🫀 yo :] ik I haven't posted in 6 months but!! I just moved across the country, so, yeah!!! But I'm gonna be more active again i prommy

Happy 4/20 everyone!

🫀 not late!!!! Tysm ♡

🫀 hi I'm 20 now

"are you afab or amab .ᐣ" bitch I'm afag.

🫀 I am apparently a fuckin liar (i slept literally All Day ahejejwkns)

🫀 I'm gonna be more active tomorrow cuz I've finally gotten most of my irl shit done :D be ready :)

🫀 HELLO

🫀 I'm back babeyyyy

After a while, Akira returns, mocktail in hand. They bend at the waist theatrically as they set it on the table, batting their eyelashes with a barely-there coy grin. It seems they repaired their act

"Flag me down if you need anything, detective." They wink, and then saunter off to continue working

🫀 hello I hath returned

🫀 also, a somewhat answer of where I have been outside of irl stuff ,,

🫀 tysm 😭

🫀I'm still here, just got caught up with irl stuff!!!

🫀 hi hello sorry I dropped off the face of the planet, Hyperfixation Happened (fe3h)

🫀 hope you're doing okay <3

Christmas ?! Presents ?! To the North Pole with that !!!

🫀 :] we're so fucking back

"... You're getting an espresso martini mocktail because that's the closest I can do here. I'll be back." Akira scribbles something on their notepad and turns, walking back to the bar — their hips sway so much more in this outfit compared to normal.

Akira raises an eyebrow.

"... You... came to a bar. For coffee." He says slowly, cocking his hip out a little and raising an eyebrow.

for once. It's uncomfortable. Akira's instinct is to push it down, push it out — but something else in him, something in the same space as Arsène, says no. To let it happen.

He takes one last deep breath, adjusting the small bunch of asters and forget-me-nots in his hand, and turns the corner.

Is this normal? This bizarre want– this need to tear into Akechi's brain, to know him entirely inside and out... Akira can't quite tell if it's romantic or deranged. Maybe it's both.

It's weird, feeling something so... much. It's weird to feel this odd, buzzy feeling. But Akira lets himself feel,

Akira, bundled in his coat and scarf, speedwalks down the sidewalk. His face is as impassive as ever, but inside? He isn't sure if he wants to squeal or vomit. Akechi actually agreed. To a date. In those words. Not one of their vague, psychosexual-dancing-around-words-debates, but flat out. A date.