( closed to @luck ) your turn to die: sou hiyori

[killed]

With varying vanities, from every part, they shift the moving toyshop of their heart.

Comments

HOW IS THIS HIYORI'S FAULT?? HE DIDN'T WANT THIS!!!!!!!!

[supporter]

Ah, that's right... It would be troublesome if Komaeda-kun fell behind, wouldn't it? I've already caused you to miss so much...

[ There's an airy laugh, followed by a small cough, but he's charmed by the reminder. It's not quite the same, as there was no admiration behind it, but he had been far more dedicated than any of his peers at one time. Perfect grades, perfect attendance, a perfect student.

Though he supposes he'll be causing him to miss it regardless, appearances are what maters. Hiyori reaches up and smooths his hair down before tucking it behind his ears. Komaeda's hand is warm, and it has a weight that doesn't settle as nicely as it should... No, he's not a fan of looking at himself from the outside at all, and that's only natural - humans aren't meant to see themselves in such a way. It's why mirrors can be so unsettling. ]

Perhaps we're the victims of someone's science experiment gone wrong? Ah, how troublesome...

[ Scientists often do things for the sake of doing so, and in a world where the laws of physics often seem to be nothing more than suggestions it seems possible enough. Really, one would only need to find a way to switch memories around, and if drugs and other illicit methods were used then it's not unlikely that something of the such could be done.

...

If that's it, then he'll have to find them later so that he can invite him over for tea. ]

Then, promise me that you won't do anything hasty? I'm trusting Komaeda-kun to take care of "me."

[ Meaning, don't abuse his poor body. ]

STOP HE WANTS SOMEBODY TO GIVE HIM A HJ!!! IT'S PROBABLY SOMEBODY WHO HAS A GRUDGE TBH

[supporter]

[ Komaeda always takes care of Ultimates and so long as he can accept the reality of the situation, he will take care of Hiyori's body as well as any other part of him. There's more than enough cause for concern, as his idea of care can be quite unorthodox, but he's unlikely to do any irreparable damage.

Unfortunately, he's less inclined to take care of himself. It would be an interesting experience, he thinks, to be able to hurt "yourself." It's even better, he thinks, when it's from such a position of power that's always seemed so far away. ]

No, that won't be necessary -

[ He flinches when his wrist is grabbed, all too aware of the fact that the other can pull and drag and harm him as he pleases. Hiyori has always been likewise aware, but his practice means that he's used to applying just the right amount of pressure to avoid undue harm. There's concern on his face as he slides to the bed and then off of it as much out of fear of being dragged off of it as to not have to crane his head back so far to look up at him. ]

I've never wished to see harm come to Komaeda-kun... You've bright light to my life just by being a part of it. Have I given you some reason to think otherwise?

[ He already knows that he hasn't, as he insists the same every day. Nagito Komaeda is the light of his life, a dim shine that he wishes to nurture more than any other, and one whom he should make every effort to avoid seeing harm come to at all costs. Those arguments are ones that tend to be readily rejected, and so he's already racking his brain for alternatives. His legs feel unstable beneath him when compared to his normal state of being, though he knows well enough to attribute it to acclimating to this new physique, along with his own nerves. ]

STOOPPPPP HE DIDN'T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS

[supporter]

[ It's nice being on the other side, isn't it? For those who have been abused, who have lived with unpleasant circumstances, there's nothing more delectable than being able to find a way to transfer that harm to another. But it can't simply be harm for the sake of harm, as there's no satisfaction to be found in walking up to somebody and kicking them... Something more personal is needed in order to vent those frustrations that build up over the time. Something justifiable, something far crueler.

It's the way one creates a truly terrible bully. It only takes beating someone savagely, pounding them into the ground and killing all their hope, and no matter how long the experience lasts the effects will be with them for a lifetime. No matter how long they live, they'll always believe themselves to be a victim of others. That's what it reminds him of, but there's no way to say it without agitating the situation further.

But how nice it must be for him to be on the other side after so long.

A sharp gasp comes out instead as nails dig into his wrist instead, and that feeble effort to pull away is familiar to him. He's had to deal with Komaeda struggling time and time again, but it's always been to keep him from hopping out a window or taking a knife to himself. He swallows down the growing panic that comes with being trapped and promised harm as best he can to avoid hyperventilating. ]

K-Komaeda-kun...

