[ Angel's insistence and, to put it bluntly, his interest in him chisels out a grimace from Denji as he throws his arm back to avoid contact with him, the force of the movement nearly taking him off the pedestrian walkway. He catches himself, though, back knees hitting the raised guardrails.
Ugh, normally he's so much cooler than this… He's just never seen him like so determined before; he always thought Angel the sort to give up at the slightest inconvenience, which is why he hoped some harmless roughhousing would compel the winged devil to keep his distance. An obstacle he'd find not worth exerting the effort to vault over. But with the tables suddenly turned and seeing him advance, reach for him, like a moth that can't catch a hint — he has to question his own reticence.
Up to this point, he's been fine with pressing him down, nicking food from his hair, brushing his wings, grabbing him. Why is that? And why is he the one backing off now? ]
Geez! [ His arms fold across his chest, shoulders hunched and half-turned away. ] I told you already. Feels like nothing. When you were clinging to my hand like a baby, it was more like… I'unno. When someone blows out a candle.
[ Or feeling a hand down the underside of a pillow. Not cold, but cool. He'd even venture to describe it as refreshing. ]
Ya can't take my life span 'cause it's not yours to take. Make sense?
[ But it’s not Denji’s, either, no. His life's already promised to another purpose. It's not something he can freely give away anymore. He already made that trade, though some people would surely think of it as more a forfeiture. ]
[...No, it doesn't make sense. His power has no qualm with overwriting the claims of other devils. And if he gave his life to anyone else, like with the curse devil, then he would simply drop dead once surrendered. So what is it?]
[Angel flexes his fingers and seems to be considering touching Denji again despite his clear frustration with it... But he's reminded of how he felt last night, grabbed and yanked and patted all over. No, he'd rather not welcome the comparison.]
...It's strange. I've never touched a human without watching them die.
[So he's never been able to focus on the feeling of the touch. The texture of his skin, the warmth coming out of it, the feeling of callouses on his palm. Do all humans feel like that?]
[He holds his hand up, palm facing Denji, a sign that would mean Stop if not for what he says next.]
[ Without watching them die — it's not really said in a way that's meant to tug at his heartstrings or appeal to his sympathies, and, really, Denji's not a sap like that, so it wouldn't have worked even if that'd been the intent, but…
A moment goes by. Slowly but surely, like a porcupine whose burrs are ceding back into its spine after a threat passes, his shoulders slump forward, trying to relax. He huffs. ]
Are you serious? You feel the same as any person, duh… Not like you've got scales and lizard skin, or somethin'. You never, like, touch yourself?
[ In spite of his complaints, his hand moves, lays smooth against Angel's palm. Awkward, tense, and a bit twitchy every time he gets the sense that his fingers might interlace with his again, yes, but they're touching as requested. From an outsider's perspective, it nearly looks as if they're playing one of those hand games for children.
…His gaze averts. Angel's hand is soft and plush like one of his feathers, unmarred by anything noticeable. Like he's never really done any heavy-lifting. But he's seen him hold weapons before, so that can't be fully true — not unless they come out made of lighter material being from his halo. Which, who knows, could be possible? ]
You're squishy, [ he says, eyes trailing back to Angel's. ] The way cake's squishy and hard when you put it in, uh, f-fun… [ His brows furrow. ] Fondant? Yeah. That's how you feel.
[The idea that he could feel what his skin is like through the act of touching himself... It's odd, to Angel. It would be like feeling the texture of cloth when covered by another layer of it. It's too distant, not easily understood. But Denji's skin is so easy to understand. So different from what he has felt. How thin his fingers are, how firm his palm is. He stares at their union while Denji explains what it feels like to touch him and, for some really weird reason, he kind of wonders what Denji might taste like, too.]
[He lets his hand drop after a moment, still staring openly at the inches of exposed skin below the roll of Denji's sleeve. Different. He says he feels the same as any person, but Denji isn't squishy, isn't like fondant covering a moist cake. It's hard to comprehend. Like being able to touch a cloud without it dissipating beneath your fingers. Melting into cold vapor. No, Denji can't understand that, he knows.]
[So why does it have to be Denji who has to be the one to feel him?]
[The other side of the coin of touching: being touched. Simple things he hid himself away from, if not out of distaste then out of practicality. Yes, he hates humans, of course he does, of course. But the idea has crossed his mind. Once or twice, sure. The idea of someone touching him and Angel not minding it, them not being hurt by it. Taking his hand, rubbing something off his cheek, touching - the act of being felt.]
[And here stands Denji, capable of all those things and more. Why? Divine intervention? This is a cruel blessing, if that's the case.]
I wonder why it's you, then. Who can touch me without being hurt.
[ Is he trying to say he's disappointed it's not someone else? Still ruffled and perturbed by the whole thing, Denji feels his eye twitch while listening to Angel, then lets his own empty hand fall.
With how freely Denji trespasses others' comfort zones — not to mention, how up to very recently he slept every single night with a devil huddled in a ball on his chest — it's probably true. He wouldn't understand what it feels like to have to avoid, and be avoided, in an interaction, so commonplace, mice and cockroaches have experienced touch more than Angel has before. Of course he wouldn't he get it.
But what he does know is what happens when something you've never had suddenly materializes within reach. ]
Dontcha get tired of thinkin' so hard?
[ Hell if Denji knows how the physiology of a devil hybrid works. It just does what it's supposed to when it's supposed to: heals him, keeps him from dying, makes his cells multiply and resurface from rigor mortis faster than a shinkansen. Maybe his body's just really good at outrunning Angel's ability. Simple as that.
He bends down next to the vending machine's dispenser, pulling out the yogurt drink that'd popped down from Angel's collision. ]
It's just like when we played that game last night. Sometimes you pull a 21, sometimes you pull a dud. It is what it is. There's no special reason to it…
[ That's not divine intervention. That's just nature. ]
[It is what it is. Sometimes it feels depressing to have the same idea about life as Denji. Even though he lives a life seeing the glass as half full and Angel sees it half empty, their words sometimes align in odd ways.]
Moving...
[That's right, he was following Denji to something. What was it he wanted to do...? Something about an arcade? He has no idea what they'll do at an arcade, but he's pretty sure he mentioned something about a cafe, too. Maybe he can get him to buy him more food. Because yes, even after eating one of everything the concession stand had to offer, he can still eat more. And he hasn't even had to piss yet.]
...Yeah. I'm ready.
[And he is. This time he can stay close to Denji, not separated by other people as he doesn't need to avoid him as much. Doesn't need to keep his distance, and in fact, doesn't need to keep any distance. He keeps pace with him easily, and with it, wonders how close is too close, anyway. For someone who has spent most of his life staying a polite distance away to avoid possible contact, the sudden dropping of that guard is strange. He could just reach down and grab Denji's hand if he wanted to. And his own does brush against it every now and then, like he's testing it. Seeing if it really still doesn't kill him. How the tables have turned.]
