[Her question is ridiculous. How narrow and useless! Akechi can't help it: he starts laughing, hand holding the gun hanging loosely at his side as he bends over laughing. Somehow, it's even louder in here. Somehow, because with the two of them, the room isn't large enough to truly and properly echo. Plus, it's designed to not do that: to suppress sound so no one can hear most of it outside.
After a beat, he straightens up, his left hand—holding the gun—moving to press lightly against his chest. It's a rather dramatic pose.]
In your mind, in your simplistic existence, it can only be one or the other, can't it? I choose neither.
[Akechi lets the answer hang in the air.
And then he points the gun at her, finger wrapping around the trigger. There are no nerves, no points of discomfort.
no subject
After a beat, he straightens up, his left hand—holding the gun—moving to press lightly against his chest. It's a rather dramatic pose.]
In your mind, in your simplistic existence, it can only be one or the other, can't it? I choose neither.
[Akechi lets the answer hang in the air.
And then he points the gun at her, finger wrapping around the trigger. There are no nerves, no points of discomfort.
Akechi pulls the trigger.]