#entomic

“Ah, M-Muu-san… thank you…” Haruka gives a wobbly smile as she enters his cell, tray of food in hand. Truthfully, he hadn’t been hungry lately, appetite ebbing away in the wake of constant anxiety and dread — how could he eat, with all the uncertainty? He didn’t even know if he deserved it yet, if his plan had worked — but, even so, he was grateful for her kindness. Even when he was being troublesome and keeping himself confined to his cell, she still treated him so well… She really must be his mother, taking care of him like this…

' yo. '

a beat cop would be agitated by this onset, fumiya's manifestation of stolen goods at the precipice of a potential escape (cradled under his arm like a treasure, that mask glinting off kamurocho's neon cityscape lights)--the thief ring is acrobatic, they practice parkour, they elude the kamuro pd because the average officer cannot follow--but chief inspector kuroiwa is nonplussed. in fact, his shoulders are loose, and his smile is captivatingly predatory. like he's cornered a hare.

' i'll warn you, ' he starts, scuffing his boots on the floor, ' if you run, i'll follow. ' it's less a threat, and more a promise: the way nuclear warnings spoke of ravage.