Day 52: Sun Room

[windsome]

If she were honest, Yukari would have said she had no idea what a "sun room" was supposed to entail. She didn't ask, though, because by the time she had finished asking all the more important questions (which still weren't getting answered in any way that made sense), Yukari was getting rather fed up with all the nonsense her accompanying nurse was

Comments

[sortaheadstrong]

She'd had a second page - ready with her name and the question of how he'd gotten there himself - in hopes that he might be a little more forward about saying what he knew, but it went unneeded. He seemed to understand it right off somehow. From her writing, or maybe from her mannerisms, she didn't know. He couldn't have recognized her though because even she didn't know what she looked like. Not really. Even though there'd been that girl. Harima Mika. She'd been made to look something like her, or so she'd thought, but that didn't mean she actually looked like that. Or... maybe it did? If Shizuo was able to recognize her so quickly. He had been there that time...

Her thoughts were stopped quickly as Shizuo went from almost smiling to looking like he might clothesline the next staff member that moved. She started, then waved her hand hurriedly and turned her notebook to scribble down the fastest words about the first thought she could manage:

How did you get here?

she asked when the book turned back. Just telling him to calm down and not think about killing people didn't work (or hadn't worked to her knowledge), so a change of subject was best. Hopefully, it would work.

[angeritself]

It could have been body language. Something about this woman with a head that told him, body if not conscious mind, that he knew her -- this was the person like him. Something he'd felt, if not understood, the first time he'd seen the figure on the motorbike. Not just because Celty'd been putting that idiot in his place.

At the moment, he wasn't thinking about that, about the past, about Shinra, about anything. Time had passed and the drugs had weakened and fury surged, the attack on Celty unforgivable (luckily, this thought did not strike: is that even her head?) -- until her hand and the new words did, handily, distract him.

Too bad the question was an annoying one. It was confusing, which meant it was annoying. Shizuo had not had much time or ability to think about it over the day, not that thinking about it helped. But, it had been a day of firsts, and it continued in that vein. Rather than fume at the question, Shizuo shrugged. He shrugged, moving a hand to his neck and scratching. His temper had been different all day, even factoring the drugs. If Shizuo were the type to think about it--

--but, he wasn't.

"I don't know," he confessed, frowning. "I woke up in a weird room. Went to sleep in Ikebukuro. This--"

Shizuo hesitated. The words he was about to say were unnatural, wrong, could not possibly exist in his vocabulary strung together in this way, in any way that made sense. But, through the drugs, the suspicion had remained, had latched onto the underside of his tongue, had stuck like a stench, one that wouldn't disperse until he acknowledged it.

Because it was Celty, he could: "...isn't Izaya, is it?"

"That bastard," he added, a half-hearted but necessary, instinctive afterthought. After saying something like that.