[Head spinning throughout Masaomi’s harried phone call, she isn’t thinking clearly when he speaks. Her breath comes in short little gasps as they speed walk, and the world feels oddly smeary as her focus drifts in and out, like someone’s playing with radio dials and alternating between static and clarity.]
Did you call Izaya-san just now, Masaomi?
[It makes sense in its own roundabout way. That’s what she would have done in this situation. Her infected arm hangs limply in its socket. Already in an advanced state of decay, it swings grotesquely with the movements of her body. ]
no subject
Did you call Izaya-san just now, Masaomi?
[It makes sense in its own roundabout way. That’s what she would have done in this situation. Her infected arm hangs limply in its socket. Already in an advanced state of decay, it swings grotesquely with the movements of her body. ]