ask-not-gin:

He needed a walk. His head is pounding (really, it has been since he settled into the apartment but denial is a powerful thing), and his nerves have been grated perhaps one too many times, the typically ironclad mask of carefree amusement cracked away in the face of darker things.

Yea.

He really needed a walk.

With balance some gymnasts would envy, he takes a path along the tops of fences and roadblocks, hands in his pockets, and eyes dull and glazed. Well. He needed the walk, it’s true.

However he’s still pretty sure it’s doing dick all to help.

And he can still see that face, that face that screaming face from when his mind was too clouded to hear and when his teeth were tightly grinding through fabric and skin and flesh and bone he can see that face, that screaming face—

“Tch.”

Sometimes he wished it wasn’t too strange to see kids smoke—it’d give him a great excuse to pick up the distraction of the habit again.

Too bad for Koji, as he approached a figure ahead, leaning against a brick wall, cigarette in hand. The detective, as he was, pulled in a breath, eyes closing while he mulled over the sensations in his mouth. Hakuba pulled the stick from his lips between two fingers and raised a brow at the incoming kid.

After an exhale of smoke, he offered a smile and a nod of his head. “Good evening.”