if she hears something that displeases her.

Logically, there was no reason for Kira to find her response so... irritating. She was free to do as she pleased, and if she decided it worth more to risk her (admittedly, barebones and entry-level... minimum effort required, really...) job rather than play it safe then so be it. It's not like he had designated himself as her legal guardian or anything of the sort. In fact, were he ever offered the "luxury" of a such a thing, he might've opted for walking directly into oncoming traffic instead. Doing the math, surviving being run over was more optimal than dealing with... well, whatever the hell Reze's gotten herself into nowadays.

At first, Kira decided to keep his gaze low. Even from his peripherals, however, he could already predict that, once again, he'd strongly prefer anything but this. He's half-tempted, even, to toss a look over his shoulder to check on the status of traffic. Truly, was he ever this desperate before? The answer might've even managed to shock him were it not for prior experiences muddying the waters; he's fully aware he can never be free of this life.

He's cursed to lead the life of an abnormal man. For now on, the only taste of relaxation he'll ever get would be... fleeting.

"Don't do that," came the gritted out command, once again said through teeth but more... obvious, this time around. Kira didn't fully bare his teeth, though he did allow for a faint scowl to twist and gnarl across his features. He was her elder, after all. "You look like you're trying to--"

Kira realized he's gotten away from himself-- he's made quite a handful of mistakes... but, thankfully, they're all relatively easy to recover from. Thank goodness for that.

Initially, he's gone as far as to lean over the counter to meet her at "her level", eyes immediately boring directly into hers with his shoulders scrunched up around his neck. One hand's clenched into a fist, nearly having banged itself atop the countertop yet, miraculously, managing to instead rest on its surface. He's careful in how he's decided to readjust... reacclimate, observe his surroundings then... adapt.

After a swift darting of eyes from one side to the other (no one's watching. good... he's starting to learn that dealing with somebody like reze was like going through a hazing-- a humiliation ritual.) and a steady, mildly painful unpleasant unclenching of jaw, Kira relaxes. Folding both arms atop the counter, he leaned back and immediately worked to straighten his back. A soft clearing of the throat came after, punctuated daintily with closed eyes. Serenity... that's what he ought to exhibit.

"... If I got "caught", Reze," he began plainly after wards, opening his eyes and craning his head towards her to mimic the notion of pleasant conversation all the while. "Do you think..."

One hand rose up, dragging itself roughly down his face and pulling a bit of skin with it. As soon as it's removed, a forced smile's revealed. Keep up the act and, hopefully, this little whore bitch cunt girl will follow suit.

❝We fight through FIRE and ICE forever.❞

He would be keeping a close eye on the blonde while they were dining. All of the information on Kira that they had was handed over to the Speedwagon Foundation already. Any funny business would be handled accordingly, and without the kids there this time. Thick brows furrow as he allows silence to meddle in between them. The waiter appearing at that moment to take his order; only ordering tea and water. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry at the moment, consider the last round about with a stand user had ruffled his feathers the wrong way.

But now, here he was facing the blonde man again.

Once the waiter had left the hulking Joestar had leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "I dunno. Is there?" A challenging tone could be heard in his words, showing that he would not back down. Things had been quiet for a long time, so to see Kira out in the open again had set the ravenette on edge. Thankfully, Josuke hadn't been around to see the interaction.

Because that would have been all hell gone loose in a matter of minutes. There were certain ticks that the other had, the last time he'd interacted with him. Certain ticks that were used when things weren't going a certain way, or he was just trapped. It was a damn good thing he'd watched Columbo all those years ago, his observation skills were quite sharp in moments like this. Teals take in the tailored suit; nothing the coloring before shifting back to the facial features.

It's only a few moments later when his tea is brought out. A muttered 'thanks' is given and soon the waiter turns back inside leaving the two be once more. The less he had to deal with this man, the better off he would be once he left the area. And more notes to give to the foundation, as well. Picking the cup up bringing it to his lips to have a taste of the drink, Jotaro would hum in satisfaction as the warmness was felt a long his throat.

That's why it was easy (a statistically and overwhelmingly ordinary feat, in fact.) for him to respond to the waiter's approach. All it took was a brief raise of the hand, a smooth and methodical curving of fingers to signal a rejection, and a brief bow of the head as apology. It was a system, one that needn't change nor improvement. It was fine as is, and... honestly, more people should realize that.

"Hmm," came a little hum, rumbling gently in the back of his throat as the fingers of his right hand tapped rhythmically against the newspaper. Gaze averted, glancing off to the side with a dimmed look. Peace and quiet, finally... it was something he yearned to say out loud yet couldn't. "No. There's no reason for me to follow you, I'm happy to admit."

