ᴏɴ sɪɢʜᴛ, [closed: izaya]
Her office view over looks the New York skyline and it's almost a proud sight. Symbolism intact it means that Satsuki is significant, towering over so many others in the city - so high she's unable to see them.
( in the back of her mind this is necessary; that she be godlike )
And she stands at her window now, hands clasped behind her back, eyes peering down at unrecognizable dots that go across the pavement (she thinks: they're like ants, easy to crush under her heel while she's comfortable from above).
But what seems to be a peaceful moment is suddenly interrupted when the phone's ringing disrupts what was a silent atmosphere. She turns on her heel, abruptly pressing call as she takes a seat.
The secretary on the line barely has time to inform her that Orihara Izaya has wormed his way into the building before the doors suddenly burst open, thuggish security guards dragging him into the office. She suddenly misses the quietude she had only a few seconds ago.
She brings fine china to her lips and sips bitter tea, eyes closed as she calmly commands, "Let him go."
