"You're going on a date!?" Homura gaped in disbelief.

Gen awkwardly waved her off. "No, no, oh god, no." He smiled thinly. "He didn't want to call it a date. So it isn't one." He took a sip of his boba. "Unless he wants it to be. Of course."

Homura eyed him. "What would it get you? He doesn't seem rich."

"It would be fun," Gen said. "Is that not enough?" He took a bite of his curry. "You make it sound like I'm gold-digging."

"Aren't you?" Homura said incredulously.

Gen poked at his rice with his chopsticks. "Schmoozing producers is just showbiz. But I'm not gold-digging some high schooler. It's just for fun. Besides, it's not a date." A tiny suspicion in Gen's head pulled at the back of his mind, but he did his best to ignore it. "Am I not allowed to make friends anymore?" His voice lilted. "It's not gold-digging if it's not a date."

"Of course."

The sun was cheerful outside the little restaurant. Not that Gen could see it out the window, exactly, but he could see the reflection of it in the windows of the high rise across the street. The clouds looked nice.

Homura broke his train of thought. "Is he cute?"

Gen snapped back to her. "'don… Pardon? Me?"

"Is he cute? The lunch guy." Homura swirled her drink.

"Ah," Gen said, faking a smirk. "Oh, of course. Very. I only go out with the cutest. I don't associate with non-cute people."

"You're full of shit," she said. "How do you know you're not being double catfished? He already catfished you once. Why would some big deal nerd be trolling on a bad dating forum? Are you sure you were talking to the real deal?"

Gen wasn't entirely sure himself, but he didn't want to admit that. "We video called, obviously," he grinned, obviously bullshitting her.

Homura shrugged. "Sounds like something you'd do." Got her, he thought. But he really didn't know what his lunch buddy looked like. The thought sat with him.

Come to think of it, he hadn't had a clue what he looked like even when they were supposed to have the interview. As far as Gen knew, Senku was just some kid. What must he dress like? He ought to have been one of those types who wore a lot of earrings and spoke english to be "punk" with how haughty he was, but with his academic record, Gen was almost inclined to believe he looked like a typical nerd.

"I'm going out with Hyoga later," Homura said, tapping at her phone.

"Are you, now?" Gen asked innocently. "With that awful man?"

Homura glared at him. "You're so rude," she said. "He'll grow on you."

"Maybe his fungus will if I get too close," Gen side-eyed her sing-songily. She punched his shoulder. "Never have I known a nastier man."

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

Gen smiled at her. "Not lately."

"You ought to. You look like shit," she told him. "Did you sleep after yesterday? It's just lunch, Gen, geez. Don't look so pale. You have lunch with Tsukasa and I all the time."

"I'm always pale," Gen sighed lightly.

"Not this pale. Are you sure it's not a date?" She leaned over the table. "Even if it was, you've been on dates before. Get it together."

Gen rolled his eyes back. "I'm fine."

"Whatever." Gen could've almost imagined she was being compassionate. "Hey," she said, "I saw this real weirdo today at that import shoe store down the road."

Gen cocked his head. "What were you doing down there?"

"Buying shoes, wise one," she deadpanned. "For my date. All mine are too sporty for that class establishment Hyoga wants to go to." Gen opened his mouth to say something, but Homura interrupted him as soon as he did. "We're talking about the guy I saw. Don't go saying shit." The waiter dropped the bill off at their table. "So," she said, turning back to Gen, "yeah, this guy, real unforgettable type."

"Oh? Do tell." Gen perched his head on one hand. Homura handed the waiter her credit card.

"Couldn't pick shoes for the life of him. I could've been in and out but he kept trying on boots that didn't fit his skinny little legs and I couldn't stop watching. Some girl with him tried to help him pick some out but he kept gravitating to these hideous rubber kiddie rain boots that looked like dinosaurs." She snorted. "I don't think I've ever seen worse boots for someone his age. I think he ended up with them, too."

Gen could just picture it. "Like, just, big versions of the ones five year olds wear?" The waiter returned Homura's card.

