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Oct 18, 2019 1:58 AM
tokyo ghoul, but not in tokyo
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“Was I gonna be dinner?”

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"Not today. Not ethical. In three months, if you followed up with the contact information I gave you and got an okay after a phone interview with a very discreet therapist in the Netherlands -- sure."

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Wow.

“D’you...get a lot of calls back?”

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"Enough. Or -- not enough, really, I couldn't live off it, not if it were the only thing I did; but it helps."

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“What else do you do? Does all of it take a therapist out of the country, or...”

He would really like to do less bridge-watching.

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"I have an in with a surgeon; sometimes she brings me hospital cast-offs. When they take out a tumor, or give someone a heart transplant, you know? There's a man who runs a crematorium who does me a favor now and then. ... Sometimes when it gets bad I go out to the bad part of town, look vulnerable, wait."

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“...yeah, I’ve done the last one. Doesn’t seem as bad to eat a rapist, or...whoever. Not really good enough with people for the other stuff, but. Thanks.”

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"If you want to give me your number, I can let you know when there's extra. It's not really enough even for one, but it doesn't come in steadily and it's not like it keeps."

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“...I thought you were gonna kill me. If you saw me again, I mean.”

He digs his phone out of his pocket, though.

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"I said I didn't promise I wouldn't."

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“...I can deal with that.”

He opens his phone to a new contact page and holds it out to Jean.

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Jean enters a number, hands it back.

"Killing people is bad," he says, sounding very tired. "Don't do it."

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“Yeah, same to you.”

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"I don't, unless they jump me first."

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“We’re people.”

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"...no, we're not."

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“How d’you figure?”

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...he gestures helplessly. "We're not. We eat people."

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“We eat humans. We’re still people. We think and talk and...come up with stories, and fall in love, and everything.”

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Derisive snort.

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“I’m not saying we’re great. Lot of us probably should die. But we’re not not people.”

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"Speak for yourself."

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“How are you not a person?”

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He pokes his healing leg, experimentally. "None of your business."

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“Yeah. Fair.”

He types something into his phone. Jean recieves a text.

this is z’s number

He keeps looking at him, and looking away.

“...do you want me to tell you when something comes in for me?”

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