[ Hiyori's eyes flick up and down, his body trembling. It's difficult to shake him, and even at those times which he is there's a certain air about him where he can maintain control, because Hiyori trusts himself enough. But this body isn't his, and these circumstances aren't that which he can understand, and he struggles to maintain his normal composure. ]

Stop... There's no need for that! I don't want it!

[ He tries pulling again before reminding himself not to panic once more. ]

You're going to put me back in the hospital.

[ If not the grave, but he'd rather not encourage that. But he knows, because Komaeda so often wound up in his office after these little fits. ]

NOT HE'S HAPPY I HATE THAT

[supporter]

[ He would sooner trust himself to a back alley doctor to chop his hand off with a meat cleaver and call it a cure than that miserable, pathetic, crackbrained bitch. They would at least have a fraction of self awareness and tact, perhaps even a few braincells to rub together, and an infinitely better personality.

It's better for both of them that he stay away from her. He can't stand those in his field who don't meet his standards. They should just drop dead, choke on their own worthlessness and vile existence... Ah, it makes his blood boil just to think about such a useless creature daring to dress themselves up as a medical professional.

He would correct that mistake if he could only get his hands on her.

Those thoughts shine ever more clearly through the pain that follows his struggles and leads to worse ones, and he thinks that he will correct that mistake at the first opportunity. Those who are unprofessional, who gain status and love despite being nothing but parasites on society need to be dealt with quickly. They need to be removed before they can suck the blood out of the world and permanently damage it. Someone as stupid as that will only utilize their talent (or lack therefore of) to harm the world tht he loves so much.

It's because of the blinding pain that he can focus on that, a grounding agent and a place to direct the malice that comes with it. It's a perfect reminder off how little that worthless place learned... Ah, and after everything he did for them.

Those are the thoughts that cut through the sharp pain, and the scream that follows it, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he tries to process the sudden bout of pain that briefly distracts from the other discomforts of this body. He takes in gulping breaths that don't seem to reach into his lungs, and that calm that had kept him steady breaks into a series of violent coughs and wheezes as he struggles to collect himself. It fees as though he might pass out, and he nearly does, but after a time he's able to collect himself.

That expression pisses him off too.

He scrubs his face with the back of his hand once he's a little more stable, and he manages to inspect his wrist and pop it back into place. That's painful too, and he sniffles before reaching over to grab his phone, unlocking it and punching in a number, pressing it to his ear as he walks into the bathroom and slams the door behind him, locking it with a click. ]

Michi-chan? Ah, Emi-chan too... Good, that saves me from having to explain it twice. Sou speaking... I seem to have a bit of a situation.

I'M GLAD HE ENJOYS HIYORI'S SUFFERING SO MUCH me too komaeda

[supporter]

[ When he was younger Hiyori would practice smiling. He would sit in front of the mirror for minutes that stretched into hours as he practiced after watching and researching, acting and pretending, until he finally found that he had perfected it.. It's something that's required of a medical professional, and if one can't even do that then they should find a new day job. It's what's required off perfection. But of course there were plenty of times when he didn't want to, when he felt pressured and upset, that which he needed to in order to offer reassurance to others.

So he practiced, and practiced, and practiced, and now his smile always reaches his eyes, eyes that glimmer and shine with mirth or sympathy or regret as appropriate.

He practices now too as he looks at his own tired expression in the mirror. It's easier now, and by the time his phone call is over he's already perfected it. The call is quick and to the point, citing medical issues and explaining that he requires assistance. The teenager in the other room was never taught how to listen, and so he can only ensure that neither is neglected.

He brushes his teeth first and his hair next, pulling the latter back into a ponytail, securing it with a hair tie, and those dark thoughts brought on by sickness and the pain of every slight movement are hidden behind a warm expression. He lets it drop as pain makes him suck in another breath, but he keeps himself moving. It's out the bathroom he goes, slipping out of nightwear and into a too casual outfit. No jacket, but he procures a wool scarf from his drawer - different from his normal one. He's cold.

It's been a long time since he was last in that place. He wonders if anything has changed at all, if perhaps there's something that he had missed. It makes him anxious, like going back to a life that he hates. But remiss as he is to admit it, it's because of their strict expectations and tendency to smear into his mind and etch onto his skin who he was and what he could be too that he was able to become the wonderful adult that he is today.

