"How can I make it up to you?" Akemi asked, canting her head as her cheeks dusted with tinges of red. "For your injury, I mean."

"Don't worry about it. It was fifty percent my own fault." Moroboshi mumbled, struggling to slip his bandaged arm into the sleeve of his jacket. "But I guess that's not exactly what you want to hear, is it?"

"Well, no." Akemi looking at him uneasily, wondering whether he would mind if she suddenly reached out and helped him. From his consistent conversional tone and relaxed demeanour, she doubted he would suddenly lash out at her for the potentially unwanted contact. But whether a flash of irritation kicked in was still up for debate.

Although Moroboshi expressed several times that he wasn't holding her in contempt for having injured him, Akemi couldn't trust that. She was certain somewhere in a hidden part of his being he was unconsciously aware that he harboured resentment towards her, and she feared that even the tiniest trigger could manifest it.

From her experience Akemi knew that based on his subdued the attitude, the response would most likely be an unsightly event, possibly too volatile for her liking. Perhaps, it would be in her best interest to wash her hands off the matter, bade him farewell and march on with her life before matters would digress to that particular end.

But the notion that he could sue her entire mini fortune for personal injury once she disappeared from view made her all the more uneasy.

"I hurt you pretty bad, didn't I? there must be something I could do to make up for it," she said, knowing that she needed to crawl her way into his good side where she might be protected by his goodwill and conscience; however, the odds of that might be.

"Even if there is, I can't think of anything." Moroboshi answered, finally having put on his jacket after much effort, even though the doctor had advised him not to strain himself too much. Akemi glanced at the thin sheet of sweat glistening on his forehead and hoped that wasn't a sign that he might have caught a cold, or an infection (judging from the light flush of his cheeks).

For a moment Akemi could already hear the gavel pounding in the courtroom, sentencing her years in prison if the man in front of her suddenly broke into a fever because of an infection caused by the injuries she inflicted as a result of her 'negligent' driving.

(Sure, her busy schedule overworked her and sleep-deprived her, but she had been paying attention to the road. However, with a lack of evidence supporting her claim, there wasn't much she could say in her defence.)

"If you can think of anything then please contact me," Akemi said as she rummaged into her bag and ripped out a small page from her notepad, jotting down her mobile number and her name that she underlined twice for emphasis. "I couldn't live with myself if I injured you and didn't take responsibility," and didn't keep myself away from court.

Moroboshi accepted the slip of paper, a curious glint in his gaze as he regarded her, seemingly perplexed at how insistent she was being, and Akemi felt her cheeks flush at the mere thought that he might be catching on to her scheme if she didn't turn it down a notch.

"Of course, you don't have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable—"

"Then how about a cup of coffee?"

Huh?

Akemi was momentarily thrown off by the quick change in his gear. Throughout the conversation, Moroboshi had been quite indifferent. Or at least he appeared to be.

From the way he reacted she was sure he couldn't care less about her attempt to enter his good graces. Akemi had been prepared to get him somehow accept a favour or two from her in one way or another. The exact method she would use was still up for contemplation, but she had been ready to exert effort into making it happen. But now here he was – ready to accept her favour on his own accord.

Thinking about this, Akemi couldn't help but wonder whether she had missed something – maybe even misinterpreted his reaction?

Could she have been mistaking his quiet moments of thoughtful consideration as plain disinterest?

Wait – this couldn't be true.

Akemi was certain his entire demeanour spoke of indifference. He had been reluctant to accept her favour. In fact, he had been planning on not meeting her half-way at all. So why was he?

The gaze she shot him could not be interpreted as any other than bafflement as she contemplated what it could be that suddenly changed his mind. It couldn't be that the man facing her had any ulterior motifs—?

"Actually," Moroboshi started, breaking her out of her thoughts before she could come to any conclusions. "This morning I went out without my usual dosage of caffeine. I think that's partly to blame why I didn't manage to notice your car."

