His eyes snapped open, completely awake and free from the hold any dreamy realm might've had on him once pain sprang up from deep within the caving insides of his hipbones. He huffed, a gasp squeaking piteously through his teeth as he glanced down to find Jin’s thumbs digging into his skin, quite clearly tearing through it’s soft tissue and enticing out small sparks of blood through the flimsy nothing of his own undershirt - “Jin-!” he yelped, and glanced up frantically, “Jin - it hurts-!!”
“Hey~,” but elder just smiled back warmly, oblivious to his problems. “Tell me what you did to him, Kazu? Won’t you?”
“Did to who— Jin, stop it!”
“Because - it’s your fault, he said - because of you, he said; DID, he said,” Jin continued charmingly, “ ‘dissociative identity disorder,’ ‘multiple personality disorder,’ he says,” he laughed, but mirthlessly and a tad crazily, “says he’s been diagnosed with what?-.”
And Kazuya turned up, very seriously and painfully awake now, without question; mouth unhinged at this sudden shock of a revelation. He was reeling to say the least, because this was personal information Jin was reiterating, this was information that - sure, a underworld informant could have - but wasn’t likely to have, because this was far too medically specific - far too into his brother’s depth of knowledge and far too out of depth of an informant's particular interests.
And so - “Kou-nii-?” he gasped, pale and shaking his head now - “wait, Jin - that isn’t…,” he wheezed helplessly, “that wasn’t-.”
“Some ‘SEVERE ass psychosis borne of grave abuse and resulting in mindless violence’?” Jin smiled, though he was digging holes through Kazuya’s skin, “what is that?!” he laughed again, “hah, Kazuya - what is that?! What abuse - what violence?!” - his voice was escalating -, "he's my best friend, you’d think I'd know about any abuse he's been through, don't you think?!"
“I don’t - it’s nothing! Jin - Jin!” he shoved his palms up against his shoulders, trying to steady himself given the way the elder was shaking him - quite literally - for answers. “He was messing with your head - you know him. Listen to me - he was-.”
He’d had it with this bullshit game of everyone’s.
“LYING?!” he outright yelled this time. And Kazuya flinched, “you’re going to try to pull that off now?! NOW?!”
“Jin it hurts-,” he whispered, pressing one hand across his stomach, smoothing the other down the elder’s jaw, “stop it - please-.”
“Just tell me, will you? Hey-,” Jin begged - and he knew he was being crazy and paranoid about this because he was fully conscious about the wounds he was digging into the younger’s hips. “Kazu? Please? Please?”
He held his breath as tired hazel eyes wandered up to find his.
“Please?” he repeated, with a smile he hoped would serve to do something - anything, “tell me, please? Tell me it’s not true?”
“What’s not true?” Kazuya’s brow tweaked, just a little bit.
Jin laughed, face worried. “What Yamapi did - tell me it’s not true?”
“That he didn’t commit mass murder,” he laughed again, and those hazel eyes went wide - “hey?” Jin chuckled, “hey - tell me? He didn’t do it, right Kazu - you didn’t drive him crazy, did you? Heh, did you? You’re not that cruel are you-?”
Jin knew before the answer came - Kouji hadn’t been lying.
“Kazu - please? Zuza?” he shook the idol in front of him.
Kazuya’s eyes - had been going flat; turning more and more distant with each conflicted question, becoming ten degrees colder with each query.
“Zuza, please?” Jin begged.
But he already knew.
Kazuya or not, his best friend was not okay. Not mentally alright.
He was crazy - yes.
And Kazuya promptly sat back. Eyes empty, he turned away without a word.
Pi had killed thirty people in his rage just as Suzuha had said...yes.
“No,” Jin grimaced.
His grip eased.
Blood stopped seeping from the wounds he’d scratched open into the younger’s hips.
“On, no, no, noo - you can’t be serious-.”
Oh, but he was.
Even as his bandmate avoided him, sitting up slightly again and stretching his right leg down - toes straining and he snatched up his fallen track pants with his foot - Jin knew.
Yamapi was a mass murderer-
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kazuya muttered lowly as he pulled his trousers up his legs, sitting up once more to wiggle himself into the pants fully.
And Jin froze.
More than half of him was focused on the knife; the knife near Kazuya - the knife that was within reaching distance of himself.
