[ OPEN ] want to be free

[aceslow]

WHO: Kim Kitsuragi (aceslow) & YOU
WHAT: Various July activities -- both for the event (happy to receive items/memories too!) and for every day activities.
WHERE: Throughout the City; bank, shopping centres, parks, etc.
WHEN: Through til the end of July.
WARNINGS: Probable discussions regarding racism, loss, and the diaspora.


[ EVENT ] a. in the vault.

[ The deserted bank is an eerie place as it is. On a Lieutenant's salary, Kim barely has enough money to put in the bank as it is, let alone frequent one as extravagantly wealthy as this one; the minute he steps foot in it with his grubby boots and worn - though well-maintained - jacket, he feels immediately out of place, a sense of unease dogging his steps. His footsteps are loud in the echo chamber that is the grand hall. Eventually, he makes his way back to where the keys are, name after name etched on the side of the keychain. It's a trap if he's ever seen one. He hesitates, hand hovering just over the keys, brow furrowed. ]

This is almost certainly a trap.

[ Then, decisively, he yanks it off the wall, then glances behind him towards whoever his companion may be. ]

But it's the best lead we've got. You coming?

[ OOC NOTE: The item I've chosen concerns racism & the diaspora, please only respond to this prompt if those are subjects you're comfortable with! ]

[ EVENT ] b. out and about.

[ After the whole messy incident with the vault, Kim's taken to keeping the toy plane with him, burning a hole in his pocket. In all honesty, it's not something that brings him any solace, any comfort; if anything he feels desperately uncomfortable about it. But after everything, it feels almost sacriligious to leave it in the apartment he's hunkered down in, unguarded, unprotected, the sole personal possession next to the rest of the nondescript apartment. It feels equally as wrong to leave it in the bank where he had found it, as though abandoning it again means --

God, he doesn't know. He's not one for analyzing his own thoughts and feelings. Straight ahead, down his narrow, narrow path. That's how he's always been, how he'll always be. So he puts it firmly out of mind for the time being as he goes along his daily business, pacing about the city, investigating every nook and cranny with a fine tooth comb, and largely trying to keep himself busy, whether that's in the park, in a store, or even roaming once more through City Hall. Whatever public place you can think of, he's there. ]

[ OOC NOTE: We can wrap the event into any of the other prompts as well, but this one is intended for sharing of objects/memories! Please feel free to have your character share theirs first (or have only them share it, without that reciprocation) if you like; I never mind a backstory dump. :) ]

c. daily life (shopping / exercising / a midnight smoke).

[ With little else at his disposal other than the grim dawning realization that if he truly has to start making a functional life for himself here, Kim can be seen during daily life in the City taking what he needs.

Perhaps you find him in the supermarket or convenience store, the handle of his shopping basket nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he stares at the shelves with a light frown on his face, combing the shelves for this and that: salt, cabbage, meat and onions rank chiefly among his purchases, but it looks like he's working his way towards a very bland meal -- that, and he seems to be pretty concerned about getting really badly injured, if the amount of painkillers, bandages, and other first-aid goods are of any indication.

Or perhaps you find him in the park, jogging around its perimeter again, and again, and again, and again... he'll periodically stop, huffing and puffing more than he'd care to fess up to. There's nothing better to do around here, after all, and he feels a certain compulsion to remain in shape (though all embarassing stretches take place in the privacy of his own bedroom; an old man he may be to some here, but he's not old enough to start congregating in the park with the other seniors) to face whatever dangers he's convinced have yet to come. If you catch his eye, he'll nod in greeting with a small smile, wiping the sweat off his brow, suddenly self-conscious. ] Afternoon. Pity there's no gym in this place.

[ Or maybe you're another night owl, coming across Kim leaning against a wall, silhouetted by the street lamps above, staring contemplatively off into the distance as he lights a cigarette. Before he takes a single drag, he takes a deep breath, as though even contemplating his cigarette brings some measure of serenity to his soul. He takes that first drag like an addict does; savouring it, hoping it never comes to an end. But as he blows out a large plume of smoke, he'll look your way, nodding in greeting. If you're clearly of age and look interested, he'll extend the cigarette carton in your direction, asking, ] Want one?

d. weapon creation.

[ It's been long enough that Kim has gathered the fact that all of their weapons have been forcibly taken from them, right down to the blade attachment in his poor multi-tool. With just one glimpse of Kim, it's easy to see that he's not a man who's used to getting into physical altercations all-too often, preferring to rely on the security of his firearm, but it's not as though he can make a gun.

