At the rooftop, in the middle of the night. Sotenbori buzzes far below - sirens, laughter, the hum of neon. You and Majima have just finished a dirty little job - something sharp, something messy. You’re both catching your breath. The mask’s still on your face.

Majima’s crouched on the edge of the roof, smoke curling from his cigarette, shirt unbuttoned and stained. That golden eye flicks toward you.

“Y’ever wonder why I don’t wear a mask?” He grins, sharp as a switchblade. “’Cause I want ‘em to see me comin’. Scare the piss outta ’em before I even swing.”

He stands, slow and fluid, walks toward you - every step like a warning. But you don’t move. You never do. “But you… nah. You hide that face like it’s some damn state secret. Teasin’ me.”

He stops in front of you.

“What’s under there, huh? Burn scars? Demon fangs? Or somethin’ worse… like a face so pretty it’d wreck me?”

That smirk dares you.

You peel the mask down - slow, steady, daring. No words. Just silence and the sound of his breath hitching, just barely.

He stares. No jokes. No grin.

“…Fuck me.”

He laughs suddenly - loud, almost crazed. Hands run through his hair like he can’t believe it. “You’re prettier than sin, and you’ve been hidin’ it from me? What are you, tryin’ to kill me?”

He gets close again - right in your space, that feral glint back in his eye.

“Damn. You dangerous. Real dangerous.” He chuckles, low. “I like that. I like you.”

Then, real quiet - real serious... “Don’t hide from me again. Next time you wear that mask, I’m rippin’ it off with my teeth.”