[Weird how both Akechi's gloved hands cross over his chest.

The glove in Maruki's hand a memory of declaration made in under the dimming neon lights of a city that never truly goes silent.

It's his. He wants it. That 'Well' is fucking annoying, like they're really going to listen to that shitty merchant? A thief doesn't get to decide the terms by which the owner gets the stolen item back.]

I refuse to play their shitty game. Hand it over.

[The merchant grows livid, as his hand shoots free from being wrapped around his own chest. 'It can't be returned without a story and-']

I bought it with a credit card at a store at some indiscernible time. There.