[ yaksha, yasha, youkai, demon, maybe there are some salient properties between each that distinguishes them all from one another, but Getou understands enough by its separation at all that it's something acceptable — beyond the primitive ooze of the terrible, weak creatures that make their suffering the problem of everyone else's, welcomed into the embrace of the supernatural and grotesque. closure to nature, perhaps, than what has come before. ]

[ he knows much of wearing two different skins, and switching between them when necessary. he lead a religious cult, after all. ]

You're very comfortable asking for what you want, aren't you? [ a harmless question, judging from the playful, knowing look he flashes before turning back, stepping through long grasses to fetch the water bottle and phone he previously left behind. if he has any concerns of qualms about turning his back on someone who wants to see himself as an opponent, they are not apparent. ]

[ he checks his messages. a scrawl of text makes a muscle in his cheek pull. he pockets it without answering. ]

Liquor or sweets... what a funny palate you have. [ as he 'rejoins' the man in the center clearing, he runs his fingers through his hair, freezing them of sweat in a drying summer breeze; his gaze flickers to a building overhead, where he knows his overly large bathtub in the penthouse he chose is waiting. ]

[ ... he might enjoy it more with a full belly. ]

Very well then. [ there isn't much to do in this city anyway. as he turns, a finger points: to the north east, somewhere far beyond the sight of the trees, is the city's main thoroughfare maybe a kilometer off. ] Race me to the pavement?

[ duplicitous as he is... he seems to be enjoying someone wanting to engage with his prowess. ]