#𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦— 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 : ( answered asks )

[ratiosalaryman]

Draw his reaction in your style!

@mcwscollective : ( Submit screencap and i'll draw it in my style prompt — accepting )

screencap ref under cut

[ratiosalaryman]

« Nanamin ! I’ve been practising my rapping. Wanna hear ? » He doesn’t wait for an answer before starting.

« send man’s shop by force. your girl knows i got the sauce. no ketchup. just sauce. raw sauce. boom. yo. gah. the ting goes skkkrrrraaaa. pap pap ka ka ka. skidi ki pap pap and a pu pu pu ddddrrrrrr boom. skya du du ku ku dun dun. poom poom you dun know. »

@wormb0i

He cradles a mug of coffee, the steam wafting before the unreadable lens of his shades. Kento Nanami's expression barely shifts. Only after the longest of pauses does Nanami uncross his legs. The combination of spit, sound, and passion is an amalgamation that has corrupted the sanctity of his coffee. Tasteless. A pleasure utterly curdled and annihilated by the student forced upon him named— ". . . Itadori-kun."

A clink of his mug on the tabletop as Nanami resigns himself to the waste. "I see you have judged our relationship, as student and teacher... poorly." With fingers delicately picking up the rim of the cup, he stands stiffly to make his amends at the sink. Back to Yuuji, his contempt falls off the ex-salaryman in dark, undulating waves. He pours the coffee down the drain with the frigid honor of a man watching his dreams die. ... "Faced with the consequences of your efforts, take what I say with the utmost weight of a teacher to his student... " ... the drain yawns with the last of the coffee.. "... your rapping, Itadori-kun— is shit."

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[ratiosalaryman]

“You won’t hurt me, I promise.” [ from geto]

@killxrofsorcerers : ( answered for training/sparring sentence starters — accepting )

"It may surprise you, but I am not holding back." He dodges a blunt palm strike meant for his head, only to be caught in the jaw. Nanami's composes himself at that, sliding away in a cloud of dust. It was well past closing time on the training grounds, but the upperclassman hasn't grown bored of him yet. Good, maybe I'll actually learn something— Nanami thinks, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Suguru doesn't look phased, but Nanami knows his hand must be aching. The first blood finally reached, and Nanami wonders how grossly he miscalculated close combat with the cursed spirit manipulator.

Nanami can't help but be humbled by the experience. The third-year is irritatingly courteous toward his kohai, a luxury that Nanami doesn't deserve, nor does he want. Where Gojo was cocky when they trained, lithe and slippery, hard to catch with a blow, Geto Suguru was refreshingly to the point. It was Nanami who has asked the cursed spirit sorcerer for some practice after hours, though like Gojo, he wondered if the second-year was pulling his punches. Nanami's ego isn't hurt though. His missions with Haibara were growing in risk, and he needed the training. He wondered if Geto had only agreed to this because he had more time on solo missions, with no Gojo Satoru to bother him in the inbetween. Nanami didn't mind being used as a distraction. He was using the upperclassman as well. Geto stood, languid and powerful despite his young age, even with only a year and a few inches on Nanami...the power gap of cursed energy was obvious. But with no holds barred, and only physical attacks, Nanami wonders if he has a chance. He drops low and remaining calm, he lunges forward, aiming a swift kick at Geto's midsection. The older sorcerer sidesteps gracefully, but Nanami follows through with a rapid series of punches, his strikes precise and calculated. Each blow is a testament to his rigorous training, and for a moment, he manages to catch Geto off guard.

Nanami's mind races, analyzing Geto's technique and anticipating his next move. The training ground, dimly lit in the late hours, casts a shadow on Geto's features, his face and intention darkened. Nanami knows he has to push himself to the limit to extract every bit of knowledge from this encounter. No more close calls, Nanami thinks to himself. Haibara had almost eaten it on the mission in Roppongi, because Nanami was too damned slow.

As Nanami feints a high kick, Geto responds with a quick counter, aiming for Nanami's exposed flank. It's too close, and Nanami barely manages to evade the blow. They dance around each other, a showmanship of strength and agility, and each bruise and bout another notch toward overcoming the next mission's cursed spirit.

