Satomi heard him say, โGet home saaafe!โ as a couple of them shoved and shouted in the middle of the street like teenage boys. Once they dropped out of his eyesight, Kyouji slumped back against the doorframe, all his sparkle expended. He looked out across the street. Two bright, lazy-eyed pinpricks of light habitually scanned his surroundings, his mouth set in a bored little line. Kyouji saw him. Satomi saw his brows raise, only a little, before he arranged his expression back to the disinterested mask heโd had on. Satomi hung back, heard the noise of dozens of men making their way back home. A car alarm went off. Someone or something tipped a garbage can over one street down, and it jolted the both of them. Kyouji tucked his vape away, lingered just a moment by the doorframe, and then stepped inside. Satomi waited exactly four minutes to see if anyone else emerged from the bar. He wanted to wait five, but he got too impatient. Twelve years ago, this place had stunk of smoke. Was heavy with it, like a thick fog. The bar had been blessedly smoke-free tonight. But there was no erasing that odour. It had seeped into the paint, the fabric seats, the patches of carpet where the men sang to save their skins. Satomi swept his gaze as he wrinkled his nose. A fog machine was chugging along in the corner, forgotten.
it's wipwednesday.... reminder that there is No Update this Friday...! I may post another preview on Friday though :)