[It's not that his halo is glowing brighter now. More like it's gone more white than yellow.]
Do you have some kind of card for an arcade, too? [Last time he had Aki's money cards, this time he had something on his phone to get all that food. Denji must be made of discount cards.]
[ Denji always takes up too much space when he walks. Sometimes he marches, sometimes his limbs swing all over the place because he's fighting off Power, or he's over-gesticulating, or simply because he's stretching arms back in a yawn. Before, when the space between them could be measured in whole bodies, there was no worrying about knocking someone over or poking a few eyeballs out. Now, as Angel matches his strides, wings bouncing along behind him, it's like being excessively conscientious of a newborn duckling sticking by his side — he's not going too fast for him, is he? Nobody suspicious is tailing them, right? Denji isn't the fussy type, doesn't have the same protective instincts for others like someone he knows, but it wouldn't be good to have a repeat of that close call from earlier.
That's probably the only reason why he doesn't tell him to cut it out with all touching on the way to the arcade: It lets Denji know he's still there.
…But, geez, could he be less obvious about it… ]
Card? [ Brown eyes flicker toward him, startled. He'd barely realized they were standing in front of the game center. ] Oh, yeah…
[ Of course Denji has a card for this place as well — Power and he share this one, though, as enforced by Aki, since taking turns makes them more thoughtful about what they're spending money on. He's pretty sure there should be some tokens leftover for them to spend on the best games at least. Where did he put that thing again?
He flips through his wallet. There are bills, coins, more pointless membership cards, a lot of which are to places he's only been to once. But none of them belonging to the arcade. ]
What?! It's not here!
[ He vividly remembers pounding on the bathroom door, yelling at Power to remember to flush and fork over the card before he left, but whether or not she did either of those things… The stupid Shit Devil! Their card had well over 200 tokens on there. And though it'd be easy to buy another card or just go it old school with coins, but if they play too many games that'd probably take them through over half their budget. Not good when they've got other places to go, plus another cab to catch at the end.
Weakly, he counts his current change, then turns to Angel. ]
Uh, here's the deal, [ Denji says, beginning to lead them inside. ] I've only got enough to let us play one game. So we gotta make it count. There are, like, racing and drums and fighter games somewhere in here… The UFO claw catcher thingy… Oh, there's one where this little guy pops out of a hole and you whack 'em. I really like that one.
[ But ultimately, he'll let Angel have the pick. He technically didn't pick the movie, so here's his second chance! ]
[He has so many cards. Angel watches him dig through his wallet for the missing arcade card and can't help but wonder if this is common for a human to have so many cards. Compared to Aki Hayakawa's wallet, it's thick and plentiful... Does that mean it's unusual to have a lot of cards? He's pretty sure he's only ever seen him use one or two, usually he pays for things with cash... Then again, he doesn't really consider Aki Hayakawa a shining beacon of normalcy in human society, so this really feels like comparing apples to oranges right now. And a normal human may as well be a carrot or something.]
Ehh... I don't like picking stuff.
[Naturally, he denies the chance. Angel lets his eyes trail through the arcade, not moving from his spot to get a better look at anything in specific...]
[...until his eyes land on the last thing Denji mentioned, staring at it as it plays its little idle movements. Every now and then, a black-colored monster pops out, a big "D" written on its front. It has evil-looking red eyes and a big, toothy smirk. He watches it pop up in different holes as the automatic tinny voice orders, Slay the devil!]
That thing?
[Does he come here for training or something...?]
Why do you like it so much? It looks like work to me.
[As in, their job. Why would Denji do his job on his days off?]
Hey, hey, get it right! It's not work, it's fun. Pretty sure you've never heard of it cooped up in that jail cell of yours.
[ Angel said he didn't like picking stuff, but bringing Denji's attention to something is as good making a decision, in his book. Whether his little tag-along wants to or not, he's now making his way toward the arcade game. There are some single-player iterations of the machine, but this one is for two players to compete for who can whack the Devil fastest — right now, it's preoccupied by some middle school-age kids. ]
This thing's the best for when you're pent up and wanna take it out on something. But without getting guts on your uniform. Or, like, getting in trouble for killing anything you're not supposed to.
[ Standing behind the kids, he watches a boy fling his mallet at the jeering devil and miss, hitting an empty hole. ]
[Yeah, he's heard of fun. That's what he assumed an arcade was full of. Instead it's noisy, cramped, and the floor is a little bit sticky in some spots. Angel follows Denji to the machine, watching the youngsters do their best at the fight, but he's following the devils more than the hammers. Pop, pop, pop... Slowly, his head begins to tilt, eyes trained on the left-most machine.]
It's in a pattern.
[He points at it as the boy on the right grins as he wins, the other boy demanding a second go. They don't even look at Denji or Angel as they both push a couple tokens into the machines and the fight begins anew. As it starts up, Angel again points to the left-most machine.]
Look... Every five devils, it goes to the top left corner, then moves down two, and over two. Then it goes to the center, and goes down one. Then, it...
[As Angel speaks, the machine does just as he predicts, following the pattern he voices from his brief watching. Every now and then it pops up in a semi-random spot, but Angel figures even that must have some kind of rationale to it. Maybe the pattern isn't so obvious anyone could figure it out after one or two observations, but Angel frowns like he's watching someone struggle over tying a basic knot.]
This looks way too easy, with that kind of logic to it.
[ His deconstruction of the rules by which the toy devil shoots out and then plunges back into hiding has Denji's excitement shrinking to the size of a pea, no, smaller than that. Unable to close his mouth, he watches it, true to form, go where Angel dictates, as if it's just following orders. What the hell. Have a mind of your own! Prove him wrong! That's what he wants to shout at it, but even the minor deviations from the pattern fail to revive his enthusiasm. The boy on the right slams his mallet into the devil for the last time, pumping it into the air when ding, ding, ding, the machine declares him the winner again.
A line of tickets to be exchanged at the prize counter launches out and is quickly snatched by the losing boy who dashes off, the winner yelling obscenities as he runs after him. Leaving the machine abandoned. Denji approaches the console.
If it's too easy because of logic, the clear answer is to stop using it. ]
'kay, let's add three new rules to make it fun.
[ His index finger ticks up: ] Let's play blindfolded.
[ Then, his thumb: ] We gotta hold the hammer in our mouth to swing.
[ Lastly, his middle finger. Just his middle finger. He's flipping Angel off. ] And the winner's decided by who breaks the devil off from the machine first! See, fun.
