"Hey, Izaya-san?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Kida paused. The word rolled off of Izaya's tongue so easily, but it took Masaomi's ears a few moments to process it. Dear, darling, honey, sweetie. He didn't mind anymore, after Izaya had finally convinced him that he wasn't being mocked, but he still found it strange. "Are the red bars in your foyer for keeping others separated from you, or you separated from others?"

"I didn't choose the layout of the apartment, darling."

Kida frowned, knowing that he wasn't given an answer because the informant was focused on his conversation in the chat room. "Well, dear, I happen to know that Orihara Izaya pays attention to detail. You chose this apartment for its location, floor, and architecture. I'm sure you took every piece of furniture into careful consideration, as well. You would want your home to work to your every advantage, apropos to the information you give and withhold when speaking with customers."

"'Apropos'? Have you been so bored that you've taken to reading the dictionary while I'm working?"

Masaomi rolled his eyes. "It's probably because I spend a lot of time with someone who likes to use big words to show his intelligence. Now stop deflecting."

Intrigued, Izaya shut off his laptop and strolled around his desk to lean on it. He grinned at Masaomi, who was lounging on the couch. He was proud of how much the boy had learned from being with him, and slightly shocked at how well Kida knew him.

"The design of my entryway serves a few purposes. Firstly, nobody can enter my apartment without me sizing them up beforehand. Secondly, it takes longer to escape." One corner of his mouth turned up, as if recalling a pleasant memory, while the last word rolled off his tongue. "Thirdly, the big, red bars send a subconscious signal to my guests that they are entering a place where they have little control. Lastly, the red stands out from the grey and black color scheme, highlighting the significance of entering and leaving—it isn't an area that one should linger in."

Masaomi straightened up, and listened to Izaya attentively. "What about your desks?"

"The one I'm resting on is where I do nearly all of my work. It is the prime spot for surveying everything going on, lets me look down to my beloved humans with the turn of my chair, and is unrestricting. The connecting part to my right is where Namie-san often works; otherwise I keep paperwork there. The separated desk is also where Namie-san works, or where I do informal things, such as eat or handle my game board."

"And that couch where the windows curve?"

"I like to have multiple seating options. That couch gives a nice view over the city. Also, that corner looked incomplete without it—too empty." He uncrossed his arms and set his hands on the desk behind him, leaning back. "Anything else?"

"Not for now," the younger male replied simply. He watched the informant take long strides towards the two stairs leading to the large couch. Before he could sit down on the top step, Kida stood. "Hold on." He guided Izaya to the lower level and had him face the windows. With a smile, Masaomi rose onto the step between the two levels in front of the man. "I'm only a few centimeters shorter than you when we stand like this."

Izaya grabbed the boy's hands. "Are you self-conscious about your height?"

"No. I've just noticed that we both prefer to do things together while sitting or lying down because you have to look down and I have to look up if we're close."

Izaya smirked. "I like speaking to you while standing; it gives me a sense of superiority."

Kida twined his arms around the man's neck. "You've established your superiority quite clearly in the time I've been acquainted with you."

"Yes. You are beneath me in all sorts of ways. Maybe you should show me more respect."

"And how should I go about it?"

Izaya's smile widened. "Call me 'Master,' for a weakling is not worthy of uttering my given name."

Masaomi scoffed and broke away from the man. He moved to take a step back, forgetting that he was on a stair, and fell to the ground. Izaya was on top of him before he could even yelp in pain. An idea forming, he played along, opening his mouth and allowing the man in. He tugged on Izaya's jacket and mumbled a request for him to take it off. As soon as it was shed, Masaomi flipped them over. He sat on the informant's stomach and held a knife to his throat.

"What were you saying earlier about me being beneath you?"

Izaya chuckled. "I'm impressed. You had me take my coat off so you could swipe my switchblade, right? That was clever. Now what's your next move?"

"Take back what you said before. I'm not weak." Masaomi's expression was serious. He hated when people called him weak, and Izaya was fully aware of that.

"Or what? You'll slit my throat? Don't make a threat if you can't follow through with it."

"You're right. I won't kill you. But I wouldn't think twice about leaving a scar or two." He dragged the blade along Izaya's cheek.

Izaya swallowed nervously, though he still didn't think the boy would actually harm him. "Ah, I surrender, Masaomi-kun. You aren't weak in the least."

Content with the reply, Masaomi flicked the blade into its holder and tossed it onto the man's jacket. He shuddered when a cold hand slithered under his shirt.

"You're sexy when you're angry," Izaya said cheekily.

Masaomi leaned down until their lips were nearly touching. "Do you want me?" His fingers grazed the rim of the older male's pants.

"Yes," the informant breathed.

"Well, being deliberately provoked for the purpose of satisfying you doesn't make me want you." He yawned and slowly got to his feet, stretching his arms. "It's getting late," Masaomi said nonchalantly. "I should head home now." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and left the apartment without looking back.

Izaya stared at the ceiling with a smile. "What an interesting pawn you've turned out to be, Kida Masaomi-kun."