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...yeah. You're welcome. [ Akira's voice is -- warm. He doesn't know what else there is to say. He thinks he could be happy, like this: making curry and having pointless little conversations with Akechi. He thinks moments like this stand out to him more than anything else. They've both nearly died, sometimes at the hand of the other; they've been through more than either of them ever should have, and at the end of it --

It's the quiet domesticity that gets Akira. It feels stolen everytime, like he's grasping at something he shouldn't be allowed. This quiet warmth, even if it's awkward, even if they're both struggling through it. ]

I'm still dragging you on errands later, so it's a calculated move on my part. [ It is not. He just likes cooking curry. But he can pretend. ]