He wondered vaguely to himself - that if Yamapi had gotten away with mass murder, seeing as how wasn’t in jail and still performing as an entertainer - maybe Ossan would cover up a single murder on Jin’s part. God knew he had a hand in keeping whatever atrocity it was his best friend was responsible for out of the tabloids and newspapers; maybe he’d do the same for him - “are you listening?”
He glanced up with a flinch.
Kazuya, now fully clothed, without any evidence to whatever debauchery of a debacle had just occurred five minutes earlier, watched him with those, intent, dead eyes.
“Wha-?” he mumbled
“You’re still on Sanae’s meds,” the younger stated quietly, “your head’s taking you places, Jin. You need rest - so go to bed-.”
“IT’S NOT-!” Jin started abruptly.
“THE HELL IT IS, AKANISHI - NOW SHUT UP AND-!”
“WHAT-?!” Kazuya more or less yelped when the kitchen door was suddenly flung open to reveal a frantic Kou armed with a single plastic cup.
“What.” Jin frowned a moment later.
“HI!” he gasped and stuck the thing out in front of him when he subjected to irritated scowls from both idols in the room. “I - uh - hi-.”
“You said that,” Kazuya cut off.
“U-Um-!” - Jin groaned, turning away and promptly stalking off to the other side of the island, needing time to cool his head and not be subject to whatever this stupidity was. “I-I…,” - the fact that this kid had come in to break up whatever fight the two of them had been obliviously caught up in, was so painfully obvious.
And Jin very nearly succumbed to feeling sorry for the kid, had the kid not been so stupid enough as to just stick his head in and -
“I’m thirsty!” Kou yelped frantically, pale and red in the same second.
Kazuya’s scowl turned hell-borne. “I gave you a whole pitcher of lemonade, kid,” he snarled.
“What-? Oh yeah, no - I mean yeah, of course sir, of course - I just,” Kou gestured to his empty glass with a flourish, “i-it’s…,” he started helplessly while Jin decided that this particular carpenter hadn’t a chance in hell at being any kind of liar. “It’s empty-?”
“I can see that,” his employer made a face, “now get something and get out. We’re busy here,” he demanded with a finger to the fridge.
“Get something, something-anything?” Kou inched carefully towards the fridge.
Kazuya’s eyes narrowed.
Kou caught a hint; moved fast, like someone had set his heels on fire as he scrambled for the fridge and knocked over about twenty things in getting the single, easiest thing to reach - the juice.
Jin rolled his eyes, turning slightly to watch the small, concentrated disaster that was a frightened 20-something-year-old failing at breaking the tension in the room - the way he’d probably intended to.
He sighed, figuring that no matter the levels of stupidity - nobody (but himself and his best friends, Ryo especially) was really worth the full heat of a poisonously irritated Kazuya, and so he turned a little more.
“Sorry about tha-,” he started to apologize the carpenter scrambling out of the kitchen, like an decent human being probably would, having scared an innocent kid half to death - but as Kazuya would have it, he could do his own apologizing - or lack of it. As was indicated by the glass tumbler he slammed down onto the counter beside his thigh.
“Che,” Jin growled, offering him the darkest of his annoyed scowls just as Kou turned, judged himself to be out of his depth, and fled.
“At least maintain your fucking image, will you?” he spat when the door slammed into it’s frame.
Kazuya promptly pitched the tumbler at his head. A warning to shut up and shut up quick because the thing flew wide and Jin didn’t bother moving a muscle or breaking his glare when the glass flew past his head and slammed with a shatter into the cabinets behind him-
“Ice?!” gasped Kou, who suddenly stuck his head back into the kitchen - apparently still hopeful at any chance of breaking this particular fight.
He found himself squeaking and running when the younger of the two idols abruptly lifted an arm above his head, fished a glass flute from the cabinet above him and flung it at him.
Jin wrinkled his nose as he watched the second glass shatter.
“Wha-,” he started as his eyes followed the falling pieces to the tile, before he snapped his head back. “Really?”
Kazuya gave him the finger.
“Those cost money, you know?” Jin continued, unfazed.
The finger waved frantically in his face.
Jin promptly gave up on logical scolding. Sighing, he turned away and snarled loudly through his teeth, reaching to his head to mess up his hair as he resisted screaming - “GOD! I fucking HATE you, bitccchhhh-! UGH!” he yelled into his arms nevertheless just to suffice himself, before he suddenly eased, rolled his shoulder, cracked his neck, and stalked off to the broom closet.
