[ . . . . he doesn't really know what to do with that information? he flusters for a second before he just shakes his head and heads to get some ice from the vending machine]
We'll see if you say that next week when I knock you out cold!
[there's always the fear that mineo won't last until "next week", but he won't voice it.
he catches it, trying to figure out where it hurts the most, before he tugs down his collar to place it near his collarbone. jan doesn't actually know a thing about putting ice on bruises, wow.]
You said you worked for an investigative agency and then just said it was complicated. And then you got offended when I mentioned detective skills? So I dunno shit about what you actually do.
But before that, I used to work in Field Operations with the police. I got promoted to work there after I did some good work - which was mostly apprehending criminals and stuff, so I got to work on bigger cases after that. It was pretty busy... Calls at all times of day, loads of work....
[mineo was very good at his job, which might even slightly explain how he operates here]
[ . . . . . he leans back against the counter and pauses, like he's trying to figure out what he wants to say.]
.... someone I admired -
When I got promoted, he said that he was proud of me. And I kinda just... ate up the praise, and didn't really question it. I thought, 'hell yeah, my successes are Fuji-senpai's successes, because he took care of me'. But that's now how the system actually works.
I found later he was jealous. So he... well, he just started racking up arrest after arrest. Some of them false. Even if the charges get dropped later, those can ruin someone's life.
[ . . . . ]
It's like - getting it wrong here.
[which might explain, even a little, while trials seem to weigh so heavily on mineo every week. isn't he no better than his senpai then? whenever they get something wrong, because he can't prove a case well enough.]
... he died for that. His killers said it was for justice, because he was the one who ruined people's lives first. So he was the villain.
as mineo tells his story, white's frown deepens—until moments after he finishes, at which point white lets out a harsh bark of laughter.]
Wow. I already thought the asshole who killed you was full of bullshit, and now I know I was fucking right. You "psychologically cornered" someone by, what, being good at your job? We're talking about a grownass adult, right? You weren't responsible for dealing with his complexes.
They're lucky I won't ever get the chance to meet them, or I'd—
[—he shuts up there, though, as he doubts mineo would want to hear him talk about murdering someone, regardless of what they'd done to him.
[ - it's a little odd. he snorts, not out of genuine amusement, but out of this weird feeling of... having someone care about him? someone that up in arms in his behalf. what a weird feeling, after he's gotten so used to fighting all his battles by himself.
. . . ]
Thanks for caring.
[just, softly - but genuinely. like he's still not used to the notion of someone so openly showing that they're concerned about him]
.... yeah. After he died, I was in denial. I thought there's no way that Fuji-senpai, who taught me everything I knew about justice, could be a dirty cop. But... I kept running into proof. Time after time. He really...
[ . . . he really did all those things. and mineo lost sight of what it meant to be just after all.
he taps his fingers on the counter then, feeling the ice pack slowly melt under his touch.]
.... I couldn't really take it. That guy did everything to try to improve his ranks in the police - but then once he was condemned, the higher-ups left him out to dry. No one even cared about the investigation... I had to do it all myself. It was all so.... [fucked.]
[he glances away, flustering at mineo's thanks, before he moves his ice pack to his forehead despite the lack of bruising there. it has the benefit of making him feel less visible, at least.]
... Yeah, higher-ups tend to suck. Yours can eat shit.
[...]
Sounds like you didn't want to stop helping people entirely, though.
[ . . . . . he smiles at that but - it lacks the usual light. it's more self-deprecating, more....
conflicted.]
.... wouldn't say I was helping anybody before I got here.
I completely stalled. No progress on the case, no progress on the mysteries, just...
[a shrug.
and he shifts for a second, holding up his hand - Sloth tattoo emblazoned on the back of it. accomplishing absolutely nothing until the day that he died.
[ . . . is he beating himself up? he doesn't know. he thought that he was letting himself off so easy, for so long. people here tell him that it's okay, to care a little less but - is it? his heart aches with the idea of slowing down again.
of becoming such a wretched person again, who only breathed and barely lived.]
.... my friend died. [he says this softly, like being mindful of a raw wound] I think.... I have to find out why. I don't think I get to give up anymore.
[his tattooed hand clenches into a fist]
I don't want to be someone who wants to run away again.
[ . . . . he snorts a little bit at that. well it feels a little bit like drowning in despair but - well, he wonders if that's part of the weird mood of the week. he gestures for white to come closer.]
That's the goal.
C'mere, did I smack you in the head too hard or something?
white freezes in shock, just for a moment. then, he turns bright red, stumbling back a step as he unconsciously presses his free hand against his forehead.
heart thumping in his chest, he stares at mineo.
he opens his mouth—and then closes it, mortification flooding his face when he apparently thinks better about whatever he was going to say. as if to make sure, he moves his hand to cover his mouth,
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.... I dunno. Sometimes when I get really angry, I don't watch my own strength...
[and he just
knocks people out on accident?]
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We'll see if you say that next week when I knock you out cold!
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In your dreams, maybe.
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Just try me next week!
[but he'll get ice for both of them in little baggies, then wrapping those baggies in paper towels to make them less cold. he tosses one to white]
Here.
