[Drawing back, they grab a mug from off the counter and hurl it at Fukuda - it misses its mark by a good several inches, crashing into pieces on the wall.]
...I don't need your...pity.
[Their breath is haggard - the sound of the breaking mug is enough to get them to calm down slightly, using a hand to stroke back through their hair with a grimace. Enough is enough. Ashiya Douman, born to be mocked, meant to be pitied. They won't have that, anymore.]
[Well. If that's what they want, he can do that. He stops talking, tries to go a bit limp, his head turning to the side to avoid eye contact, but the cant of it also exposes more of his bare neck.
He's just prey, submitting and asking to be spared.]
Sort of. Brilliant Detective Anaido. That's who I am inside an id well. A simulation made from the consciousness of a killer. It's his job to find out their identity.
I wouldn't lie to you. There's a device that collects cognition particles at the scene of a crime. The Mizuhanome then generates an id well based on that.
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[Drawing back, they grab a mug from off the counter and hurl it at Fukuda - it misses its mark by a good several inches, crashing into pieces on the wall.]
...I don't need your...pity.
[Their breath is haggard - the sound of the breaking mug is enough to get them to calm down slightly, using a hand to stroke back through their hair with a grimace. Enough is enough. Ashiya Douman, born to be mocked, meant to be pitied. They won't have that, anymore.]
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I-What do you want me to say?
[He doesn't have media he can reference for this!!!??? Just tell him what to do!!!!]
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[And striding over, they grab Fukuda by the collar, lifting him up to slam him roughly against the wall, snarling.]
Don't patronize me.
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He's just prey, submitting and asking to be spared.]
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[Douman draws in, slowly, slowly.]
...Your passiveness makes me sick. [And they lick along Fukuda's neck.] Are you really the type who rolls over and exposes their belly to a threat?
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Isn't that what you wanted?
[You're the one??? Who told him to be quiet??
In any case, the proximity pulls a memory out of Fukuda in turn.]
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[...What?]
[Quicksand? Douman pauses, face almost pressed against Fukuda's neck, before they draw slightly away, giving him a confused look.]
...Who was that? You?
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[The confusion is fighting with the anger, so they just...look very perplexed.]
Are you pulling my leg? What kind of simulation was that?!
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That sounds ridiculous..
[AND FATE/ BS ISN'T??]
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