"Good morning."

Or afternoon. Or evening. Or night.

It didn't matter. It never mattered.

Going into downtown London with zero expectations for the umpteenth time that week, imagine the pressure Henri was put under when he once again caught the sight of someone he really wanted to chance upon after a brief, messy encounter with a sadistic robot back in Neo Tokyo; a good bye that had arrived too soon and now a meeting that he was unprepared for.

His world blurred and the man standing in front of him in all his glory seemed to have absorbed the colors of his surroundings - light focused only on him as everything else moved in greyish slow motion. The reds of his earring and the highlights on his hair. The bright crimson that outlined the sharp corners of his golden orbs. The white glow on the fabric of his suit.

It's him.

He untied the threads that stitched his lips, mouthing the want to utter a word of greeting - anything.

"Great weather, isn't it?"

Standardized inquiry, but the sky and the city skylines weren't reflected in his eyes. Hidden behind the temporary refraction of his spectacles was the reflection of the pale-skinned man with hair as black as the comforting abyss; dressed in white, cloaked in red camellias.

Susame Fuyukami

Henri's jaw dropped when he heard a response that obviously didn't settle well with him, even if it was well within the other's jurisdiction to point out - and truly, the man was right. Perhaps in situations such as this, the normal thing to do was to simply say the word Henri really hated uttering: Sorry; and then they would each go on their merry way to go about their day like they hadn't just bumped into each other.

But that was not Henri.

In a zone like this, he could run his mouth all he wanted as per how he wanted it to, so there really was no stopping him from doing whatever he liked. Not even the commotion that seemed to send a signal of warning of this dude's status could scare him.

"I said what I said," he folded his arms, gaze fixated firmly with conviction on the other's eyes. "If you apologize first, have you ever considered that I might just return the gesture?" '

Sami

That--

That attitude.

The confidence that came across as well-deserved arrogance just because he looked a little good, was a little taller, with broad shoulders that allowed him to ooze a little bit of a manlier aura? Long legs belonging to a model mannequin, maybe a small waist for the perfect physique ratio hidden beneath his jacket, built and structured flawlessly to impress?

Unfortunately for him, Henri was not impressed. Not when he hadn't heard of even a word of apology after he had clearly advised him to.

To top it all with, the silver-haired, animal-eared stranger had the gall to even take his apple away.

"Well."

A sneer, fully meant to be unpleasant; a twitch of his brows, fully meant to show annoyance - but most of all, a snatch at his apple in the other's hand, quick and fierce in an attempt to show dominance. Things were bad as they were to Henri right now; the least he could do was to protect the ownership to his apple.

"At least I can still take this back from you. Sucks to be slow, huh?"

And the next thing he did was devour the rest of the crunchy apple in wild motions and big mouthfuls for the other to watch, the juice dripping down his hands when he accidentally swallowed a large piece of an unchewed bite and his gag reflex failed him mercilessly. He entered a fit of unglamorous coughing, wheezing for air as he slammed a fist repeatedly to his chest to hopefully help the chunk go down his esophagus safely.

Yukiharu Kita

Stopping as he watched the tall stranger so easily caught the thief in front of him, Henri breathed a deep sigh of relief. At the question directed at him, he took a few seconds to regain his composure, setting up the polite rhythm in his speech.

"...My pen."

And it wasn't just any pen - it was THE pen; the weapon given to him by the system. If he had lost it to some dumb thief he couldn't catch on his own, who knew how he was going to survive? It was his best bet at offense at this point, and even he would be so damned crippled if he only had his non-offensive ability to depend on - fuck his luck for having earned such an easy-to-lose non-combat weapon form.

Walking over to his savior and the criminal in his book, Henri extended a hand towards the perpetrator, making his intent crystal clear towards getting his pen back.

"Thank you, kind stranger," he addressed the tall gent in humble gratitude. "Now, I'll have my pen back, if you don't mind--"

Just as he was about to rummage into the thief's pocket, said thief swiftly struggled out of his oversized tshirt and reached for an item in the tall gentleman's pocket before making his run. Yes, half-naked.

"...Shit."

The thief wasn't going to make it far with that speed and stature, but he still had to start the chase if he didn't want the distance between them to grow even further. Today seemed like a sprinting day, alright; though he'd imagine the other guy who looked more than capable of catching up would also be aggravated if he had lost anything of importance.

Let's rewind in scenic flashbacks to help explain the horror that unfolded right in front of Henri for a few seconds.

A random dude, bumping shoulders against him.

Another dude, standing still right in front of him, whom Henri had bumped into as a result of [mostly] his own carelessness;

And the most tragic victim in this chain of unfortunate events, the snack this young man was holding before he inevitably dropped it.

Henri swore internally, but to voice it out when he was clearly the perpetrator seemed a little too impolite in this case. He might lack the good impressions upon first meetings as an individual in general, but he would like to believe that, unless provoked, he was far from an unreasonable jerk.

A gulp, a slow-forming bead of sweat from the deafening silence that followed and a nervous look later, he spoke.

"That guy—"

A finger pointed at the person who bumped into him, full of accusation and

"Made me lose my balance for a bit, but I guess that still made me the bad guy in this case. Shame about your food."

He scratched the back of his hand, as if he was allergic to the word:

"...Sorry."

He almost - 'almost' being the keyword here - wanted to pinch himself repeatedly while he was awake, pulling every strand of his hair out at every groan if not for the fact that he was beginning to settle into the strange, sudden predicament that took over the entire planet. Almost like that one famous scene from that one famous movie where someone changed fates with a single snap of their fingers.

Dragging his feet along the ground where the bricks on the road were stacked uneven, Henri kept his signature poker face on as he contemplated his experience thus far. Safe zone, as announced by the pop-up window that faded into temporary existence right in front of him before.

The screen disappeared, but the message stayed and soothed one of his worries that had kept him chained to constant, restless alertness. Even now he was still hoping this was all a dream; perhaps he could wake up to a wafting scent of semi-burnt toast that he would mindlessly make for himself at every other morning.

Lost in thought, he walked aimlessly through the sparse, empty space of London; very unlike the scenes he often watched on the news or in movies, which supposedly was a reflection of reality. He turned around, took a few steps backwards, and felt a familiar sensation of his body bumping against another. Panic took over for a second before he caught the sight of - thankfully - another human being; though he showed none of that careless reaction in his gestures.

"What, there's still a soul around, after all."

A remark, as unenthusiastic as his whole opinion on this dumb predicame; then his brows relaxed at the assurance that he was not to be unharmed in this zone.

"You bumped into me, so I expect an apology. Go on, now, don't keep me waiting."

Sami