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[there's always the fear that mineo won't last until "next week", but he won't voice it.
he catches it, trying to figure out where it hurts the most, before he tugs down his collar to place it near his collarbone. jan doesn't actually know a thing about putting ice on bruises, wow.]
Thanks.
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No problem.
[mineo will just press his own against his forearms that he probably used to block some hits. ah defensive wounds....]
You really pack a punch too, White-kun. I'd be in trouble if all criminals back home could give me a hard time...
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You usually go around brawling with criminals?
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Did I just forget to explain my old job?!
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You said you worked for an investigative agency and then just said it was complicated. And then you got offended when I mentioned detective skills? So I dunno shit about what you actually do.
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.... it is pretty complicated....
[ . . . ]
But before that, I used to work in Field Operations with the police. I got promoted to work there after I did some good work - which was mostly apprehending criminals and stuff, so I got to work on bigger cases after that. It was pretty busy... Calls at all times of day, loads of work....
[mineo was very good at his job, which might even slightly explain how he operates here]
I didn't hate it though.
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for a moment, he removes the ice from his bruise, before placing it back.]
... But you eventually left.
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.... someone I admired -
When I got promoted, he said that he was proud of me. And I kinda just... ate up the praise, and didn't really question it. I thought, 'hell yeah, my successes are Fuji-senpai's successes, because he took care of me'. But that's now how the system actually works.
I found later he was jealous. So he... well, he just started racking up arrest after arrest. Some of them false. Even if the charges get dropped later, those can ruin someone's life.
[ . . . . ]
It's like - getting it wrong here.
[which might explain, even a little, while trials seem to weigh so heavily on mineo every week. isn't he no better than his senpai then? whenever they get something wrong, because he can't prove a case well enough.]
... he died for that. His killers said it was for justice, because he was the one who ruined people's lives first. So he was the villain.
[and before mineo died -
they said it was his fault for corrupting him.]
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as mineo tells his story, white's frown deepens—until moments after he finishes, at which point white lets out a harsh bark of laughter.]
Wow. I already thought the asshole who killed you was full of bullshit, and now I know I was fucking right. You "psychologically cornered" someone by, what, being good at your job? We're talking about a grownass adult, right? You weren't responsible for dealing with his complexes.
They're lucky I won't ever get the chance to meet them, or I'd—
[—he shuts up there, though, as he doubts mineo would want to hear him talk about murdering someone, regardless of what they'd done to him.
taking a moment to calm down, he waves a hand.]
... Sorry. Ignore me. You quit after that, then?
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. . . ]
Thanks for caring.
[just, softly - but genuinely. like he's still not used to the notion of someone so openly showing that they're concerned about him]
.... yeah. After he died, I was in denial. I thought there's no way that Fuji-senpai, who taught me everything I knew about justice, could be a dirty cop. But... I kept running into proof. Time after time. He really...
[ . . . he really did all those things. and mineo lost sight of what it meant to be just after all.
he taps his fingers on the counter then, feeling the ice pack slowly melt under his touch.]
.... I couldn't really take it. That guy did everything to try to improve his ranks in the police - but then once he was condemned, the higher-ups left him out to dry. No one even cared about the investigation... I had to do it all myself. It was all so.... [fucked.]
So I left.
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... Yeah, higher-ups tend to suck. Yours can eat shit.
[...]
Sounds like you didn't want to stop helping people entirely, though.
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conflicted.]
.... wouldn't say I was helping anybody before I got here.
I completely stalled. No progress on the case, no progress on the mysteries, just...
[a shrug.
and he shifts for a second, holding up his hand - Sloth tattoo emblazoned on the back of it. accomplishing absolutely nothing until the day that he died.
he thinks it spells out a pretty clear picture.]
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You don't owe the world anything. You don't—have to be some hero. Fuck, if I were in your shoes, I would've run off to become a hermit.
[he shrugs, wincing as he does so.]
The fact you're beating yourself up for not doing better is already more investment than the world gets to ask of you, in my opinion.
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of becoming such a wretched person again, who only breathed and barely lived.]
.... my friend died. [he says this softly, like being mindful of a raw wound] I think.... I have to find out why. I don't think I get to give up anymore.
[his tattooed hand clenches into a fist]
I don't want to be someone who wants to run away again.
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he smiles, faintly, moving the ice pack away from his head.]
Well, there you go. Already proving that Sloth association wrong.
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That's the goal.
C'mere, did I smack you in the head too hard or something?
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[but he steps closer.]
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before mineo leans over to press a kiss to his forehead.
it just - feels like an appropriate token after white listened to him pour his heart out.]
There. Feel better.
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white freezes in shock, just for a moment. then, he turns bright red, stumbling back a step as he unconsciously presses his free hand against his forehead.
heart thumping in his chest, he stares at mineo.
he opens his mouth—and then closes it, mortification flooding his face when he apparently thinks better about whatever he was going to say. as if to make sure, he moves his hand to cover his mouth,
...
glancing away, he instead blurts out—]
Charles Frederick Shaw.
[what.]
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