June 2022 Test Drive

[jigokumods]

MAIN NAVIGATION

1. CLEAN UP

The curse has broken, finally banishing the oppressive air around the city and the many sightless eyes of the accursed haniwa. Life will have to return to normal now but first there is lingering clean-up that must be attended to:

SHUTEN CLAN

The Shuten Clan is out in force to rebuild damaged storefronts. Eager oni appear in their festival happi, singing oni working tunes. You can pick up the words easily enough, join in and help out. The mood starts bright, but after a number of unlucky accidents there is less singing and more grumbling. The cursed energy left behind has made all of you much more prone to workplace accidents but the storefronts need to be scrubbed, broken glass needs sweeping, new furniture needs construction. There are any number of thumbs smashed by hammers, hands cut on saws, heads hit with falling debris or that board of wood you didn’t see someone carrying towards you. It’s a cursed day to be out on the job.

Rewards will come in the form of free drinks for a week from specific bars and a generous amount of chips for the casinos. If you aren’t of age to drink or gamble? Well… they’ll look the other way this time. Have fun.

It should be noted that the uniform -- a happi, a hachimaki, and fundoshi -- is required. The Shuten Clan is very traditional, after all.

TAMAMO CLAN

The bathhouses in Tamamo clan territory remain full of bloodied water. They need to be drained and scrubbed to make them new again. However, reaching the drains is a tricky business. You can’t simply reach in to pull out the plug, you will have to wade into the water to twist it free. Easy enough, right?

Unfortunately, residual curse energy has made this a very dangerous task. Phantasmal hands will reach out and try to drag you under as you get too close to the drain. The phantasms can be distracted, so you’ll need some teamwork to succeed. Your reward is a significant amount of free bath coupons. Some of the advertised baths even have “special” properties. Take the chance to relax, you probably need it.

Those that are rejuvenated in the newly purified baths will find themselves with seemingly limitless vigor. That vigor may sometimes manifest in the form of desperately needing to fuck the first thing willing to do so. Which might turn out somewhat embarrassing...

SUTOKU CLAN

The residual cursed energy in the Sutoku Alliance territory has congregated in their many arcades. The prizes in the UFO catcher machines seem off and they keep shifting around. If you happen to win a prize, the prize slot snaps shut on your hand with amazing force: the machine out for blood. To clear the curse, the prizes need to be removed from the machines and purified with the help of a local shrine maiden. Unfortunately, the key ring to open the machines has been stolen by some of the unruly prizes. You will need to use your UFO catcher skills to fish it back out.

Try not to lose any fingers.

Other machines are shooting tokens out of their coin slots at astonishingly painful speeds. A strange phenomenon, as even the machines that take swipe cards are doing it. Where are those tokens even coming from? You will have to get the machines open and give them a deep cleaning to get all the residual blood off the coins and mechanisms. You need the same keys that are stuck inside the UFO catcher…. Better hope you can fish out the one you need.

For your troubles, you will be given unlimited free plays for a month. Perfect for winning a totally-not-cursed prize for your sweetie.

ENMA DEPARTMENT

It’s the Department of the Enma’s turn to go begging for good will. They are considered to be mostly responsible for the way the cursed haniwa were handled in the first place. Enma souls should get out on the streets and see what the people need: Food, clean water, housing repairs and maintenance, as well as exorcisms. They’re all high on people’s priority lists and most people want it done pronto. Try not to get snappy with the angry people, the department’s reputation is on the line.

The Enma is slated to give a press conference at some point. It's up to the rest of the Department to assure that there will be reception to his words. They are likely to be of grave importance to the rest of the city.

A hard day’s work is its own reward, but you’ll also get a day pass to a theme park on the edge of the city – in the name of community outreach, of course.

2. GHOST SHARKS

The very streets themselves are treacherous with residual curses. The isonades may have been intimidated out of town for the moment but the anger of their ancestors lingers in the bloody puddles that still glisten in the streets. Come too close to these puddles and spectral sharks will lunge from beneath the surface: Blood for blood! Lives for lives!

While spectral in nature, the teeth on these sharks can still do real harm to anyone they lash out at. They don’t seem to take damage in kind, but will pop and disperse for a moment when struck. The ghostly sharks are being populated by a magic totem that has been partially buried in the dirt of a local park. Destroy it and the sharks will disappear.

Unfortunately, a pack of snotty local children have taken a shine to this magic totem. They are not keen to let you take it from them, nor break it. It’s theirs. It’s special. If you’re feeling brutish or cruel, you can fight the children or deceive them, but your boss would probably suggest you try to bargain with them for appearance’s sake. They’re entirely unreasonable though, as children can be, and it will be quite a chore to get them to agree to your terms.

