[ All at once, Maruki wishes he had the foresight to "request homework" from the Crystal as well.
What this mind of his comes up with– it's already come up with it. He wrote hundreds of pages, just as long as his doctoral thesis if not longer. Bound them into a book. Shared them over a final lunch, slammed them down on an uncaring man's desk. His life's work in pristine, provable black and white.
He can distill it down to its most basic principles. Write up a condensed version, offer it to Akechi under the guise of a newly developed theory. It means he'll have to take time – at least a few days – anything less would look suspicious, even for as hyper-fixated as Akechi knows he can become. It will be important to play this right or incur suspicion.
He can do it. He just wishes he didn't have to. To be able to tell Akechi–
Twists his stomach. That remains a bridge too far. Perhaps one day. Perhaps not. He genuinely doesn't know.
He stands as well, brings their plates back into the kitchen and leaves them near the sink, to be washed later. It'll be a good, mindless, meditative activity to do to wind down whenever they return. ]
I can confidently say that I won't let you down, Akechi. And I want to hear what you come up with, too.
[ He comes back around the bar, grabs the notebook and pen again. He's never without them. He wonders if Akechi is aware of that fact.
They're easily slid into his jacket pocket once he retrieves it, and then he's standing there by the door, looking expectantly at Akechi, eyebrows raised, his posture relaxed despite the blood buzzing beneath his skin. ]
Unless you already have experience in this area?
[ A beat, and then he grins again. ]
I'm kidding, of course. Come on. Let's take a walk.
oh long johnson up to you how long we want to continue this CATEGORY 5 LEVEL DIRE
What this mind of his comes up with– it's already come up with it. He wrote hundreds of pages, just as long as his doctoral thesis if not longer. Bound them into a book. Shared them over a final lunch, slammed them down on an uncaring man's desk. His life's work in pristine, provable black and white.
He can distill it down to its most basic principles. Write up a condensed version, offer it to Akechi under the guise of a newly developed theory. It means he'll have to take time – at least a few days – anything less would look suspicious, even for as hyper-fixated as Akechi knows he can become. It will be important to play this right or incur suspicion.
He can do it. He just wishes he didn't have to. To be able to tell Akechi–
Twists his stomach. That remains a bridge too far. Perhaps one day. Perhaps not. He genuinely doesn't know.
He stands as well, brings their plates back into the kitchen and leaves them near the sink, to be washed later. It'll be a good, mindless, meditative activity to do to wind down whenever they return. ]
I can confidently say that I won't let you down, Akechi. And I want to hear what you come up with, too.
[ He comes back around the bar, grabs the notebook and pen again. He's never without them. He wonders if Akechi is aware of that fact.
They're easily slid into his jacket pocket once he retrieves it, and then he's standing there by the door, looking expectantly at Akechi, eyebrows raised, his posture relaxed despite the blood buzzing beneath his skin. ]
Unless you already have experience in this area?
[ A beat, and then he grins again. ]
I'm kidding, of course. Come on. Let's take a walk.