[ Everything else shifts by the wayside, becoming background noise once Makoto finally gets down to the brass tacks of the issue. He articulates precisely what's gotten stuck in his craw, but it's practically unnecessary when J is awash in the emotions that speak as well as words across Communion. So thick and raw, they take on a life of their own, like all of it may swallow him whole.

Typically, anyone with a sense of self-respect would despise the venomous sense of fury forming a tidal wave that does its best to drown him in these familiar waters. But that's assuming J doesn't revel in Makoto's vitriol like a good, strong drink that hits hard and burns all the way down.

Had J been another man, he had plenty of excuses. That it was a joke, a prank gone astray when two bullheaded Kenoma refused to back down from daring the other to flinch first. Unfortunately, J is precisely what Makoto knows him to be, and apologies and excuses aren't in his wheelhouse. ]

Oh, but you have it all wrong. [ The impression of a smile slinks through the shared space. ] He propositioned me, first.

I was merely stringing him along for a while, just to see if I could call his bluff. But you already seem to know that.

And I hardly think a little joke crawled that far under your skin. [ Childe had been feigning interest for Heaven knows what reason, and backpedaled so hard on his attempt at seduction the man had practically choked up in their last words of a brief encounter that neither cared to continue further. J merely wanted to rub it in his face, just to establish an unspoken rule about playing with fire.

It should have been harmless, but apparently not all would agree. ]

So, what's the real problem here? Furious at the idea of someone else touching your things?