#affogatitos

"Don'chu worry everyone. I know exactly what to do," Beat declares to no one in particular as he walks over to Hanekoma with purpose. Looks like CAT-Man was being a bitch today, so that meant one thing. Beat's eyes are locked on Hanekoma's as his feet echo across WildKat's empty area.

In a flash, he reaches forward to snatch Hanekoma's wrist, then raises it slightly. "You ain't you when you're hungry, man. Check this shit."

With perhaps a bit more force than necessary, Beat slaps a churu into Hanekoma's hand.

You're Stuck with Me (Ask Memes)

For a moment, Beat doesn't really know what to say. When was the last time anyone outside of Rhyme told him that they were proud of him? He couldn't really remember. It was one thing to hear it from Rhyme, but...

Well, hearing it from someone else felt good. Beat felt like his entire body was warm, as if Mr. H had wrapped him up in a hug. It's nice, but a bit embarrassing, too. He can't help the smile that grows across his lips, even as his cheeks get a little bit red.

"Heh... What's wid you all of a sudden?" His eyes drift toward the floor as he laughs a little bit, just to expel some of the emotion bubbling up in his chest. It didn't help at all. "What'd I do, yo?"

Really, what had he done? He'd just... done what he'd thought was right. Partnering up with Neku, fighting Shades, doing everything in his power to save his sister, and then helping out Rindo and his friends... Beat hadn't done any of that for some sort of greater good. He'd just thought about what was in front of him with no regard to how it might ripple outward.

"Heh... well, you know..." He rubs under his nose and looks up at Hanekoma again. "Thanks, I guess."

And then, because he's never been particularly good with the mushy feelings, he reaches over and lightly punches him on the shoulder. "I gotta give you props, too, man. You really saved me and Rhyme's asses back then."

Really... the fact that he owed Hanekoma everything made his words all the more touching. Beat couldn't really brush them off. He reaches up to start rubbing at his shoulder, tilting his head to the side a bit as he smiles at Hanekoma again.

★ and I’ll bold everything they feel toward your character.

There was something comforting about the barista's coffee. It wasn't nostalgia or anything like that... maybe it was just the sense of it being made from love. As if the man really put his care into the ground beans. Maybe that was why Shiba kept finding himself returning to this little hole-in-the-wall when he could have gone anywhere else. Maybe it was because it was quiet and that atmosphere let him gather his thoughts.

Shiba holds the saucer gingerly as Hanekoma speaks, resting his hand over the steam to let it warm him for just a moment. Though, one part sticks out at him in particular.

"Nothin' really plays out th' way we expect in life."

A small, huff leaves his nose as his gaze moves from the swirling brown liquid to the barista in question. "Isn't that the cold truth? Even outside of the whole mess I made in Shibuya, there were plenty of things that didn't go my way."

Especially back when he'd been alive. Between his dear old dad's company falling apart to not being able to make it through college, Shiba had always felt like he wasn't ever headed the direction he thought he ought to be. Plateauing in his Reaper career had simply been the latest in a long line of road blocks that had made Shiba feel inadequate.

At the mention of leaving Tokyo, Shiba's expression shifted to something more nostalgic.

"Actually, I wasn't even born in Tokyo. I grew up in Sendai--Miyagino-ku, specifically. I moved down to Tokyo to seek my fortune like every other poor fool in the 90s. As you can see, that didn't go as planned either," Shiba says lightly, waving his hand a bit theatrically. His own death happened long enough ago that he doesn't mind making light of it.

However, when he circles back to the first question Hanekoma asked him, he pauses. "Well... you saw what I wanted to do, didn't you? Or, what I thought I wanted to do, I suppose. I thought I was a real trail blazer, setting fire to Shibuya and..."

Shiba hesitates.

"Ah... well, aside from all that nonsense. I..." Shiba frowns and puts the saucer down on the bar-top, lifting his head to massage at his forehead.

maybe he'd be able to cook for him in a little bit. that might be able to help. curry was always good when you were sick, right? maybe? it'd been awhile since he actually took care of someone under the weather.

Megumi was staring blindly at the ceiling while Sanae twittered around him. Normally, he'd disregard his body. When he was human, he had been fueled by all sorts of drugs he shouldn't have taken. Mostly uppers, to keep him from thinking terrible thoughts. But it was harder to get those nowadays, and even then, Sanae wasn't going to give them to him while his Soul was oscillating between stable enough and ready to fall back into the nothingness of nonexistence.

"Is this something medicine will even help? Am I still human enough to respond to it normally? Fuck, I just want something spicy to let me focus on anything else."

A smart comment quickly turned into a heated exchange. This was someone who hadn't been doing this as long as him. Megumi had been Conductor when this Angel had played his first game, and was Conductor at the moment he was risen.

"You're not the only one with blood on your hands. I have established the way this Game plays for as long as you've known it to exist. I have to live with the decisions I've made, which have erased countless Players and Reapers to let their Soul cycle back into the City. But I am well aware that She is far more important than any one life. And that is why I have been in charge of the Reapers as long as I have."