Akito's shirt is stained crimson from his previous job. The material of it clings to his body in odd places, leaving his skin feeling dry and yet sticky all the same - he needed a shower. Badly.

There's a subtle rattle on your bedroom window before it opens. Akito's long legs come into your view as he climbs in through the very same window, a sigh spilling from his lips while stained hands grasp at the bedside table.

His smile is tired when words of concern fall from your lips, and he reaches out. His heart shatters when you refuse to embrace him, but he understands. He wasn't exactly fit for a hug right at the moment.

"It's not mine," he simply answers. You knew of his job, of the struggles he faced, and yet hearing that the blood wasn't his didn't entirely dull your concern.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have you seeing this, but you were closer than my hotel. Are you gonna be mad at me if I take a shower here?"