The Analyst

𝚇𝙸𝙸𝙸: 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎

Shoto and I sat on a plush couch that had been cleaned especially for us. The rest of the room seemed a bit dirty, but was straightened and dusted. Enji, as Shoto's father told me to call him, sat across from us on a red chair resembling a throne. He and I made fierce eye contact, and I already knew it would be a long night of keeping up a wall.

"Would you like something to drink?" He says, rising and finally breaking eye contact.

My move.

"I would rather enjoy that sir, what do you have?" I say sweetly, Shoto catching my eye with some difficulty.

Be careful.

I'll be fine, I mouthed back, but Shoto still looked uneasy.

"I could make you a margarita? I'm sure you'd enjoy that." Without looking at him, I knew from his tone of voice he was mocking my femininity by way of stereotypes.

"I'll have a whiskey straight." I sat back, but even turning to face the man. I hear him pour my drink, and after a minute he hands Shoto and I our drinks. He seems to have some sort of concoction, derived from multiple different forms of alcohol.

"So (L/N) was it? What's your alias? Where are you on the chart?" He asks, and I know it was the question he'd been dying to ask since we arrived.

"I'm not on the chart, sir." I say, sipping my sour drink.

"Not in the chart? But you are a hero?"

"No sir. I have my license, by alas, am still not a hero." I say, trying to hide my smirk.

"What do you do then?" Enji says, leaning back in his chair, eyeing me with disgust.

"I'm head detective and head profiler if this precinct of Japan." I say simply.

"What is a profiler?" He asks. Mortal.

"A profiler is a trained professional that can look at human behavior, simple things like what paintings you have and how simple or intricate your fine china is. We use this information to build a profile of a criminal. It's just basic human psychology at its finest. Sir." I explain, staring into my glass the whole time. I look up when I finish explaining, seeing Enji with his eyebrow slightly raised.

"And what can you tell about me?" He says leaning forward.

You underestimate my power.

I look him over, up down and side to side. Finally, a take a sip of my drink, placing it on a coaster. I lock eyes with the behemoth man.

"You underestimate me. You don't think the profiling is a reliable way of fighting crime, but that's ok, most people don't. You have a huge home but you don't really live here, you simply exist here. You're here when you're not on duty. You're here when your not doing a publicly stint. You try not to be here at all if you can help it.

"Your plants are fake, most likely because you're never here to take care of them, but they're most likely a reflection of your life. You can't care for things the way you're supposed to, or have a hard time doing so. They take up space, making the house feel a bit more full and a bit less empty, making you feel less lonely when you actually are here." He wears a shocked expression but recovers quickly.

"Anything else you would like to know?" I asked. "I could go deep into your ancestry, or perhaps your past marriage—"

"What is your quirk?" He asks blandly.

You weren't kidding Shoto, I thought, he is rather straight forward. Way to mention something completely unrelated.

"It's called Analyst sir." I say simply, staring his father down.