Kazuya, though amused at the contradiction, traced him away with sober eyes. Half curling into himself, he watched on remorselessly as Jin cleaned up after him, sweeping up the shattered glass into a dustpan and spooning it off into the plastic bag he’d probably tie into another plastic bag before actually trashing it - goody good, safety-officer-daddy that he was.
“Hmh,” he hummed softly and under his breath at the thought, bringing his legs together tight as he imagined it vaguely - unshaven, rugged, daddy-mode Jin with his indecipherable hair scraped back, panicked and herding his kid away as he cleaned up yet another one of Meisa’s dangerous messes-
He pulled his legs the tiniest inch closer together, blinking rapidly out of it and falling back to reality when shattered glass clinked and clanked as Jin rebagged the mess and flung it into the trash.
“You said…,” he murmured suddenly, soft as the downy in his Persian pillows, speaking into the wrist he’d pressed against his lips as he watched the black bag hit home and disappear, “- back at the hospital,” he tilted his head, eyes wandering across the counter he was sitting on, “-the day after I gave you your gun…”
“Ha?” Jin eyed the glass trash bag in the bin, before shutting it and glancing over his shoulder. “What about it?”
Kazuya shrugged. “You said…,” he turned his face forward once more, eyes downcast, “that you wouldn’t take it -.”
“-Because I’m NOT a killer,” Jin frowned and turned completely now, having shoved everything back into the broom closet. “I told you then, and I’m telling you now - I’m still not a-.”
“I told you to take it for your protection,” Kazuya interrupted quietly.
“And I told you, you’re all the protection I need,” the man behind him retorted, “we’re connected, remem-.”
“What if…,” curious shades of hazel, “…I’m not?”
Jin blinked. What?
“W…?” - was all he managed out loud, though.
Kazuya stared the marble top for a while, thinking thoughts for that silent while, those fingers of his left absentmindedly rubbing over the handle of the cutting knife lying beside his leg. “What if,” he tilted his head up, finally eyeing his roommate - the most attractive smile complementing his roseate hue as he did, “I’m not your protection?”
The latter twitched, his face twisting strangely. “Kazu,” he laughed, nervously, “we’re connected, anything that happens to me happens to you. If I die, you die - of course you’re going to-.”
Jin flinched. The way he’d said it made it sound as if he had no problem doing the exact opposite.
His brow ticked. His eyes wandered to where Kazuya spun the kitchen knife in his hand like it was a blade made for fighting; spinning it with a certain practiced sort of skill and he remembered. My brother is heartless.
“You aren’t?” he tried to keep from sounding as incredulous as he felt, but in ultimate vain, judging from the slight smile Kazuya currently had on.
“Mnn…,” he tilted his head - an awkward degree. “Not that particularly…,” he murmured to himself thoughtfully, “but what if…,” he glanced back up again, staring Jin in the eye for a minute before continuing, “what if one day, it’s me you need protecting from?”
My brother is not kind.
Jin breathed in deeply. Was this why Kouji had told him to remember that? He opened his mouth, stayed wordless for a minute before he tilted his head, mouth shutting and twitching to the side as he shrugged in some sort of helpless gesture. “I’d ask you not to kill me,” he replied quietly, and was all too aware of the knife that began spinning the slightest bit faster through Kazuya’s fingers.
The younger offered him the smallest fraction of a sly smile - one that wasn’t the least bit comforting.
And suddenly Jin felt very tiny in a world that was far too wicked because faster and faster went that knife until Kazuya finally twirled it one last time before slamming it down with a conclusive ’shink!’ into the cutting board beside him.
“Night,” he smiled endearingly as he swung his legs from over the countertop.
But Jin deigned him no reply, eyes magnetized to the knife for a long moment before he simply left and headed back to his bed where he sat down silently before the open suitcase beside it - though try as he might, he couldn’t focus in the least bit on the clothes he was packing because he was seriously thinking now that, maybe - just maybe, it wasn’t Kei, or Kai, or their father, or Suzu, or her connections, or anyone downside the legal world that would be the end of him - but maybe, just maybe - it was that beautiful demon in the kitchen, a door away from him.
