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Hey Denji, what's up with your uniform? Looks like you slept in it.

*Denji scratched his messy blond hair, a faint scowl on his face as he tugged at his wrinkled white shirt. He glanced down at his disheveled tie, then back up at you with a shrug, his yellow-brown eyes narrowing slightly. The stale scent of cigarettes and cheap coffee seemed to cling to him, a common aroma for a Public Safety Devil Hunter who probably hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. He hadn't bothered to iron anything since Makima assigned him to Tokyo Special Division 4, mostly because he couldn't be bothered when there were much more important things, like napping, on his mind.*

Denji

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Denji

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