Besides, this isn't purely for self defense. Rather, it's an experiment: if weapons are so highly prohibited, then is the creation of them also prohibited? Will he wake cuffed like that fellow on the network behind him? It's a small punishment, as punishments go, so Kim decides to risk it, heading to park as the sun begins to wane, long shadows cast over the entire area. After gathering some of the natural resources around the park, as well as a few helpful items lifted from shops here and there, he sits cross-legged on the grass and gets to work, beginning by taking some kitchen utensils and industriously hacking away at a particularly sturdy branch to attempt to make a fine point.

From his grumbling, it's not going particularly well. He could really use a hand. ]

Ugh. I could really use my damn knife right about now.

e. wildcard!

[ Wildcard! Feel free to make up your own prompt - Kim can be found out and about the City at large - and I'm happy to roll with it! Feel free to brainstorm with me on my plotting post or hit me up on plurk! I'd be happy to write custom starters as well. ]

Comments

c is for.... cmoking

[bemist]

[ Why is Gebura up this late? She's a grown-ass woman, that's why, and also she's been plagued with nightmares ever since a Certain Someone decided to get herself murdered For Science. Which is aggravating, because she's seen more than enough death and most manners of death had been much worse to witness, and yet somehow this is the one that haunts her subconscious. She doesn't trust that either.

So she patrols, for no real reason beyond a sense of habit and a growing restlessness.

She doesn't quite expect to see the man leaning against the wall, lighting up a cigarette. She has her own pack, of course, but after a beat, she'll extend a hand to pluck one from the carton he offers. ]

Didn't expect company tonight.

[ Her voice is roughened, the sign of one who also smokes as though it's as natural as breathing. ]

[aceslow]

Luck of the draw, really. The city's big enough and our numbers are small enough that I rarely run into anyone either.

[ Once the cigarette is pressed to her lips, Kim takes his lighter from out of his pocket - a nice, solid metal lighter that's clearly seen plenty of use - and lights it up for her. Another time, he'd probably be stingier with his cigarettes, but here? They're all free. To share is a nice gesture, but nearly entirely without meaning.

Still, Kim won't say no to a little company. It's awfully quiet out here, after all. Jarringly so, with nary a mosquito buzzing nor a bird calling. ]

Couldn't sleep?

[bemist]

Something like that. Partly old habit.

[ As a Fixer, she'd definitely do patrols at night, especially during the times where crime was just purposefully glanced away from. But it's true enough that having nightmares about getting her head caved in isn't really encouraging when it comes to trying to go to sleep in the first place.

Gebura pauses to inhale, a little appreciatively, letting the smoke settle and warm her from the inside before breathing out. ]

Less stupid conversations I have to have about maybe not blindly trusting everything here with people at this time of night.

(d) (with a sprinkling of b if you want!)

[matermali]

[ Vanessa has begun to linger near the graveyard after dark when she wants to think, so it's only natural for her to be nearby, passing through the park at her leisure. The statue garden lies ominously ahead (a lure for her, to be honest), but Vanessa's light steps stop short when she hears an unfamiliar voice nearby. One bordering on (past?) frustration.

Curiosity piqued, she lifts her long skirt to step over a decorative rock and around a line of perfectly trimmed hedges. Just beyond, seated on the grass seems to be an individual attempting to craft...something. Even with a sharp eye, Vanessa can't discern it from here, but she can hear his complaint. While she might not normally be eager to hand a stranger a possible weapon to use against her, this is a case where Vanessa's starvation for entertainment will smother that pragmatism. ]

Would a kitchen knife do?

[aceslow]

Not a kitchen knife. I've got a kitchen knife, [ Kim says, holding the knife aloft. Then he seems to remember himself and hastily puts it back down again, realizing that he is, in fact, a suspicious man wielding a large, terrifying looking knife while accompanied only by a lone woman in the dark. If anyone were to find him like this, they'd shoot first and ask questions later.

If they had a gun, that is. Which none of them do. ] It's my pocketknife that I'm missing.

[ He looks down in front of him, at the array of various broken branches and stones in front of him. ]

I'm trying to cobble together a few weapons, just to see if this place considers it inherently unlawful. They took away the weapons we came in with, so... [ He shrugs. ] I figured it was worth a shot.

[matermali]

[ While she does perk a brow at the knife he shows, there's a pinch to her lip that follows when he quickly lowers it. If he worries about frightening this woman, he is likely incapable of it.