3. CURSED CORNERS

There are certain corners and alleyways which are simply predisposed to gather cursed energy. These areas are still haunted enough to affect the reality around you. You may experience hallucinations or visions of lost loved ones, past regrets, personal failings. These visions are played out in the area for all to see. You will remain frozen in place until your moment is done, or someone brave comes to pull you out.

Now that the worst of it is over, some of the more morbid and voyeuristic members of the public may be lurking around these haunted areas, waiting to see what horrors will be unveiled. They have out their phones and their cameras to record the show.

The cruelest of the spectators provide commentary to their social media followings as they observe. Anything for that monetization!

The biggest of the streams is a kerakera onna who goes by her channel name: Lipsticki. She leans in over the rooftops to cackle loudly at people’s misfortunes and give petty, scathing commentary about their misdeeds and failings.

4. THE ENMA SPEAKS (PLOT RELEVANT)

Outside the hospital where the Enma was being treated, there is a huge press gathering. The judge arbiter has been deemed fit enough to release. Hungry for word, journalists from every publication swarm the area. Most press-outlets in the city are controlled by the Sutoku Alliance, who have a vested interested in interrogating the Enma.

A number of other onlookers have tacked on as well, including Lost Souls both old and new. Lost Souls may even find themselves ordered to attend the statement by their faction.

It is assumed that the Enma must have something of grave importance to say, after all.

The Enma approaches the podium. He is dressed in his usual suit, his crown, and his stern expression; it puts a hush over the crowd through its tremendous pressure alone. No questions have been asked, yet, but a statement has been prepared. He clears his throat:

"The cause of the curse, the enemy of Jigokucho, is... Haniyasu. The Department's focus will be shifting to determining our next action in regards to this entity. That is all."

Just like, the Enma's secretary and a retinue of armored shinigami move to flank the Enma and guide them to a waiting limo down the steps. The press yells their questions over one another, but are pushed back. The Enma doesn't even seem to perceive them, simply focusing on getting into the car.

Unfortunately, if you're a representative for one of the factions -- especially the Department of the Enma -- that makes you fair game to hound for questioning too. Do you stand your ground or try to run away?

[[banner art by s-tokimura]]

Welcome to the test drive meme!

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Comments

Travis Touchdown | No More Heroes

[rank1]

CLEANING UP –– TAMAMO A

Travis has never been much of a swimmer. He's a guy who has religiously maintained the same wardrobe for the better part of two decades –– there's just something fundamentally incompatible with wiggling into a wetsuit, no matter how much menial labour he's done. It's just not his fucking vibe, you know?

But a job's a job, and the allure of experiencing "special" baths makes for a sweet, sweet dollop of icing on the cake. So here's Travis, skinny jeans soaking wet, water beaded on the lenses of his aviators, hair floppy. He's aggravated, but he's committed. Eyes on the prize.

"Hey," he calls to the nearest person. God, collaboration is always a bitch, but he's come this far, he ain't turning back. "You wanna be the bait?"

CLEANING UP –– TAMAMO B –– horny shit

Now this is the fucking life. Travis Touchdown, passing assassin, draped against a rock feature, chest-deep in deliciously hot waters. He also has a raging erection underneath that water. That part ain't bad –– he's had a hell of a lot of them since coming here, given the place is chock-full of the stuff that's fueled his weirdest lifelong fantasies, the kind of shit you only find on obscure hentai sites –– but aren't you not supposed to do this shit in a public bathhouse? There's rules, right?

Sweat dribbles down the back of his neck.

It is getting increasingly difficult to maintain a cool and collected appearance. Harder still to sit still and just enjoy lounging there.

"They really weren't kidding about the special effects," he mutters, figuring he's alone. (Surprise, he is not.)

CLEANING UP –– SUTOKU

In a universe where he did not kill people for a living, Travis figures he could make a pretty tidy life for himself as a professional UFO catcher player. It'd be easy, right? Fly to Japan, set up in some cheap place, like the Sakura Hotel in Ikebukuro or something. 3,500 yen a night for a bunk in a four-person room with a mattress so thin you might as well sleep on the floor –– a staple for Japan, he's read –– and cheap beer and fried chicken a short walk down the street in any number of hole-in-the-wall joints. (Good ramen, too. Incredible ramen.) Five minutes through the thriving nightlife and you can pop into any number of arcades, some seven stories tall, all with wall-to-wall UFO catches, some so close that the aisles are barely enough for a person to walk through. If you're shit, you might play a round or two just to say you did, 300 yen for the fantasy of winning a prize figure or something. If you're any good, you can rake in prize after prize, and shuck it down to the local K-Books and sell them for four or five times what you paid to play.