[What the hell. He thought he'd be happy to know the rules of the game so he could cheat or something. He did that during the card game, didn't he? What about this is so different? But Angel doesn't ask, staring down at the holes in the machine that the devil occasionally pops out of to entice people to come over and play. It's not like he's never been flipped off before, but something about how Denji didn't find his observational ability useful is annoying to him.]
...I'll do it blindfolded, but I'm not gonna do the other stuff.
[Though he has a reason for accepting the first option, he also assumes that giving Denji some kind of win will make him more liable to accept.]
Besides, if you break the machine, you'll get in trouble.
Well, that's why you've gotta use your skinny chicken legs more often! To get good at outrunning the feds.
[ In spite of the negative sentiment that holds fast to devils, the government probably wouldn't be booking them on such minor offenses as property damage — Power and he would be in for a world of hurt, otherwise. Grinning wide, like he's in a good mood to have Angel concede to at least one of the conditions, Denji steps up to him, reaching for his necktie. Apparently forgetting the inhibition toward touching Angel he'd entered the arcade with, he gives the knot a steady tug, the two ends of the fabric pulling apart, easy and loose, from his collar.
It's still weird to him that he's in uniform. Even that Violence guy has a casual hoodie he wears under his blazer. Whatever, it's coming in handy for the purposes of their game, so he'll keep his mouth zipped about it. ]
Turn around. I'll do it.
[ If he lets Angel tie it on his own, there's no telling if it'll be tight enough to fully block out his vision. His agreement inconsequential to him, Denji begins brushing his hair back, ensuring everything is tucked behind his ears, before gathering up the tie, the sides not all the way flat and even, and winding it over his eyes. He knots it like he would his shoelaces — meaning, it's not very pretty, but it works. ]
[Again Angel's instincts act and he begins to step away when Denji moves in close, grabbing his tie in a rush and too quickly for him to avoid. Once he understands what he's doing he allows it, arms hanging by his side as he watches him undo the knot, then gives him a brief but uncertain stare when he tells him to turn around.]
[In truth, he was going to cheat. He was going to let Denji blindfold himself and then take his own off and pretend he'd left it on. But now, he doesn't have much of a choice. He stands still with his back to him, waiting for him to loop the tie over his eyes, but the way he starts brushing at his unkempt hair and curling it all behind his ears is such an unnatural and strange feeling that he almost bolts at just that. His brain keeps shouting at him to move, to stop him, and he has to actively stand in place when his fingers go over his cheeks to place the tie over his eyes and then knot it in place behind his head. Unable to see the knotwork, he can only assume he's done when he raises a hand to touch the edge of the tie, turning around to face where he assumes Denji is - but he's about 30 degrees off-center, facing his left side rather than his face.]
And what are you going to use? ...Are you going to cheat? [The realization hits him as he reaches to lift the tie slightly, aiming to give him a look. How this went from him thinking he was going to only pretend to play to now being irked at the idea he might cheat is anyone's guess.]
[ Touching Angel is like handling a wild animal, something like a jumpy hare or a skittish doe. You can't be too gentle, or it'll just slip its way out of your hands and run for the nearest cover. Denji steps back to take in his handiwork; the knot in question's firmly laced. It won't be coming undone anytime soon during the game. Also…
Wow, he looks really stupid like this.
The second he catches Angel trying to peek out, he releases a soft pfft sound, passing a hand over his eyes to smooth the tie back down into place. In another testament to his good mood, he won't begrudge Angel's distrust in him this time. Knowing the crap he pulled during their card game, he gets it's rightfully earned. Luckily or unluckily for Angel, Denji's abiding by the rules today. ]
Nuh-uh, not so fast. You keep that thing on, hear me? Dontcha get your panties twisted. I'm not cheating.
[ What he's up to next is clear as day when his hands suddenly feel up the inside shoulders of Angel's uniform jacket, yanking it up to shake his arms out and plunder it from him. Not cheating. ]
Your jacket — gimme. [ Gimme, he says. As if he's leaving Angel much choice in the matter. ] It's too friggin' hot to be wearing that thing, anyway. I'll just roll it up and use it the same way. Pretty genius, I know.
[It's clear what his intention is, but immediately Angel reacts with a swipe of his arms, slapping at Denji to get off as he groans a disagreeable noise. He'd allowed him to readjust the blindfold without fight and he certainly didn't push him away like this while undoing his tie, so obviously this is different.]
Not like that - That hurts. Don't yank on them...
[His wings, that is, the scapulae getting tugged hard by his motion when he knows Denji needs to lift up, not down. For an alleged genius, he really doesn't understand the most simple of things. Angel pulls the jacket off properly, letting his arm slide out on the left side and pulling his wing through the sewn slit open in the back before repeating with his right side, careful but practiced, something he's done hundreds of times. Though it's always felt unnatural, like something he doesn't need to wear, he doesn't really have other choices. No one lets him go around shirtless, nor does he have much of a desire to when it gets so cold here in Tokyo. On a day like today, however, when it's warm and sunny... Being shirtless wouldn't be so bad.]
[But he would definitely be a much larger risk with the added surface area of life-sucking skin exposed to be touched. So maybe it's for the best he just wears his uniform even on days off.]
Here. Don't mess it up, or rip it, or anything... [And he holds it out to him, still blind and not minding at all that he looks rumpled and messy with his hair sticking up around the tie, unironed shirt no longer tucked in, and perpetual frown on his face. An ideal opponent for blind slay-a-devil.]
[ Denji automatically draws his hands back, half-raised, in the unlikely case Angel needs him to jump in and help guide the jacket off. Except it's proven very quickly that he's just fine without another pair of hands to hinder him. ]
So that's how those things get in there…
[ He unrolls the wrinkled fabric once its in his possession, just enough to look at one slit, then its counterpart, before folding it back up. Looking at him again, too long, without feeling self-conscious about Angel noticing. When he isn't swimming in the jacket, it's more striking how slight Angel's stature is. Denji's scrawny himself, can still press a hand into his side and feel the shadow of his ribs pressing back, but it's clear that with proper nutrition and exercise, he'll be filling out into a normal teenage body. Angel, though… The hell is Aki talking about, calling him one of the most dangerous devils? Even the dress shirt looks like it'll slide right off his shoulders if he moves too suddenly. ]
Chill out, I'm not gonna do anything to it! [ Bit of a delayed response to Angel's lack of faith in him, but he's hoping it's not that noticeable. ] Tell ya what, if you find a tear or something, I'll get you a treat to make up for it.
[ He's about to tie his quasi-blindfold into place, but he looks at Angel again, realizing the direction he's facing is off-center still. He rolls his eyes. ] Here, follow me. [ Taking him by his wrist, Denji leads them closer to the slay-a-devil game. Is even nice enough to hand him the toy weapon. ]
I'm starting now! Remember, the game's gonna count us down first, so don't start swingin' 'til you hear it give the signal, all dramatic-like.
