Two or four years ago, anyone who gave Jigen a blank check and told him to meet them in an isolated location at night would be told to go screw themselves. Now, Jigen's a lot more desperate and a lot less picky. There's even some part of him, a part he tries to pretend doesn't exist, that wouldn't mind if it was just a complicated murder attempt.

The man's face seems so trustworthy, despite his size and gruffness. Jigen can't pick out why. He collects what few things he has from the places he 's stashed them and loiters outside, a battered duffel bag over his arm.