[ratiosalaryman]

[A-Z Dirty Game][guavabcy] R A T I O

answered for @monsterkiisses ( Dirty A-Z headcanon game )

R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)

Nanami is not one to keep consistent partners if only for how stressed life is. One night stands with strangers are more bothersome when a night home alone with a book is preferred. However, despite his routine life, sex is almost never planned. Where work, food, days, and nights are planned, his approach to sex is very open. If the doors have been opened before, and there's an obvious spark between him and a past lover Nanami is not shy to show it. He makes use of the time he spends with his partner, apt to show his affection in a shower, in the kitchen, before work, or impromptu on a lunch break. The one part of his life that is spontaneous, and he quite enjoys it, even if it surprises him at times.

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)

Nanami is definitely fond of playing old scenarios or wanted scenarios in his head if he ever needs to get off. His usual routine is before bed after a hot shower. He's settled into an, uh, nightly routine.

T - Top or bottom (self explanatory…)

Nanami prefers topping. He has little control of other things in his life, but having a partner who trusts him enough to take control gets him hard like nothing else. He is a pretty open guy, however. He doesn't mind having an, uh, power bottom. Brat types are his unspoken favorites. To actually bottom? It would most likely be because his partner is interested in it and he'd do it for their pleasure. It would take a lot for him to be comfortable with relinquishing control. Though if the right circumstances presented themselves, he'd probably enjoy it.

I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.)

Nanami fell into this kink due to uh a hate sex thing that happened and now he's older, wiser, and done his research. He's more interested in the doming aspect of impact play, having a sadistic streak he has embraced over the years. Leaving marks under clothes, the gasps and sounds of his partner— does this man love spanking and giving after care. He's owned a few tools over the years as an as-needed basis.

O - Outdoor sex (have they ever done it in public? would they? where?)

Nanami would never consciously choose outdoor sex— but public foreplay is something that he has stumbled into. Whether a hand under a skirt of his partner while on a train, teasing someone in a public setting by leaning over their back, leaving seemingly innocent touches, or the best foreplay: words. Teasing, little arguments, or promising whispers in the ear are his favorite.

[ratiosalaryman]

[ groom ]  your muse (Geto) adjusting mine’s (Nanami) appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc . 

@cursedcalamity : ( answered non-sexual acts of dominance prompts — accepting ) Geto -> Nanami

Nanami can't remember the last time someone had touched him, aside from the routine medical check, or occasional abrasive hug from Haibara. Watching Suguru Geto straighten his school uniform feels like its happening to someone else. And Nanami, at first, just... let's it happen. His upperclassman straightens the crease along his collar, checking the button, and bends down to give a cursory look-over of his shoulder seams, pinching them on either side. There is an assuredness about his touch that Nanami doesn't object to, though god knows why. He's never been quiet about his personal space before— But.

Geto is just... ridiculously casual in his handsomeness. His pretty (—pretty??) smile lingering on Nanami too long after the fact. Nanami feels his ears heat up as he bears the attention. He's stiff and quiet, and Suguru finishes up too quickly for him to process, and pats him on the shoulder. Nanami stares at Suguru as they meet eyes, quirking a brow in question, but otherwise doesn't protest. The upperclassman is still too close, but Nanami holds his ground. He breathes again when Suguru steps back to look him over. Geto... looks almost proud? Like he's about to witness something promising. And Nanami chews on that, not sure if he likes the attention or not. "...Do I look that bad?" he asks. They had been sitting on the shinkansen for half the day, and Nanami couldn't exactly sleep the night before the mission, but... nothing in their relationship was exactly casual up to this point. Even this mission was purely clinical. Kento Nanami had been recommended for Grade-1 status. Suguru Geto had been the upperclassman assigned to oversee if he met criteria. Nanami could hardly call Geto a friend, yet, here he was. Standing at some rural train station, wondering why Geto Suguru, special grade, was looking anything but bored. The train leaves them in some remote village near Chōsei, the two Jujutsu students being the only drop-offs at the station. Rice fields and old Japanese hamlet greets them as far as the eye can see. It feels too sleepy and different from Tokyo. Though Suguru looks at ease when Nanami shies a glance at him again. The dark haired shaman could fit in just about anywhere, he thinks.

