“now, if you can just provide any licenses or documents that any person would have with them at this moment, you are free to walk out that door.

if not.

i’m afraid this discussion will continue.”

a deep sigh, her eyes closing forcefully.. as if listening for something else.

“we’ve scrubbed through every archived hope’s peak database, yet there is never a mention of a cho genka.”

leaning forward, elbows pressing to the glass. fists forming over each other, her chin resting on top. -

and the rest of the survivors of that game. but, we don’t know who you are. you were taken in under the notion that you were just like us, victims of one junko enoshima and mukuro ikusaba. thus, the foundation didn’t see reason to thoroughly check your background. they needed the numbers.”

-

meetings.”

placing the dossier atop the glass surface, slowly opening it. its contents only being a single piece of paper. the paper containing a picture of cho genka, her name, age, talent, birthplace, and education.

“now, do you see the problem with this?”

gently lifting it from the cabinet.

“i really don’t mind how you do your job, in all honesty, i’ve ignored many of those reports.

i only saw it necessary to call you in under the guise of that matter. you have a terrible reputation when it comes to making it to the fourteenth division’s-

closely with.”

taking a freshly brewed mug of coffee, placing it down in front of the tactician before moving to her own seat across from genka.

“about your rather… interesting way of handling things.”

“cho genka.”

she says firmly, now turning to the woman sat in the guest chair at her shiny, glass desk.

“i do believe you know why you’re here.” smooth and quiet steps across the red rug covering the dark wood floor. “i’ve received plenty of reports from those under you and from those you work-

a barista’s dream. sometimes that friend of her’s helms the bar on the detective’s more.. rough nights.

tonight, however, was more private.

placing a record onto her turntable, gently placing the needle to the vinyl.. the speakers of her record player now crackling to life.

detective herself believes is morally good, correct. the detective’s office is rather different than the halls of the foundation.

rustic in nature, the aroma of cigars and bourbon apparent in the air. hell, there’s even a bar within her office. stocked well with liquor, sodas and coffee. -