There were many nights of fulfillment, but also of silent resentment. Shinra caged himself behind walls of bleached bone and sterile quiet. It was an image that, to him, rivaled godliness in its exalted indifference. For who, could rival such aloofness besides god? Who could look upon death and pain and suffering with a smile and say it wasn't personal, if not himself? He had done it countless times before and felt nothing. Of course, he was no longer in a war.

He was no longer a devil of retribution, he was just excess and glutton. Redundancy. Yet, he was also not a liar, Shinra enjoyed his job. He was good at it, at the way he could peel them open without touching them. That was a trait that hadn't died on any battlefield or eroded with time after Kanto fell. It was an unnecessary skill, he was unnecessary.

Yet, that night, he had gotten them to talk through frustrating level of effort. It was international infestation, like raticates in a nest. There was blood beneath his nails, dirtying the hem of his shirt and the ironed and pristine edges of his suit sleeves. It was less the filth of it and more the way his mind couldn't ignore the way it revealed him for the ugliness beneath.

It would have been better if what he felt was guilt, but it wasn't. It was messier than that.

Every inch of his skin shivered, seeming to come undone from the stitches. It felt too tight on his body, skeletal sharp against the places it clung to him. There were methods he could take to control this response, practices in place from too many therapists and counselors to count. He ignored them all, shutting the door roughly behind him. The safety of his home didn't fold across him with the comfort of a weighted blanket. All of it was wrong. Out of order. The sheer tidiness of it felt hollow and constricting.

His ears rung with tinnitus and pumping blood. He didn't see the blur of movement from a snowy fox-pokemon on the couch or the sound of the television. His feet carried him back to the bedroom, to the bathroom. As the water turned on, steam heating from the warmth. Even as he scrubbed until the skin was red and raw and he tossed his jacket aside. His hair unkempt and his eyes shadowed. The creep of white noise in his ears harmonized with the memories of a war he'd told himself had never affected him. How could it? Nothing affected him.

He muttered beneath his breath. Unclean, fucking filthy.

It would not have surprised him in Blue decided to take a crack at kicking him. Violence was simply in her nature, but he'd also come to know her through such unexpected softness too. He couldn't forget the part of her, panicking on his doorstep about two decades lost between them. Shinra still didn't know entirely what had happened to her, but he knew enough of the pain in her expression not to question it.

A quick smile at the mention of affirmation, he added. "I'll keep that in mind." Admittedly, it as difficult not to read too much into Blue. It was Shinra's nature to analyze, to pick apart the layers of one's psyche and see what lie beneath. He knew what Blue wanted and what she needed because it was his nature to know those things, or at least made a professional estimation. It wasn't right though, it was cold and impersonal. At the very least, she had proven herself an exception in his book because he refused to use it against her.

Quietly, he watched the way that color bloomed across her body, starting at her ears. It wasn't like he wasn't affected, but he'd become somewhat too talented in the art of hiding himself. Like the serpent he was claimed to be by so many that he had harmed in the past.

Her skin was warm, heated beneath the sun and the swell of blush beneath. As with all things, it took a moment to process. He froze for a moment upon initial contact. He'd felt fine initially, of course. What was the big deal? It wasn't like he'd not initiated more intimacy than some sun lotion. Except that had been fleeting, it had been sprung by uncharacteristic need. There and then gone. This was purposeful, it couldn't be mistaken for fleeting or trepidatious.

He let his hand ghost down shoulder blade, up the nape of a delicate neck. Every part of her tensed like a wild animal and his own discomfort was probably apparent. Not out of disgust, not like usual. He touched her like he could break her, but he knew that wasn't possible. "There, much better. Can't have you burning up."

"Pasty? Wow, why don't you kick me while you're at it?" He scoffed, a smile snaking past the mock-offense. As if he wasn't aware of his lacking pigmentation, pasty was the least of many insults that could have been launched against him. Especially from a natural fighter like Blue, then again her word game somewhat lacked in comparison to the brutality of her punches.

Shinra had seen the result of too many fights to think her lacking for her size. Military training aside, she could have kicked his ass too. Not only due to the fact that he was always more of a specialist and doctor than an actual military official. He saw less of war and more of the confidential back rooms and the confined prison spaces where the war criminals were kept.

"Pretty pint-sized, yeah." He snorted, despite her obvious threat.

He watched the way the circular shadow crossed along the sand as Blue hefted it over her head. He withdrew the more obvious teases from his voice. "Would you like me to praise you?" Okay, nevermind, the sharpness of his voice was evident of his tease. Though he never minded the red-tint to her face.

His hands were practiced with sunscreen, having been dependent on in with his unfortunate leucism. "Do you want me to...?" He held the bottle up, falling silent. What was he asking her, exactly? To touch her? That felt both like an overstep and uncertainty. He had certainly done things in the past where the intimacy of something may be warranted but, for him, it always felt like a knife to the throat. Even then, he didn't withdraw.

A crooked smile teased at the edge of his lips, the kind that might have been lethal in an interrogation, but he had forced it to soften. It didn't come naturally, but it was still something he wanted to try. "Yes, Blue, I'm sure." Her uncertainty felt like a new light, a different person. Far from the girl who talked through her fists and smelled of blood and sweat and fire. Yet she was still one and the same, just... different. He wasn't sure what to call this version of her, but he couldn't help but expect her to spring into attack mode at any second.

The version of her in the game wasn't the same person. It had been... surprising, to say the least. It baited a part of him that was both human and weak, but it wasn't her. Despite his baser weakness, he preferred her like this, still volatile as a hand-grenade but also vulnerable.

For a brief second, he wondered if she would punch him in the nose if he told her she was beautiful.

Instead, his eyes followed the milotic and mightyena, which were an unusual pair if he thought about it long enough. "Have you looked at me? Of course, I burn." He laughed, shaking his head. "That'd be nice, but only if you can manage it. I don't know, might have to stand on your tip-toes." He teased, handing it over. "Do you need any?"

Sand was not Shinra's favorite thing.

It was a crawling sort of feeling, across his skin. It shivered and swept, flinty sharp across his sandaled feet. The sun was bulbous, burning eye. He didn't tan in the sun, he burned. Thus the very enthusiastic umbrella hoisted above his head and full bottle of sunscreen tucked along with the rest of his beach belongings. He wasn't at all prepared for this, but Blue had invited him.

Somehow, she was the exception to his everything. The things he loathed under normal circumstances became tolerated, maybe even special in a somewhat love-hate way. He snorted at her question. "Stupid? No." Was he lying? Not exactly. "We'll make it worth it." There was also the case of awkwardness when he was reminded of a certain game. Blue had looked very... err different in that game.

He tried not to think about it, but it was a failing restraint. "First, I need sunscreen or I may actually set on fire like a vampire."

Rather than bring Onna, who would have frozen him to death, his milotic was sliding through the sand like a beach worm, eager for the ocean.