no matter what, i'm clocking out by six.

but these people had forged his signature. he ought to laugh. he ought to find it ironic. kristoph squints at the document in hand , and it was a flawless replication that not even he could argue. they had used his specific pen, the complicated underlining, the stamp from his office and a justice of the peaces verification to boot.

kristoph had stooped so low he had to sell dish clothes on live television ? what would people think of him, on half-rate live shows with cheap items to be sold ? he won't do it. he can't do it.

( why did he have pen ink on his hands, as if he himself had signed it ?! )

kristoph smiles, at least, gentle and polite. he does what he usually does, which is ask for a copy of the contract and the specifications of the work in writing. paper trails, he reminds himself.

"mr. nanami, have you any experience in selling dish cloths?" he asks. "sham-pow, wasn't it? i don't take it that they've taken to forging your signature? 18 USC ch. 25, counterfeit and forgery, is always a fun one to discuss with the judge."

There are worse things than being a jujutsu sorcerer, he reminds himself. He is desperately hoping that this is not one of them.

Though Nanami has done a lot in his life, he cannot say that he has ever had the desire to add "becoming a shill for a dish cloth company" as another item on his resume. He also does not remember signing a contract to even do such a thing, which annoys him all the more.

When Mr. Gavin turns his attention to Nanami, he shakes his head and picks up the offending item. He'd not considered the possibility of forgery, but now that's on his mind.

"One would imagine that being in such a large city, this one would be confused. But...this one is still confused."

An admission upon seeing the numerous street roads, but at the very least he had been taken with the bakeries scattered everywhere and eating bread.

Still, he nods, and maintains his neutral expression.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

mahito cannot help but let out something odd of a noise. a wheezy laugh, transfiguring itself into something far more beautiful - hyena-esque in property, constrained, guttural before bursting from lips ever so lightly stringed with saliva.

nanami ! nanami kento ! right before him ! they really must be dead ! this was the river styx and mahito was nothing more than a mock charon to escort him to his eternity - to rot in tartarus alongside him in the murky depths of hades domain. no, no! elysium was for neither of them!

"hey, hey. did you learn anything?" head tilts to side, chipper tone. "you got it wrong before. don't think i forgot."

instinctively does he swivel wrist, a recall of how the sorcerer had plainly snapped it once before. "which came first ?" mahito parrots. same tone, same expression, same candid calmness apparent and settled on features. "the soul, or the body ?"

& did you learn anything?

He wants to turn and walk away, but that has never really been an option for him. He stands, holding his wooden sword and pulling at his tie -- but he doesn't leave. He idly wonders if he's off the clock.

"Fine. I will humor you. The soul comes first."

Though Nanami does not know exactly what he thinks of souls & bodies & all that comes in between -- this is someone who clearly cares more, it influences her cursed technique. Nanami's is about cold division, weak spots and rigid boundaries; something easier to look at, and easier to understand.