"What's with the getup? Aren't you supposed to be in red?" Fumeko eyed the garments of the man.
He stood up in one swift move and stood upright. With his arms firmly by his side, he strode forward with his chest puffed up, "I grow weary of this impromptu interrogation.
Nor does this conversation entertain me in such a way that I wish to divulge any bit of information you may seek." He glared through the glass at his visitors.
With the figure towering over the blonde, it was not too different than that night—with the exception of the glass. 'He doesn't remember? Or is he withholding information? Or is this just not the same guy. It was a shapeshifter—a shapeshifter.'
Jotou's brows knitted closer and closer together. The brunette had nearly the same expression whilst Hotaru seemed to ponder something else entirely…
"Come on, we're not getting anything else from him," Fumeko broke the silence.
"Are you sure?" the redhead turned.
