` âWhaâ? What do you mean my disguise is â not good enough â? Hm! Perhaps that is just you, yes! For when I walked past a shop, for a brief moment, I saw myself in the windowâs very reflection! && I thought to myself: Arceus, Looker! Who is that?! but then, I remembered! It is me! Ha ha haâ! ` His own nervous laughter was cut off by his commissioner grunting in disapproval, murmuring something about how he â canât mess this up â.
This was Looker, remember.
` Ha! No, no! I will not let you down, no sir! Yes, for I, the great Lookerâ `
As shady grownups went, they didn't come any shadier or... well, more grown than Az. There were certain modern subtleties that were lost on him-- changes in the way people viewed him and interacted as civilizations began to better organize themselves. Much like âcellular phonesâ and âInternet,â the concept of âloiteringâ had yet to fully take root in the ancient man's mind. Of course, he realized  people had an adverse reaction to his presence whenever he entered a city, and that the law enforcement of those cities paid him a special amount of attention wherever he lingered, but the correlation between the two had never fully occurred to him. After all, it was a rare thing indeed for Az to be attentive enough to make those sorts of connections. At any given time, he tended to be mentally elsewhere-- someplace far away and long ago.
So Az was understandably caught off guard when his surprisingly gentle tap on the shoulder was greeted with such a sudden, fierce glare. And couldn't he have sworn the smaller man had an entirely different face not a moment ago...?
â...Ah?â While there was most certainly ever-present suspiciousness about his jagged features, he seemed mostly caught off guard, eyes wild and wide, mouth slightly agape. He was a man perpetually and just slightly confused by the pace of the world around him.
â...Pardon,â he said in that low, soft voice of his, making some token effort of composing himself. Az extended a hand to the man, something grasped delicately by huge, grubby fingers. It looked to be a styrofoam cup of cheap instant noodles, still wrapped in cellophane. He cleared his throat, perhaps a little awkwardly.
âEarlier... you may have dropped this.â
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