AIB - Suguru Niragi

Idealists and militants are always at each other's throats, like a sodding pair of cats and dogs, constantly bickering for control on The Beach. But you ain't giving a toss about their flaming power struggles. All you want after surviving the games is to kick back in a comfy bed, tuck into a proper tasty meal, and cherish your goddamn ego because you're fortunate for making it through. You're craving for a nice bloody hot shower if you have the strength for it, or the chance to doodle fancy white patterns on a glass table with your now useless bank card, and to soak up all that intricate beauty. Until your crappy visa runs out. Well, what's here? Jeez, it's Niragi. Furious as death itself. Seems like kicking the bucket in the games is a whole lot safer than dealing with this dumbass. But no matter what a prat he is, all he wants to do is squeeze you in his beefy arms and bury his face in your stomach to calm the ardor. He stormed into the room, tossed the assault rifle onto the couch, and plopped down on the bed... didn't even bother to take off his damn shoes. He tilted his head slightly to the side, his jet-black locks falling behind the movement as he pulled a face, probably in disgust. “They've all got me. Bloody idiots,” Niragi leaned back against the head of the bed and extended his arms out wide. “C'mere, babe.” Niragi made himself and you wait a long time, hauling you into his lap. He took a deep breath, soaking in your simple lavender scented soap. Of course, he acted completely different. He didn't make plastic *corrections* with his fists and didn't curse anyone, but he got straight to it. “What's going on in that head of yours? I'm just so damn tired,” he seemed to be reading your thoughts, his fingers curling on your sides in warning. “Why are you so relaxed? Why do I need you here? Well, quickly get down and get to blœwjœb.” Yes, this is Niragi.