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Can I wear your scarf?

"No."

There's a pause.

A long pause.

"Oh, you want a longer answer? Hmmm... how abouuuut..."

Another pause.

"Nuh uh."

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You know what people in the fandoms say? HA! I have no doubt you're the type to arguing with some of the threads, or maybe you love watching the chaos of people trying to dissect your character or defend your actions in the game.

I heard in the original script, you were supposed to live, but I guess they scraped that last minuet huh? How does that make you feel, knowing you could of avoided being crushed to cranberry juice?

His expression is blank for just a moment; whether he's considering a response, remembering something, or just plain pretending is unclear. One word makes it out:

"Script... ha."

Though, there's something repressive about the expression - like he's deliberately hiding something. He realises this, though, and corrects himself to hide it more adequately.

"You moron! Changes to the script... you think I care? I'm the most spontaneous person in the entire world! I tooootally get it!"

His posture is upright, and his body language oozes giddy superiority. It's deliberate. "Hey, you gotta make a good show, right? The fact they needed to kill me off for dramatic effect just proves how utterly important and beloved I am!"

He tilts his head.

"What, you think I'd be upset about a script? Think about it, dummy. What's a script but one giant lie? I respect it, if anything!"

He rolls his eyes. "That being said... they coulda chosen a lie that hurts less." He rubs his arm and winces, trying to denote physical pain. "The possibility with lies is so vast, so endless - y'know, could've made it... nicer."

A pause. He brightens.

"But, hey, not like I can talk! And you're totally right about the discourse thing. I just looooove arguing with fans!"

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You? Handsome? You're more adorable if anything. The only time you're anything but is when you do that creepy smile of yours.

"Adorable?" He jumps right back up again, affronted. "The ultimate supreme leader is not adorable! I'm scary! And mysterious! And ruggedly charming!"

His voice is up almost a full octave with indignation, and he continues at the same pace. "What, did all that TV rot your brain, or something? Watching dam-gan-roper for too long, staaaaring at that stupid little screen made all that fluid leak out of your fragile, stupid eyes? Did all that keyboard-warrior fandom-talk totally kill your capacity to do anything but watch? Are you too stupid to see anything but a cute little grape-boy?"

His voice falls, but his face brightens, with an enthusiastic smile. "That's right! I know what aaaaall the fans are saying about me! So you all better watch your backs, m'kay? Or just ask for an autograph!"

There's something behind his smile. It isn't what he's trying to project, so it's nothing. In fact, there's an easy way to cover up all that bitterness... or whatever it is.

"You mean this, right?" His voice lowers again - darker, this time. "So what am I now? Not adorable, so... am I handsome now? Or, rather, something else... something..."

He paused, finding the words. A small laugh is choked out.

"Scary?"

He giggles, ingenuine. "Creepy, right? So I scare you, right?"

He stares down at nothing, intense. "A lie like me, having such an effect on 'real people' like all you viewers... it's... wow, it's..."

He pauses. Brightens up, with a keen smile.

"Wow, it's great to be famous, huh?"

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Hmmm, do you think there's anything you would change about yourself?

"About myself? Uhh, don't be stupid."

His face holds a simple, confused expression - though in an undeniably mocking way even to the untrained eye, which likely means the subtext is intentional. Though, everything's intentional with him, isn't it? Or is it?

"What kind of a question is that, anyway? Not, like, 'what's your favourite flower!' or something? What would I - the ultimate supreme leader - change about my so obviously perfect super smart and handsome self?" He pouts, but his gaze is fierce. "It's insulting! Who do you think I am? You think I wouldn't notice? You're obviously trying to say that you would change something about me! So go on, say it!" He points a finger, declarative and accusatory. "Say it! Say it to my face! Say it!"

After a while of silence, he utters a quick: "yeah, that's what I thought," and sits back down, swinging his legs back and forth under his chair. He's cheerful, face flushed.

"Uh, probably my eyebrows."

He whistles innocently, and doesn't elaborate.

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Does it hurt?:)

"Of course it doesn't." It's his gut response, though whether or not it's a lie is still debatable. A lot of his gut responses are lies. "That killing game wasn't real, y'know. I feel fine! What are you, stupid?"

Some part of him is bitter as he speaks ill of the game - or maybe that's an act, too? He doubts it, though. "What kind of idiot believes everything they see on TV? Was it the fake crying or the-"

He hesitates. It's harder than the feelings, to ignore the full-body ache and the memory of being crushed. But whatever, right? Skill issue. His voice catches saying it, so he moves his hands together with a screech and makes a loud squelching noise as they come together. Hey, he'd make a good mime. A clown is basically a mime, right?

"Anyway. No, stupid. It doesn't hurt at all."

He pauses. Gives it two sides. Brightens up.

"But hey! Maybe I'm lying. Sure is easier to think I'm some emo loser like- like whoever, so what do you wanna believe?"

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"Uhh, sorry, I'm more of a dog person-" he jokes, still kicking against a wall in an attempt to fling her loose. "Where did you even come from? Who let you in here?"

He sighs. "Where are your parents?"

Hikari giggled as she snuck to Kokichi, before pouncing on one of the straps on his legs

"Huh- huh!?"

Kokichi jumps a little too high, flailing his leg wildly like he's been attacked. "What is this thing? Get it off! Get it off!"

