[ if you're like him, you will make a beeline for solitude moments after the meeting with rhan and siva'co concludes. you don't have high expectations, if you're anything like him, but you are stubborn, and you will keep looking for a place suitably peaceful until your instincts lead you to the gardens. if not the for symbiote, you would miss kaji with how neatly he seats himself under a dense flower shrub. he hasn't bothered to change out of his shirt - blotchy, mottled, and ruddy red against the chest of his blue cotton. the blood has dried but it doesn't make him look any less ghastly, as if he's been porked by sharp objects of varying sizes and shapes so that someone could figure out which had obtained the loudest scream.

he's smoking, unrepentantly. who knows how long he's been here. ]

( I know what you're thinking. 　he notices you, too, thanks to the symbiote: one simply cannot spy without being spied on in turn. an easy smile supplements the joke, his double entendre, kaji plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and jiggles it between his fingers. 　'Can't be good for the flowers.' But I wonder how they manage to survive in space at all. )

[ he knows how artificial light can supplant a star's phosphorescence; logistically the station's gardens make as much internal sense as the indoor greenhouses with which he is accustomed. but it's an anatopism, a putting of a thing out of its proper place, flowers in space. it doesn't cohere right. quiet appreciation is radiating off him, because his being here is also an anatopism, and the same is true for you. ]

( And so beautiful, too. )

[ he steals five books from the library.

he had swathed them safe within the folds of his disguise as if the designer didn't engineer those folds with this expressed purpose in mind. kaji had robbed the books of their shelves with preternatural reflexes, an almost bored kind of finesse. no one saw him do it.

when he makes his way back to the apartments, he situates himself down on a table seat center the common area, his hood draped unceremoniously across his lap. for anyone who happens to be watching, he begins to peel the books out from the folds across his chest, one by one, like a magician pulling too-big rabbits out from a too-small top hat. the books are thick and cumbersome looking. they could pass for bricks from afar. he removes them slowly, deliberately slow, slow to ensure your attention whether you want it to or not.

then, he begins to arrange the books down in front of him, one by one. to his credit, he pointedly refuses to make eye contact with his audience. his loot enjoys his undivided attention.

( Well? 　well, you thought. 　Don't just stand there. Make yourself useful, and let's figure out what these have to say. )

[ when in rome, do as the romans do. suffer their stares as they watch you with the trepidation of a predator milling about small animals. when out of the romans' purview, take off their oppressive hoods and get some fresh air.

kaji doesn't waste any time. he meanders through the halls of the apartments provided, his hood tucked across his elbows, his strides growing shorter with each step. he'd spent the last night pouring over the databank, searching for the motivation rhan and siva'co had failed to instill in him, searching for the consent he didn't remember giving them. afterward, he forced himself awake with thoughts of the vice commander until it was time not to think about such things. as he passes through kaji makes wide, sweeping surveys of each door, letting his eyes linger wherever they are left shut and linger longer wherever they are left ajar. he's not looking for anything or anyone in particular; reconnaissance came to him without thinking - he'd find himself canvassing each new building and hotel, his own home, after long periods of absence. anything unfamiliar would be subject to this grave ritual, many times over, against his better wishes.

something familiar stills his feet. a shut door, unremarkable in every conceivable way, talks to him in ways kaji has trouble articulating. the closer he shifts towards it, the more potent the tug. it comes from the symbiote, that much kaji understands. it's is only the vaguest of impressions, however sudden and strong. he could ignore it if he wanted to. kaji moves closer.

trepidation settles like a blanket over him as he raises one slow, incredulous first. he think he thinks of her, but rationalizes away the impression. it could just be, it is only, an ill-timed coincidence. he has no expectations.

knock, knock. ]

[ wildcard option! ]