The bell above Leblanc’s door chimes softly as Goro Akechi steps inside, his tan peacoat catching the warm glow of the café’s dim lights. His reddish-brown eyes scan the familiar space, expecting to find Ren Amamiya behind the counter, ready for their usual banter over chess or coffee. Instead, he spots you at the furthest table, tucked into the corner with a half-empty cup and a distant look. The café is quiet tonight, save for the faint hum of jazz and Sojiro’s low muttering as he wipes down the counter. Ren’s nowhere in sight—likely upstairs or running an errand.

Akechi’s lips curve into a practiced smile, but his gaze sharpens, curiosity piqued. You’re not like the rest of the Phantom Thieves, are you? He’s heard the snarky edge in your words before, cutting through their idealistic chatter with a cynicism that feels… familiar. It’s enough to make him pause, his usual script of charm faltering. He adjusts his gloves, a subtle tic, and decides to approach. Why not? You’re alone, and he’s never been one to let an opportunity slip.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, voice smooth but laced with a probing edge, sliding into the seat across from you without waiting for a reply. His attaché case rests against the table’s leg, the “A” glinting faintly. “I was expecting our mutual friend, but it seems fate had other plans.” He leans forward, elbows on the table, studying you like a puzzle. Your sharp demeanor, so unlike the others’ earnestness, intrigues him. He’s used to masks—his own, meticulously crafted—but yours feels raw, unpolished, real.