But the real strategy is to get a whole suitcase worth of shit and then sell it to fellow otaku at anime cons. You can turn a 300 yen prize figure into fifty American bucks. An entire suitcase could be turned into a thousand bucks.

Or so he's theorized, anyway. He's not very good at numbers. But it'd be a good way to afford regular trips to nerd mecca, right?

Two close calls with his fingers later, Travis isn't so sure he'd be raking in the dough. On the third, he's got a broad gash on the back of his hand for his trouble, but he has the key in his hand, and he can finally sit down and scrub the damn things out.

Only problem is he's not sure how he's supposed to mop up blood when he's adding his own blood into the mix. He could bind it with his shirt or something but the shirt's vintage. The hell is he supposed to do with this? He wanders down the aisle, holding his hand out in front of him and dripping on the floor. He doesn't seem to be in much pain despite the size of the gash, but god, what a pain in the ass.

"Little help here?" he calls.

WILDCARD

Anything you can dream of! Permissions are here, or you can PM me to chat!

sutoku cleanup

[metafictions]

Kamui's not even Sutoku, he's here on a favor. A doctor friend of his had set up a clinic here-- lost soul-run, free from faction baggage-- and he'd taken her clean-up shift to free up her valuable time. It's been a grueling, dangerous last month, after all. Scrubbing UFO catchers seems like much less essential work than treating the remaining injured... and he's always been good at games, anyway. The trade off's perfect. He can even deal with the violent machines.

So the sound of the voice from the other side of the arcade doesn't surprise him. He didn't catch what he said, but people have been almost losing digits all day, so as long as whoever it is isn't bleeding out it's probably fine. The familiar prickle of criminal power that he senses isn't a surprise, either: that's just the way the city feels when everybody in hell's got a bit of a taste for blood. Right?

"Yes, I'll be right there," Kamui replies mildly, barely looking up from the soapy, bloody machine he's currently elbow deep in. He takes his time. He grabs a stained towel that hangs off the side of a plastic bucket of suds on the floor, wiping off his dirty hands as he strolls all the way to the source of the voice.

And for the second time this month, Kamui finds himself in front of Travis Touchdown without warning.

"T-Trav?" he blurts, eyes wide as he takes a cautious back-- okay, no mirage-like wavering about the edges, he's bleeding, like a lot bleeding, but he hasn't attacked him, wait, does he look different or has it just been about four months since he's seen the guy in the flesh? Either way, Kamui approaches slowly-- it's a stupid decision, but he makes it willfully, on the leap of faith that the city can't do this to him twice in a row.

"It's really you, right? This isn't the city again?"

[rank1]

Travis's gaze flicks up from his hand to the person saying his name –– naw, couldn't be?

"Kamui?" he says, but the surprise fades into something pleased real quick. It's been a while since he saw that face, and the bright LEDs of the arcade bathe Kamui in a light real different from the dingy basement they'd parted ways in. It's a good look on him, but who knows whether it's better. They are in Hell, aren't they?

And for his part, he's what, two years older? A smidge sharper, the laugh lines dug deeper, the scar over one eye little more than a pale streak. A man who won't change. He forgets the wound long enough for his posture to soften, his hands drifting to hook his thumb in his pockets, but ow–– not a good idea.

"If it's the city," he says, "we're both seeing shit. Where you fuckin' been?"

[metafictions]

A man who won't change, indeed. Even Kamui can't tell whether the differences are time or the harsh arcade lights or the cast of his memories being wrong, but-- yeah. This is, without a doubt, the real Travis Touchdown.

"Here," Kamui replies simply, now at Travis' side. "For a few months, now. After you got the last Death Ball, I was supposed to jump to my next point. But something cut me off, and I wound up here instead."

He does look a bit better-- some altruistic soul's talked him into trimming his bangs, for one-- but there's also something different in the sheepish smile he gives Travis now. The edge of formality to him is gone. There's no kill or be killed hanging just around the bend anymore: all they are now is friends, meeting up once more after a little while away. And it feels... pretty all right.

Cut first, though, and catch-up later. It's probably a bad idea to get curse blood in a normal wound. "There's a first aid kit in the staff room of this arcade." He takes the bloody towel in one hand, fishing the keys out of his pocket with the other. "C'mon. I'll take you."

