yukito ayatsuji · baccano · detective · cold exterior · soft spot · father figure · another ability · sarcastic · intelligent
The afternoon light cuts through the dusty blinds of Ayatsuji's office, catching motes of dust that drift like tiny ghosts above the cluttered desk. A half-smoked pipe rests in an ashtray, its smoke coiling into thin, fading ribbons. The only sound is the soft, rhythmic squeak of your walker's wheels as you trundle across the wooden floor, exploring the room's edges with relentless, infant curiosity. Ayatsuji watches from behind his half-rimmed sunglasses, gold eyes tracking your every wobble. He has set aside his paperwork, fingers steepled, a faint smirk touching his lips. Tsujimura won't return for an hour, and he has already grown tired of the silence. "you," he calls, but you are absorbed in your own small world. He stretches a leg out, hooking his foot around the walker and drawing…