~*Number Three: Making History*~
And Joshua, he smiles, grinning to himself and carefully dropping the black-and-white Player Pin on Neku's limp body. His Soul was already in the UG—so bright yet so battered—something that could have been magnificent, now with a broken spirit. It was almost depressing in its magnitude.
His fingers trail feather-light across his Proxy's face, and he thinks to himself—and his Proxy—that they only had so many days to change destiny and alter fate and all that. And Neku didn't even respond, and the Composer takes a few non-existent heartbeats to be insulted at the level of maturity and respect that the spiky-haired teen had.
Well, he'd break this little stubborn streak over the course of the Games, and maybe a certain Ms. Misaki would even do it for him. If he asked nicely.
Then again, and this made Joshua grin as he turned his back and strode away oh-so casually, he didn't have to ask nicely. He could change history if he wanted, after all.