"... you trust me," he echoed back with a defensive glimmer that was all too reminescent of a shorter, spiky-haired partner of Kurama's. Strange to have that mentality coming from Kuronue, ordinarily a fountain of lazy gutterbat warmth and laughter. There was none of it here, just a blankness, a banked hostility. Distrust, unease, fear. He watched Yoko's every move as though anticipating a finishing blow of some kind, and kept glancing past him towards the sky.

That woman claimed she'd come back and then he'd perish. He didn't want to perish, she'd already taken everything inside of him, he didn't want to lose the outer shell too.

"Why?"

He made no move to kick away or bolt free of the alley when Yoko settled close-by. He just watched, hyper-aware of him, and -

reeking of blood. He was injured, somewhere. Likely a good reason why he was holding so still, why he wasn't running. Tricky bat.