[rank1]

“Shit, after all this time?”

It immediately occurs to him that he’s going to see a staff room in an arcade, a thing that no reasonable person would be curious about, but hey, it’s a wild version of Japan. Everything is cool in Japan.

But he follows, gaze lingering on Kamui without a trace of courtesy for the fact that he’s staring. Yeah, that smile’s different, but it’s a good look.

“So what is this shit, all this blood everywhere? Feels like I’m back at the bottom again.”

[metafictions]

"Yes. Not the longest I've been stuck, though." Then again, Kamui's never landed anywhere, or when, that stripped his abilities away from him entirely. Although a bit of his power's returned to him over the months, even now he can't pick up on the kinds of special points they'd used to hunt down the Death Balls. It's unnerving: like fumbling around in the darkness. He's dealing, though. Wouldn't survive here otherwise.

Unfortunately for Travis, the staff room's not all that interesting. When Kamui unlocks the door, it opens to what could be any other employee break room: a slightly shabby couch, a small table surrounded by a few folding chairs, a cramped kitchenette for the arcade staff to microwave lunches on. About the only sign that it's an arcade are the handful of abandoned gacha toy capsules on the break room table.

"Anyway, it's a long story. So I'll keep it concise." He makes a beeline for the cupboard under the sink, continuing along as he rummages around for the first aid kit. "Instead of dealing with a collection of cursed items, the Enma Department sat on it, until the curse intensified and broke out into the rest of Jigoku-cho. For days, it rained blood. We were all seeing things, too. Hallucinations and mirages that actually attacked us." He pauses, uncomfortable, then admits: "There's... actually still some pockets of curse around. That's why I had to ask if you were really--

Ah. There it is." With the first aid kit now in hand, he straightens up and turns back around to Travis-- only to register that the man's been staring.

"Um. Is everything okay, Trav?"

Sutoku Cleaning Up

[perfectdistance]

He looks so tired when Travis comes up to him, hand bleeding. Does he look like an employee? Nero doesn't really mind. If he's just being mistaken for a background character, or some guy who's completely unimportant, he's satisfied.

Unfortunately, all he's got are the clothes on his back, and he's reluctant to let those go towards bandaging a stranger. If they had some coin, they might be able to buy a few bandages.

"What did you do? Did you even rinse it?"

[rank1]

"The fucking thing tried to take a bite out of me," he says. Tried, like it wasn't starkly successful. He gestures behind him at the machines, sending a couple droplets flying. "What was I supposed to rinse it in? The wash buckets are full of demon blood or whatever it is. You supposed to mix that shit?"

[perfectdistance]

He's been here for less than a week and he's already getting a headache. "Don't put your hands in it." Obviously? It clearly wants carnage. It's cursed in that way lingering malicious wizards curse things. If they can't be safe than nobody can.

Nero sighs and gets up, "C'mon." At the very least he can take this guy to a restroom to wash up.

[rank1]

Travis, age 39, mulls over whether this is a thing he needed a reminder for. He guesses so. Maybe there was some other way than trying to time it right.

“How the hell else was I supposed to get into it?” he wonders aloud, following. “Busting it open kinda defeats the point of cleaning it, right?”

[perfectdistance]

Nero, age (mumbles unintelligibly), considers the fact he carries around a set of cutlery everywhere he goes and how much nobody else does that. He's prepared for not touching things, but this isn't exactly a typical problem people run into. Not at the UFO catcher game, at least.

"Start carryin' around some tongs." It's hard to tell if he's joking or not. It can't snap shut on any hands if no hands were ever in the metal.

cleaning up - tamamo

[pathofsacrifice]

All of this blood.

His eyes turn downcast as he looks at the mess that is everywhere. He breathes out slow as he steps forward to survey the amount of blood.

The man has a hulking appearance; he seems like he would be better at causing bloody messes like the ones they are standing in than anything else. Yet he shifts to look to his companion, and gives a small nod in agreement about being bait.

"It is fine." Without hesitation, he steps into the water. "I don't think they are evil. I don't believe they can be named such. I am only sorry that we cannot communicate better with them, and have to treat them as though they are a nuisance."

So he says as the water seems to shift and and phantasmal hands start to rise out of the red, red waters.

[rank1]

The corner of Travis' mouth curls up at the sight of the guy; anyone who can look at this mess and come out of it calm and ready to go has seen his share of bloodbaths. If they weren't in a whole fucking pool of it, he's sure he'd smell it on the guy's soul. They could be the same, at least in that way –– Travis looks like some overgrown punk in a moe anime shirt, but he's a killer just the same.