He's shackled by the constraints-- the restrictions of society itself, with its big, burly hands wrapped around his wrists and holding him firmly in place. There's no freedom to say whatever was on his mind (why would i want to follow you? don't flatter yourself.) without consequence, which... to some, could be both a blessing and a curse.

A precursory glance's given then, towards the Joestar. It's soon prompted a subtle raise of an eyebrow, gaze falling back towards the server before disengaging entirely. Kira technically wasn't involved within the rabble, his disinterest only increasing in its intensity the moment he took in the stranger's various features-- generic, typical... a male. It doesn't spark anything within him; there's not a single inkling of "inspiration" brewing in his lower gut.

Perhaps that was a good thing, in the end. A shame, though. Had that been a woman...

"Oh, I can tell," he responded shortly after with a long, admittedly drawn out sigh as he leaned back. Pressing more of his weight back into the bench, he let his head fall ever so slightly back as he stared up at the clear sky. Nice weather... he wondered if it would serve as an omen for things to come or, rather, it meant nothing at all. Superstitions led to him leaning more towards the latter. "Which is good... I think Morioh could do without somebody causing a problem nowadays. It's been a while since things were like this-- peaceful. It's nice... pleasant."

A slow inhale's taken in through his nose after wards, lips having since formed a tight, straight line. Kira takes note of a few cars passing by on the nearby road. Noise pollution. He's forced to wait until the noise dies down before proceeding, turning his head away from the other man at a vague angle.

"... I suppose then," Kira began in a careful voice, an attempt of keeping his voice both level and calm duly noted in his own perspective all the while, "you have no intentions of harming me? We can, ah... what's the word...?"

Of course, he knew the word.

This was what they referred to as... small talk, and he's fulfilling his end of the bargain. Everyone was doing it, as it was apparently all the rage. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. He smacked his lips lightly, bringing up one hand to tuck a loose blond curl behind his ear as his gaze remained on the road.

AI (at least, specific types of it-- including AI that generates artwork of all types.) has been proven to harm the environment (here's the wikipedia article, too, if that's more your style.) and also steals from artists for sake of both replacing and taking away their incomes. there's more examples than what i've linked-- if you really want to dig deeper, just search a random artist/reference point on google and count all of the ai-generated results; it's saturating the results and making the creation of art, in general, a fucking nightmare.

i understand the climate of rp (creatively speaking, anyway.) is tough, especially if you do not have a resource for graphics but there are tons of tutorials online for learning and, hell, for sake of faceclaim hunting: there are multitudes of faceclaim sources out there. that's only a few i've found by searching around.

❝You're . . . asking for MY help?❞

Joe's eyes flickered towards the wall behind the cash register station he's standing against to check the wall calendar. It's not April Fool's Day nor is it Opposite Day. With that ruled out, maybe he can now properly process that Kira is actually being serious about this. That's when he faces his 'friend' that came into the bookstore he owns to request his. . . SPECIALITIES.

❝I'm sure even you could figure out I.nstagram, but come to the back-- I have my laptop.❞

Just how old is Kira to be asking him to assist him in finding someone's social media profile? Joe could do this with his eyes closed despite being technology repulsed. Sheesh, their generation is doomed.

The bookkeeper motions for the other to follow him behind the counter and walk through the entrance to the back area. Waiting for them is a desk that has a typewriter sitting in the middle of its surface. Joe approaches said desk and opens the drawer of it, taking out his personal laptop. He sits in the office chair now, opening up the computer to see the screen turn on. The curly-haired man quickly types in the website of choice before glancing back to Kira.

❝Do you have a full name, or are we starting from SCRATCH?❞

Kira was by no means so prideful (he told himself to never fly so close to the sun ever again ever since... since-- ... well... it doesn't matter now.) that "help" was a foreign word, somehow lost to the sands of time itself. Rather, it was something he's rarely had to... let's say, indulge in. There was always another way, another path, another solution that lurked within the shadows only a few inches away. He always did prefer to exhaust all of his options before falling back on a less-than-optimal "alternative".

It's part of why "asking" the question itself wasn't the most harrowing but, once more, it was the who he was deciding to ask. He's been careful in his wording (or so he thought.) and even more careful in its execution-- was it truly necessary to lambast him as harshly as he did? Kira didn't think so but, evidently, Joe -- the rotten, little man that he was and always would be -- thought it absolutely imperative. He's even gone as far as to throw a bit more gibberish into the mix.

As if he gave any shits, at all, about Instagram... Why even mention it in the first place if he wasn't even going to try? That's what got under Kira's skin the most, but he's willing to let it slide. It's not like he had much of a choice.

Only when Joe finally acquiesced (finally... holy shit.) and turned his back to him did Kira let his otherwise docile expression falter. An icy glare's exchanged for it, boring what could've been literal daggers into the American's back as he followed behind him.

Ugh, how humiliating...

