"How long 'til the next interview?" Eri asked as she continued sketching. She must've noticed Joshua checking his phone even though she stared down at her work.

"Only five more minutes." The Composer watched her drawing pad this time, flipping his phone shut. He focused his eyes—he wasn't about to let her keep some secret from him.

Or at least, that was his plan. He had every intention to see it. But the warmth of her feet brushed up against his leg, jolting him out of his concentration. What did he tell her about personal space?

"Five minutes, huh?" she repeated, paying no mind to her rule-breaking this time. "And next one's Haruto Fujimoto, right? Maybe I should have you change my body," she mused, much to his surprise. "His file makes him seem like a flirt."

"I'd think you'd be used to that by now," Joshua quipped, eying her body. "Though I suppose I could turn you male. You'd probably make a cute boy. Hee hee."

Eri blinked, her brown gaze rising to meet his. He stopped, too, confused as to why she suddenly lost her usual bothersome smile. "So... Do you prefer guys, then?" she asked.

"Prefer guys? I'm not following."

"Like—do you think guys are cuter than girls?"

Joshua gave a thoughtful hum, watching the girl. For some strange reason, she fidgeted with her paper as she waited. With a smirk, he joked, "Well, I'm not one to judge, but Neku is rather adorable, wouldn't you agree?"

"Josh, I'm serious," Eri murmured, trying to distract herself with her drawing. "What do you prefer?"

She actually was serious—that was certainly new for her. But then again, when did she ever make sense?

Joshua opened his mouth to answer, only to stop short. He didn't have time, for the next Harrier had arrived. "It's time for part two," he said instead. "A word to the wise. Don't let this one catch onto you." With that, he disappeared from her view.

Haruto Fujimoto entered the room with a flair to match his ego. He'd died in a car accident at age twenty-one after having too much to drink. Unlike Noa, had more experience at three years. His dark blue eyes danced as they took in Eri's figure, and he ran a hand through his slicked back hair before adjusting his red jacket—influenced by Tigre Punk from the looks of it.

"Well, wasn't expecting my interviewer to be such a beauty!" he commented before taking a seat. Joshua cocked an eyebrow as the Reaper made himself right at home opening a bottle of champagne. He poured two glasses, shifting the first one over towards Eri. "Hope you don't mind. I find these things more fun when you drink a bit."

Eri blinked, raising a hand to scratch her cheek as she lost her stoic guise to a touch of nervousness. "I should probably wait. I'm still on the job, after all."

"C'mon, it's not like it's gonna kill ya," Haruto joked. "You're already dead."

Or at least, so he thought. Their ruse seemed to work on this one. With a light laugh, Eri took the glass and sipped. If she got drunk, Joshua wasn't about to help her.

"So, we should get started," Eri said in an attempt to distract the Reaper from the draw of alcohol. "Tell me about yourself and your hobbies."

"Well, you could be one of my hobbies if you want," Haruto offered, a sloppy grin stretching from one side of his face to the other.

"How about not," Eri answered, smiling back. "Care to try again?"

"Oh, you know—a little of this, a little of that." He leaned back, swirling his champagne in his glass. "I'm sure a pretty girl like you has all sorts of after dark hobbies, too, if you catch my drift."

"And I'm sure you're wrong," the girl combatted. Though she still smiled, Joshua found it difficult to read. Not that he cared, really, past general curiosity.

"What about your life? Did you even have a job?"

"'Course. I was learning to be a business man—to take up the old man's job one day. It was pretty boring, and totally not cool. When I died and found out about this place, it just seemed to fit me better. I could be free as long as I did the work."

"Then why do you want this job?" Eri asked, veering again from the structured questions. "Wouldn't this be big business like you were trying to escape?"

Joshua sat back, letting it unfold. Truth be told, he wanted to know the same.

After a pause, Haruto answered, "Yeah, but it's not like that. This isn't just some big business trying to make money offa everyone. Maybe I do have some of that business line running in my veins, so that could be why. But in the end, this is something that matters more." The twinkle in his eyes returned as he added, "And it's way cooler."

Eri nodded before asking, "How well did you do as a Player?"

"Are you kidding? I had a little affair going with a cutie Reaper at the time—she even helped me out a bit! Too bad she's not around anymore."

"And what about your Partner?"

"I got a guy, but he was pretty cool. We worked together on how we could turn things around in our favor, and we both became Reapers afterwards. He's not around anymore, either."

"Why do you think you're qualified for this role?"

"For one, most Reapers don't make it as long as I have—erasing Players is a very competitive business. But I've always been good at calculating things and playing with people to win it. Plus, like I said—the whole business blood thing. I know how to run a place."

