"I bet you do, then." Akira nods slowly, watching Dove with that sharp, half-lidded gaze of his. "It is tape season, after all."
He says it like it’s just another routine, like swapping pieces of their own shattered realities is some kind of twisted holiday tradition. He’s not actually sure if he prefers this over Halloween. At least with that, he knew what to expect—chaos, sure, but predictable chaos. This? This was something else entirely.
And yet, as much as he doesn’t want to make any assumptions about Dove’s feelings on that particular night, the fact that he’s standing here—unapologetic, still himself—leaves Akira more relieved than he’d anticipated.
The earnesty in Dove’s smile is enough to make something in Akira’s guarded expression melt.
The corners of his cocky grin twitch, amused, maybe even a little soft—a sound-memory surfacing, one from a time when his own detective used to look at him like that.
Dove’s intrigue only makes it better.
"You can't say that, and not be able to back up your claim."
Oh, the Goro Akechi likes a challenge, huh?
Akira snorts, shifting his weight onto one hip as he slouches even further, resting his right palm on it before rubbing the back of his neck with a dramatic sigh. Then, in a shockingly deep voice, he delivers his best impression:
"Not bad, kid. You’re brewing this coffee like you’ve been perfecting the art for the past decade now."
It’s uncanny—Sojiro’s signature gruff approval spoken with a kind of rehearsed ease that suggests he’s either heard it way too many times or he’s just that good at imitating him.
Then, just as quickly, he grins wide and shrugs, slipping back into his usual teasing lilt. "And that, my friend, is the highest praise a guy can get in this line of work. You’re looking at the best barista in all of uh, this deadpool multiversal mess; self-proclaimed, of course, but we don't have to talk about that part."
With a theatrical wave of his hand, he spins on his heel and starts grabbing the necessary tools, movements fluid, practiced.
"But hey, I wouldn't wanna mess up after making such a bold proclamation," he says, glancing back at Dove with an easy smirk. "You got a preference?"
no subject
He says it like it’s just another routine, like swapping pieces of their own shattered realities is some kind of twisted holiday tradition. He’s not actually sure if he prefers this over Halloween. At least with that, he knew what to expect—chaos, sure, but predictable chaos. This? This was something else entirely.
And yet, as much as he doesn’t want to make any assumptions about Dove’s feelings on that particular night, the fact that he’s standing here—unapologetic, still himself—leaves Akira more relieved than he’d anticipated.
The earnesty in Dove’s smile is enough to make something in Akira’s guarded expression melt.
The corners of his cocky grin twitch, amused, maybe even a little soft—a sound-memory surfacing, one from a time when his own detective used to look at him like that.
Dove’s intrigue only makes it better.
"You can't say that, and not be able to back up your claim."
Oh, the Goro Akechi likes a challenge, huh?
Akira snorts, shifting his weight onto one hip as he slouches even further, resting his right palm on it before rubbing the back of his neck with a dramatic sigh. Then, in a shockingly deep voice, he delivers his best impression:
"Not bad, kid. You’re brewing this coffee like you’ve been perfecting the art for the past decade now."
It’s uncanny—Sojiro’s signature gruff approval spoken with a kind of rehearsed ease that suggests he’s either heard it way too many times or he’s just that good at imitating him.
Then, just as quickly, he grins wide and shrugs, slipping back into his usual teasing lilt. "And that, my friend, is the highest praise a guy can get in this line of work. You’re looking at the best barista in all of uh, this deadpool multiversal mess; self-proclaimed, of course, but we don't have to talk about that part."
With a theatrical wave of his hand, he spins on his heel and starts grabbing the necessary tools, movements fluid, practiced.
"But hey, I wouldn't wanna mess up after making such a bold proclamation," he says, glancing back at Dove with an easy smirk. "You got a preference?"