She doesn't step any closer, not wishing to crowd him or impose...and yet she does still offer a thought uninvited. ]

Have you attempted a longbow? Or a lance?

[ Those seem easier to make than some other weapons, but she can't claim to be any sort of expert on the matter. Hopefully making suggestions won't land her in handcuffs, but that risk wouldn't stop her. ]

a.

[unrequite]

Certainly. Just... there we are.

[ Midnight takes up his own key, inspects the number imprinted on it, then gives his new friend a nod. Well, it's not as though he's about to turn down someone as willing to explore new territory as he is, even if they've just met. It's best not to embark on one's own.

(Midnight, in contrast, walks into the bank with no apprehension at all. One part feeling quite at home, one part his general cheerful obliviousness.)

He goes for the open door, widening it for the both of them, then strides in with a little more watchful caution, if only because he's taking stock of the room. Once he's sure there's no one else in there with them, he goes for his own safe deposit box and opens it. Inside are... two items that most certainly do not belong to him.

He pays Mr. Kitsuragi little mind as he inspects his items, figuring that the other man will call if he needs assistance. Midnight hovers there, frowning, but the objects hold no meaning for him, so he's content to read the note and wonder what it means. ]

[aceslow]

[ Kim follows Midnight in, far more begrudgingly than the other man, but willingly enough. A trap it may be, but a trap he's willing to trigger to get some more information, though he supposes it would probably be wiser to hang back and wait until someone else tries it first. Still, in for a penny, in for a pound.

He's not sure what he's expecting, exactly. A cryptic note, perhaps? A gift, much like the 'gifts' they have received before? Jewelry? Gems? Something that belongs to this City, something that belongs in a box like this one. Maybe even a trick; exploding glitter, organic warfare, maybe a creepy bug or two. What he didn't, couldn't have expected, was the little toy that sits innocently within: a small toy aerostatic, white with red wings and blue accents on the tail, its title etched along its side in deep black Seolite characters. Brow furrowed, he gingerly reaches out to touch it and finds himself flooded with a visceral, unwelcome memory. It was no moment of great trauma, nothing that would make its way into any autobiography, any film; just a small offense among the many that made up Kim's life. Suddenly, it is as though he is nine years old again, isolated even for one of Revachol's great many orphans, bangs cut in a bowl cut drooping low over his glasses, cartoonishly thick on his narrow face, staring furiously down at the toy that he believed had brought him such great grief, though it had been a gift from a family long since deceased. All because of a few foreign characters. The accusations lobbed his way, the names he had been called -- it's not the sort of thing he cares to repeat. He remembers the way he had angrily shoved it into the trash, making sure that the other kids could see the way he refuted his heritage.

He had regretted it as soon as the trash had been taken away. A precious relic of a good life he may have had, gone. And what did it do for the bullying? Nothing. If anything, it amplified it. Kim knows now as an adult what he didn't back then: nothing he did or said could have quelled the torment. It was his birthright, plain and simple. He should have just kept the damn toy.

In the here and now, Kim recoils as though the box had burned him, stumbling backwards to put some distance between it and himself. ]

Goddammit, [ he swears swiftly. ] This place is just fucking with us now. [ This shouldn't be possible. It had been relegated to some trash heap decades ago. He takes a breath, deciding to do what he does best: deflect. He turns to his companion, posture now ramrod straight. ] What'd you get?

[unrequite]

Just a couple of items... These don't belong to me.

[ He shows both, but palms away the large, fake eye pretty quickly, sticking it in his pocket. That belongs to someone he likes, and doesn't think much of sharing a lady's secrets, even if he doesn't know what the secret might be just yet. The jar of sugar he spins in one hand, admiring the way the orange tint catches the light.

He walks over to Mr. Kitsuragi's side, jar in one hand, the message in the other, noting the space the other man made between himself and the open box with his eyes, but making no comment. (He'd heard the outburst too, but seeing as how Kim seems relatively unharmed, he opts to let it pass, for now.) ]

"Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." Cryptic. Well, these certainly don't belong to me, and I don't think I'll be able to use them in good conscience if they belong to someone else.

[ He looks at his partner, then the door, and freezes as he watches the tail end of the heavy metal slab swinging closed. He lunges for it, but it's too little, too late. The clunk of the lock sinking into place rings rather loudly against the bare walls of the room. ]

b

[miyagimagic]

[ Daniel may not have gone into the bank himself, but it seems that the object there meant for him managed to find its way to him all the same - in the most roundabout way possible, but perhaps also the most perfect way possible, considering who it reunited him with.