"And just how much do you want the role?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't want it." He shifted a little, tapping his fingers on the glass. Though, Joshua already knew why: Haruto's life hung on getting a promotion. Though his Player count normally exceeded others, like most after years of doing it, his time now ran short. Without a promotion, he wouldn't have enough time to carry him until the next Game, especially if reorganizing everything made it take longer to begin.

"Do you understand the importance of it?" Eri asked.

"Of course. The Composer's basically our god," Haruto said. "Anything she—or he—decides is law, and I want to be a part of that."

"Are you willing to carry out any and all tasks the Composer gives you?"

"Definitely."

"...even bend the rules for the Composer, but not against the Composer?" she continued, watching the Reaper carefully.

Haruto tilted his head, confused. With a grin, he added, "Well, if the Composer wants to have some fun with a guy or girl or something like that, I'd be more than happy to cover it up. Or anything else the Composer might wanna do."

"How are you with secrets? Can the Composer trust you?"

"'Course. I can keep secrets very well." He sat his glass down and put his hands behind his head as he leaned back, observing Eri. "Actually, your secret's one I've been wondering about. Just who are you really?"

Eri faltered. "M-me?"

"Yeah, you. With a body like that, you have to be someone special. I've seen a ton of beauties, but they hardly compare." His mouth flashed into a smirk. "You wouldn't happen to be the Composer, would you?"

Both Eri and Joshua stared, one in wide-eyed surprise and one in dull amusement. Joshua sent a text, which the girl immediately looked at: "Well then, Miss Composer, why don't you use your powers to fulfill this man's wishes? Since apparently there's no one more beautiful than you."

Eri texted back, an uneasy smile on her face. "Jooossshh, don't encourage this!"

"Better think fast. Lover boy's waiting for an answer."

With a sigh, Eri looked back to her interviewee, though the grin that stayed stuck on her face offset the somber look she tried to have. "I don't have to answer that," she said, far too cheerful. "Only the one picked will get to know who I am."

"Well then, I look forward to having you tell me yourself later," Haruto replied.

Eri lowered her head. "Prove that the Composer can trust you," she mumbled.

Haruto waited a moment before answering, "My life is in the Composer's hands—I belong to the Composer no matter which way this may go."

Eri nodded and said, "That's all. Go wait outside." Haruto stood, bowed, and followed her orders. As soon as he left, Joshua appeared on the couch next to her again.

"He looked disappointed," the Composer noted. "I think he wanted a goodbye kiss. Or maybe a date later with the most attractive girl he's ever seen."

Eri didn't react as he expected. She didn't get mad or joke or anything. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on her lap, where her stiff hands resided. "I'm not like that," she muttered, possibly inaudible for most. Joshua, however, could hear it and paused to let her continue. "I dress like this because I like it—because I think it's a cute outfit. But I don't fool around with guys, and I wouldn't want anyone seeing under this. I don't even date or fall in love..."

Somehow, this conversation had turned solemn. Joshua snatched his gaze away from her, settling it on the couch in front of them as he considered her statement. He hadn't realized just how innocent she was.

Eventually, he found the words to say, "What someone is on the outside and what someone is on the inside don't always match up. Even things that seem basic like gender or, in your case, your curves and clothing. Everyone has their own internal world, and it's impossible to know what that world is by how a person looks. It's only by getting to know someone that you're given a chance to see into that world."

Eri didn't reply, and he couldn't even see her face right now, though he could tell that she stared at him. With a sigh, he said, "Continuing off of that, to answer your question before... I don't care, honestly. I don't see why it really matters if someone's male or female, either on the outside or the inside. Bodies and Souls—they're all art in the end."

Nothing could've prepared him for her response. Her warm, human arms wrapped around his body, pulling him close. Joshua stiffened as he held his breath. Was she hugging him?

"You know, you're pretty amazing," she whispered. "Thanks..."

"Yes, yes, I know I am," he forced out, trying his hardest to sound normal. "Now if you're quite done, I'd appreciate it if you released me."

She did so, and he eased, touching his arm as his natural chill returned. Now he stared at her as if she was a puzzle he tried to figure out. Somewhere along the line, her cheeks had flushed a pink lighter than her hair—from the alcohol, perhaps? Or so he thought. Her smile had eased to one of a serene kindness instead of her usual bubbly self. Her world had changed somehow, and he didn't understand why. Was it something he said? He shouldn't even have to wonder, but this girl made no sense. No one was even supposed to get that close—at least, not if he wasn't in control and messing with them. He didn't want anyone that close.

Though, part of him had to admit: the warmth of the living did feel nice.