"I have never been to the country," he comments, crouching down to take up his blade-case. He distracts himself with checking the runes, the clasps, then the itinerary. He's already looked at it every other hour since the mission was assigned to him days ago. There were worse sins than over-preparedness... but it would be nice if he could shake the anticipation as easily as his counter part. "I can't help but wonder why some high grade curse would manifest so remote," he says dryly.

[ratiosalaryman]

“Thanks, you’re helpful. And five minutes late!”

@ofconfiscation : ( answered for snarky starters prompt — accepting )

"I see you prescribe to the tedious notion that on time is late," Nanami pulls up a chair, nodding to the waiter for a water. He sighs, and sits down in front of the lawyer, leaning back in the diner chair to acknowledge him fully. "My lunch break may be cut short today, so I'll make full use of our 30 minutes," he offers the lawyer, his brow raising a hair at his friend's appearance. "I see you haven't been sleeping either," he comments, leaning forward on his elbows to lace his fingers.

Peering over his knuckles, he wonders how Higuruma is doing, hardly knowing the man, but enjoying the small escapes now and then to meet for lunch. They had met, as people tend to do, at a bar. The night hard worn on, and the glasses emptied, the air between them had shifted from mere acknowledgement to conversation. The lawyer, an empathetic ear, had listened to whatever vapid work he did in pursuit of money for a particular client, the compromises of the corporate world, and a shared musings of a particular oaked spirit. The lawyer was much more interesting, in Nanami's opinion, sharing the humble discourses of battle in the court room, the defender of something much more worthwhile than numbers on a computer screen. As the night progressed, the barriers between them dissolved. It was a meeting of tired souls seeking solace in shared experiences. And when they parted ways that night, the promise to meet again hung in the air, unspoken yet understood. In the present, the diner's ambiance was a far cry from the dimly lit bar, but the connection was just as it was. The salary man, reserved and stoic, finds the lawyer endearing as he sips his coffee. The eyebags and air of exhaustion on the lawyer was nothing new, but in the light of day, amidst the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation, Nanami is thankful for the man. He had planned to nap in his cubicle, but this was a change of pace in the grinding monotony. "I'll take a coffee," he says to the waiter, pausing to watch the man pour from the carafe. He's going to need more than that. "Please leave us the thermos." The server looks at the two large men, hesitant, but politely obliges, refilling the lawyer's cup and leaves the carafe silently. The steaming black coffee a damn oasis as Nanami sips silently, staring over the menu.

[ecoamerica]

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The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[ratiosalaryman]

[ groom ]  your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc .  // gojo

@mcwscollective : ( answered non-sexual acts of dominance — accepting ) gojo → nanami

The field before them lies in the expected aftermath of such an incursion. Cursed energy cackles and fades with the distinct smell of ozone, sizzling away like a slowly fading storm. Nanami's face is carved in a mask of weariness as he stands there, taking in the exorcism of his last 7 : 3 strike. The curse dissipates just as boulders, aimed at no other than the limitless himself, fall from the air in collective heaps. Gojo was fine, his infinity catching any danger long before Nanami could properly retaliate. The balance of this particular equation is not lost on the ratio sorcerer, only grateful he could assist at all.

Nanami gives a deep exhale through his nose, taking inventory of damage for his report later. He does not notice the deep gash across his cheek but... does observe the particular image of his ex-upperclassman. Gojo, of course, moves through the aftermath with a non nonchalance, his black uniform untouched. A surreal beacon of unaffected elegance amidst the wreckage that sought to grind them both to fodder. Admiration is a constant variable when it comes to witnessing his friend. He can't help but feel a little resentment, too. Value was a funny thing. He knows this was easier with him there as support. Perhaps it was witnessing the widening gape between them that touched on his nerves at all. He checks his watch — 16:43. "The report can wait until tomorrow," Nanami finally comments, feeling a retreat and a glass of Suntory is in his immediate future. Satoru's voice pierces through his musings with a — 'hold still, Nanamin.' His ex-upperclassman approaches, an an enigmatic glint in his eye peaking from beneath the raised blindfold. It's always startling— to see those blue eyes— as it momentarily pauses the man. Nanami can't help but watch as Gojo produces a handkerchief with a flourish. Before he knows it, Satoru is at his side. Nanami, slightly perplexed, watches as he wipes away the blood on his cheek. The infinity gone as Gojo happily, deliberately, tidies up his carved face. The actions are surprisingly gentle, crushing any protests that swell in his throat with curious silence. Gojo steps back with the subtlest hint of a smirk on his lips, straightening Nanami's blood splattered tie. The absurdity isn't lost on Nanami. The epitome of the Jujutsu world's prince, taking it upon himself to tidy up his appearance. Nanami can't help but straighten his posture, chewing on what just happened as he fumbles with his tie, feeling the warmth of his upperclassman lingering on the satin fabric. "Gojo," he begins in his usual pragmatic tone— "... thank you," Nanami says with a short nod, appreciating the gesture, but keeps his face carefully stoic. "That's quite the invasion of personal space, even for you," he comments, the mildest quirk in his brow. He can't help but keep his gaze steady on the his friend, seeking some kind of answer in the man's unreadable expression.