"My apologies," he offered through clenched teeth in the midst, attempting to keep his gaze fixated on the space in front of him rather than the man that dared occupy said space. It's daunting, a bit frustrating... but it's overall doable. All Kira needed to do was blink every so often; he's good at that. Blinking, that is. "I'd rather keep my internet access as low as possible... It's preferential for my health, particularly my eyesight."

He swallowed back a lump in his throat, moving to stand only a few paces behind Joe as he observed the other's quick work. Obviously, the work itself wasn't hard. Kira understood that much. However, it was something Kira simply never viewed as crucial to invest in. Was that such a crime?

"He was an editor for Rohan-- he usually... goes by a pseudonym: Kinnojo." A shake of the head's given. It was a nonsensical word, something Kira found borderline insulting. "It could stand for a multitude of things," the blond admitted, only glancing back at Joe once before motioning back towards the screen. "I've narrowed it down to a few options, however..."

Thank goodness.

For a moment she followed his subtle gesture toward the group in question, watching their figures slip further down the street as if they had suddenly remembered somewhere far more urgent to be. One hand moved to smooth the light fabric of her white-and-blue summer dress, the gesture itself appeared to be calmer and more composed than her facial expressions superficially revealed, before her gaze returned to the tall man standing before her. Blonde, blue eyes, overly well dressed … an unusual sight in this part of Japan. At the very least, he appeared far more composed than the loud group from before, though Solveig remained cautious nonetheless, a quiet sigh leaving her somewhere between relief and lingering annoyance.

"Bothering?" The blonde woman repeated, her Japanese marked by a distinct European-based accent, certain consonants rolling differently along her tongue.

Kira was more than fine with chalking it up to mere coincidence; he of course would've posed no threat whatsoever. For lack of better word, it was simply "strength in numbers". Had it only been him at the scene of the hypothetical crime, it might've... mm, well... actually? There was a slim chance it might've gone a bit differently. In spite of Kira's own feelings on the subject (those who ignore the proposed hierarchy are doomed to fail, squashed beneath its magnificent weight. it's follow or die.) at hand, he understood that women had a tendency to... receive the brunt of another's ill intent compared to that of a man.

Why that was, however, he hadn't bothered to ponder any further. There was no point.

"Hmm," he began, a thoughtful lilt toying at the edges of the hum as he turned his head to witness the remainder of the group's exit. For a bunch of greasy, sweaty men, they seemed more than capable of moving when it mattered. It disgusts him. He hears the blare of a horn somewhere off in the distance. For some reason, that disgusts him, too. It's hidden well, however. He's as stoic as ever, narrowly avoiding the woman's dagger eyes in the meanwhile. "Ah, perhaps it could be...?"

It starts off as a thought that's taken shape, escaping the recesses of his mind only to be snuffed out in mere seconds. He's drawn out the final syllable on purpose, one hand coming up to raise and curl its fingers inquisitively beneath his chin. An eyebrow's come up to raise after, positing what could've been a theory or, maybe, an unnecessary aside. Kira doesn't yet look at her. There's no point in doing so.

"...never mind, that couldn't possibly be it."

A shake of the head was given shortly after, chasing away whatever it was (maybe it was that wretched accent of hers. kira had a hunch that she wasn't from here, and that only solidified it.) he could've possibly said. His hand remained at his chin, lingering place before, eventually, dropping back down at his side. It's then that he finally turned to look at her, with one eyebrow still cocked all the while. He swallowed, subtle in appearance yet absolutely disgusting in the taste it left behind for him to wallow in.

Her previous remarks, for the time being, would go unrewarded (all men? don't make him fucking laugh. as if he deserved to be lumped in with this limp-dicked motherfuckers... bullshit. it's all bullshit.) save for a slight, brief clearing of throat. It was almost as if to say "Well, hopefully I'm not included in that little rant of yours..." without saying anything at all.

"I apologize," he instead went on with a polite, but shallow, bow of the head, "I shouldn't have tried to impose... I thought, maybe, they'd leave a bit, ah... faster, perhaps." A pause in speech interjects, allowing for him to straighten his posture and to take one step back. They weren't too close in the first place, admittedly, but one can never be too sure. If she's as shameless with her actions as she was with her verbiage, Kira saw no issue in being cautious. "That is, if they saw you had some sort of company, they might've... um, how to say it...? Felt demotivated, I think? I've seen them around a handful of times, I must confess."

He frowned (a practiced expression. he can feel each and every muscle snap in his face as he does so.) with a precursory glance at his watch. There was still time left in the day. That's good. It's nearly enough to bring a smile to his face but... not quite. Gaze lingered, rolling ever so slightly to steal a glimpse at her hands-- what sort of beast was holding her captive, unwillingly held hostage at the wrists and attached to a body that used and abused her so?