[ He looks possibly dumber than Angel, the thicker material jacket unwieldy knotted against his head. Ah, well, the important thing is that it stays long enough for them to finish out their game. It takes him a few seconds to find the coin slot this way, forced to feel for it, but when he finally manages it, the machine turns on with a burst of light and a kooky little tune. ]
[The pause as Denji stares at him isn't noticed, Angel under the assumption that Denji must be blindfolding himself. He reaches around vaguely while he does, trying to find the front of the machine, but then Denji grabs him by the wrist and positions him correctly, allowing him to find the mallet next. Really, a mallet... He doesn't think something like this is the right thing to teach children how to kill devils. First of all, do kids even have access to mallets?]
Alright, alright... [Denji sounds so eager about this, like he actually wants this to be a competition. Angel can't figure out why he cares so much, enough to ensure it's "fair" by blinding the two of them. Even without a blindfold, he still knows the timing and pattern of the little dolls, so can't he just follow along?]
[But when the countdown finishes and the machine commands them to slay dem devils, Angel swats his mallet down and hits a flat machine. He can hear the sound of the puppet popping up above him and reasons it will be below that spot the next time, so he swings towards that area next and hits a flat machine again. Frowning, he attempts to keep predicting where the devil will show up but all in all hits maybe five out of the twenty or so targets. Around him, he can hear some of the others humans wondering what's going on, if this is some kind of game show, but then where are the cameras? When the music finally ends and the voice from the machine says, "Too bad, Player Two! Player One Wins!" Angel finally reaches up to push the tie off his eyes, frowning up at his score before looking at Denji's. He doesn't know which one of them was which player - was he machine number one or two...?]
Which is generally consistent with the fact that Denji hasn't been able to land a single bop to the popping field, his wide and erratic swings sending him ever so slightly off-center with each one. So whenever he would try to follow the sounds of the devil springing out from its hiding place, he'd wind up striking the side of the machine, the score board, or an empty hole — literally anything but his target. He's positive his mallet glanced off the side of the puppet devil at least once, but when he tears off Angel's jacket to stare at their ending results, what he sees is a big fat zero.
Zero……
Zero????? ]
This stupid game's rigged!
[ The accusations come quick, of course. He points his mallet straight at game mascot's illustration painted into the machine, the toy weapon shaking in his grip as if he might just try to wallop the thing's ugly mug. But in his side view, he notices there's a line behind them of others waiting to play the game, as well as a few workers keeping an eye on their antic from afar. He kinda likes this place, so it'd suck to get banned for beating the tar out of, what was up until a few minutes ago, his favorite arcade game.
For being so mad about losing, his irritation doesn't really extend to Angel for winning. With a displeased noise, he shoves the mallet back into its holder wrong side up, he skulks toward Angel's end to point out: ] Looks like you're gettin' a fancy prize. You can turn those things in over there.
[ He points his thumb over his shoulder toward a ticket exchange area full of toys, merchandise, plush dolls, and whatever else would titillate the average 10-year-old. ]
[Angel looks down at the mallet in his hand, then down at the five tickets that spill out of the machine when Denji points. Doesn't seem like that many, but he replaces the hammer where it belongs and tugs the tickets out, looking them over once he tugs the tie down around his neck, not bothering to undo the knot Denji made and instead simply letting the two long lengths fall in front of him as he stares at the little text on each stub.]
...Oh, I see. Each one of these... [He kind of trails off, now raising his head to look where Denji is pointing at the row of prizes - stuffed animals, some kind of plastic sword, buckets of candy, and other little knick knacks. As he takes in the sheer array of prizes, his face draws a little tight, like he doesn't believe him.] ...Gets you one of those?
[But that doesn't seem right. The economy would collapse under that. Still, there's a sense of brief hope as he thinks that maybe this is why Denji likes this place so much.]
Like... that? [And he points at the largest item, an oversized animal thing sitting on top of the shelf behind the guy at the counter, nearly twice the size of Angel, but he sees it probably the same time Denji does - the little sign that says that prize costs a million tickets. All the other options are much more affordable, but Angel's demeanor sinks, disappointment covering him.] What, I could have gotten a million points if you'd have let me do it with my eyes...
[ Denji's gaze follows toward where he points, at the huge mass of fluff he's pretty sure is a bed, and his lips pull back in a puzzled frown — it's a little similar to Angel's own expression, but for different reasons. When he looks back at the roll of tickets Angel is holding, the frown deepens. Yeah, that's nowhere near a million. ]
Uh, well… That wouldn't have been fun for you, right…? Doing it my way was less boring!
[ Right? He stares Angel down, searching for a glimpse of corroboration, but no matter long and hard he does it for, he looks more put out than exhilarated by the whole experience. Ah, crud, did he go wrong somewhere after all…
He turns back to the collection of prizes hung up, scouring each shelf level in desperation for something that could work as a substitute. And it doesn't take him long! Pointer finger jabbing out several consecutive times to catch his attention, Denji tries directing his attention to the shelf just below the big guy Angel was eyeing. ]
[Huh. Is this some kind of animal he's never heard of before? Angel wasn't actually too interested in the stuffed toy itself, more in shock with the idea of the economy being in such shambles, but he looks at the strip of tickets in his hand, running his thumb over each one to count. Five. That's still way too few tickets. All the big stuff is well in the hundreds.]
So it really is just like the economy outside... [And what would he, a devil with no paycheck and no access to the news, know about that? He approaches the counter where the smaller items are listed for sale in the display case. Tiny things, stuff that would probably break in a few uses, but things nonetheless. He squats down to look at the lowest shelf, finally pointing at the stack of blind boxes way in the back. Each one is marked for five tickets.]
What are those? [He was too far away when Denji was looking at Sonny Angel figures earlier, but blind boxes seem to fill the shelves here, too. And since Denji seems to know a lot about this place, he turns to look at him and ask,] What do they do?
Yeah, the economy's real screwed up… Inflation's contagious, I guess.
[ He agrees, without understanding what it is precisely he's agreeing with. He's been hearing a lot about "inflationary market environments" from the anchor lady these days, and that sounds like a smart thing to repeat. It turns out that a half-devil with a fixed paycheck and access to the news doesn't know much more than a devil without those things.
He doesn't know much about these weird little people, either. Bent beside him, Denji reaches for a box, trying to read off the packaging aloud, exaggerating each syllable to sound it out. ]
Sumi… sugi?
[ That doesn't sound right. But he's not gonna worry about correcting himself. ]
Uhhh, seems like each box comes with a different tiny dude to take home? You're s'posed to stand them up somewhere and let 'em stare at ya. [ Is his limited understanding of blind boxes, anyway. ] Which pose you're stuck with is a surprise. Powy loves this stuff! Her favorite's this one.
