InsaneJournal

Day 9 evening
Who: Jigen & OTA => Mamoru.
When: Day 9, late evening
Where: Housing Unit A, indoors.
Why: Wandering about, looking around.
Rating: PG
Status: Completed.

It was a freaking miracle. Jigen did not know if he should be rubbing his hands together giddily or have his hand on his revolver at all times and scared shitless. Nevertheless, stepping into a spacey room furnished to suit his tastes exactly and finding rows of clean new suits, shirts, shoes and hats in the closets had a literally jaw-dropping effect on him. There was a full pack of Pall Mall super longs on the living room table, and nearby he found a bar equipped with whiskey, cognac, calvados, port wine, vodka and gin along with appropriate glasses for all of them. He found a record-player and a shelf full of jazz, blues and bossa nova records. The sofa was made of black leather, the coffee table in front of it was simplistic and made of glass and steel, the sheets on the bed were dark blue and the floor was of dark wooden laminate.

Jigen had to sit down for a while to stare at all of it - his room, his apartment that was more perfect than his hideouts in New York and the outskirts of Tokyo that he had been furnishing for a decade. It was uncanny and scary that someone or something could read his mind and know his tastes so well.

Before long he took a shower - never letting his gun from his sight, though - and changed to a new, clean black suit that felt like it was tailored to fit him perfectly. The black and white wingtip shoes were brand new and felt like they could use some walking and getting used to. He found a black fedora almost like his old one, and when he tried it on in front of the mirror, he started feeling at home again.

Never mind the kidnapping, the hurricane, the mind-reading Planet, the stone-faced golems, or girls changing their hair-color with magic. Now he had a clean black suit, a fedora to shade his eyes, his heavy Combat Magnum revolver under his jacket tucked under his belt at the small of his back, and a cigarette at his lips. That meant all was well in his books again, and so he left his room to look around a bit with his hands in his pockets and the brim of his hat hiding his dark eyes.