Maruki blinked at the bluntness of the remark, momentarily stunned, before a wry chuckle escaped his lips. The sound surprised even him—it had been a while since anything had genuinely amused him. He shook his head, a faint glimmer of something akin to humor dancing in his tired eyes.
“Well, I appreciate your honesty, if nothing else,” he said, his voice as soft and even as ever, though undeniably weighed down by his own exhaustion. “Though, it’s rare to hear that kind of candor from anyone.”
He straightened slightly, though not without effort, and nodded at Akechi-kun’s hasty apology. “No offense taken. You startled me just as much, so let’s call it even.” His hand grazed the shelf beside him for balance, though he tried to make the motion look casual.
Maruki glanced at the bobblehead as the man tucked it away, filing away the Akechi’s confession for later consideration. It was intriguing—not only the admission but the slightly self-conscious way it was delivered. The mixture of amusement and disdain that this Akechi had for his cognitive replica spoke volumes.
When the man addressed him more directly, Maruki’s expression shifted slightly. His gaze sharpened, and he offered a polite, yet apprehensive correction. “Dr. Takuto Maruki,” he said softly, with a faint, professional nod. “Though you can drop the formalities if they feel tedious really. I’ve heard every possible variation of my name at this point.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slipped a hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, retrieving the tape. The motion was deliberate but gentle, as though handling something delicate.
Which it was to an extent.
The corners of his lips twitched into a small, wistful smile as he extended the tape toward Mockingbird. “Here. I believe this is what you’re after. And before you say anything—” He raised a hand preemptively, his tone kind but firm. “Don’t overthink my state. Let’s just say I’ve had... a long day. I’ll manage.”
There was a subtle precision in his words, as though he could already anticipate any protests or questions. His choice of phrasing carried an almost uncanny accuracy, a hallmark of his skill in reading people—a skill he rarely flaunted but was keenly aware of.
He tilted his head slightly, studying the man before him. “I hope this tape is what you need, though. If it’s not, I’d hate for either of us to have wasted our time.”
He's lying obviously. He knows the tape belongs to him but offering unbiased confidence would be suspicious.
no subject
“Well, I appreciate your honesty, if nothing else,” he said, his voice as soft and even as ever, though undeniably weighed down by his own exhaustion. “Though, it’s rare to hear that kind of candor from anyone.”
He straightened slightly, though not without effort, and nodded at Akechi-kun’s hasty apology. “No offense taken. You startled me just as much, so let’s call it even.” His hand grazed the shelf beside him for balance, though he tried to make the motion look casual.
Maruki glanced at the bobblehead as the man tucked it away, filing away the Akechi’s confession for later consideration. It was intriguing—not only the admission but the slightly self-conscious way it was delivered. The mixture of amusement and disdain that this Akechi had for his cognitive replica spoke volumes.
When the man addressed him more directly, Maruki’s expression shifted slightly. His gaze sharpened, and he offered a polite, yet apprehensive correction. “Dr. Takuto Maruki,” he said softly, with a faint, professional nod. “Though you can drop the formalities if they feel tedious really. I’ve heard every possible variation of my name at this point.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slipped a hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, retrieving the tape. The motion was deliberate but gentle, as though handling something delicate.
Which it was to an extent.
The corners of his lips twitched into a small, wistful smile as he extended the tape toward Mockingbird. “Here. I believe this is what you’re after. And before you say anything—” He raised a hand preemptively, his tone kind but firm. “Don’t overthink my state. Let’s just say I’ve had... a long day. I’ll manage.”
There was a subtle precision in his words, as though he could already anticipate any protests or questions. His choice of phrasing carried an almost uncanny accuracy, a hallmark of his skill in reading people—a skill he rarely flaunted but was keenly aware of.
He tilted his head slightly, studying the man before him. “I hope this tape is what you need, though. If it’s not, I’d hate for either of us to have wasted our time.”
He's lying obviously. He knows the tape belongs to him but offering unbiased confidence would be suspicious.