[ Still holding the box, Denji points to another brand. For some reason it's more expensive. Could it be that it's marked up because it's popular…? The economy really is at an all-time low. ]
[Angel tilts his head to the side as Denji attempts to read out the name of the little figure.] You can't read that, Chainsaw-kun? [Not that he's insulting him, or sounds at all judgmental. He's just surprised.] It says "Smiski." It sounds like something from the west.
[...Why he knows that, or can read the Latin characters well enough to pronounce it properly, is anyone's guess. Certainly not his own. And while he passes a look at a few of the others, notably the one Denji points out that Power likes, he passes them all over with a shrug. He doesn't really get the point of them, but he does know he'd be annoyed if Power stole something of his, so he's not about to get one she likes. And he's ready to decide on the strange little glowing man when one lonesome box near the back catches his eye and he reaches out to pick it up, humming in surprise.] This one has mice.
[He turns it over, looking at each little possible outcome, tilting it this way and that like he can suss out what's inside. He had no idea so many little figures like this existed, and for such little purpose. Denji said they're just to place somewhere and have stare at you...? Seems like an odd thing to own.]
Looks like a city mouse, though, huh...
[Ahh, Denji probably doesn't know what that story is. He pulls himself to his feet, putting the box on the counter as the man behind it notices them - and what Angel is - at long last, shock snapping into his expression as Angel sets the tickets beside the box. The guy kind of nods at him, clearly not expecting a devil to abide by the rules of an arcade economy, and accepts the tickets. Angel works at straightening up his clothes at long last, looking over at Denji and holding his hand out.] Jacket.
The phrase tickles a fairly surprised look from Denji, not because he recognizes it, but because he gets the sense he should. It rings a bell that had to have left a depression in the landscape of his psyche for him to be minding it that much, but from where… has he heard that term before?
As Angel processes his tickets with the stunned employee, he ponders it over. Stands back and out the way. Hauling the tied up ends of the jacket down from his forehead, the fabric hits his shoulders, hanging there. People edge around him without a second glance, conversations dimming under the sounds of machines dinging and chiming. They'll probably be heading somewhere for food next after this, so his time would be better spent on looking up that cafe Power told him about, but he makes no move to extract his phone, still staring off into space. Someone's playing some sort of dancing rhythm game, their stomps reminding him of something far away. Distant, like rain capering against the rooftop and a light voice asking, Hey, Denji… Which one would you choose? Oh, that's right — and what did he say to her, to Reze — ]
Huh? What's that?
[ Abruptly, Denji's gaze drops down a step, to Angel, standing there expectantly with his palm open to him. …He said something, but, clearly, it wasn't something Denji heard. Taking a shot in the dark, Denji places his hand on top of his. ]
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[ Angel's insistence and, to put it bluntly, his interest in him chisels out a grimace from Denji as he throws his arm back to avoid contact with him, the force of the movement nearly taking him off the pedestrian walkway. He catches himself, though, back knees hitting the raised guardrails.
Ugh, normally he's so much cooler than this… He's just never seen him like so determined before; he always thought Angel the sort to give up at the slightest inconvenience, which is why he hoped some harmless roughhousing would compel the winged devil to keep his distance. An obstacle he'd find not worth exerting the effort to vault over. But with the tables suddenly turned and seeing him advance, reach for him, like a moth that can't catch a hint — he has to question his own reticence.
Up to this point, he's been fine with pressing him down, nicking food from his hair, brushing his wings, grabbing him. Why is that? And why is he the one backing off now? ]
Geez! [ His arms fold across his chest, shoulders hunched and half-turned away. ] I told you already. Feels like nothing. When you were clinging to my hand like a baby, it was more like… I'unno. When someone blows out a candle.
[ Or feeling a hand down the underside of a pillow. Not cold, but cool. He'd even venture to describe it as refreshing. ]
Ya can't take my life span 'cause it's not yours to take. Make sense?
[ But it’s not Denji’s, either, no. His life's already promised to another purpose. It's not something he can freely give away anymore. He already made that trade, though some people would surely think of it as more a forfeiture. ]
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[Angel flexes his fingers and seems to be considering touching Denji again despite his clear frustration with it... But he's reminded of how he felt last night, grabbed and yanked and patted all over. No, he'd rather not welcome the comparison.]
...It's strange. I've never touched a human without watching them die.
[So he's never been able to focus on the feeling of the touch. The texture of his skin, the warmth coming out of it, the feeling of callouses on his palm. Do all humans feel like that?]
[He holds his hand up, palm facing Denji, a sign that would mean Stop if not for what he says next.]
You try, here. I want to know what I feel like.
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A moment goes by. Slowly but surely, like a porcupine whose burrs are ceding back into its spine after a threat passes, his shoulders slump forward, trying to relax. He huffs. ]
Are you serious? You feel the same as any person, duh… Not like you've got scales and lizard skin, or somethin'. You never, like, touch yourself?
[ In spite of his complaints, his hand moves, lays smooth against Angel's palm. Awkward, tense, and a bit twitchy every time he gets the sense that his fingers might interlace with his again, yes, but they're touching as requested. From an outsider's perspective, it nearly looks as if they're playing one of those hand games for children.
…His gaze averts. Angel's hand is soft and plush like one of his feathers, unmarred by anything noticeable. Like he's never really done any heavy-lifting. But he's seen him hold weapons before, so that can't be fully true — not unless they come out made of lighter material being from his halo. Which, who knows, could be possible? ]
You're squishy, [ he says, eyes trailing back to Angel's. ] The way cake's squishy and hard when you put it in, uh, f-fun… [ His brows furrow. ] Fondant? Yeah. That's how you feel.
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[He lets his hand drop after a moment, still staring openly at the inches of exposed skin below the roll of Denji's sleeve. Different. He says he feels the same as any person, but Denji isn't squishy, isn't like fondant covering a moist cake. It's hard to comprehend. Like being able to touch a cloud without it dissipating beneath your fingers. Melting into cold vapor. No, Denji can't understand that, he knows.]
[So why does it have to be Denji who has to be the one to feel him?]
[The other side of the coin of touching: being touched. Simple things he hid himself away from, if not out of distaste then out of practicality. Yes, he hates humans, of course he does, of course. But the idea has crossed his mind. Once or twice, sure. The idea of someone touching him and Angel not minding it, them not being hurt by it. Taking his hand, rubbing something off his cheek, touching - the act of being felt.]
[And here stands Denji, capable of all those things and more. Why? Divine intervention? This is a cruel blessing, if that's the case.]
I wonder why it's you, then. Who can touch me without being hurt.
