who do you think you are?

Several days passed, and Izaya was still waiting on people to get back to him. Kumiko hadn't contacted him, so he assumed all was fine in that regard.

... Unless she'd decided not to bother him, or tried to deal with something herself. Whilst he could respect the girl for trying to steady her footing in the world, dealing with such matters, especially if she hasn't before...

He wasn't too far from the apartment, just a couple of minutes detour and then he was knocking on his own door.

Kumiko had started when she heard the knock and took a moment to collect herself. Somebody who was looking to harm her wouldn't knock on the door. Unless they took pleasure in giving people false senses of security.

Regardless, unless she was dealing with somebody like that, it left only one person that she could think of that knew the place. Izaya.

It was strange that she almost felt a little relieved with the thought. Still, she moved to the door and opened it, though she quirked a brow when she did.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Orihara?"

"I was this side of town," Izaya said with a shrug, slipping round Kumiko and into the apartment. He glanced around the place, noting nothing had changed. "Thought I'd come by. See if there was anything you'd been looking into yourself."

He moved about the place, checking the alarm system was still functioning as it should, and patting the underside of the table down to ensure the bug was still there.

Kumiko watched him silently, tilting her head in slight curiosity. She furrowed her brows when he checked the alarm system, then became all the more curious when he checked under the table.

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were concerned, Mr. Orihara," she told him as she moved over. "I haven't been looking into anything. I honestly wouldn't know where to start and I'd rather avoid attracting attention to myself."

"You can think what you like," Izaya hummed idly as he double checked the frequency with his phone.

He glanced up when Kumiko said she wouldn't know where to start, and shrugged a shoulder.

"I've met more mob boss daughters than I can count," he said. "Some think themselves above the local riff raff, think daddy's influence means they know what to do." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, tapping his phone against them. "Admittedly, some can be quite lethal, I met a real wild one back in school... Not that you seem the type, but better doubtful than dead, or whatever it is."

"My father kept me out of the mob world as much as he could. I wasn't even aware of his business until I was in highschool," Kumiko told him as she continued to eye him silently. "He was pretty discreet about it until then. But, his mob started getting more attention, so he stopped being discreet."

She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug and, mostly because Izaya's behavior was starting to unnerve her a bit, she moved to sit down on the sofa.

"I won't say that I'm lethal but I do know a little about how to defend myself. Mostly, though, I didn't have to worry about it because my father started making bodyguards stick around."

"Well, I suppose that's a good enough start," Izaya said, slipping his phone back in his pocket. "How did you convince him to let you go without a bodyguard his time round? It would have been an easy enough cover, perhaps sweet young newlyweds?"

He eyed Kumiko.

"But maybe the life of a housewife isn't for you, hm? Maybe something more interesting?"

Kumiko shook her head slightly. "As much as my father trusts his men in his business, he does not trust them to be alone with me for extended periods of time," she said simply. "And he certainly doesn't trust them to be alone with me in an unfamiliar city for who knows how long."

She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug because she had already accepted this knowledge.

Izaya abruptly straightened from his slouch, a frown on his face.

"Did these men do anything to earn this particular state of mistrust, Miss Yuki?" he asked, moving round the room to look at her properly.

"Other than talk crudely?" Kumiko asked as she eyed the man with confusion. "Not exactly. One did attempt to grope me, but that was before he knew I was his bosses daughter."

That was when she was younger, though. And the man had been punished for it, too.

"Ah," Izaya nodded, leaning back against the wall. He noted the look of confusion on her face. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to offer some information about himself, most in the area knew of them already.

"I have two younger sisters," he said, "twins. Completely intolerable most of the time. I advise you stay away if you ever happen to encounter them. It was ensured that they could protect themselves, even if they're perhaps a little too enthusiastic with it. But I've seen to looks some men give them, and such violators will not be tolerated within Ikebukuro."

Kumiko was more than a little surprised to hear the information he gave her about himself.

"So, you're surprisingly a somewhat good older brother?" she asked, though her tone was somewhat teasing and there was a small smile on her features. "Who'd have thought that Mr. Orihara has somewhat of a soft spot?"

She quirked a brow, eying him before she moved closer to him and even dared to lean against the wall, next to him. "That makes you a little more tolerable."

Izaya scoffed a laugh, but smiled a little all the same.

"Perhaps you should save your judgement regarding my ability to raise my siblings until you meet them," he told her. "Although 'Mr Orihara' has nothing of the sort, you're beginning to make me feel like my father, and I'm no where near old enough to star behaving like that old bastard. Just... drop the Mr or something."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about your ability to raise your siblings. Just the surprise that came with knowing that you have a soft spot at all," Kumiko told him sincerely.

Hearing his later words, though, she blinked. "So, then... Orihara? Or just Izaya? I was under the impression that businessmen preferred to be spoken to with respect."

"Doesn't everyone?" Izaya quirked a smile. "Even Shizu-chan has soft spots after all, as much as I'm loathed to share anything with him."

He shrugged, "Orihara is fine, Izaya is fine," he huffed a laugh, "A businessman? Hardly. As if one of those stuffed shirts could do anything interesting with their lives. Besides, respect only comes to those who've earned it, it shouldn't be an automatic given."

"Well, I'd assume everybody does, but it does come as a surprise to know that somebody with your personality is capable of caring about anything other than the information he acquires," Kumiko said with a small shrug.

"Izaya, then. It's less formal and, since you don't seem to want the respect, I might as well go for informal, yes?"

Izaya nodded, unfolding his arms to push his hands deep down in his pockets.

"Izaya is fine."

He chose to over look the first comment. She was still learning, after all, what could she know about his personality after the scant few days they've interacted.

This was the most civil conversation that they'd had since he all but blackmailed her to give him information, Kumiko realized. It was a strange realization and one that she wasn't sure how to feel about.

"So, why'd you come here, Izaya?" she asked, genuinely curious. "I'd accept the 'just to drop by' explanation if you hadn't gone around inspecting the place, but, well... you did inspect it, so I don't believe that explanation is very accurate."

"Ah," Izaya smiled, "I admit, I did have other reasons, however today's timing really was only due to being close by."

He walked back over to the table and plucked the bug out from under it, holding it up.

"I wanted to check if these were still picking up as they should be," he said. "Sometimes their frequency gets confused, when phones other than mine are in their vicinity for an extended period of time."

"You planted a bug in your own apartment?" Kumiko asked, though she soon frowned slightly. "When did you bug the apartment, Izaya?"

Had it been when he offered the place to her for a while? Or had it been before then, before they even met?

Regardless of when it was, she couldn't help but feel that her privacy had been invaded.

"Why did you bug the apartment?"