[ratiosalaryman]

Satoru checked the clock for the third time before whining at his friend. “Since when does food delivery take this long? I could have picked it up myself in less time.”

@mcwscollective for Gojo answered

Kento tries to focus on his book, though his attention keeps drifting to the sprawled form of Satoru on his couch. He hadn't planned for company tonight, and still isn't sure why Gojo invited himself over.

Nanami had already meal prepped for the week, but his colleague insisted he would pay, fees and all, for delivery. It was ostentatious. And a poor use of money. But. Nanami was weak to the prospect of enjoying a hot sandwich over the cold chicken and rice he had prepared.

"Perhaps there was heavier traffic than expected," Kento comments, tone neutral as he turns a page. Gojo had been complaining for the last ten minutes, still remaining impatient.

"Complaining won't expedite the process," he adds, rereading the same page for the third time.

[ratiosalaryman]

“ can you teach me how to do that? “ (from Yuji)

@hxbiris ( answered mentor/mentee starters — accepting )

Nanami washes up in the dim men's bathroom of the highschool. The aged pipes groan softy as he loosens his tie, eyes closed against the flickering light. Rare peace, however fleeting, even if the silence is hindered by the humming of old filament light bulbs and a perpetual dripping sound.      There was a —Nanami-sensei, there you are! Yuji's voice bounces off the tiled walls. The 7:3 sorcerer turns to find his student grinning up at him with familiar enthusiasm. Still, it always catches him off guard.      "Ah. Itadori-kun." 

Yuji beams like the sun in the dark bathroom. He asks him to teach him how to 'one of those fancy knots.'  Nanami blinks down at his pupil, then casts a look around the bathroom, composure caught off guard. When had Yuji slipped in? The boy seems oblivious to his imposing. Yuji's energy almost vibrating.   With a muted exhale, Nanami collects himself, turning to the chipped mirror.       "Pay attention," he instructs, fingers dancing through the remembered motions. "The wide end crosses over, then under..."   He feels the boy watching him intently through the mirror, gaze fixed on Nanami's hands as they make each loop and twists. The lessons unfolds slowly until at last the tie takes shape.       "Do you understand?" Nanami asks once finished. Finally looking up to catch Yuji's stare in the mirror. 

[ratiosalaryman]

"Let's get you to a hospital." / hello!

@inun4ki injury starters || accepting

The pungent odor of blood and cursed energy assaults Nanami's senses as he limps across the parking lot. Each step is deliberate. Controlled. His left leg is wet, but assessing damage will have to wait.

His comrade in arms approaches, cursed sword still glowing as he sheaths it. Nanami stands straight, taking in the sizzling smell of exorcised curse as the lights of the compound flicker back to life in its absence.

Shikabane, The Maw of Unagami, a name that bears weight. A grade-1 sorcerer whom Nanami Kento had never made acquaintance until now. The cursed signature that licks at the man is not one he will soon forget, however; the after image of 7:3 bisected by the hellflame still imprinted on the green of his glasses.

Wordlessly, Shikabane approaches, assessing him, Nanami can't help but be relieved.

"Rest assured, I am not one to push through injuries recklessly," he replies to the hospital comment, relieved at the professionalism considering his usual colleagues.

"Being rescued was not expected," he stiffens as pain shoots from his leg. A festering cursed energy, seeking to overwhelm. He plants a hand on Shikabane's shoulder to steady himself, sensing the corrosive influence creeping through his veins. "But appreciated."

He sharpens his focus as sweat beads down his jaw.

