Izaya can't help the laugh that curls from his lips as another profile loads on the screen. Seated at the desk in his lofty apartment, there's a laziness to his position, resting in the plush comfort of his chair. The light is fading, and it's almost ethereal and far too pure for the dark soul that lurks under the curled lips of the devil at the desk. The game he craves to play has yet to really begin, though Izaya is no less keen for it. The strings are all laid, the pieces set, and all he needs now is the right plaything to come wandering in blind, deaf and dumb to his intentions.
The profile he's currently browsing is as cheesy as the come, the same cliched trash the rest of this website was full of. The man in the profile has uploaded a photo wearing an expression that Izaya supposes is meant to be seductive and only comes across as laughable. His words are filled with bragging - about his wit, his kiss, claiming to be a better fuck than any boy Izaya will supposedly ever meet. It's clear from a mere glance what his intentions are - and they're not nearly lofty enough to play the starring role in Izaya's latest game. There's no fun to be had in teasing those simply looking for quick sex. What Izaya wants is someone so desperate for love, so willing to fall and open themselves up, because there really is nothing better than worming his way inside to watch someone destruct from the inside out. And love - well, love always has been the easiest and fastest of means to achieve that end.
It's not even half a minute later before he's moving to another profile, and then another and another when each seemed more and more disappointing than the last. None of them are here to seek the deep connections like the plaything he's after. Izaya would bet that half of those on this site are married or something, simply looking to fill an urge. Any other day and he'd have been delighting in it - relishing their rotten cores, hidden underneath silky and unblemished velvet outsides. Humans! They all seemed to see themselves as walking a different path, planes above the rest of the world and oh! how he could relate to that - not that they'd ever reach his level, nor walk side by side with him. Playing with them now though will being him no great satisfaction. They're already leading themselves into foolish places without his interference - sooner rather than later, their games will end. Why should he join in on a game that someone else has already started, without the option to lay the founding pieces? No, he much prefers his own, where he can control each and every move, and map it out from the start - and that requires a very special playing piece, so different from the rest he's stumbled across on this site so far. What Izaya wants, what he needs, is someone truly desperate for love - all for the satisfaction of destroying them. He wants to string them along and give them the barest taste of the throws of love only to snatch it away at the last moment, to teach them and their naivety just what a destructive monster love really is. True love doesn't exist, and nor do the epic romances in literature of the ages, and what Izaya can think of no better game right now than finding someone to teach that. Humans are so delectable when they're broken, and there's always been something so fascinating in their sadness and tragedy that he can't ever tear himself away from.
How long he's spent trawling through profiles so far he doesn't know. It could well have been as little as a few minutes, or just as easily an hour. It doesn't much matter either way, really. Izaya's job allows him the luxury of time. He has the power to pick and choose his clients, because they'll always come flocking back in the end no matter how long he takes. The money that pools in his accounts too - because he's not foolish enough to keep it all in one place - is enough that he could get away with sitting idle for days or months or years if he really desired. He'll not stop his work of course, whether it affects his comfort or not, because there's no escape from the fact that the work he gets is far too interesting. The time spent amid humanity is far too fun for Izaya to give up simply for its unnecessity. The luxury of time really is a funny thing, and it comes so freely to him that he's all but stopped paying attention to the passing of time these days. He has miles of the stuff; years and hours and seconds tucked away in a corner that he gives little care - and yet he's walked with those who feel as if their time has run out, as if they've lost those precious seconds as the world keeps turning. It doesn't mean he's ever been willing to share, even as he's managed to talk dozens of them up onto the ledge. Celty hasn't managed to save them all, how could she? Izaya commands time, and he's a master at ripping the few precious seconds from his playthings with sweet words and lies as they tumble facewards towards the concrete and unknown below.
The sun has all but set by the time Izaya settles on a profile though, time has slipped away without his notice or his care and for all of his claims to see it all, the world still ticks on regardless. It's a curious one, everything about it screams hesitancy - and that is the first sign that Izaya should look a little deeper. Every other account yells nothing but arrogance and cockiness, confident that sooner or later they'll find someone to satisfy their urges. They plaster their face and their bodies and slews of contact information across them, certain that someone will call. Yet this - there's none of that. There's no posed image or bragging words or hastily made private email listed - just a blurb that's almost as pathetic as it is cliche. It's like his, just like his really, the dainty words of a soul seeking love. Shinozuka Heikichi, the name of the profile reads, an Ikebukuro resident. Though Izaya's certain it's an alias, he doesn't much care. It's not as if he's been forthcoming or entirely honest with his name either. It won't matter int he long run, when everything is said and done and this man is broken in the shadow of Izaya's glory.
The smirk has faded none as he clicks the message button, set to tap out the first words and let the games begin. There's no promise this man is the kind that Izaya is after, but he's got a feeling - and the instincts of a God are very rarely wrong. Let the game begin, indeed.