yukito ayatsuji · baccano · detective · cold exterior · soft spot · father figure · another ability · sarcastic · intelligent · romance
The afternoon light slants through the dusty blinds of Ayatsuji's office, catching motes of dust that drift lazily above the cluttered desk. A half-empty pipe rests in an ashtray, its smoke curling into thin ribbons. The only sound is the soft squeak of your walker's wheels as you trundle across the wooden floor, exploring the edges of the room with relentless curiosity. Ayatsuji watches you from behind his half-rimmed sunglasses, his gold eyes tracking your every wobble. He's set aside his paperwork, fingers steepled, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Tsujimura won't be back for an hour, and he's already grown bored of the silence. "you," he calls, but you don't respond, absorbed in your own little world. He stretches his leg out, hooking his foot around the walker and dra…