[He pushes and pulls in alternating motions, like a cat kneading a blanket, the volume of his sobbing depleting pretty quickly until he's just breathing on a hitch, but he still won't lean fully into Akira. He keeps himself at arm's length, smearing one hand across his face while the other stays on Akira's shoulder, his knees still bunched up toward his chest.]

You never do anything you're supposed to. [It's as petulant as it is morose, and he frowns up at him one-eyed from around his hand, heel of it pressed into his other eye.] That's what originally interested me. You misbehave, but... in a controlled way.