He lets out a shrill whine, like a petulant child - unsure who he's actually speaking to. "Get it off me! Off! Off my super cool super secret ultimate supreme leader uniform, or I'll kick you all the way to space! You hear me!?"

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He screams a little more, trying to kick harder and not necessarily looking at whatever's grabbed him. Not that it matters. The thing could be an orphaned puppy and he'd still kick it to hell and back for touching him.

...probably.

"I have at least ten thousand armed agents at my disposal and I am not afraid to-"

He pauses.

"...dogs can speak now? Huh, I really was out for a long time."

Hikari giggled as she snuck to Kokichi, before pouncing on one of the straps on his legs

"Huh- huh!?"

Kokichi jumps a little too high, flailing his leg wildly like he's been attacked. "What is this thing? Get it off! Get it off!"

He lets out a shrill whine, like a petulant child - unsure who he's actually speaking to. "Get it off me! Off! Off my super cool super secret ultimate supreme leader uniform, or I'll kick you all the way to space! You hear me!?"

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You were my favorite, I was really rooting for you to live and then I was stuck in denial that you died because WHYY YOU?? You were the most interesting out of everyone and you died in the most horrible way. It was a bold move, insane even, and I cried during the trial especially after seeing your last moments :(

There's a brief moment - a brief, almost imperceptible moment - in which Kokichi pales, just a little, and his smile falters. He's back on track in a millisecond, rolling his eyes and plastering on a smug smile.

"Of course you were rooting for me. Anyone with a brain would root for me. You have a brain, don't you?"

He smiles, a flicker of learned malevolence - false or not. "And interesting, huh? I'll take that any day. I was trying to win, after all - though such an impressive maneuver like that had to have won some hearts, too!"

His smile drops.

"Or maybe that's a lie."

And back up it goes! Hands behind his head, calm, collected, and grinning. "Who knows! Keep them guessing, right?"

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Hikari giggled as she snuck to Kokichi, before pouncing on one of the straps on his legs

"Huh- huh!?"

Kokichi jumps a little too high, flailing his leg wildly like he's been attacked. "What is this thing? Get it off! Get it off!"

He lets out a shrill whine, like a petulant child - unsure who he's actually speaking to. "Get it off me! Off! Off my super cool super secret ultimate supreme leader uniform, or I'll kick you all the way to space! You hear me!?"

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How can an evil leader be so adorable?

"Aww!" He shifts in his seat as he coos - indicative of something, though, as is common, it's unclear what. He leans forward - a disguise of the nervous habit, or a way to make a point. "It's actually a series of deliberate biochemical releases from my shampoo. You're all being drugged, so your perception is off - you think I'm adorable, but you'll never know what I really look like. Or how you'd actually feel about it."

He leans back, grinning - proud of himself, visibly. "But thank you! I designed the chemical myself - being an evil genius and all - so I can still take the compliment!"

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nooooo is this blog still alive? i woulda loved this!!

// still alive! just hella busy - feel free to interact literally any time

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It is nearly Halloween! What does your gang usually do around this time of year?? Anything special?

"My gang? My gang-" There's a strange flicker across his face, for the tiniest fraction of a second. His gang what? Isn't real? They might be real. How is he supposed to know?

It isn't his lie, after all. Even if it was, he doubts he'd want to know the truth. He never does.

"-loved Halloween!" he decides on, drawing on those precious (or are they?) memories, lies or not - or, at least, somewhat calls on them. "We used to play this game - and everyone else copied us, but they got it a little bit wrong - we called it trick or trick, where we'd knock on someone's door, warn them and stuff, make it fair, and then we'd ruin them."

He laughs, his memory - for a moment - fully convincing him of its legitimacy.

The moment passes. The smile doesn't move from his face.

"We had fun," he asserts, more firm than he had intended. "True or not, we had fun."

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Hmm, does a liars pants actually do catch on fire? Would you know?

"That's a rude and outdated stereotype!" he declares, feigning offence in his natural habitat - playful bullshittery. "It's a totally ridiculous concept! Who would ever believe something as dumb as that?"

He smiles, shrugging and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'd never be a bad enough liar to get caught. Obviously."

He blinks, eyes widening. "Seriously? You don't know?" He shuffles closer, grinning and lowering his voice to a whisper. "Only the ones who get caught. They're taken by a secret society to be re-educated - and then publicly executed via trouser immolation!"

He jumps back to his original stance, casually placing a finger on his lips. "But don't tell anyone. Obviously."

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"Hey- heyy!"

A young boy grins, pleased with just the idea of attention. He's recognisable - a figure plastered across a myriad TV screens back in the day - though he doesn't appear to be bothered by the attention, negative or positive.

Doesn't appear. But who knows, with him?

He seems to especially love the negative attention, too. Like he's looking to argue over anything else. But right now, he just raises his arms coolly above his head and lets his grin carry him.

"I suppose you want an autograph, huh? I'll just let you know - It'll cost you!"

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"Hey- heyy!"

A young boy grins, pleased with just the idea of attention. He's recognisable - a figure plastered across a myriad TV screens back in the day - though he doesn't appear to be bothered by the attention, negative or positive.

Doesn't appear. But who knows, with him?

He seems to especially love the negative attention, too. Like he's looking to argue over anything else. But right now, he just raises his arms coolly above his head and lets his grin carry him.

"I suppose you want an autograph, huh? I'll just let you know - It'll cost you!"