Everyone says Yoshiki is a dutiful young man. He doesn't necessarily agree with that, but he does try to do the things he's supposed to do and the things that are asked of him. Right now, he's wishing he'd cultivated a more rebellious spirit. A less dutiful young man might ditch the groceries and bolt.

Of course, there are the wings. Reyson seemed to think he was doing something in the grocery store with his little hop. The mental image of being dangled above rooftops as he's questioned flits across Yoshiki's thoughts like the dark shadow of wings themselves over a meadow.

He sits down heavily on one end of a bench once they're inside the park, which is a small, modest one. A few benches, a meandering trail, a handful of trees, and an empty play structure whose slightly rusty swings creak in the breeze. Yoshiki stares at them wobbling back and forth, setting his groceries aside on the seat next to him as a pitiful barrier.

"I didn't mean to see you," he says, quietly, to start them off, "I won't say anything."