Kukuku~

                                                                                ‘   consider this a revival.   ’

But he wasn’t going to SAY anything about spies, so he just inclined his head towards the stranger, nodding once.

❝Yeah, I sound really MORBID, don’t I? I mean, I’m not the kind of guy who runs around going, nothing in life matters, or anything. Things like that are pretty depressing, so…❞

The thing was, yes, he DID have people who mattered to him…but they were all in the ESPIONAGE COMMUNITY, so they understood. It wasn’t like him dying would be HORRIBLE AND UNEXPECTED, just…horrible.

❝But the drinking…it just HAPPENED, y’know. One day…I dunno, it happened. I’m not specifically out to kill myself with alcohol, or anything like that!❞

His eyes narrowed, faint images of his childhood coming to him. His memory wasn’t great, riddled with haze as it was. But he didn’t want to go on about some TRAGIC BACKSTORY he had, because that’d just be ridiculous.

     his attention is once again trained onto the boy before him, arms ever so slowly lowering to hang limply at his sides. the nervousness seems to have faded. strangely enough, he feels... almost comfortable talking to this guy.

     the sight of narrowing eyes and the topic of drinking has his own eyes narrowing. he gets it. touchy topic. he could understand not wanting to bring it up, too, as he wouldn't want to get into anything too deep with a stranger, either. but he can definitely tell there's more to be dug up. will he ever be the one to dig these things up and sate his curiosity? he both knows and hopes not. friendships don't really go his way.

               " don't worry. i get it. sometimes people do stupid things when life sucks. i'm no saint. "

     there's a pause to his words, a twitch to his own expression visible for only but a moment. if the other were looking hard enough, he might had been able to catch it.

❚❙❘ !   ❝Well, YEAH, my breath probably DOES smell…but I dunno, actually! I can’t smell.❞

SHRUGGING, Daisuke crossed the room to go sit on his bed, keeping his eyes trained on the stranger. He hadn’t been attacked, and this person seemed to be SHOCKED by his appearance, so he could REASONABLY assume he was safe. He’d still have to check for bugs later, but it was FINE. There was no need to bust out his pins or firearms, or anything.

❝And yeah, I’m aware drinking’s BAD for me, and it probably goes along the lines that I’ll END UP DYING from complications from it…❞ he continued, a light tone to his voice despite the subject matter. ❝But that’s FINE BY ME! I mean, everyone dies SOMETIME, isn’t that right? That’s NEVER bothered me.❞

In his line of work, with his status as such a high-profile field agent, he would be LUCKY if he lived past forty years old. It was something he had learned to accept—he wasn’t FRIGHTENED by it, no matter what way death came for him. The sky was blue, water was wet, and field agents died much earlier than everyone else. Of course, he couldn’t SAY SO, because to these people, he WASN’T AN AGENT AT ALL.

So he’d just sound like some EDGY NIHILIST instead. That always worked.

     in a way, he supposes he does feel guilty. but more so than that he's just... confused. completely and utterly befuddled as to how he's supposed to respond to this kid. he reminds him too much of himself. it's almost painful for him to think about. a click of his tongue resonates throughout the room and he's shaking his head, arms moving instead to cross over his chest. look cool, act cool...

               " i see your point. i get it, i've gone over it a million times, trust me... but just because yer gonna die doesn't mean you should speed up the process. live your life to the fullest or whatever but... throwing whatever the hell you've worked up to at this point is just really... fucking stupid. drinking is a slow way to die, anyway... why the hell would you wanna suffer... "

     and it's there he cuts himself off because he realizes he's rambling. ah, does he look embarrassed... it's not like him to speak so much, especially in front of a stranger, and so seriously at that. where's that carefree criminal? shouldn't he just let this idiot go and be on with his day?

The “locked in a room” trope forces characters to spend time together, often characters who normally wouldn’t. It can help them learn about each other and develop their relationship in a positive way, or it can be disastrous. Feel free to add more! Send one for our muses: 

i can finally post this…..