"You know this Kuwabara guy," Yousuke says, once Naoto's squeezed Hashimoto dry.
Naoto doesn't deny it. "We had certain mutual interests."
Yousuke can't imagine it, not easily. Naoto, in one of his tailored outfits, hobnobbing with someone from a dismal office like this? "What kind of interests?" he asks.
"Psychology," says Naoto. His face twists. "That is," he says, "psychology, in its relation to contemporary technology."
Yeah, he's got no clue what that means. Which is probably why he's not the detective. "So, you don't think he did it?"
"I've seen no evidence indicating either way."
And that's just diplomatic.