Why they can't seem to do that for any of the of these other miserable brats is a mystery to him. ]

stooppp he got a nat 20 he's going to get there fine and just gas it

[supporter]

[ There's none who would wish to be Komaeda, but plenty would envy him now for being able to be a man who has everything from fame and fortune to appearances and love, though his life has gotten a fair bit more annoying since the internet picked up its petty arguments about whether or not he's an Ultimate. He really should settle that debate one of those days, but there's always so much to do, and whether or not it's verified the goal should be met. He wants to see it if anyone can find it, the records of that time. He would like to meet that person if so. It would be interesting.

Alas, kids these days just don't have that curiosity. They lack the drive and methods of thinking that leave one to learn what to loo for and why. They're all content to be slotted into talent and talentless, restricting themselves to worthless talents - fortune teller? Doujin writer? Heir ? What kind of idiotic non-talents are those? It's because of people like that the world is full of trash. It grows from rotten roots and produces decaying plants which choke out all the beauty around them.

But He sits on the sofa's armrest and fixes into place a smile, one which is warm and kind and that none would mistake for anything but genuine, an unbreakable lock that he hides his feelings behind. His wrist is red and black, aching and bruised, wrapped up tight with bandages that are tinged with red from where crescent moon shaped tears were left, and there's a coppery taste that lingers in his mouth. He feigns ignorance of these problems as watches his body be used in such a graceless way and makes no effort to touch or even come near the other in turn. ]

Yes, I'm certain that I will.

[ There's an uncomfortable feeling a deep down in the pit off his stomach, a bubbling anxiety that accompanies the idea of returning to that place as a student once more. It's like jumping back into the Hell that he had crawled out of. But he had been better than them even then, capturing their pieces and sweeping them off the chessboard, and so why should he be afraid now that he's the wonderful adult they wished him to be?

He wonders if they have the materials he needs to recreate his most recent little experiment there. He'll have to make calls if not. ]

I love you too... Ah, Harai-san and Namida-san will assist you if you run into any trouble. Satou-san will as well, but you must mind your manners around him. You may do as you please so long as it won't do major damage, and I expect you not to let any harm come to "me." If you do, I'll be upset.

[ That's not a word he uses often. But Hiyori doesn't care much for being hurt nor having his words ignored, and he cares even less for being scared. It's something that simply can't be allowed, and that feeling will long outlast the pain that he'd felt.

He's upset now. ]

SIGH THE WAY HE GOTTA CODDLE HIM

[supporter]

[ Komaeda has gotten too good at noticing when he's upset for his liking. It's not something that's meant to be seen and he takes care to avoid others doing so. It's a consequence of spending too much time with someone. They start to learn your little quirks and habits, what upsets you and what makes you happy and all of those things that he keeps hidden behind a personable face. It's why he keeps others at an arms length and reveals nothing while tricking htem into believing they're privy to carefully guarded secrets.

But in return he knows that Komaeda neither feels guilt nor worry about doing such injury. The expression on his face and the easy way he had ignored him, perhaps while hoping to do worse damage, makes his stomach churn. But there's no need to be unnecessarily cruel to him, especially not when he seems to be trying to hide away in himself. For someone who hates themselves it's easy to tear apart their own flesh, and for one who wishes to be nothing it's nerve wracking to be of such vital importance.

Hiyori's presence has always been commanding. If he so chose, he could build up that same presence in this body simply by carrying himself with such confidence while wearing a disarming smile and speaking in such a smooth and practiced manner. Alas, Nagito Komaeda withers in the spotlight, and he wouldn't cause him such trouble. They'll expect more and more of him if he does too much. This requires a light touch.

But he does hope that none of them are too rude. The surgeon is already in a foul mood, and he's never had much tolerance for those who treat those in his care poorly. Still, that's for later, and he lets out a small sigh and shakes his head with a smile and a quiet reassurance that he's not upset, then he looks over the map. Hiyori knows his routine well enough from taking such efforts to get to know him, and he chuckles a little at the dog. ]

We should go together... I'm afraid that I won't be able to enjoy them now, but I believe saving them for later should suffice... Ah, but you should try some while you're able to. I can tell you which will be to your liking.

[ He might be unwelcome, but it's unlikely that they'll kick up a fuss about the issue when that would only draw more attention to the matter. It would be the same as acknowledging his existence at a time that which he can't afford to do so.