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With how freely Denji trespasses others' comfort zones — not to mention, how up to very recently he slept every single night with a devil huddled in a ball on his chest — it's probably true. He wouldn't understand what it feels like to have to avoid, and be avoided, in an interaction, so commonplace, mice and cockroaches have experienced touch more than Angel has before. Of course he wouldn't he get it.
But what he does know is what happens when something you've never had suddenly materializes within reach. ]
Dontcha get tired of thinkin' so hard?
[ Hell if Denji knows how the physiology of a devil hybrid works. It just does what it's supposed to when it's supposed to: heals him, keeps him from dying, makes his cells multiply and resurface from rigor mortis faster than a shinkansen. Maybe his body's just really good at outrunning Angel's ability. Simple as that.
He bends down next to the vending machine's dispenser, pulling out the yogurt drink that'd popped down from Angel's collision. ]
It's just like when we played that game last night. Sometimes you pull a 21, sometimes you pull a dud. It is what it is. There's no special reason to it…
[ That's not divine intervention. That's just nature. ]
Now, you ready to get movin' again or what?
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Moving...
[That's right, he was following Denji to something. What was it he wanted to do...? Something about an arcade? He has no idea what they'll do at an arcade, but he's pretty sure he mentioned something about a cafe, too. Maybe he can get him to buy him more food. Because yes, even after eating one of everything the concession stand had to offer, he can still eat more. And he hasn't even had to piss yet.]
...Yeah. I'm ready.
[And he is. This time he can stay close to Denji, not separated by other people as he doesn't need to avoid him as much. Doesn't need to keep his distance, and in fact, doesn't need to keep any distance. He keeps pace with him easily, and with it, wonders how close is too close, anyway. For someone who has spent most of his life staying a polite distance away to avoid possible contact, the sudden dropping of that guard is strange. He could just reach down and grab Denji's hand if he wanted to. And his own does brush against it every now and then, like he's testing it. Seeing if it really still doesn't kill him. How the tables have turned.]
[It's not that his halo is glowing brighter now. More like it's gone more white than yellow.]
Do you have some kind of card for an arcade, too? [Last time he had Aki's money cards, this time he had something on his phone to get all that food. Denji must be made of discount cards.]
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That's probably the only reason why he doesn't tell him to cut it out with all touching on the way to the arcade: It lets Denji know he's still there.
…But, geez, could he be less obvious about it… ]
Card? [ Brown eyes flicker toward him, startled. He'd barely realized they were standing in front of the game center. ] Oh, yeah…
[ Of course Denji has a card for this place as well — Power and he share this one, though, as enforced by Aki, since taking turns makes them more thoughtful about what they're spending money on. He's pretty sure there should be some tokens leftover for them to spend on the best games at least. Where did he put that thing again?
He flips through his wallet. There are bills, coins, more pointless membership cards, a lot of which are to places he's only been to once. But none of them belonging to the arcade. ]
What?! It's not here!
[ He vividly remembers pounding on the bathroom door, yelling at Power to remember to flush and fork over the card before he left, but whether or not she did either of those things… The stupid Shit Devil! Their card had well over 200 tokens on there. And though it'd be easy to buy another card or just go it old school with coins, but if they play too many games that'd probably take them through over half their budget. Not good when they've got other places to go, plus another cab to catch at the end.
Weakly, he counts his current change, then turns to Angel. ]
Uh, here's the deal, [ Denji says, beginning to lead them inside. ] I've only got enough to let us play one game. So we gotta make it count. There are, like, racing and drums and fighter games somewhere in here… The UFO claw catcher thingy… Oh, there's one where this little guy pops out of a hole and you whack 'em. I really like that one.
[ But ultimately, he'll let Angel have the pick. He technically didn't pick the movie, so here's his second chance! ]
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Ehh... I don't like picking stuff.
[Naturally, he denies the chance. Angel lets his eyes trail through the arcade, not moving from his spot to get a better look at anything in specific...]
[...until his eyes land on the last thing Denji mentioned, staring at it as it plays its little idle movements. Every now and then, a black-colored monster pops out, a big "D" written on its front. It has evil-looking red eyes and a big, toothy smirk. He watches it pop up in different holes as the automatic tinny voice orders, Slay the devil!]
That thing?
[Does he come here for training or something...?]
Why do you like it so much? It looks like work to me.
[As in, their job. Why would Denji do his job on his days off?]
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[ Angel said he didn't like picking stuff, but bringing Denji's attention to something is as good making a decision, in his book. Whether his little tag-along wants to or not, he's now making his way toward the arcade game. There are some single-player iterations of the machine, but this one is for two players to compete for who can whack the Devil fastest — right now, it's preoccupied by some middle school-age kids. ]
This thing's the best for when you're pent up and wanna take it out on something. But without getting guts on your uniform. Or, like, getting in trouble for killing anything you're not supposed to.
[ Standing behind the kids, he watches a boy fling his mallet at the jeering devil and miss, hitting an empty hole. ]
These guys kinda suck at playing, though…
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It's in a pattern.
[He points at it as the boy on the right grins as he wins, the other boy demanding a second go. They don't even look at Denji or Angel as they both push a couple tokens into the machines and the fight begins anew. As it starts up, Angel again points to the left-most machine.]
Look... Every five devils, it goes to the top left corner, then moves down two, and over two. Then it goes to the center, and goes down one. Then, it...
[As Angel speaks, the machine does just as he predicts, following the pattern he voices from his brief watching. Every now and then it pops up in a semi-random spot, but Angel figures even that must have some kind of rationale to it. Maybe the pattern isn't so obvious anyone could figure it out after one or two observations, but Angel frowns like he's watching someone struggle over tying a basic knot.]
This looks way too easy, with that kind of logic to it.
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A line of tickets to be exchanged at the prize counter launches out and is quickly snatched by the losing boy who dashes off, the winner yelling obscenities as he runs after him. Leaving the machine abandoned. Denji approaches the console.
If it's too easy because of logic, the clear answer is to stop using it. ]
'kay, let's add three new rules to make it fun.
[ His index finger ticks up: ] Let's play blindfolded.
[ Then, his thumb: ] We gotta hold the hammer in our mouth to swing.
[ Lastly, his middle finger. Just his middle finger. He's flipping Angel off. ] And the winner's decided by who breaks the devil off from the machine first! See, fun.
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...I'll do it blindfolded, but I'm not gonna do the other stuff.
[Though he has a reason for accepting the first option, he also assumes that giving Denji some kind of win will make him more liable to accept.]
Besides, if you break the machine, you'll get in trouble.
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[ In spite of the negative sentiment that holds fast to devils, the government probably wouldn't be booking them on such minor offenses as property damage — Power and he would be in for a world of hurt, otherwise. Grinning wide, like he's in a good mood to have Angel concede to at least one of the conditions, Denji steps up to him, reaching for his necktie. Apparently forgetting the inhibition toward touching Angel he'd entered the arcade with, he gives the knot a steady tug, the two ends of the fabric pulling apart, easy and loose, from his collar.
