#reap.

When her father had died, the house had filled with people too — but it had been a less extravagant house, with less extravagant people and yet all of the tension. Mila does not consider herself a nostalgic person and yet she feels herself pulled back to those pre-Oculus memories, of being twenty and grinding her teeth. Here she is again, then. Reunited with family, pulling open the kitchen cabinets to see if they kept her favourite mug.

Mila does not consider herself nostalgic, but here she is all the same.

Head whips at the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor, cabinet closing. The mug is still there. (Mr Moe’s doing, she assumes. He does seem the nostalgic type.) Her gaze falls on Gabriel. Reap, if you will. A hand rises, fingers scratching the sky in a wave. “Midnight snack?” As if they were kids again, as if Mila had shared a portion of teenagehood with him when they both knew she hadn’t. As if it was midnight, which it wasn’t.

For all of the connections where there could be some romantic connection implied, we've left it vague for a reason. It has the potential to be something romantic, but it is also totally okay to keep it platonic. We're never going to force two characters or writers into a ship. So if that's not something that resonates with you, that's okay! I always like to keep me app and the way I think about the connection as platonic until I talk with the other writer and get confirmation on what they want the relationship to look like.

He wishes he could go home and lay down, take a nap. But there's still work to be done and even an eight hour day at the station doesn't excuse him from night shift.

He's moving from block to block, picking up drops. There's not much to them (there never is, because a huge pile of cash would be pretty conspicuous), so when he starts, it's all easy to carry. He just sticks it in his backpack and goes. One after another, he continues until the bag is too full to stuff any more in. It's cumbersome, too heavy to carry for a prolonged amount of time. But he's taking it home and counting it, and then he's taking it to its final destination, the warehouse just outside of Ikebukuro.

He's been doing this for a long time now, and knows the ins and outs. This business is the easy shit, comparatively. Eventually, he knows he'll have to step it up if he wants to stay with Kyokuto - he'll have to start dealing or collecting - but for now, he's content. He hasn't had to kill anyone yet.

He could stop, if he really wanted. He could vanish, disappear from their radar. He knows exactly how he would do it. But he finds that it's easier to just stay. It's easier to remain like this, despite the great risk and the terrible reward.