Komaeda won't want to feel his touch now, repulsed by his body as he is, and that too makes him hesitant to act. But the warmth of him leaning against him is enough to encourage him, and so he'll lean up to give him a soft kiss. ]

You can tell me about your day then.

SIGHHH THE OUTLET FOR HIS LEFTOVER FRUSTRATION bc komaeda's too cute to stay mad at

[supporter]

[ It's odd experience at best to kiss himself. He's no Narcissus and he should never stand there for having fallen in love with his own reflection. He's confident enough in it, but at the end of the day his appearance is kept up for others rather than himself. He finds this to be fine so long as it's another that he's kissing rather than his own reflection in the mirror. There's a hint of disappointment when he stops short of kissing him, but he settles for wrapping his arms around Komaeda and nestling into his grip to soak up the warmth that he provides. ]

Ah, but I'm all too happy to have been given the opportunity to share them with you.

[ He can't force it though. Maybe it would just make things more disappointing when he were to go back to his own body, but he still finds it a touch disappointing. He supposes he'll have to adjust to the palate given to him as well though, favoring crunchy and firmer foods, salty and spicy or otherwise simply bland enough to be inoffensive, and it's a bit difficult to imagine for one who never properly built up their tolerance to large amounts of either.

It hurts to be pushed, his wrist aches from bending as he holds him, and it's difficult to breath with the added weight. It's habitual for him to act like this though, as Hiyori has always been too aware of how frail he is and acted accordingly. That gentle touch is one that was built by years of practice.

It really is difficult using another person's body. His fingers don't move as deftly as they should, and he can feel a budding headache coming on. He supposes it's the dehydration in this case, probably the bout of stress too. He reaches up his hand to stroke his hair in the same gentle motion that he always uses. It's a hand that's too cold, the fingers too thin, but the movement and gentle touch must be familiar to him. ]

Not at all... Rather, I'm happy to hear such words of love from you each and every time.

[ His words come out a little breathy as he continues using a voice that's not his own, but words which could be offered by no other, ]

We can, and we can stop if needed... [ If he needs to is what he means. ] I love you always, Komaeda-kun, and I wish to be with you always, no matter what form you may take.

STOP HE'S NOT THAT BAD!!

[supporter]

[ He chuckles. Hiyori isn't moody in any sense of the word, but he has little patience for those who choose to challenge him. It's insulting, after all, to be treated as though he's so far beneath a person that they can antagonize and attack him, and left unchecked that sort of rot will only spread throughout the entire system. But it's nothing so concerning as a dead limb to be chopped off of the body, but an infection that needs to be drained of the pus that fills it, packed and dressed so that it will heal properly, with just a scar left behind to remind the patient of the incident.

But perhaps because his body is already so thoroughly covered with them, Komaeda seems uniquely able to avoid such consequences - perhaps he's just never enough of a threat, or maybe it's his idolization. His poor moods evaporate in but minutes, leaving behind only the remnants and debris of agitation. ]

It's only natural that I should be happy so long as Komaeda-kun is with me! I love you more than the sun and the stars, for your shine is more brilliant than any I could find in the sky.

[ People are stars too, ones which shine just for him so long as he nurtures them. The star before him is dim and dull, a dwarf star in the final phases of life, but the elements released from from planetary nebula will go on to fuse with others and shape itself into a brilliant new star - a new Nagito Komaeda, with a warmth and brilliance befitting of him. To nurture that process is his duty as a doctor and a husband.

Hanamura... One of his classmates. The Ultimate Chef, if he recalls, a person who would wish to receive praise and pampering from others by demonstrating their talent. It's only natural for a person who's allowed their entire existence to to a single trait, of course, and so he supposes there's no reason to refuse it. He places his hand over his chest, taking in a few breaths before he stands along with Komaeda, reaching over to take his hand.

Hiyori wonders if he might have been happier if he, too, had merely focused on his talent. He would be as vapid, empty, and useless as the rest of them. But he was always meant for greater things than simply being the Ultimate Surgeon.

A rare breed, a rare prodigy, a rare and beautiful talent - ah, how the stars did align! Their structure was so perfect that he wanted to see them explode into a brilliant supernova, to compress in on themselves and form a black hole. But the person beside him is too insignificant to understand those feelings, too caught up in those stars that brighten his nights and guide him along his path. It would be nice if he could though, as a fellow outcast - one misunderstood by both those with and those without talent. ]

I'll be sure to try it if so... Ah, it's no trouble at all. It's a bit late to make anything, but I do have some udon bowls if you'd like...