"Laceration spanning from above the knee to the outer thigh," he grunts, "The wound itself isn't fatal. But its disrupting my cursed energy. The pain— is getting worse—" he narrates his injuries as clinically as he can, forced to redistribute weight to his better leg.

"Does the Shikabane clan happen to possess any reversal technique?" he asks aloud.

[ratiosalaryman]

"Na~na~mi!" A singsong voice carries through the school corridor. "Kento-kun?" Doors slam open and closed in steady succesion. "Ken-chan?" The footsteps grow louder, the voice draws closer. "Kenny?" The search continues. "Ken?" He's coming, Nanami. There's only one person alive with that level of audacity.

Promptly goes to lock the door, not like it will do anything. Sigh. ... And wishes he carried a flask with him to work.

[ratiosalaryman]

"I can't believe I let this happen. I should have been more careful." [from sardonic cult!geto]

@yahvvacheop ( answered injury starters — accepting )

The stench of excrement and smoke overwhelms Nanami as he steps through the village's muddy streets. All around him is a scene from a nightmare— bodies contorted in agony, bloody coughs ringing through the air— the desperate cries for help. Nanami chews on what caused the destruction, sensing a familiar cursed residue on the debris of building and bodies. Grade-1 curse, he catalogs, one he is certain he has sensed before.  

He pauses to aid a local boy struggling beneath a support beam. Dead-lifting the pillar, he grits his teeth as he rolls it off the teen, only to see him impaled on re-bar through the chest.    The teenager is too far gone, dead despite his cries for Nanami to do something. Nanami bears witness to the boy clawing at his pant-legs, and he reaches down— to do what, there's no help, no comfort for the dead—      —only for the kid's eyes to go dark as he hacks up the last of his breath.       The hairs on Nanami's arm stand straight as the oxygen thins around him. A perversion of cursed energy curdles the air, making him stomach turn. Nanami stares at the glassy face of the boy, feeling Suguru Geto approach long before the man deigns to speak.       "I can't believe I let this happen. I should have been more careful."      The ex-salaryman balls his fist, fury simmering in his blood. Back turned, an infuriating calm rolls over him. He stands, collecting himself. He straightens his tie.       "This has gone too far, Geto."

[ratiosalaryman]

"Socks with slippers?" Satoru made a face. "And you say I'm the one that makes bad choices." (re: that art you reblogged lol)

@mcwscollective : ( reply to this awesome art )

"... what a man does in his own living room, is a private, sacred affair," he sighs. "Say that again after trying it for yourself. The sophistication... the comfort, even someone like you can appreciate."

[ratiosalaryman]

[ stay ]  your muse telling mine to stay in the car . 

@6cular : ( answered for non-sexual acts of dominance — accepting ) gojo -> nanami

Stay in the car, Nanami~ Gojo looms at his car door, an unreadable smile on his lips as he casually bids his friend to stay put. And Nanami, without thinking, catches the inside of the door before Satoru has a chance to shut it on him. He peers up, the white-haired sorcerer a mask of pleasantries, is no doubt not telling him everything. Kento can't help but be suspicious. "Gojo-san," he clips, frowning as his shades betray a sliver of concern in his eyes.

He wants to go with him to the Kyoto meeting. He knows he has given every reason to not be at these council gatherings that portray themselves as anything but appeasements of sycophancy. With no doubt Satoru Gojo Kyoto being public enemy number one. —But they are here on an under-the-table mission, for one reason or another, and Gojo was not supposed to be here. This is supposed to be secret, one that the details have yet to be fully divulged to Kento Nanami, let alone why Gojo opted to follow him here at all.

Was this a casual check-in since Gojo was in town? Perhaps Gojo could sell it as such. But the higher ups have a way of sniffing out suspicious activity. "Should you be going into the lion's den alone?" he asks sternly, but sighs, weakening his grip on the door between him and Gojo. He watches his friend, hating him to go without back-up. But knows he can't follow him. "You don't have to come with me tonight. If you want to check in with the higher-ups and go sight-seeing....I'd say I understand," he sighs. "They don't know I've been sent here, but Tokyo sending a first-grade sorcerer on an unapproved mission is much different than Satoru Gojo doing the same."

[ratiosalaryman]

A young lady sings and dances, "I- Am hapoy- to see my husband!! I am happy, am happy m, to see- my husband!" Then accidentally bumps into Nanami.