Homura cackled. "Exactly. I don't know what he was thinking. Real crazy guy. Crazy hair that went out in every direction and stupid tall. Absolute goon. He was laughing maniacally trying on all these fancy boots and then got all excited about those dumb little dinosaurs. His girl looked like she was dying inside. She was trying so hard."

Gen chuckled at the thought. "Might've been a good candidate for the show, with a character like that. Shame I wasn't there."

"I'm sure you two would've gotten along." She pulled her chair out. "Today I'm just out with the entire freak show."

"Glad we're in agreement about Hyoga, then," Gen jeered.

Homura stuck her tongue out and groaned. "He'd kill you."

"I know he would. My distaste is what the informed would call self preservation."

"I hope your stupid date goes well," she said snidely.

"Yours too. And by I hope it goes well I mean I hope you two don't get arrested."

"Getting some real high standards for us, Gen, I dunno," she sighed. She sounded exasperated, but her earnest smile revealed her true feelings. "I'll see you next Monday. Same place." She paused. "And, by the way, you just acknowledged it was a date!"

"Aahtt- What!?" Gen choked on the last of his boba.

"Okay bye!" Homura held out her 'bye' so it trailed off as she hustled out of the restaurant. Gen struggled to regain his breath.

"You're just jealous that I'm going to have a better time than you are," he managed, but Homura was already long gone by the time he had dislodged the orb from his trachea.

O O O

What did Senku look like, anyway? As soon as Gen got home, he decided he'd find out. He left his bag of groceries at the door and pulled out his phone. Any mentalist worth their salt always did a little 'background research' on their clients. Being a career internet stalker was just part of the job description. It was a fun one at that.

Morals were not his strong suit. Who needed them where he was going?

Unfortunately, even the best mentalists could not do much if a client made themselves as scarce as Senku Ishigami had. Gen was liable to snap. Senku Ishigami the name appeared everywhere, but Senku Ishigami the face was nowhere to be found. Every social media he found were full of nothing but pictures of space, or friends, or 3D printed mechs with obscure references in the captions. Even his friends' accounts bore no fruit besides the lower half of what appeared to be his face from about six years ago.

There it was. The smirk he had heard on the phone. Sharp and full, closed teeth, but obviously happy among his two friends. It was definitely his smirk. Gen could picture him saying the same things he had the day before. He was wiry in a big lab coat despite their clearly being at a local park, and his hair wasn't in frame besides a loosened leek-green sliver that hugged the bridge of his nose like a snake against a branch. The girl's smiling face was in frame in the middle, but the boy next to her was too tall. His head was cut off entirely by the shot. Gen thought they looked friendly.

Tuesday, then. Tomorrow. He looked forward to talking to the guy again. The sun was going down. Homura was probably on a date with Hyoga, that snot. He turned on the livestream for Tsukasa's Monday Night Live Throwdown and scrolled through Senku's old Instagram account again, trying to absorb every little detail he could. Mecha, Doraemon, a love for space. He spent time looking up all the references. Most ended up being bad puns. Tsukasa broke someone's nose on the stream. Senku had made some reference to Space Cobra. A car sped loudly on the street below. The moon came out. Tsukasa broke someone else's nose. Gen's neighbor was playing Yakuza 0 disco songs loudly next door. Senku linked some theory about Mario under a picture of some wooden figures his friend Yuzuriha had made. Tsukasa broke another nose. Someone was yelling about trash cans in the road. The weather report spelled another bright and sunny day for tomorrow. Gen ran out of Senku's posts and felt guilt about cyberstalking for the first time in his life. Another nose fell victim to Tsukasa's gloves. An unsurprising win for his hulking companion. Gen turned his computer off and shot him a congratulations text. No new texts from Senku. Gen looked at his reflection in the mirror as he stepped into the shower. He did look like shit. Couldn't go on a date looking like that.

Much to his chagrin, it seemed like tonight would be an early night for the mentalist.