Izaya is good at playing roles. He was the star of his drama class back during his high school days — or the times he'd turned up, at any rate. His childhood had been normal, his parents normal — but Izaya had been anything but. He's always been able to hide himself in the guise of another, whether that persona be anything like him or not. It's not that he especially dislikes who he is, quite the contrary in fact, but there's always something thrilling about stepping into the shoes of another for a while; and there's no denying that Izaya has plenty of those to chose from. He's spent months before tucked away in chat rooms as a woman under the name of Kanra, and just as many tending to the caring yet depressed Nakura persona, who lures those to their downfall and adds yet more stains the concrete below. None of them show the real nature of Izaya, yet in each of them a part of him resides. The only way to create a believable ruse, after all, is to add a pinch of truth. Yet there's a second truth that rings true, and that's the simple fact that Izaya has invested himself so much into these roles, has gotten just a little too good at playing the part.
Somewhere along the line, his personas have fused with who he is, and they with him, and there are times when even Izaya isn't entirely certain anymore what is him and what is merely an act. What does it matter though, really? No one honestly cares to unravel him, to pick out what words leaving his twisted lips are the truth, and what is simply a ruse designed to mock, or to play. As much as Izaya loves the world, he sees its dirty underbelly just as clearly, he sees its false ways. Humanity are never above lying and cheating — and even as he stands so proudly above them, Izaya is no different.
His computer pings, a cheery little sound that announces the arrival of a message in his inbox. It's so utterly in contrast to everything about him that it seems almost odd to have it happen around him. Izaya is all smiles and laughs and utter glee on the outside, certainly, but under the skin, entangled deep in sinew and bone, lays a cynical, twisted, mocking interior. He makes quick work of opening up the browser to see what awaits him, and almost laughs with a sick amusement to see it's an automated message from the latest site he's chosen to play with. In truth, Izaya's somewhat surprised to hear back quite so soon — he'd been settling down to get through some work for a client for an hour or so when the notification had sounded — but he's certainly not disappointed.
The website loads with only the barest flicker of a pause after Izaya mouses over the link, the result of a good internet connection, one he remembers insisting on when he first obtained his loft. It's not only a vital part for his work as an information broker, but it's one of his best lines to connect him to all of the delicate lives spilling out in the city beneath him. There's more pleasure to be found in meeting them all face to face, in snapping and tweaking their strings in person, but he's a man that moves with the times, and he recognises the games that are fit to be played online.
Izaya makes short work too of deleting the spam messages that have filtered into his inbox on the website. He has absolutely no interest in playing any sort of games with the idiots trying to hook up. He's already anticipating the possible results of this new game, and it's yet to even begin. He can only hope that Shinozuka can prove himself to be worth it all, and save him having to search out someone new. Izaya can practically taste the excitement now. Who knew what sort of dark and twisted desires the man had lurking underneath his skin? Who knew what sort of horrid secrets might be written in his bones and the lines of his face and in the depths of his eyes? If the game proceeds, Izaya is under no doubt that he'll be able to find out the answers to everything. That's his job, after all. He has made a living as the best of the best, and he prides himself on that. And then when he has tugged and pulled everything there is from the man, he'll delight in letting go and watching the strings of this man's life unravel, thread by glorious thread. Love is a monster and the world is just as awful as everyone thinks, despite whatever the Black Rider prides herself in saying. What kind of man — no, what kind of guardian would he be to humanity if he didn't try to teach them that?
There's a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as the message opens up. He's brought his legs up underneath him onto the office chair, and can't help but swing back and forth on it slightly as he skims through the response he's gained. There's that same twisted, yet almost childish, glee written across his face and practically singing in his head at the result. Izaya can definitely see himself having fun with this one — whether the man on the other end of the line ever realises his strings are being plucked or not. A mug of tea sits beside the keyboard, steaming softly towards the ceiling, and the loft is quiet; perfect for Izaya to delight in the beginning of what he is certain is going to be a delicious game — leading a man to his ruin, what can be a better pastime than that? Izaya laughs, because nothing can be.
'Nice to meet you Nakura, I'm Shinozuka, and I'm
pretty sure that people don't taste sweet but how
do I know you're my type of sweet anyway? Yeah,
okay, that was pretty awful, I'm not the best at this.'
Izaya wonders what the man on the other end of the line had gone through in sending that, what he had thought and mused and looked like. Had he been flustered by Izaya's words and blushed? Or had he simply been unphased by it? Izaya had made sure to be subtle in his first message — but cheeky. He's well aware this is most like Shinozuka's first time on a site like this, and Izaya has enough experience in toying with people to know the kind of approach that first timers like. So Izaya can play the part for them, he can give them his confidence when it's apparent they lack their own. He wonders how long it took the man to come up with this response, something that tried to be as playful as his own but jsut fell up short in his apparent naivety to this kind of thing. It was almost cute, really. Izaya can already begin to form a picture of this man simply from the first few words he's received from him, and the game hasn't even properly started to tick over yet. Izaya's body is humming with the thrill and the enjoyment and he half hopes this proves to be even more entertaining than the last game he played — though that's certainly a tall order to meet, organising the girl's kidnapping had left him skipping around the city for days utterly joyously for days beforehand.
Izaya makes a mental note to throw in some more saucy lines in future messages, to see if he earns the same reaction then, or if he can tempt forward anymore different emotions. With that in mind, he swiftly clicks the reply button to tap out his response. The smirk never once leaves his face, even after he's clicked send and reached for his tea.
'Oh, I wouldn't say that. Besides, I wouldn't worry,
I'm everyone's type of sweet, so I'm sure I'll suit
your tastebuds just fine. But ah, where have my
manners gone? How are you today, Shino-chan?'