It's still weird to him that he's in uniform. Even that Violence guy has a casual hoodie he wears under his blazer. Whatever, it's coming in handy for the purposes of their game, so he'll keep his mouth zipped about it. ]
Turn around. I'll do it.
[ If he lets Angel tie it on his own, there's no telling if it'll be tight enough to fully block out his vision. His agreement inconsequential to him, Denji begins brushing his hair back, ensuring everything is tucked behind his ears, before gathering up the tie, the sides not all the way flat and even, and winding it over his eyes. He knots it like he would his shoelaces — meaning, it's not very pretty, but it works. ]
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[In truth, he was going to cheat. He was going to let Denji blindfold himself and then take his own off and pretend he'd left it on. But now, he doesn't have much of a choice. He stands still with his back to him, waiting for him to loop the tie over his eyes, but the way he starts brushing at his unkempt hair and curling it all behind his ears is such an unnatural and strange feeling that he almost bolts at just that. His brain keeps shouting at him to move, to stop him, and he has to actively stand in place when his fingers go over his cheeks to place the tie over his eyes and then knot it in place behind his head. Unable to see the knotwork, he can only assume he's done when he raises a hand to touch the edge of the tie, turning around to face where he assumes Denji is - but he's about 30 degrees off-center, facing his left side rather than his face.]
And what are you going to use? ...Are you going to cheat? [The realization hits him as he reaches to lift the tie slightly, aiming to give him a look. How this went from him thinking he was going to only pretend to play to now being irked at the idea he might cheat is anyone's guess.]
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Wow, he looks really stupid like this.
The second he catches Angel trying to peek out, he releases a soft pfft sound, passing a hand over his eyes to smooth the tie back down into place. In another testament to his good mood, he won't begrudge Angel's distrust in him this time. Knowing the crap he pulled during their card game, he gets it's rightfully earned. Luckily or unluckily for Angel, Denji's abiding by the rules today. ]
Nuh-uh, not so fast. You keep that thing on, hear me? Dontcha get your panties twisted. I'm not cheating.
[ What he's up to next is clear as day when his hands suddenly feel up the inside shoulders of Angel's uniform jacket, yanking it up to shake his arms out and plunder it from him. Not cheating. ]
Your jacket — gimme. [ Gimme, he says. As if he's leaving Angel much choice in the matter. ] It's too friggin' hot to be wearing that thing, anyway. I'll just roll it up and use it the same way. Pretty genius, I know.
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Not like that - That hurts. Don't yank on them...
[His wings, that is, the scapulae getting tugged hard by his motion when he knows Denji needs to lift up, not down. For an alleged genius, he really doesn't understand the most simple of things. Angel pulls the jacket off properly, letting his arm slide out on the left side and pulling his wing through the sewn slit open in the back before repeating with his right side, careful but practiced, something he's done hundreds of times. Though it's always felt unnatural, like something he doesn't need to wear, he doesn't really have other choices. No one lets him go around shirtless, nor does he have much of a desire to when it gets so cold here in Tokyo. On a day like today, however, when it's warm and sunny... Being shirtless wouldn't be so bad.]
[But he would definitely be a much larger risk with the added surface area of life-sucking skin exposed to be touched. So maybe it's for the best he just wears his uniform even on days off.]
Here. Don't mess it up, or rip it, or anything... [And he holds it out to him, still blind and not minding at all that he looks rumpled and messy with his hair sticking up around the tie, unironed shirt no longer tucked in, and perpetual frown on his face. An ideal opponent for blind slay-a-devil.]
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[ Denji automatically draws his hands back, half-raised, in the unlikely case Angel needs him to jump in and help guide the jacket off. Except it's proven very quickly that he's just fine without another pair of hands to hinder him. ]
So that's how those things get in there…
[ He unrolls the wrinkled fabric once its in his possession, just enough to look at one slit, then its counterpart, before folding it back up. Looking at him again, too long, without feeling self-conscious about Angel noticing. When he isn't swimming in the jacket, it's more striking how slight Angel's stature is. Denji's scrawny himself, can still press a hand into his side and feel the shadow of his ribs pressing back, but it's clear that with proper nutrition and exercise, he'll be filling out into a normal teenage body. Angel, though… The hell is Aki talking about, calling him one of the most dangerous devils? Even the dress shirt looks like it'll slide right off his shoulders if he moves too suddenly. ]
Chill out, I'm not gonna do anything to it! [ Bit of a delayed response to Angel's lack of faith in him, but he's hoping it's not that noticeable. ] Tell ya what, if you find a tear or something, I'll get you a treat to make up for it.
[ He's about to tie his quasi-blindfold into place, but he looks at Angel again, realizing the direction he's facing is off-center still. He rolls his eyes. ] Here, follow me. [ Taking him by his wrist, Denji leads them closer to the slay-a-devil game. Is even nice enough to hand him the toy weapon. ]
I'm starting now! Remember, the game's gonna count us down first, so don't start swingin' 'til you hear it give the signal, all dramatic-like.
[ He looks possibly dumber than Angel, the thicker material jacket unwieldy knotted against his head. Ah, well, the important thing is that it stays long enough for them to finish out their game. It takes him a few seconds to find the coin slot this way, forced to feel for it, but when he finally manages it, the machine turns on with a burst of light and a kooky little tune. ]
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Alright, alright... [Denji sounds so eager about this, like he actually wants this to be a competition. Angel can't figure out why he cares so much, enough to ensure it's "fair" by blinding the two of them. Even without a blindfold, he still knows the timing and pattern of the little dolls, so can't he just follow along?]
[But when the countdown finishes and the machine commands them to slay dem devils, Angel swats his mallet down and hits a flat machine. He can hear the sound of the puppet popping up above him and reasons it will be below that spot the next time, so he swings towards that area next and hits a flat machine again. Frowning, he attempts to keep predicting where the devil will show up but all in all hits maybe five out of the twenty or so targets. Around him, he can hear some of the others humans wondering what's going on, if this is some kind of game show, but then where are the cameras? When the music finally ends and the voice from the machine says, "Too bad, Player Two! Player One Wins!" Angel finally reaches up to push the tie off his eyes, frowning up at his score before looking at Denji's. He doesn't know which one of them was which player - was he machine number one or two...?]
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Which is generally consistent with the fact that Denji hasn't been able to land a single bop to the popping field, his wide and erratic swings sending him ever so slightly off-center with each one. So whenever he would try to follow the sounds of the devil springing out from its hiding place, he'd wind up striking the side of the machine, the score board, or an empty hole — literally anything but his target. He's positive his mallet glanced off the side of the puppet devil at least once, but when he tears off Angel's jacket to stare at their ending results, what he sees is a big fat zero.
