[ Something shifts in the teen's gaze, well before she speaks. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and scar-riddled fingers curl into his palms, balling them into trembling fists. His self-control is point for point as measured as hers, for he waits until after all is said to spit his retort. ]

I'm not the kicked dog in this room right now, Kirijo. [ He leans ever so slightly towards her while he speaks, but to the already-anxious scientists he may as well have lunged at their throats. As a group, they shuffle back towards the door. Kaito holds himself there, looking like he wants to say more... but the rage seething in his eyes dies down, and he takes a step back. The malice in his voice is gone; in its place, a faint hint of understanding. ]

Save that pity for yourself, for... whatever the hell it is you're grieving for.

[ Make no mistake—the redhead constructed her facade immaculately. There was nothing to read in either her gaze or her level features. Yet this simply confirms more of Ikutsuki's sins. One of the experiments performed on Kaito awakened a preternatural sense of empathy in him, uncannily accurate to the point of being mistaken for mind reading.

Kaito turns and stoops to grab a luggage case from under his bed. He tosses it on the mattress and flips the lid open before glancing over his shoulder. ]

I accept your terms, though I imagine I didn't have much choice in the matter to begin with. It beats being stared at by those cowards like I'm some starving beast.