He turns back to the silverware drawer, intent on fishing out a spoon to stir in the sugar and cream, but a straight corner catches his eye, and he draws out an object that gets an exasperated sigh.

"Cesar, the kitchen is not the place for books..."

This time, he opens it to a random page rather than setting it aside or waiting for Cesar to take it from him, but that random page has made him blanch, and compels him to flip to other pages. His eyes devour their contents until they fall on words that confirm what he knows, has known for months ever since Fuyuka had given him the information. His own name is written there, framed in a context that's still hollowly devastating months later, and furthermore, it comes with a pulse: his breath catches as his mind is flooded with the memory of a notebook with a black cover, and the names of thousands of victims written on its pages.