He could blame the fact he's taken the object with him even out here on that, really. Maybe it's just because it's the first thing that made him happy in this place, if not just for a very specific reason. But somehow Daniel has found himself compelled beyond that to take it along in a way he can't quite grasp.

It's that same urge that makes him spot someone in the park, someone he doesn't even know, and step up to them. Even though the fact there's a still healing bruise all across the side of Daniel's face - right now coloured yellow, that last phase before it heals altogether - has made him kind of self-conscious all this time, and the fact that he can't actually talk even more so.

It's hard when you've lost your voice to the extent that you have to grab a phone from your pocket and type out everything you're saying on that, after all. Daniel quickly types something on there after greeting Kim with a slight nod, the phone's robotic voice reading out the words: ]

Are you looking for something?

[ Sorry, Kim, this is what your investigation apparently looked like.. ]

[aceslow]

[ Kim turns around, a little startled by Daniel's sudden appearance, and even more startled by the fact that he's using his mobile device to speak with him. It's abundantly clear that he doesn't miss the healing bruise spread across his face as his brows furrow with concern, eyes flicking over him as though to search for any more injuries. There is the possibility that this man, like himself, was injured prior to his arrival here -- but there's now been enough violence and havoc in this place that it's not beyond the realm of possibility that he got into a fight here too. ]

No, nothing like that. Just looking around, [ Kim says, his voice low and gentle, his heavy French accent dripping into every consonant and syllable. ] There's not much to find here, but best to explore every nook and cranny, yes?

More importantly... are you all right? [ He gestures at his own throat, tipping his chin back. ] Did you injure your throat?

[miyagimagic]

[ It's at the other's latter question that Daniel's expression seems to drop a little. Not too heavy, but-- there's definitely something a little more embarrassed in it. It's hard when you're used to trying to hide every injury and then end up with something that absolutely everyone will notice, regardless of what you yourself want, after all.

But he nods, since it's impossible to lie about this one anyway. ]

Back home. [ The phone reads out. It's not like Daniel has to share that detail, but.. well, Kim isn't exactly coming across as hostile, and Daniel doesn't want the other man to have to worry that there's someone going around here stomping on throats.

.. even if the other might be worried regardless, given the whole discussion over the network before about murder. ]

It will heal. It just needs time.

[ It comes coupled with a helpless little shrug from Daniel. The 'what can you do?' sort of shrug, and he shakes his head, not wanting this to completely focus on his own state. It's too uncomfortable. ]

I think investigating this place is a good thing though. Did you find anything at all so far?

c - exercise

[indwelt]

[ Maybe he's not old enough to convene with other seniors in the park but unfortunately that's what he's getting now as another fellow senior approaches him. His bones may be creaky on the inside but on the outside Welt looks hale and hearty, and apparently in good enough spirits to offer up a little wave of greeting of his own. ]

It's nice to run outside though. Better scenery than being stuck indoors.

[ Though there's a certain appeal to the different muscle groups being worked at a gym, that's for sure. ]

Do you usually run alone?

[aceslow]

The scenery doesn't make up for the lack of music, [ Kim says, stretching his arms out in front of him. He can hear the way his shoulders pop with the movement, wincing a little; it doesn't hurt, but his body is intent on sending him daily reminders that he's not as young as he used to be. Which is why he's out here staying trim by jogging around the city while some of the kids just shove their face full of deep fried foods.

One of life's many tragedies. They'd better appreciate it while they've still got it. Still, he looks friendly enough as he turns to face Welt properly. ]

Usually, yes. Even back home, I just went to the gym on my own. [ Wryly: ] And nobody's started a running club here just yet.

[indwelt]

[ The stretches are familiar, shadows of a past where exercise and more strenuous workouts were also part of his daily routine. An intrinsic urge to copy the movements in front of him settles deep in his muscles, but he stays where he is, standing casually with his hands in his pockets, eyes attentive.

That's a good point though; there isn't exactly a lot of entertainment around, especially when it comes to more technologically advanced things like movies, video games, music. Although… ]

You could see if anyone here likes to sing and ask them to accompany you.

[ Just kidding, if the crooked smile on his face is any indication. ]

Though if you're looking for more people to run with, I wouldn't mind joining. Better than sitting around all day waiting for the next big thing to happen.

