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Crimson red streaks run down the glass and Itsuki has to close his eyes.
Slowly, Itsuki opens them, glad that the glass is now clear and the sun is shining brightly. “Hey, hey Ittchan.” Saeki rests a hand on Itsuki’s shoulder, and his smile almost as tired as Itsuki feels. “You should go home and rest for a bit.”
“Why?” Itsuki croaks, softly, his throat parched and his voice dying. He’s asked that question so many times the past day, to so many people, asking, and asking, and asking, while he slides over and under their mental shields to get inside their heads. Why, why, why, why.
Ojii’s death had ripped the solar system apart, each planet jockeying for revenge, each space station weighing in on ‘unpleasant characters’ who had come through. None of them were right.
“Because you just spent about three hours inside the head of a man who murdered his wife and six children but had nothing to do with Ojii’s death.” Itsuki nods slowly, exhaling a slow whistling breath through his nose. His shoulders slump, gravity pulling him down. “Hey, hey!” Saeki shakes his shoulders, catches his chin and pulls Itsuki up to look him in the eye. “No sleeping here Ittchan, you’ve got an apartment for that.”
“Yes, Sae-san.” Itsuki nodded, all the sudden feeling all the 34 hours of sleeplessness. Hours after hours inside of a subjects brain, breaking for coffee and to force a little food down his throat. “You’ll call me if there’s anyone else brought in right?”
Saeki pats Itsuki’s shoulder, pushing him towards the exit. “No, I’m going home soon too. Shudou’ll give us both calls if something comes up.”
Itsuki spares Saeki a small smile, Saeki’s been up as long as him, been working as hard, and Itsuki hadn’t thought a bit about him. Itsuki hadn’t thought about himself either, but he never really had to, not with Saeki looking out for him. Itsuki heads out the automatic glass doors, the sunshine so much brighter outside. Automatically Itsuki holds up his hand to shade his eyes, giving himself a second to adjust.
The cobbled sidewalks are clustered with people, psychic white noise buzzing in a section of Itsuki’s brain most people don’t use. Flashes of insights, shopping list, fantasies, and hungers slide through Itsuki’s mind, in one ear, out the other, as easy as that. It’s disconcerting, but Itsuki is too tired to build up his psychic walls and block everyone out. The best of psychic’s have an implant to keep out the white noise, but Itsuki isn’t that strong, not like Davide or Ryou.
Itsuki moves down the street passing people (Jimmy better not overcook the roast) by as he heads for the section of the walk designated (Stupid bitch) for those waiting for hovercabs. (When was the last time I ate? So hungry) A lean young woman catches a cab, cramming in with her cheerful friends, all of them chattering like magpies. Itsuki’s never actually seen a (Bread, eggs, crustionalion’s jelly…) magpie, but he assumes that the bird is very loud.
A hovercab descends and Itsuki steps forward at the same time as a slightly taller gentleman. “If you don’t mind sharing.” The man doesn’t ask, merely pulls open the door for Itsuki. The man must have some skill, he radiates calm and quiet quiet quiet.
Itsuki gives directions for his apartment, leaning back into the soft cushions of the hover cab’s backseat. The quiet quiet quiet of the other man makes him almost forgettable, almost, and Itsuki closes his eyes, overwhelmed and tired.
A hand on his elbow and Itsuki jerks awake, a flash of red, cross hairs, old, scrawny can’t get away now old man and stares up into the cold eyes of his fellow passenger. “There’s been a slight change of plans, Itsuki-kun.”
“Why?” Itsuki croaks, softly, his throat parched and his voice dying. He’s asked that question so many times the past day, to so many people, asking, and asking, and asking, while he slides over and under their mental shields to get inside their heads. Why, why, why, why.
Ojii’s death had ripped the solar system apart, each planet jockeying for revenge, each space station weighing in on ‘unpleasant characters’ who had come through. None of them were right.
“Because you just spent about three hours inside the head of a man who murdered his wife and six children but had nothing to do with Ojii’s death.” Itsuki nods slowly, exhaling a slow whistling breath through his nose. His shoulders slump, gravity pulling him down. “Hey, hey!” Saeki shakes his shoulders, catches his chin and pulls Itsuki up to look him in the eye. “No sleeping here Ittchan, you’ve got an apartment for that.”
“Yes, Sae-san.” Itsuki nodded, all the sudden feeling all the 34 hours of sleeplessness. Hours after hours inside of a subjects brain, breaking for coffee and to force a little food down his throat. “You’ll call me if there’s anyone else brought in right?”
Saeki pats Itsuki’s shoulder, pushing him towards the exit. “No, I’m going home soon too. Shudou’ll give us both calls if something comes up.”
Itsuki spares Saeki a small smile, Saeki’s been up as long as him, been working as hard, and Itsuki hadn’t thought a bit about him. Itsuki hadn’t thought about himself either, but he never really had to, not with Saeki looking out for him. Itsuki heads out the automatic glass doors, the sunshine so much brighter outside. Automatically Itsuki holds up his hand to shade his eyes, giving himself a second to adjust.
The cobbled sidewalks are clustered with people, psychic white noise buzzing in a section of Itsuki’s brain most people don’t use. Flashes of insights, shopping list, fantasies, and hungers slide through Itsuki’s mind, in one ear, out the other, as easy as that. It’s disconcerting, but Itsuki is too tired to build up his psychic walls and block everyone out. The best of psychic’s have an implant to keep out the white noise, but Itsuki isn’t that strong, not like Davide or Ryou.
Itsuki moves down the street passing people (Jimmy better not overcook the roast) by as he heads for the section of the walk designated (Stupid bitch) for those waiting for hovercabs. (When was the last time I ate? So hungry) A lean young woman catches a cab, cramming in with her cheerful friends, all of them chattering like magpies. Itsuki’s never actually seen a (Bread, eggs, crustionalion’s jelly…) magpie, but he assumes that the bird is very loud.
A hovercab descends and Itsuki steps forward at the same time as a slightly taller gentleman. “If you don’t mind sharing.” The man doesn’t ask, merely pulls open the door for Itsuki. The man must have some skill, he radiates calm and quiet quiet quiet.
Itsuki gives directions for his apartment, leaning back into the soft cushions of the hover cab’s backseat. The quiet quiet quiet of the other man makes him almost forgettable, almost, and Itsuki closes his eyes, overwhelmed and tired.
A hand on his elbow and Itsuki jerks awake, a flash of red, cross hairs, old, scrawny can’t get away now old man and stares up into the cold eyes of his fellow passenger. “There’s been a slight change of plans, Itsuki-kun.”