[ Instant ramen bowls too. He even picks up the spicy ones for Komaeda. It's simple and not quite what one would call a breakfast item, but quick and satisfying enough. But before he settled into this new pattern, it wasn't uncommon for him to simply grab a coffee and perhaps toast with jam or a pastry on his way to the office. ]

STOP KOMAEDA DOESN'T WANT TO FUCK HIM???

[supporter]

[ He would try to take it again, albeit he would think better of it after the second effort. It's no doubt an unpleasant experience to be given affection by a body he hates so much, and Hiyori wonders if it might not be better to let go. He tightens his grip a little instead, seeming pleased when he's allowed to keep hold of it. He's never been quite so aware of the sharp difference in temperature between them.

Hiyori takes the bowl and looks it over. He recognizes it as part of a pair. He had been fond of the pink one, finding the colored noodles to hold just the right amount of flavor for him. ]

Ah, I recognize this one... You throw away the fish chip, don't you? How sad, I believe I took the last of its partner bowl with me the other day...

[ It's such a small and insignificant detail, like having coffee or tea together using matching cups, and yet even so always finds himself charmed by the idea. It's one more way of forming a connection and a bond, a little trick of the mind that says they're closer for it despite it not truly making much of a difference.

Still, his smile returns as he considers the lateral statement. Under normal circumstances he would probably lean in and kiss him, cup his face and let their foreheads touch, but to do that now would be uncomfortable for both of them. It does seem a bit low brow to shower his own body with kisses. As it is, he settles for squeezing his hand, and what was left of his frustration with Komaeda evaporates, the remainder left in reserve for the next person to warrant it.

Husband... It's nice to hear that word from his mouth. ]

You always do... I never have to worry with you around... Ah, you might try this one...

[ He sets his bowl down briefly so he can procure a second one. For a person who lives such an extravagant lifestyle, it's surprisingly common - a cheap brand of noodles that can be found at most convenience stores. ]

I used to have it when I was in college.

[ It was something easy to find and quick to prepare, both of which were important at such a time, especially when he would frequently forget to get anything at all until most stores were closed. This one says it has a medium spiciness, which probably still isn't very hot for anyone whose built up any kind of proper tolerance - but given that he hasn't, it's probably a fair accomplishment for him to be able to handle. ]

Er, I suppose you can add more heat to it if you'd like... I'm afraid I've never had much of a taste for it, but I can handle this much...

[ ...

...

He seems proud of that fact. ]

stoooppp he will anytime... sigh thinkin bout how he's not allowed to get out of being gangbanged

[supporter]

[ It must seem like a paltry amount to a person like Komaeda who thrives on it, but there's enough that it should have a bit of kick to it... It's nothing that would need be brought up, but he's made some progress in building up his tolerance since they started spending more time together. He's gotten to the point of being able to handle a noticeable amount of heat. It's somewhat impressive for a person who focuses on sweet and savory meals. It's a way of being able to share them with him.

He had a milder version of it before, so it's an improvement.

There's a moment in which he might protest, but the kiss catches him off guard. He returns it readily, holding it for a few seconds longer than he should before pulling away. It must be uncomfortable for him, and so to have that boundary pushed makes him happy. It's something done for him, an action that he can reciprocate because all of those little mannerisms promise that it's another person wearing his face.

There's a soft laugh. ]

Will I be able to drink of Komaeda-kun's kisses until the burning subsides? I'm sure my mouth would be on fire if I tried such a thing, but it would be worth it.

he doesn't like ppl touching his toys!! sigh he can't even appreciate komaeda's cute moans

[supporter]

[ How lucky indeed to be able to enter that gilded cage once more. It makes him sick to think about, or maybe that's just the acid in his empty stomach.

He can't repeat that experiment in this body, which has neither clout nor fortitude. Perhaps something on a smaller scale, but what point is there in action that might simply be blamed on some wretch? They would still breathe, the cover up complete in the blink of an eye.

Boring, how dreadfully boring... Ah, it's dull enough to make his fingers twitch. He takes the blazer off the coat rack, slipping it on. He buttons it up and adjusts the tie, ensuring that everything is in order before patting his pockets and waistband to ensure the items that he hadn't forgotten to grab anything.

