[ From the jump, Denji doesn't realize what she's looking at. Her mouth broadens into a too cheeky smile, even as a flush ropes around her neck, probably about to say something dicey like, "You flashin' me again already?" Until she's hit with that backstory, and then her expression quickly dims with discomfort, mouth half-slack in her inability to react.

To mumble something other than: ] Oh…

[ She grimaces. She never would have guessed or been able to pick apart that prick dotting Aki's chest from the rest of the (admittedly, weirdly, pleasant to look at) scenery, either, nor imagine something so small able to incur the kind of fear that could single-handedly birth a devil. Or give strength to an existing one. Once upon a time, death used to be something that simply awaited her arrival. Doesn't matter if it was a car accident, a permanent plunge off a pier, or a sickness — it was a bridge to be crossed, a point to drop off from.

Now it's just a door with a hidden doorman that turns her away again and again.

But Denji thinks back on when she died that first time, that last real one. She remembers the surprise, how much it hurt. How much it didn't, her whole body supercharged with red hot energy. Running for her life, what was left of it — which, at that point, really only amounted to the small, injured dog hugged to her heart. Thinking that if she could make it to any exit, that would be enough. Maybe they would bleed out together. Maybe they would find safety. She didn't know what that looked like that, it wasn't something she could conjure in her dreams before, why would now be any different; she could only think that she wasn't ready to find out, either way. ]

I think I get it… Why it's the worst. 'cause you thought it'd be the one you wouldn't come back from. That would change everything, right?

[ Her chin wobbles against a kneecap, thinking. ]

Hey, can I touch it?