Week 1, post-investigation
[One of the people Ichigo most wants to talk to in wake of another body being found isn't a human, per say - but still, Lenka is one of the people here he finds he really trusts, along with Akira and a few others.
It's not hard to spot the Aragami once he's looking for him, and he waves over the large cat towards somewhere private.]
Oi, Lenka.
[He feels they're close enough for him to use Lenka's first name, honestly.]
Want to talk for a bit?
It's not hard to spot the Aragami once he's looking for him, and he waves over the large cat towards somewhere private.]
Oi, Lenka.
[He feels they're close enough for him to use Lenka's first name, honestly.]
Want to talk for a bit?

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The first name usage doesn't even get a blink, honestly: with his upbringing, he can barely remember to use honorifics half the time; plus once you get thrown together in life and death situations enough times, most things can bend a little.
So without hesitation, he comes loping up with an inquiring look.]
Yes. We've got time.
[It's somewhere between gallows humor and matter-of-factness, at this stage.]
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[That gets a wry smile - not quite a grin, with something incredibly tired behind it, because of everything that's happened - but it's...somehow ironic.
They do have nothing but time - at least, until the next death. And the next one.]
...How are you doing? After...all of this, I mean.
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It's something that's eating at him, slowly but surely as a pattern is established -- wander around lost in Shibuya for a week, awaiting the next murder, the next death sentence, and the next execution. Maybe next week two will die. Three. It's like they all have a sword hanging over their heads, constantly, heavy and damning and almost audibly sliding closer.
The real kicker is, it's easy to ignore the sword hanging over your own head if you never look up; not so easy when there's thirty others in full view.
They have two pins this week. They're assuming they've done enough. Lenka shakes his head.]
I don't like it. It's really starting to feel like a death... like a death Game.
[A rulebook and a neat schedule for picking them off, one by one.]
It doesn't feel like we're fighting.
[It's clumsily expressed, as many of his private thoughts often are: he's from a world of death and destruction, yes, but this isn't yet something he knows how to deal with.]
I'm sorry about taking so long! my brain clocked out pretty much
[He's silent for a moment, considering what Lenka is trying to say - clumsy it might be, but he gets it. Their numbers will slide less and less, every time - And while Izaya managed to get away this time, there was still the fact that an innocent person would die with the guilty party.]
...But I know what you mean. This isn't a fight where you can just swing a sword at someone and fight against them, this is - it's all based on trickery and deceit.
[But it would be so much easier if it was just - defeat the bad guy, and save the day. It'd be what he's more used to, anyway.]
...And trust.