@anonymous : ( answered )

Nanami anticipates the impact in 3... 2... 1... He stops, just so. He'd rather avoid doing any more damage than the inevitable. The young lady hits him with all the impact of a bunny head-butting a wall, and Nanami can't help but feel a little guilty. He's ready with a hand on her hip, catching her before she can collapse to the concrete tiles. His hand— a movement too quick to register— is on hers, a gentle grip wrapping around the umbrella threatening to stab him in the face. He lowers it to peer down at her. No heat is behind his sunglasses as he acknowledges his innocent assailant.

"...better hurry to your husband," he says with rare softness, a stark contradiction to the man's stern exterior. She flusters, and Nanami frowns, hoping he isn't scaring her. Nanami releases the grip on her hand but maintains the hold on the umbrella, handing it back to her. "It's alright. No harm done," he replies, his tone steady and calm. He adjusts his tie, as if the collision hadn't disrupted his meticulous appearance in the slightest. As she scurries away, her song of happiness dances on, this time with a funny kind of renewed energy. Nanami watches her go, a faint trace of a smile touching his lips. In the rhythm of her steps and the melody of her voice, he finds a fleeting reminder that even in the midst of the mundane, it's nice to witness... that there are happier people out there.

[ratiosalaryman]

[ lit ]  your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine . 

@getouh : ( answered non-sexual acts of dominance — accepting ) getouh lights → nanami's cig

It was time to come up for air. The heavy metal door swings heavy behind him as he puts the cigarette to his lips, stepping free of the threshold of sterile office silence and numbing fluorescent lights. He is greeted by the setting sun on a Tokyo skyline. The neon lights of the metropolis flicker to life around him, casting eerie green and crimson light on the towering monolithic building behind him. A reminder of his deadline, Nanami sighs, sucking dead air through his teeth as he acquiesces to the night's trials. Tie askew, Nanami finally takes off his suit jacket, folding it beneath his arm as he searches for a lighter. He finds his financial report, instead. Frustrated, he sighs as he pulls out a pen and props himself on the concrete boundary. He folds the paper in half, tired and body feeling like a damned punching bag, he scrapes his eyes over the numbers again, irritable that he had pocketed something so important amidst a deadline. He senses something sick on his periphery, but he's easy to ignore the impending choke of cursed energy. Better to weigh the day's plaguing deadlines. But there is something familiar in the click of shoes upon the pavement. An unwelcome presence that cuts through Kento Nanami's arithmetic reverie.

Nanami's eyes lift from the spreadsheet, meeting Getouh Suguru's gaze with measured disinterest. A "miss me, Nanami—?" plays on the man's dark eyes, smugness dripping off every movement, every gesture as he encroaches. There is a great assuredness in him that Nanami hasn't met before. This isn't the Suguru Getouh he knew. The confidence is different, not the same humble confidence that he admired before. It can't be— The man produces a lighter out of nowhere. His ex-upper class-man smiles mockingly at him, pressing too close-- Nanami meets his eyes with stiff stoicism, and without waiting for permission, Getouh flicks open the lighter. The flame dances to life as he leans in. A cackle of flint and steel lights up the hard lines of Nanami's face, his cool eyes not leaving Suguru as he casually lights his cigarette. The acrid scent of burning tobacco fills the air as Nanami inhales, a gesture more of compliance than desire. The smoke curls around them like a twisted dance, unresolved tension that hangs thick between the two men. Nanami's eyes narrow, the distaste evident on his face as he turns his head to exhale a lazy plume of smoke. Getouh leans against the concrete wall, watching him with the dark eyes of a shark that tastes the scent of blood. The rhythmic pulse of traffic sounds continues on and on around them, and the wind picks up. "I'm on break," he says, his voice carrying a subtle edge. He notices the sheet in his hand has been crushed in the interim, and Nanami silently folds the paper in irritation to tuck it away. He rolls up his sleeves, a tick of his, to then flick away the ashes, seeming more interested in anything else, save the black hole on his periphery— Suguru. The glow of the cigarette tip illuminates his features, sans glasses, his cursed tool replaced with the mundane air of over time weariness and annoyance. No one is here to witness this ghost return, save Kento Nanami, salary man. He's retired from this bullshit, for fucks sake.