"Huh?" it slipped out of her before she could stop it and Akemi blanched, knowing how it impolite it was, and she berated herself for not uttering her usual pardon. "Ah! No, I'm sorry, I mean—"

"I'm saying we can grab a cup of coffee as a reparation." Moroboshi interrupted, saving her from having to explain herself, and whilst she was glad that her attempts at sneaking into the goodwill of his conscience was finally working, Akemi still couldn't help but be sceptical. After all his wording implied that a simple cup of coffee was enough to act as a reparation fee which, essentially, meant that he has chosen to claim his settlement in the same manner, no?

.

.

.

For some reason the situation was increasingly moving beyond her conventional understanding of social cues. Akemi breathed out from her nose, barely remembering the last time she felt so out of depth in a conversation.

"You're not going to sue me?" she asked at last, knowing that she might as well have shot herself in the foot, quite figuratively and literally for having had spoken her recent daytime nightmare into existence. But somehow (—as of this moment when Akemi still considered herself sleep-deprived and thus shouldn't be hold accountable for any unreasonable decision she may have taken, thank you very much—) she thought that might have been a much better option than run her thoughts into the same circles and potentially push herself off the cliff of madness in the process.

"No?" Moroboshi answered, surprised that she even considered the possibility. "Well, unless you have a fortune behind your name. Then I might change my mind."

"I'm poor – dirt poor," Akemi answered, unashamed and partly relieved. Moroboshi's lips twitched amusedly as though she made a joke that was nothing other than the unabashed truth, as dry as it was.

"I guess that's that." Moroboshi easily dismissed as though Akemi's entire life and fortune wasn't stacked up behind that single decision, and whilst she was relieved and should count herself lucky, the nagging suspicion at the back of her mind still hasn't relented.

Destroy a portion of her life as it may – he still had a chance to make easy money and apart of Akemi couldn't fathom why he hadn't taken it and proceeded to take it to court. Even if he struggled with funds as much as Akemi was, his insurance company would have helped him take care of it, especially since he was the injured party.

As much as Akemi relied on his goodwill or conscience and hoped that he might not sue her out of the goodness of his heart once she revealed how remorseful she felt and how accidental it was; she knew it was only wishful thinking on her part.

Through the side jobs she undertook under Pisco's discretion have shown her on multiple occasions the length individuals are willing to go for the sole sake to acquire some bundles of cash. That fact that he had no interest in it already set him apart from the individuals she became acquainted at work (and those she had gotten to know from her daily life trapped in an organisation).

At this point Akemi could only reason that he was either a good liar, who intended to sue the living daylights out of her once she turned her back to him, or that he absolutely had no interest as he said. Perhaps, because he was already at the peak of financial means. . .

There was also the possibility that he had struck the deal with her bearing in mind some ulterior motives that were leading him to another direction entirely – but if that's the case, what on earth could it be?

It couldn't be something more valuable than money?

Akemi didn't think she possessed that. The any valuable items she had were copies of flash drives containing every piece of information that Pisco had sent her to fetch (that she had also secretly stashed)—

No way.

This man couldn't have been sent by the old geezer to try and attempt to sneak into her life and recover all the valuable data she had been gathering from him. . .right?

Akemi didn't want to think she had reached phenomenal heights of paranoid to be coming to these conclusions, but this was the only possible scenario she could concoct in her mind.

Either that, or this man was simply one of those 'good human beings' she read about in books—those model citizens who were imbued with an incredible amount of generosity and goodwill that was way out of proportion with the real world.

When Moroboshi stood up and slipped onto his shoes and headed out of the hospital room – holding the door open long enough for Akemi to wake from her stupor and follow behind him as he walked up to the reception desk to sign his discharge paper – it was quite clear to Akemi that she had to refigure her life.

Either that, or seek a therapist to unwind her most recent trust issues.

Whatever it was; she knew it would be quite ride.