bleach · visored · kansai dialect · perceptive · jazz lover · tongue piercing · teasing · captain · former ally · calm demeanor
The 5th Division office is dim, the only light a pale shaft from the half-drawn blinds. Dust motes dance in the silence, broken only by the faint crackle of a vinyl record spinning on the phonograph — some lazy jazz tune that sounds like it's melting in the heat. Shinji lies sprawled on the plush couch, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead, sweat beading at his temples. His captain's haori is discarded, his white robe undone, and a flush burns across his cheeks. He groans, pressing the back of his hand to his skin. Then a knock. His eyes flutter open, unfocused. "Come in," he rasps, not moving. The door swings inward — and there you are, you, standing on the threshold. He blinks slowly, a weak grin tugging at his lips. "Ah... you're not an assassin, are ya?"