"Hey, they can be a nuisance and misunderstood," he calls back, transparently thrilled at the sight of the hands. This shit's cool. Would be more cool if they could just fight, but he'll make a beeline for the drain. "You go left, I go right –– at least one of us will get it."

[pathofsacrifice]

"I suppose I can't argue with that much." There is a laugh mixed in with the resignation.

Artemy lets out a long sigh a second later; it's because the watered-down blood is weighing him down. He wonders how much he'll be able to move, but it'll be fine. If the water is drained before he drowns, that's all he can really hope for at the moment.

"I think it is going to be you." But, at least, it will keep things safe for everyone else. With that in mind, he sloshes to the left -- luring those ghostly hands to start to chase after him. He looks to them and adds, "You should have asked the Tamamo to live here rather than kill others so you could stay."

[rank1]

Man, what a cool thing to say to a phantom hand. Compassionate, too. Travis is impressed.

"Shit, well, I'll go as fast as I can!" he calls, wading in, letting the bloodied water soak into his jeans and his socks and the soles of his sneakers. The hands raise up, but they want a bigger snack than him. Travis heads in, knees high until he's gotta swim.

[pathofsacrifice]

"Good luck!"

It's really all that can be said at this time, right? He struggles against the hands as they grab onto him. A small sigh slips out as he struggles against being pulled under the water. Even with his feelings towards miracles, he isn't about to let them kill him easily.

Artemy isn't even sure what would happen if he were to die.

"When was the last time I touched a clock?" He can't help but wonder aloud before he is pulled under into the red, red waters.

i hate to add onto the pile of the same prompt, but sutoku cleanup!

[rippedoff]

While Shinobu normally wouldn't be caught dead in an arcade - especially after literally being a cursed video game a couple years ago - she begrudgingly finds herself wandering in this particular one. She already had her preconceived notions of video games making men into awful boyfriends, but with the rumors going around about some weird, cursed shit going on in the arcades, she feared of how much more it could warp the minds of those Shinobu felt were already susceptible to being led astray.

Or maybe her dumb grudge against video games really ran deep within her and she wanted a reason to wreck as many machines as possible. Yes, even if it was just the more tame (in comparison) crane machines that were rumored to be cursed.

Either way, Shinobu was keeping herself quiet on the perimeter of the building, trying to figure out the best time to strike. For as little hesitation she had in striking down an enemy, she had at least grown some patience and morals with age - there were too many children here right now, she couldn't risk bringing harm to any of them.

However, once she hears the call of help of the most familiar voice she knew, the stealth assassination mission of killing the arcade machines is promptly abandoned as she peeks her head around the corner.

"Master?!" she sputters out in a rare show of being caught completely off-guard. Realizing how uncool she probably looked in that moment - especially mortifying in front of the person she admired the most in the entire universe - Shinobu quickly shifts back into her usual stoic demeanor. While it was a surprise to run into him here, she supposed it made sense that of course he, of all people, would be here.

Her eyes shift to the bloodied wound on Travis' hand, looking alarmed for a moment before reaching one of her prosthetic arms to the hilt of the katana behind her. Her eyes form into a a more determined expression before speaking again.

"I will strike down whatever hurt you in one blow, Master. Just give me the word."

That... might not be what Travis actually wanted. But Shinobu was always going to go for the most dramatic option possible - especially when it came to her Master.

the more the merrier, i love her

[rank1]

The head peeking around the corner is a friendly one. Not an expected one, but certainly one he's used to popping into his life. If she could show up at his trailer and his hotel, stands to reason she'd follow him here.

"Shinobu!" he calls back, transparently glad. He's momentarily conflicted with the offer, though –– what's she gonna do, destroy an innocent game system, one that didn't choose to become a bloodthirsty monster? Should a hardworking machine giving visiting otaku a skill-based chance to win the Tera Jumbo Nesoberi for Kanan really be punished for the crimes of some demon released by whatever the fuck this Enma organization is?

Yeah, actually, who cares. One less machine will probably just make the others more valuable. If prices go up on eBay, it's not his problem.

"The fucking machine back there bit me," he says, gesturing back at it with the bloodied hand. Drip drip. He turns to look at it just in time to see one of the prizes scampering down to the collection slot to retrieve the keys, putting him back at square one. Bitch! "Help me get the key so we can clean out these things and save 'em from this curse shit."

