[ It almost slips out - perhaps out of his own mounting and unacknowledged nervousness combined with just how much he's stopped giving a fuck in light of recent events. Do you mind? That he still bites back the words entirely and shows no outward reaction is a testament to years of practiced restrain, Akechi sitting not all that far off on an opposing side of the train car, a leg crossed casually over the other, arms folded low.
He exhales a little instead, extending conversation if only to break up the lack of other sounds. ]
Hardly inspires much confidence, does it? Whatever this so-called city ahead may hold.
[ He gets it, whether he admits the extent of it or not. The situation is an absolute shitshow in his mind. ]