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[... but he doesn't move. He's confused, but he's not afraid. And this is his home, just as much as it belongs to this other. It looks exactly as he remembers. It is exactly where it should be. It's his, and that... it matters. It really matters.]

You can't shout me down and—and intimidate me into giving up my rights. People don't behave this way. You're like an animal.

Fine. Then we'll take it to arbitration. Who will do and say nothing, since there's no law enforcement here of any kind, and the courtrooms are empty of anything but cognitions who smile like—

[Just like this guy, actually. Huh.]

All the apartments on this floor are empty. Pick one you like. I can't make you leave the building, after all. But please, leave so I can finish showering and get dressed.

You should know better than to cause a confrontation like this in front of him. [And he gestures to younger-him, who's still sitting in a tense heap on the bed.]

[... and, glancing at the kid on the bed, he sighs, tossing his door key down on the bed. It's not a big deal. He doesn't care so much that it's worth this unpleasantness...]

Very well. You win. But I have to say—[as he heads for the door]—it's very strange of you to make such a disturbance over something as small as who lives where.

[And, picking up his case, he leaves, visibly drooping.]

[When the weird-them has gone, he snaps the security locks closed, so the door can't be accessed with the key, takes a deep breath, drops back against the door, and closes his eyes.]

Well. I suppose that's my morning taken care of. [Younger-him might, or might not, hear this.]

[Well, that was a lot. Once it seems like the coast is clear, he'll approach his other self, frowning.]

...Well, that was certainly one way to start the day. You, ah. Probably want to finish your shower, right?

[...]

Do you need me to leave, or...?

[He lowers the back of his hand from his eyes, still standing there in his towel.] You'd better not. He might be waiting outside. What a creep.

[It's possible he raises his voice for that one.]

You're welcome to shower when I'm done. You must be hungry by now too, right? Use the kitchen or TV, if you'd like.

[He heads off. In the front room, other-Akechi will find an absurdly tiny TV; it's like Akechi resents its presence. Or didn't buy it. The desk and chair, on the other hand, are huge; papers, folders, binders and textbooks litter the desk, along with an assortment of other weird, tiny things, one of which is a dodecahedron constructed entirely from cocktail sticks and superglue, and one of which is a flick knife.

There's also a small, soft beige couch before the TV, and a glass coffee table. And (you guessed it) nothing else.]

Edited 2023-09-09 23:19 (UTC)

Seriously. I don't think we'd be ourselves if we didn't have a slight edge.

[He chuckles, already relaxing now that that situation has been dealt with.

Still, the kitchen... unlike his counterpart, he's not adept at cooking, so for now, he'll simply pour himself a glass of water and take a spot on the couch, while he idly flips through channels for anything that isn't Gorbs.

Eventually, he'll settle on that weird Featherman season, despite its glitz and sparkles. Today, they are fighting a monster that looks like a weird fly man with his giant piggy robot.]

[It doesn't take him long to finish up; he's usually efficient in the bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later, poking his head in.] All d....

What the hell are you watching? [It's Junya Kaneshiro and his ridiculous robot pig, isn't it. He remembers.]

It was either this or the Gorbs, or that weird cognitive Teddie-san reporting about him.

[He places a deep, heavy emphasis on the word 'him.']

The... ugh, "nice Ake-chan."

[In his bathrobe, patting his hair with a towel, he makes a disgusted face.]

You're joking. Him? [Nice? If zombies are nice, maybe.]

It was absurd. The fake Teddie-san was gushing about how friendly he is and how he's "bear-ly recognizable" as an... "Ake-chan."

[He covers his face with his palm, grumbling.]

I hate that even a fake Teddie has to use that nickname.

[A dramatic kick sends the big piggy robot tumbling backwards and through a conveniently abandoned warehouse. Nice.]

[Yes, he offers the rolling pig a snicker under his breath. Then he sees Red Eagle dive in to kick it with a glittering boot, and the smile drops off his face.]

Anyway, the shower's free.

[He vanishes back through to his room, to dress, and to blowdry his hair.]

Ah, right. Thank you for the hospitality.

[He bows because it's respectful, of course, and shuffles off to the shower.

Once there, he makes sure to wash his hair and give himself a thorough cleaning before he dries himself off and slides back into his clothes.

Once that's squared away, he pokes around, trying to pinpoint his other self. Is he in the living room? Still in his bedroom? He'll search him out regardless.]

[He's at the kitchen sink in a neat shirt, pants and stocking feet, looking quite normal and not at all brainwashed, sipping a glass of water himself. Breakfast? Food? Him?

He offers a little smile.]

There you are. What are your plans?—for the day, I mean, not in general.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. At some point, I should probably head home just to make sure that Hawk is doing all right, but Crow said he was keeping the kids busy when I checked my texts this morning, so there's no real rush...

[He rubs his chin, contemplating.]

Did you have anything in particular you needed to do? I'd hate to be an inconvenience.

I need to change the lock on that door. [Grumpy? Why, yes, he is.] Who knows how many of me are going to come through here?

How's your locksmithing?

You know, I do wonder if perhaps Igor-san unlocked the door for me. Like some strange, long-nosed fairy god... man.

Just a man.

[Heh. It's a rather outlandish image, but it's really an attempt at levity more than anything.]

Still... I've done a bit of lockpicking before, simply out of necessity. I'm no expert, and I'm not sure picking is what you need in this instance.

That's the other problem, of course. All the apartments out there, whose doors are unlocked, waiting for us.... [He does not like the idea that his front door could be cognitively unlocked at any time, put it like that.]

But our friend earlier definitely used the key. So it's a place to begin.

[He turns, leaning back against the sink with his water.] And you're right, of course. It's just a matter of unscrewing one lock, and screwing in the other. A trained monkey could do it. [... then he grins.]

Unless we make it a little more interesting.

[Oho. A frankly impish grin sprawls across his face. You have his full attention now.]

Oh? Are you devising a little trickery?

Don't get too excited yet. I was wondering if you're familiar with the special blanks locksmiths use. The ones you have to have a licence to buy.

[He sips his water. This will either be old hat, or forbidden knowledge, but he has to go and pick up a replacement lock either way.]

They're used to duplicate keys, correct?

[It sounds familiar, though there's probably more that his other self knows. The finer nuances...]

That's right. Usually, anyone can copy a key—you just need the key, the equipment and the blank. But some companies like to lock down their key blanks. They require locksmiths buying them to be licenced, for ID to be shown before they're cut... little things like that.

It doesn't make it wildly more secure, of course. And, if you won't be seen, lockpicking is still easier. [Which he can do. Anyone can pick a lock.]

And I presume your scheme involves the use of one of these blanks, correct?

[Ohoho... This is so enticing. Just what tomfoolery is afoot?]

It would, regardless. The key I have now is patented. But back in my reality—and I presume your own—we would have needed a professional locksmith, and—

[He downs the last of his water, setting the glass on the counter beside the sink.]

—we would have had to pay. And, as a professional—[he does not specify what kind of professional]—I like to be able to do these things myself.

I see. And now we have the freedom to simply take what would otherwise cost money. Ergo, it would be simply to acquire the required tools to take matters into your own hands...

[That's... very pragmatic. And if it's a single key done to his specifications, that means fewer means to break in.

If that is his goal.]

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