[rippedoff]

While a normal person might scoff at the very idea of some gaming machine biting another person, Shinobu was able to truly believe in it at face value. Not only because of her bias toward video games, but also above all else, she trusted in whatever Travis had to say - he probably wouldn't bullshit about that kind of thing. Maybe normally she would go on some kind of rant about the evils of video games, but this was her Master - she would never even dare to lecture someone whose words she hung onto so reverently.

She turns her head to glance upon the machine in question, her arm straying away from the blade as she walked closer to get a better look of what she was dealing with. She watches as the key gets snatched up before turning back to Travis.

"So what part is biting you? The little door on the bottom?" That seemed like the most logical answer in something that absolutely made no sense, at least.

Secretly, she was actually really happy that Travis was actually asking for help (instead of the typical situation in which she tended to come out of fucking nowhere for the assist), but this particular situation draws an almost smug expression from her. Crossing her arms in a show of confidence, but also as a reminder that both of her arms were now inorganic and she wouldn't be affected the same way as a typical human, she continues.

"All right. The key should be no problem. If you can draw the key out, I'll get it no problem."

[rank1]

"Yeah, it's the prize door," he replies, injury completely forgotten as he turns on his heel and strides back to the machine with the keys. Inside, a row of Love Live nesoberi plushes stare back, empty white eyes and and deranged grins, with their leader, Chika Takami, holding the key ring in her nubby fabric hand.

"I gotta pick up the plush with the key using the claw, and when it drops into the prize slot, you reach in. You gotta time it just right because––"

Travis is all too happy to launch into an explanation of crane game mechanics, the precise methods deployed to win, the strategies involved. He talks with authority on the subject, even if most of it is theory gleaned from watching YouTube videos on the subject while three beers in –– look, what kind of UFO Catcher culture does America have? America may have invented them, but Japan perfected it. American machines cater to children, while Japanese machines are for––

Hey, wait a minute.

"What the fuck happened to your other arm?"

clean up tamamo

[rainswords]

"So I've heard. The waters here are supposed to have a rejuvenating and invigorating effect."

Well, there is no one else around so it is safe to assume that he is being spoken to, of course, the man basking within the hot waters may have been making that comment to himself. That is something else to consider as there is a possibility he was not noticed despite the sound of his steps across the floor as he hurried along, the plan was to continue on. He is busy, still hard at work making sure that no grime or soil waters are left anywhere within this bathhouse.

"I take it you're enjoying yourself after much hard work."

(Surprise, he has no idea how true that statement is.)

[rank1]

Travis had been completely zoning out, but now he twists on the spot to see who else is here.

"Yeah!" he says, as if he is enjoying this a normal amount. Look at him, picture of innocence, sinking another six inches into the water. Act natural. "You still working? Guy like you in your prime, you can work all day –– probably don't need all this anyway, you probably get invigorated just thinkin' about it."

[rainswords]

"...about working?"

Aware there are plenty of people devoted to their careers, the statement still manages to ring odd in his ears but that may be due to a series of unsatisfying positions he has found himself in. This is far from engaging, but then was cleaning ever supposed to provide entertainment. The silver lining to the tasks assigned by the Tamamo Clan is that he isn't alone in this endeavor. His friend is somewhere — but he is taking the time to scout out anything they may have missed.

"I don't know about working all day."

A pause follows, delicate eyebrows knit together ever slightly, and before he reconsiders what he is about to say next he speaks again. "I swallowed some of that water..." The disgusting polluted water they were meant to drain. Ironically he almost drowned but that seems to be a danger of this job.

[rank1]

Travis Touchdown, assassin and near-perpetual deadbeat, cannot imagine himself as some sort of advocate for loving your shitty job, but the alternative is this guy takes a break, hops in the water, and finds out Travis is packing heat in here. Travis is pretty sure he could survive the embarrassment, but strangers? They're wild cards.

And then there's that thing about swallowing the water.

"Dude, what? You drank it before it got cleaned?"

[rainswords]

"Call it an accident."

Because that is exactly what it was, there is no way he would consciously swallow something as filthy as that polluted bathwater. Scratch that. He wouldn't swallow any kind of bathwater under any circumstance.

As for fears that Xingqiu may feel inclined to join, there is no need. He has not concluded his round through the bathhouses searching for any pools that may have been missed. Also, these are Tamamo Territory bathhouses, he is well aware of the faction's reputation therefore he is attempting to avoid any strange and lurid situations.

"I take it that draining the baths hasn't presented any problems for you?"