you know where to find me for no particular reason

[contrition]

After carefully wandering by the darkest allies and scouring all of the popular hangouts of the city, it quickly becomes apparent that most people's haunt of choice for information is Semele's. A restaurant that purports itself to be open to all in a far more literal way than most other businesses. Inside its walls, it's not a question of faith, not a question of ethnic background — instead, the lines of humanity itself are blurred and broken past.

He can feel it as soon as it steps into the place, singling out demons of different kinds. Here, affecting a quiet and unassuming personality doesn't seem to matter. He's not fooling most of them.

They look, they assess, and some turn away without a second thought. Others watch him closely, only relaxing back into conversation after he's passed.

Every group, on face, looks like a regular crowd out to dinner. No one mutters anything along the lines of exorcist or hunter. It's the attention that stands out. Nothing about Yukio is meant to call attention to himself, not while he's playing the civilian.

After speaking briefly with the too tall, too blond bartender, Yukio gets permission to step to the back of the restaurant, where the blinds of the manager's office seem to be open and a pair of bright green eyes peeks out. Though he's already caught the attention of the man, Yukio frowns and raises a hand to knock anyway. It seems polite.

"I'm sorry," he says, ducking his head inside. "I was told that you are the owner of this establishment. Do you have a minute to spare?"

Comments

[goodfella]

“I don’t know what motivates Castiel, aside from Dean Winchester,” Robin admits with a soft shrug. “In that respect, I agree. Castiel is far more worrisome than Ishiah, and would be, even if I weren’t so close to Ishiah myself. I don’t understand Castiel well. But trying to understand him has never been a priority for me. He is a friend, I suppose, but ... I am fond of him for now, but that could change, as could anything,” he finishes.

“It’s true that those are some of the traits in him, and in anything else, that I find the least favorable. As far as monsters go, I’m not much of a monster At least, not these days. Humans are special. Not because I think they are special to the greater picture, or that there is anything inherently special about them. But to me. They’re more valuable than other things.”

[contrition]

"An angel who is only motivated by a person," Yukio remarks softly, his eyes narrowing. That would explain the lack of care in every other regard. No compunctions about invading someone's mind for information if deemed necessary, but enough of a brushed human sensibility that he refrained. If the angel is acting on the leash of a human, it might make sense.

Letting out a soft sigh, there's a small window of time for which Yukio's shoulders sad, and his expression quickly regresses into that of a child his age. The exhaustion of having built up trust and repute, only to have it torn down in an instant. He doesn't have the right to consider himself as knowledgeable as an adult in this city.

"While you are motivated by humanity on the whole. That makes for an interesting pair of individuals, Goodfellow-san. I can only hope that you consider my brother and myself human enough for your liking."

He raises his gaze back to meet Robin's. "Forgive me for my rudeness. My name is Okumura Yukio."

[goodfella]

"I wouldn't call it a leash. Not because I have any particular conceit where that's concerned, but just because it would be imprecise. And imprecision can come back and bite you in the ass. As I'm sure you well know," Robin says, amusement brightening the mossy shade of his eyes. He pops the unwrapped butterscotch into the pocket of his cheek and gives it a thoughtful roll around his mouth.

"You're plenty human for my tastes. You and your brother, Okumura Yukio. Is Yukio fine, or are you a picky sort? Names are important, after all."

[contrition]

Yukio's eyes narrow at the bright tone that Robin affords him, resentful and suspicious of the look in the man's eyes. The eyes of someone who doesn't mind watching the suffering of people — even turns an eye towards it to watch the trainwreck. And he is, indeed, very tired of feeling like he and his brother are in the midst of a trainwreck.

"Yukio is fine," he says, tone measured. "Names are important, yes. But what and who goes far beyond a name. Should I ask about you now, Mr. Goodfellow?"