Grief

Values

I've caught Tom staring at me with concern a few times for the past couple of days. Ever since Izaya decided to oh-so courteously to join me at work every day. I'm pretty sure Tom has even caught me whispering to Izaya a few times.

Which from his view, must look insane.

I let out a sigh, curving around the corner of the street as I followed Tom to our next location. It's almost been a week since Izaya first discovered he was able to follow me to work. Since then he's invited himself along every day!

My sight slid to the side, I could see Izaya's flittering form at the corner of my eye. It was a rare, and very welcome moment of silence where he seemed to be thinking instead of quoting some phycological viewpoint, which he made sound insane coming from his sharp tongue.

I took a deep breath in, deciding to bask in the silence while I still had the chance.

With a slow halt, Tom and I were met with an old apartment that housed our next debtor. Izaya make a slight hum as he looked around the area. With a curious glance, I looked his way, expecting some sort of cross remark.

"Hello?"

A tilted man in his forties creaked the door open with a peek. His eyes were sunken deep as he stared between the two of us for some sort of explanation.

"What can I do for you?" His eyes were bloodshot, pupils blown wide as he stood tilted against the door. The man almost smelt rancid, something naturally fowl about him that irked something of a familiar stench to me.

Tom gave his best attempt of a service smile and began speaking to him about his, what I might comment, large debt. I tuned out Tom as he replayed similar lines I've heard time and time again; accusatory debt, long overdue dates, interest amounts, all discussions that made the man grow paler.

I shifted my weight to the side, giving him a glare from behind Tom as an absent threat not to try anything. The situation wasn't anything out of the norm, as a matter of fact, most people we visited looked as run down as this man, nervous and jittery in his place.

Izaya's reaction to the man though wasn't in its normality.

His face held something cold as he stared at the man, calculating eyes flickering up and down the man's figure as he observe their conversation. His face held no sickening amusement, or disgust similar to my or Tom's faces.

Instead, it was just cold, artful, and examining. Like he was taking in every detail of the situation with the entirety of his attention.

With a hesitant glance, I looked back towards the target of Izaya's attention. The man had managed to become even more fidgety, half shielded behind his door, his hands gripped for balance on the door frame as his eyes held something unresponsive.

"Shizu-chan, I think that man is in the midst of an overdose." Izaya's voice was calm, glancing over towards me, meeting my gaze with his full attention.

My head jerked in surprise. An overdose?!

"Tom-" I was just about to speak to Tom about the man's condition, when said man keeled over, door closing more as he leaned on it for support.

"Sir? Sir! Are you alright?" Tom was quick to act, cautious as he approached the barely open entry. Tom glanced back towards me with a warning look, a familiar look that read "Be ready for anything." It was common that people would throw theatrics, hysterics, and acts of despair to try and get some pity towards their collector, but this time I knew it was different.

Izaya ignored our little insightful conversation and fazed straight through the wall of the apartment to look inside instead.

With a stern hand, I nudged the door open and looked down to see the man on his knees, mumbling something incoherent as he held his head in his hands.