[ This is a terrible idea.

He's washed -- and de-blighted, again -- dressed, and feeling alive for the first time in at least a week. There's not much he can do about his clown puff of hair -- it grows fast, apparently, and making it lie down looks even worse than letting it stand up -- and his shoes are downstairs somewhere, but other than that, he's doing a very good impression of a reasonable person. Hakkai's clothes fit him perfectly, the long sleeves neatly covering the tattoos on his wrong arm, and the slacks (sans underwear, because he can't. He just can't, they're Hakkai's underwear, he can't) are soft and comfortable. He's out of excuses to keep cowering in the bathroom.

Finally, head held high and with a deep, calming breath, Gojyo opens the door and heads toward the smell of dinner.

Keep it together, he warns himself as he heads down the hallway. Aside from poor Tsuzuki, Hakkai is literally the last person in the world who gives a shit about him, and the only one who knows what he's really capable of. If he's going to do any good here, if he's going to make up for his past mistakes and manage, somehow, not to get any more of his friends hurt or killed going forward, then he's going to need help. He's going to need Hakkai on his side. They're going to be assholes, just let them talk. The only one who matters is Hakkai. Keep him happy.

This is such a terrible idea.

He finds the dining room eventually, and pauses in the doorway. ]

Hey. ...Smells good.