Wallet, cell phone, knife, taser... It all seems to be in order. He has his ID and school materials as well. If this body weren't so painful, it really would be the same. ]

It'll be alright. I'll make it on time... But do let me know if anyone causes you any trouble. I'll ensure it's taken care of.

[ It simply won't do for anyone to think that they can disrespect Sou Hiyori, not directly nor by playing with his toys. ]

Then, I'll see you tonight. I love you, Komaeda-kun.

[ He tries to make those the last words that he leaves each day, not for any fear of loss but hopes that they'll carry him through the day. ]

NOT IT'S LIKE A 5SOME ok i guess ur right

[supporter]

[ What's the worst pain you've ever felt?

It's a question he asks every now again. He would ask it more if he could, but it would be unseemly to pry into such personal affairs. Yet, the answers never fair to catch his attention. For some it's their affliction or an accident, for some it's the abuse they suffered through, yet still for others they find that all of this pales in comparison to those who would rather have a thousand knives shoved into them than continue to remember their losses and heartache. He had once spoken with a man who opened up to him about losing his wife and daughter to a man who believed the latter to be a devil's child.

"But you are my son, and of you I am proud," his father had told him after forcing him to watch the execution of both. They were drowned in a church, baptized and returned to God while he remained on Earth. Hiyori had wanted to cure him, to erase that heartache, that greatest pain, and yet he lives on with it even now. But that is a feeling that he can understand, as he too carries his greatest pain with him, the sweet despair that sunk its claws into his heart and pried his eyes open so he might see the truth of the world, that pulled him along and guided his fingers.

He's never forgotten, he'll never forget, and what was born from it was greater than anything he might have accomplished had that disgusting black slime not crawled down his throat and infected every part of him. He'd vomited it up with each press of the button, each shock, each injection and sweet lie and false expression that had followed, by offering comfort and care, everything, everything, until there wasn't a drop left.

What's the worst pain you've ever felt? He had asked again, one by one, as he administered the lessons that he had been taught by those moments. They're lessons that can only be taught by those who have seen how deep Hell is.

Did you know? There's a way to erase that pain you felt. You only need to overwrite it with an even greater pain, he had explained with care. It's a comfort that only those who understand that Hell is a bottomless pit can teach. That wonderful promise to them that he would erase their pain over, and over, and over again, until they felt none at all, because he loves them so. He loves them so, and so he had kindly broken down each and every mistake they'd made - to assault a person whose riches far exceed theirs, whose connections are too many to count, whose brighter and better than they could ever hope to be.

He had cured all of their trauma, of all the pains that they held, of all thought that they could threaten him. He had just been in such a foul mood after this morning, after seeing that place as they left it, after realizing how easy it is for others to overpower him in this body. It only takes an ill-timed fit for plans to fall apart. Such a shame too, when all others seemed to see the subtle shifts in demeanor and behavior and cautiously approach in a different way - to see what a Nagito Komaeda that had a certain measure of confidence was like, one who could spin honeyed words in just the right way to make it sound right.

A beautiful talent for a beautiful soul; noting those little details that everyone misses about both the talent and the person both they are beneath it, finding the weakness in their armor and piercing it, doing everything just right without breaking from that love that this body's owner has for those with taken. If he had a month, he's certain that everything would be different as he overwrote their prior beliefs with something sweeter. A greater harm to overwrite past pains, a light touch and measured actions to repair broken relationships. He can do it all.

By the time he's finished with his work and trudges up the stairs it's already dark. His hair is slightly damp, making him shiver, and he raises his hand to yawn as he slips the key into the lock. The classes are boring, the work mundane, the school itself changing nothing but its people... He wishes he had more stamina, or at least that the headache afflicting him would subside. Open the door goes, and he shuts and locks the door behind him before slipping out of his shoes and into slippers in the same usual routine. ]

I'm home... ♪

[ Tired, but he sounds more cheerful than before as he's satisfied with his work for the moment. He wonders if the has permanent brain damage from the taser. He had used it on the head, but... Ah, well. It wasn't a person that anyone would care about enough to miss... He thinks curry would be nice tonight - they'd just have to substitute the rice. Shrimp noodles might be nice too, that can be made to be spicy... ]