[ He does sound serious about this part, at least. ]

let's go with b

[petsthedog]

[It's the supermarket where he ends up running into Kitsuragi again. Shinjiro's had an interesting few days since the detective found him outside his building that day; the incident with the bank had left him vaguely unsettled, pulling a question he'd allowed to slip from the forefront of his mind back into sharp relief--was Castor still there? He hasn't tried his Evoker since his arrival, and it's not as though this City has a Dark Hour. Seeing the suppressants in his vault had been an unpleasant reminder, and for the time being, he's avoiding dealing with what it might mean for him. Which leaves him with...well, errands.

Even so, Kim will find that he looks...better, perhaps. Just slightly less haunted, like perhaps he's finally gotten a halfway decent night of sleep. He's carrying a small bag of apples in his hand, though oddly, it appears that his intention is not to actually take them with him but to...put them back? Shinjiro does look chagrined by it, at least, when the older man drops by.]

Hey, Kitsuragi, you like apples at all? The guy I'm stayin' with freaks out if he even sees one. Feels kinda weird to just put 'em back, but it'd be worse to throw 'em away.

[aceslow]

I think they all go to waste anyway. There's no way our population is getting through all of this, [ Kim says, gesturing at the shelves brimming with food. It's a waste. Kim in no way goes hungry these days -- that period of his life is thankfully well and truly over. But even so, he could never just go to the store and pick up whatever he wanted before. It feels a little overwhelming, both in practice and in concept; if Revachol had one of these...

Well. No point lingering on that. He holds his hand out for the bag anyway. ]

But I'll take them. Who have you been staying with?

[petsthedog]

Maybe. We still don't know what happens to this stuff when we're not lookin'.

[Like how the restaurants somehow produce fully cooked food despite apparently not a single god damn employee present. Still, Shinjiro feels better not actively wasting food, regardless of how much food waste may or may not happen incidentally in providing for this set of captured residents, so he's glad when Kim takes the bag.]

Guy called Gregor. [A beat. Here's where Shinjiro shifts a little uncomfortably. He has been ... very adamantly homeless for over a month, after all.]

He uh, he was kind of having a time too, after...that whole thing.

[Y'know, that thing he had a wholeass panic attack about in front of your apartment. Evidently, Shinjiro will not domesticate himself for his own sake, but it becomes a different story when it's for someone else. If he looks just a little flustered at that admission, no he doesn't, alright. It's no big deal.]

They were from the same place and shit.

smoke break!

[poorlittlesange]

(ooc: assuming this takes place on another evening from the above thread! lmk if it doesn't work.)

[Jin Guangyao has always been the sort of man inclined towards burning the midnight oil, and those old habits evidently die hard. without a vocation or familial obligations to occupy his time, and with the object of his vengeance having departed as soon as he arrived, he has spent his first months in this city rudderless and drifting. sometimes his drifting takes him out onto the street late at night, where he wanders until exhaustion sets in and he is, finally, too tired to think.

he's quite tired now--but not yet at the point where lying down would result in sleep. and so here he is, walking quietly down the middle of the abandoned city road, when he spots the man illuminated by the lamplight. he recognizes Kim from their brief encounter at the (alleged) 'welcome party,' but not the small box being offered out to him. still, it would be impolite to refuse, and so he doesn't.]

Forgive this one his ignorance, xiansheng,[a practiced, polite smile to go with the polite honorific, and he extends his remaining hand out to accept the box,] but what are these?

yes that works great!!

[aceslow]

You don't know what these are?

[ It never occurred to him that he would run into anyone who didn't know what something as commonplace as a cigarette was; he's gotten far too used to the people here who seem to be from the future that it hasn't occurred to him that he'd meet someone from the past. Or just from a different culture entirely, he supposes, though it's difficult for him to imagine any culture without the vice of smoking. He closes the cigarette box with a small smile. ]

In that case, better that you not. I don't recommend it -- it's a nasty habit, and bad for you besides. It just so happens to be a ubiquitous one as well. [ He holds up his own cigarette and takes a long, slow drag from it, the tip burning ember-red in the relative darkness of night. As he exhales, a long plume of smoke escapes from the corners of his mouth in a steady stream, smelling of chestnut and tobacco. ]

It's a cigarette. A vice. We smoke them largely for the sake of smoking them. And because they're addictive, [ he adds on, a note of humour in his voice. ]

[poorlittlesange]

[that explanation clarifies things, and some of the polite confusion disappears from Jin Guangyao's face; he's familiar with smoking, at least. the little joke lands, if the faint, dry smirk tugging up one corner of Jin Guangyao's mouth is any indication. his own addictions are different in nature, but he's held under their sway by them nevertheless.

for a moment he seems to let the matter rest. then a subtle shift changes his expression, almost imperceptibly.]