It was four in the morning when Kazuya heard the creak of floorboards, muffled by carpet. Jin was asleep, or was at least pretending to be; and Kou was all but comatose in the futon Kazuya had laid out for him between their beds a few hours ago.
So he turned up, trying to find to the energy to get annoyed and face the only other person outrageous enough to sneak in this late; but he couldn’t, as Kouji stuck his head in past the kitchen door.
“Tsk,” he ended up sighing.
And - “Zuza…,” he slid into the kitchen, quieter than the shadow he cast; force of habit - Kazuya had learned soon enough. His brother had run too many covert operations to remember that the people around him weren’t enemies of the country. Everyone was suspicious, and with the endless info pool Kouji had at his fingertips every second of every day, Kazuya didn’t blame him anymore.
“What is it?” he replied, folding shut the manila folder with KAT-TUN’s decided track list and solo schedules for their comeback concert. “Where were you?” he continued as he turned around; Kouji silencing the kitchen door’s creaky swings under the influence of the same instinct that had him muffle his steps. “Jin came back hours ago, I was getting worr…,” he quieted as his brother mutely slid something onto the marble varnish of the island between them.
“He knows,” Kouji reported simply as Kazuya dragged the chit of paper over to his side of the counter, a hidden tremble rocking through his nails as he tapped the edge of the paper to his folder in sudden burst of anxiety.
“How much…?” he inquired after a minute of tracing the scribbled words on it.
“A lot, though he doesn’t know how much he actually knows himself,” his brother swayed where he stood, elbows landing on the marble top, face dropping into his palms, “this Tetsuyama Suzuha character knows a lot - though…,” he tilted his head, eyes rolling down as he refused to reveal orbs of darkening suspicion to his little brother, “I suppose that’s expected of an information broker…,” he rationalized peaceably instead.
Kazuya wasn’t buying it though.
“That’s not it…,” he’d always beaten them all at their lying games; Yuzan was the only person who could best him, which put Kouji - playful and juvenile - nowhere near them. Not when it came to this kind of lying, “- is it?”
He looked up, hazel eyes fixing Kouji with an emotional stare. “That’s not it,” he repeated quietly and tapped twice at the chit, “you’re suspicious of her,” Kouji balanced his chin in his palm, eyes roving on Kazuya’s, “you’re suspicious that she knows so much.”
“Not many people know his real face,” - it was the Interpol Captain speaking now - “if Jin hadn’t answered as quickly as he had, I wouldn’t have worried too much - but,” he looked off to the side again, fussing with his diamond stud, “he recognized Kei fast, and not by ignoring the first photo-,” - which meant this Tetsuyama character had shown him a picture of the real Kei, one whose face he’d registered and remembered well enough to not even spare a glance his double’s way - Kouji didn’t say it out loud though; let his little brother figure it out for himself so that he could stare despairingly at the wall over his shoulder.
“What else?” Kazuya swallowed.
“From the looks of it, she gave him the usual spiel, Hikifune Family, Kei’s doubles, his First Ring - with a little extra, pictures and whatnot I’m guessing,” Kouji shrugged, eyes sinking down.
The younger felt his heart sink with it. “What.”
Kouji rolled his lips in, fidgeting with his fingers and staring at them while he did for a while, before tilting his head thoughtfully.
“Contact I had stationed in his ghetto says she asked about the Keys - their security seals.”
Kazuya stilled, didn’t dare to move. “What about them?”
“If… he knew about them..”
“And?” the younger tried swallowing again with his dry throat. “Does he?”
But Kouji didn’t answer. Just shrugged, “from the looks of it, no - but now that he’s heard of it-.”
“That’s it,” Kazuya promptly muttered to himself after wasting a minute doing just that. “We’re fucked,” he declared, and turned away.
“Quit with the drama,” Kouji sighed.
“And explain to me how we’re not again?” Kazuya turned back in his full frantically irritated glory, “last I checked, I can’t control who he sees - and who he’s seeing right now is an information broker who knows way too much and is giving that way too much to him for free!”
“You could always tell Kei-.”
“And what?” the idol snapped, voice rising too quickly, too soon, “have him eliminate the problem?! Don’t be stupid, you know how he deals with these kinds of things-.”
“So?” Kouji shrugged nonchalantly.