Zero……
Zero????? ]
This stupid game's rigged!
[ The accusations come quick, of course. He points his mallet straight at game mascot's illustration painted into the machine, the toy weapon shaking in his grip as if he might just try to wallop the thing's ugly mug. But in his side view, he notices there's a line behind them of others waiting to play the game, as well as a few workers keeping an eye on their antic from afar. He kinda likes this place, so it'd suck to get banned for beating the tar out of, what was up until a few minutes ago, his favorite arcade game.
For being so mad about losing, his irritation doesn't really extend to Angel for winning. With a displeased noise, he shoves the mallet back into its holder wrong side up, he skulks toward Angel's end to point out: ] Looks like you're gettin' a fancy prize. You can turn those things in over there.
[ He points his thumb over his shoulder toward a ticket exchange area full of toys, merchandise, plush dolls, and whatever else would titillate the average 10-year-old. ]
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[Angel looks down at the mallet in his hand, then down at the five tickets that spill out of the machine when Denji points. Doesn't seem like that many, but he replaces the hammer where it belongs and tugs the tickets out, looking them over once he tugs the tie down around his neck, not bothering to undo the knot Denji made and instead simply letting the two long lengths fall in front of him as he stares at the little text on each stub.]
...Oh, I see. Each one of these... [He kind of trails off, now raising his head to look where Denji is pointing at the row of prizes - stuffed animals, some kind of plastic sword, buckets of candy, and other little knick knacks. As he takes in the sheer array of prizes, his face draws a little tight, like he doesn't believe him.] ...Gets you one of those?
[But that doesn't seem right. The economy would collapse under that. Still, there's a sense of brief hope as he thinks that maybe this is why Denji likes this place so much.]
Like... that? [And he points at the largest item, an oversized animal thing sitting on top of the shelf behind the guy at the counter, nearly twice the size of Angel, but he sees it probably the same time Denji does - the little sign that says that prize costs a million tickets. All the other options are much more affordable, but Angel's demeanor sinks, disappointment covering him.] What, I could have gotten a million points if you'd have let me do it with my eyes...
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Uh, well… That wouldn't have been fun for you, right…? Doing it my way was less boring!
[ Right? He stares Angel down, searching for a glimpse of corroboration, but no matter long and hard he does it for, he looks more put out than exhilarated by the whole experience. Ah, crud, did he go wrong somewhere after all…
He turns back to the collection of prizes hung up, scouring each shelf level in desperation for something that could work as a substitute. And it doesn't take him long! Pointer finger jabbing out several consecutive times to catch his attention, Denji tries directing his attention to the shelf just below the big guy Angel was eyeing. ]
Look, there! Whattabout that one? It's like that thing's younger and cheaper brother!
[ It's listed for 250 tickets. Did they get enough from just that one game? ]
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So it really is just like the economy outside... [And what would he, a devil with no paycheck and no access to the news, know about that? He approaches the counter where the smaller items are listed for sale in the display case. Tiny things, stuff that would probably break in a few uses, but things nonetheless. He squats down to look at the lowest shelf, finally pointing at the stack of blind boxes way in the back. Each one is marked for five tickets.]
What are those? [He was too far away when Denji was looking at Sonny Angel figures earlier, but blind boxes seem to fill the shelves here, too. And since Denji seems to know a lot about this place, he turns to look at him and ask,] What do they do?
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[ He agrees, without understanding what it is precisely he's agreeing with. He's been hearing a lot about "inflationary market environments" from the anchor lady these days, and that sounds like a smart thing to repeat. It turns out that a half-devil with a fixed paycheck and access to the news doesn't know much more than a devil without those things.
He doesn't know much about these weird little people, either. Bent beside him, Denji reaches for a box, trying to read off the packaging aloud, exaggerating each syllable to sound it out. ]
Sumi… sugi?
[ That doesn't sound right. But he's not gonna worry about correcting himself. ]
Uhhh, seems like each box comes with a different tiny dude to take home? You're s'posed to stand them up somewhere and let 'em stare at ya. [ Is his limited understanding of blind boxes, anyway. ] Which pose you're stuck with is a surprise. Powy loves this stuff! Her favorite's this one.
[ Still holding the box, Denji points to another brand. For some reason it's more expensive. Could it be that it's marked up because it's popular…? The economy really is at an all-time low. ]
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[...Why he knows that, or can read the Latin characters well enough to pronounce it properly, is anyone's guess. Certainly not his own. And while he passes a look at a few of the others, notably the one Denji points out that Power likes, he passes them all over with a shrug. He doesn't really get the point of them, but he does know he'd be annoyed if Power stole something of his, so he's not about to get one she likes. And he's ready to decide on the strange little glowing man when one lonesome box near the back catches his eye and he reaches out to pick it up, humming in surprise.] This one has mice.
[He turns it over, looking at each little possible outcome, tilting it this way and that like he can suss out what's inside. He had no idea so many little figures like this existed, and for such little purpose. Denji said they're just to place somewhere and have stare at you...? Seems like an odd thing to own.]
Looks like a city mouse, though, huh...
[Ahh, Denji probably doesn't know what that story is. He pulls himself to his feet, putting the box on the counter as the man behind it notices them - and what Angel is - at long last, shock snapping into his expression as Angel sets the tickets beside the box. The guy kind of nods at him, clearly not expecting a devil to abide by the rules of an arcade economy, and accepts the tickets. Angel works at straightening up his clothes at long last, looking over at Denji and holding his hand out.] Jacket.
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The phrase tickles a fairly surprised look from Denji, not because he recognizes it, but because he gets the sense he should. It rings a bell that had to have left a depression in the landscape of his psyche for him to be minding it that much, but from where… has he heard that term before?
As Angel processes his tickets with the stunned employee, he ponders it over. Stands back and out the way. Hauling the tied up ends of the jacket down from his forehead, the fabric hits his shoulders, hanging there. People edge around him without a second glance, conversations dimming under the sounds of machines dinging and chiming. They'll probably be heading somewhere for food next after this, so his time would be better spent on looking up that cafe Power told him about, but he makes no move to extract his phone, still staring off into space. Someone's playing some sort of dancing rhythm game, their stomps reminding him of something far away. Distant, like rain capering against the rooftop and a light voice asking, Hey, Denji… Which one would you choose? Oh, that's right — and what did he say to her, to Reze — ]
Huh? What's that?
[ Abruptly, Denji's gaze drops down a step, to Angel, standing there expectantly with his palm open to him. …He said something, but, clearly, it wasn't something Denji heard. Taking a shot in the dark, Denji places his hand on top of his. ]
Uh, okay.
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not me losing this notif 💀
no worries!! dw notifs are so easy to lose track of 😭
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