some falsehood of professionalism deems itself entirely one-sided & kuki has grown tired with time, with interaction. subjects have been subdued, their mission successful. stars above are obscured from view, some haze of city lights dimming them from existence -- perhaps they’re struggling to be seen. sight wanders through alleys & apartment windows ; how incredibly dull. lifeless, almost... despite the people living there. he wonders if somehow, by some means, he could manage something spectacular, if by some means the city life might die completely so that he might be noticed ... wishful thoughts make your mind go awry. 

it’s out of his nature, but perhaps it’d be best to further along his impression through small talk. something easy. something he doesn’t have to care to listen to. he’ll hide beneath the guise of interest in order to perpetuate his own false image.

                                           ❝   .  .  .  where did you learn that technique ?    ❞