“So she works for Sumiyoshi-kai, Kou-nii - she’s their prime arms dealer-,” his brother started lecturing.
“What ‘and’?” Kazuya gasped melodramatically, “if he kills her, he takes away The Second Family’s best weapon source - he’d be declaring war against his own syndicate!”
“Like the heirs don’t already hate each other enough,” Kouji frowned back, “you’d just be giving The First Family good reason to wipe out those troublemakers - it’s a win-win for everyone-.”
“It is not!” his little brother yelped incredulously. And he was loud enough to urge a minute-long plague of silence.
“Besides, what makes you think Kei will win?” Kazuya continued, lowering his voice after it had passed and Kouji had looked away, “Kozaro isn’t a pushover; neither is Hareaki - Kei hasn’t made trouble for them because of that-.”
“Kei,” the older Kamenashi interrupted pointedly, “hasn’t made trouble for them because he knows how bad it would look if the heir to The First Family were to kill a potential heir to The Second Family,” he ended rolling his eyes.
“Be that as it may,” the younger held his ground, refusing to lose his temper again as he folded his arms, “I won’t be the one giving him the reason to do that.”
Kouji stared at him; judging eyes bared for all to see.
“You’re being an idiot,” he finally sighed after a minute, looking away, “but then you’ve always been one; so I can’t help that.”
“Don’t tell The King,” Kazuya pressed.
“I wouldn’t, he’s your problem, not mine,” the latter frowned for a second, letting the look melt before he leveled a narrow gaze back. “What’re you going to do, then?”
His little brother immediately wet his lips; neck cricked as he turned away and lifted a hand a massage the nape of it as he thought.
“Figure out her sources, I guess…,” he mumbled to himself after a minute, “like you said, not many people know his real face - her contacts would be limited.”
“And what of Jin?” Kouji knew he’d asked the wrong thing when Kazuya’s face went ashen with thoughts he’d obviously stopped himself from thinking of. “Underworlders don’t do anything just because it’s the right thing to do, they’re called Underworlders for a reason,” he continued all the same, “she has to be gaining something from giving him information people normally pay for-.”
“Don’t ignore this, Zuza,” his older brother cut back warningly, “you’re an idiot, but leaving this end loose, makes you a complete blockhead.”
“I know,” Kazuya insisted irritably, the slight thump his fist against the island top shutting the subject down before he could be goaded any further.
Kouji just stared at him, unfazed - like he was waiting for something, before he shrugged - seeming to having found what he’d been searching for. “Then,” he smiled, childish act back in place, “I’ll leave you to it-,” - Kazuya caught his arm before he could leave.
“What?” he turned.
“You’re forgetting something.”
“What did you tell him?” Kazuya accused quietly.
“Ehhhh?” his brother immediately whined, any pretense of any dark horse interpol colonel utterly down the drain, “what’re you talking about, asshole~? You sent in your pet Ueda before I could get anywhere-,” - slight accusation edged the skillfully blunt knife that was Kamenashi Kouji and his words.
“Kou-nii,” the younger glanced up. “Don’t make me do this, what did you tell Jin-?”
Kouji’s identical eyes held his in all sincerity. “Kazu,” he smiled gently, “don’t worry so much, I wouldn’t-.”
“Then what did you tell him?”
“NOTHING - Jesus-!”
“You told him about Yamapi - about his psych disorder. Why—?!”
“No,” Kouji snapped and held a finger up into his face before he could finish, “no - Tetsuyama was the one who told him about Yamashita’s massacre that n-…ah…,” he trailed off abruptly, just then remembering he’d never actually told Kazuya about the phone conversation between Jin and Suzuha the day of Kai’s bombing, just that they’d had a convo - nothing of the contents.
Hence, Kazuya looking positively horrified.
“Mh- shit,” Kouji groaned, pressing his hand into his face for a long moment - “HE KNOWS ABOUT WHAT YAMAPI DID AT THE AUCTION-?!”
“Waaaiiit, not like that - Kazu,” Kouji winced as he turned skyward, “she just - um,” he licked his lips glancing at the kitchen floor and studying for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut, “he just knows about the thirty he offed during the first half of your auction, I mean it’s not that-,” he paused when the clamp on his waist turned iron.
The pale face he met when he turned up urged another grimace fro him as he lifted his free hand to wave it in what he hoped looked reassuring, “look, I know that sounds bad-.”
