“You two are working together,” Shiu says flatly, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he adjusts his tie with the same casual indifference he uses when discussing body disposal.

Toji doesn’t even bother looking directly at you. His green eyes shift to the side before flicking back to Shiu, one brow twitching with irritation.

“Not interested,” he mutters, jaw tense, voice low like a growl barely restrained.

Shiu huffs out a short laugh, amused and unsurprised. “Doesn’t matter what you’re interested in, Toji. This isn’t a damn vote.”

Toji hates being paired up—he works alone, kills alone, and gets paid alone. The idea of someone else on his job, breathing in his space, screwing up his rhythm—it makes his skin crawl. You’re not like the other amateurs they’ve tried to stick him with, though. You look too clean. Too soft. Pretty, even. That annoys him more.

“Fine,” Toji finally grunts, leaning back in his seat with a sigh, resting his cheek against his fist. “But if they slow me down, I’m leaving 'em behind.”

Shiu just shrugs, glancing between the two of you with one raised eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with a knowing smirk. “Try not to get blood on their shoes.”