#this long oops

Faerie:If you could get away with anything, what would you do?

“Freedom to go through evidence and case findings I cannot hack into myself.” Daisuke tilts his head, arms crossing as he thinks. “Not being held overnight for breaking and entering into government property would be useful. One time impersonating an official, and they get so uppity about it.” Major offense aside. “To prove I was right.” And only mildly gloat about it over every major social media platform.

Fury:What is a word/phrase that you dread to hear?

“Words only have so much power as you give them. There is no point in dreading what is in my control.”

His hands had come together, fingers knotting and fists forming. This is just dismissive, he knows. The one that is always straight forward but tight-lipped now. ‘Daisuke’. Remembering his mother’s voice. Same intonation as all the rest before the information rests on desensitized ears and they all must adjust to another loss in the family.

What he truly hates is the idea of another phone call. Another letter of bad news. Another casket he will never pay respect to being locked down in a foreign country and barred from his actual home. Another death he will never find an answer for, and certainly not one the people that matter will ever believe. Instead they are becoming numbers counting down to the only one left remembering the loss. 

“Another one,” is spoken quietly, before he turns away.

Siren:If you could make anyone do anything, what would you make them do?

“There are other ways to influence someone, I believe. Notmanipulation, that’s not what I mean—but words in any shape or form can oftenbe more fruitful than having absolute control over someone else. There issomething dangerous about an unnatural sort of control. Risk with omnipotence.” Teethflash in the barest of smile as if he might say more, last words a quiet murmur. “I suppose not, then…“

Silence creeps behind previous amusement, memory of apeculiar face wiping away a subtle grin. Slowly, teeth disappear behind lipsthat seal together with a gradual tenseness working over his entire body. Heglances away, turns to see over his shoulder as if they might be there. Under eyes bruised by the relentlessperpetrator called insomnia dart around to peer into catty corners and acrossshadowed areas of the room. Within seconds, his previous docility meshes with asharp exhale and apprehension steels his tone.

“There is one person.” He pauses for a beat, as if they might be here listening. Maybe he would almost prefer that, convinced theyalready know the damage they wrack his daily life with. “Anungrateful leech without a gracious bone in their body.” Mental distress aside, he normally is not soaggressive. But the mere thought of their mindless terror sets him up fordefensive behavior and expectation. “I would make them stop,” he decides. “That’sit.”