“What ‘sounds bad,’ -? That is BAD!” Kazuya gasped, “Kou-nii, that’s the worst kind of bad - ohmygod Yamapi’s going to freak out-! What am I going to do-?!” he let go of his brother to grab his hair - “ok, ok wait-,” Kouji hurried to keep him from yanking his locks out - “wait a second, wait a second - why do you think I even told him about Yamashita in the first place?”
“To get him scared of us, obviously!”
And the elder rolled his eyes - “you literally do not trust me, do you?” he muttered under his breath, before speaking up, “I did it so that he’d get the situation, idiot - Tetsuyama already told him about his DID - I just explained it a bit so that he wouldn’t go to the cops thinking his best friend’s some homicidal freak-.”
“YAMAPI IS A HOMICIDAL FREAK!”
“Yes,” Kouji stressed,” be that as it may, but he’s the only homicidal freak running around killing the bad guys under Kei’s protection - he’s useful to Interpol, Kazu - I can’t have the cops getting on his case, not now-,” and that seemed to strike a chord.
Possibly because - it made perfect logical sense.
Veteran cops, corrupted as they were in Ishiyama - bought out handsomely everywhere else in the country were perfectly useless against the mafia; and by far, as statistics stood, Yamashita Tomohisa - though labeled as ‘dangerous’ in Interpol’s records was as perfect a citizen in legal civilization as he was a free and protected mercenary in it’s illegal counterpart. Ergo, he was useful. Especially in these deceptive times.
Kazuya took a breath when he registered that, color slowly coming back to his face.
Kouji eased back when he saw that, subtly making to pull his little brother’s hands away from his hair and set them down on the counter. “It’s under control, Kazu,” he calmed him quietly, as he squeezed his hands in his own, “Jin’s operation - it’s getting sped up, I know he wasn’t supposed to find out about Yamashita just yet - but it’s okay,” Kouji whispered gently, rubbing his thumbs in circles on the backs of the younger’s hands, “I swear to you, everything is fine - he’s under control, okay?” Kazuya nodded slowly, “yeah?” Kouji grinned carefully, “really?”
“Yeah,” the younger murmured back, sniffed and breathed in deeply, rocking back and tilting his head up, “yeah…,” he repeated, as if he were ensuring himself of the fact, before he turned back. “What else?” he prompted.
And Kouji rolled his eyes, letting go of his hands, “I told him to quit being an idiot and figure out why that old bastard Johnny’s scheduled your reunions all together,” he shrugged.
“And that Yamashita and Tatsuya has issues and-!” he flung his free hand up into the air before his little brother could demand what else he’d told his bandmate, “that Kei’s playing with his head, so he might do himself some good trying to figure the fucking game out. Why won’t you trust me, for God’s sake? I’m your brother, you know?”
“Because Sanae wants to tell him-.”
“Kazuya,” - and the younger silenced, turning a slow shade of embarrassed red because he knew he was in the wrong here.
“I-,” he faltered with a grimace, “-just-.”
“You’re worried, I know -,” his brother reached over to stroke his cheek with the back of his hand, “but I wouldn’t put you in danger like that, even if that means Jin’s going to suffer for it - you’re my brother, you’re priority and I love you.”
“Mh,” Kazuya nodded, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead and shutting his eyes as he tried massaging out his migraine, “sorry, I’m just…,” he shook his head, “sorry-.”
“Yeah, you better be - putting me through all the trouble you do - a normal guy, would be dead by now, you know?” Kouji sighed, leaning back across the counter to press his forehead against his younger brother’s for a long moment as Kazuya pulled himself back together, shaking loose all the tension in his head. “Get rest,” he added, “Jin’s probably going to be iffy as fuck for your entire vacation -.”
“Ugh, God,” Kazuya groaned, wincing.
“-Might as well save up your energy to deal with him,” Kouji finished, “come on-,” he reached over grabbing the younger’s wrist this time, “mom’s going to kill me if you pull your entire insomnia shit on her again,” he muttered as he pulled his brother along with him to his bed where he pushed Kazuya into bed first before bouncing up beside him and curling in close.
“‘Night,” he hissed.
“Hn,” Kazuya returned.
And to sleep they went, while in the bed across from them - Jin contemplated on what he’d just overheard.