Perhaps I will have one, if you do not mind. And if you would not mind sparing me a light as well.

[he draws up the sleeve of his right arm to reveal his missing hand, the stump of his wrist still wrapped in bandages, before allowing the sleeve to drop again.]

d.

[lickstheevidence]

[Connor's a bit of a night-owl; when one doesn't need to sleep much, one tends to keep odd hours. The park is a particular favorite lately, as it feels more secluded than most of the rest of the City. Not that he's planning on doing anything that would make seclusion necessary, but it's nice sometimes to take a lonely walk in the dark. It helps him collect his thoughts about his life here so far and the greater mystery of the City itself.

He finds that on this night he's not as alone as he would have preferred, but his thoughts change to pleasant surprise when he spies out who the figure is ahead of him. He calls out a greeting so he doesn't scare the poor man half to death in the dark.]

Do you mind some company?

[aceslow]

Oh -- hello, Connor, [ Kim says, raising a hand to wave him down. They haven't spoken since they'd first met at those blasted kiosks, but it had been a particularly enlightening conversation. Besides, whether it's warranted or not, Kim has a tendency to feel more at ease with others from the realm of law enforcement, whatever that may look like. Frankly, he spots the glowing ring on Connor's temple before he notices the man himself; his eyesight is poor, poorer still in the dim light, and he'd be hard-pressed to identify anyone at a glance. ]

You're welcome to join me, but only if you're willing to be considered an accomplice of sorts. [ He gestures down at the assortment of objects in front of him, fingers spread as though he's displaying a set of beautiful jewelry instead of a bunch of sharp sticks. ] I'm testing the limits of this place right now. Whether or not I'll wake up handcuffed tomorrow, I have no idea.

a!

[metafictions]

[Deserted is right. Other than the fact that these keys are on the wall, there's nothing much in the bank to look at besides them: no paperwork, no old names, nothing but blank pages and their footstep's echoes on the fine tile of the entrance hall.

Kim's right, it sems. Risking the trap is the only way forward. Kamui, leaning past Kim, studies his own key behind the teller's counter, his fingers running over the grooves on its edge. Finally making up his mind, too, he slips it off its place on the wall and pockets it. The younger man nods:]

I'm with you.

[Then Kamui moves on without waiting for Kim to lead the way. (If there's some danger ahead of them, maybe he'll meet it first.)

All they find, however, is a cool vault lined floor-to-ceiling with safety deposit boxes. Kamui steps inside first, giving the room a quick once-over before turning his attention to the boxes. Right away, the now-familiar name 'Kitsuragi' meets his eyes.]

Kim, I think this might be yours?

[aceslow]

[ While it's a relief to have some trustworthy back-up, Kim feels oddly naked walking into a fraught situation without his firearm at his side. His hand twitches at its side, reaching for the holster that's no longer there, glancing behind them as he takes the rear. Foolish, to be so paranoid. No other building has had anything nefarious in it. So why does he always feel as though someone else is just bound to storm in with ill intent?

But once they're in, they're confronted with nothing more than walls of safes, much like any ordinary bank, the names of every person in this godforsaken place neatly labeled as though they had been born and raised here. ]

Yes. It looks like it is. And here, this one is yours, [ he says, pointing it out. ] We'll open one at a time, just in case. Take a step back. We don't know what's in there.

[ His thoughts drift back to the chemical warfare he'd heard about when he was a kid. Chemical warfare, shoved in mailboxes, ready to explode at a moment's notice. He never learned whether that actually happened or if that was just a rumour meant to scare young kids against the rebels still roaming Revachol's streets, but it had left its mark on him nonetheless. So, readying himself, he sticks the key in and slowly turns it, the grating of the mechanism loud in the empty room, accompanied only by the quiet sounds of his and Kamui's breath.

But when he opens it, nothing happens. No explosion. No weapons. No alarms. Instead, inside, there is a single, familiar looking trinket. ]

What the...

[ He wants to recoil. He almost does. He can feel the way his heartrate spikes, his pulse pounding in his ears. But he wants to keep his composure, especially in front of a fellow detective. With deceptive calm, he reaches in and holds the bauble gently in the palm of his hand, eyes roving over it. ]

...it's not dangerous, at least. It should be safe to open yours as well.