"Have you decided how you're going to do this?" Yami questions from his seat at the top of the stairs.

   "For the third time, I'm still thinking about it." I fold the final piece of clothing in the basket before flopping down on the floor, arms outstretched beside me. "You're pestering." I tease, wrestling with the grin that threatens to cross my face.

   "I could offer some advice if you like."

   "I appreciate that, but it has to come from me."

   "There's nothing wrong with taking some advice when you need it."

   "Yes, but if I'm only using your tactics then you will be the one seducing them rather than me."

   He huffs in disagreement before resting his chin in his hand. His crimson eyes peer down at me from his perch on the top step like the ruby irises of an avenging angel or some kind of predatory bird. I have to force myself to look away for fear of making my staring too obvious. I suppose there could be some argued benefits to losing any and all attempts at subtlety, but I don't want this to be an assault on Yami's privacy. If he's going to let me into his life, he has to do so willingly and I'll have to present a compelling enough offer for him to consider. Also direct assaults are rather piss poor game strategies, it's one of the few reasons Joey hasn't been able to beat Kaiba at any of his tournaments, that and I think Kaiba likes watching him struggle.

   My chest deflates slightly as I exhale, my eyes staring up at the ceiling. It's weird, Yami and I have been around one another for years, yet I don't know anything personal about him. Outside of his previous occupation as a Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, he hasn't dished out any other personal details about himself or his previous life. I don't know if he was an only child or if he had siblings, what games he liked to play as a kid, was he a bookworm, or was he athletic growing up. I don't even know if he's into men, women, neither, or both. I suppose I can rely on history to tell me that the pharaohs of old were rather liberal with their passions, but Yami isn't a generalization and I can't find it in me to assume anything about him without feeling a pang of guilt, or worrying if I'm a racist due to the natural assumptions that come to mind about his background.

   Yami's overwhelming grasp on his privacy is honestly one of the most frustrating things about him. He makes it so difficult to get to know him on a personal level. To a certain extent, I'm not even sure he wants anyone to know him on a deeper level than a passing acquaintance, my friends are a perfect example, even when I was trapped in the orichalcos and they had uninterrupted time with him they couldn't discover a single thing about him. I doubt they could even tell me what kind of foods he liked, or if he even ate the entire time we were separated.

   "What are you thinking about Yugi?"

   "Nothing important." I mumble, tapping a slow, quiet rhythm on my chest as I stare up at the ceiling.

   "For your information," he yawns. "I did eat while you were gone. My diet mainly consisted of whatever small snacks Joey had stocked away. I honestly can't even remember what those strange orange squares he fed me were called."

   "Are you talking about cheez-its?" I glance at him curiously, the corner of my lips twitch in amusement at his shocked look of enlightenment.

   "Yes!" he snaps his fingers sharply, his expression suddenly becoming oddly blissful. "That's what they're called. Gods above and below, it's been driving me crazy trying to remember what they were called."

   "You know, it's a bit unfair when you ask a question and already know the answer." I glance up at him. His lips curve into an amused grin as he looks down at me with hooded eyes, his chin still resting comfortably in his palm. "You tell me to respect your privacy, yet you just dig around in my thoughts. Where's the fairness?"

   "When you learn how to peer into my mind I will consider the fairness of your statement."

   "That doesn't make any sense," I chuckle. "You're still disregarding my privacy, it's rude."

   "Much like the strange foods you and your friends eat. I have no idea how any of you have lived this long. What's rude is making me watch you eat that garbage."

   "We're not that unhealthy Yami." I grumble good-naturedly. A quiet laugh rumbles in my chest as I remember Yami's first time witnessing the creation and consumption of Kraft Mac and Cheese. I thought he would be impressed by America's innovative approach to creating such an easy meal, I couldn't have been more wrong. Ever since then Yami has become my nutritionist, chiding me whenever I eat something he deems unfamiliar or unhealthy.

   "You eat a cheese substance that comes out of a can. Where does that occur in nature Yugi?"

   "You come from a culture that dips dead bodies in salt before removing their organs and wrapping the bodies in linen. Where does that happen in nature?"

   "That isn't even a fair argument, religion and nutrition are incomparable topics."

   Closing my eyes I listen to Yami's rant about the differences between comparing culture to the nutrition of the time. As much as he would enjoy me debating with him I know better than to get into long winded arguments about Egypt with him, he does have a bit of an unfair advantage. Grinning I listen the passionate tone of his voice as its pitch rises and falls, his deep voice filling the space until every corner seems to echo with his voice.

   The quiet squeak of the bottom step is my only indicator that he's left his perch, peeking out from beneath my lashes I find myself cast in the shade of his shadow. He sits beside me with his legs crossed and his hands hanging limply in the cavern of his lap.

   "You finished your lecture?" He glares at me with narrowed eyes, ruby gems peering out from behind a veil of dark lashes. "I promise I was listening."

   "You're a poor liar," he huffs, casting his gaze away and rolling his neck slowly. "You're also horrible at keeping secrets."

   "Not as poor as you think." I mumble, turning to look at him directly.

   "What is that supposed to mean?" His eyes narrow slightly as all of his attention zones in on me. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the weight of his gaze borders on the slightly dangerous. Yami's emotions are often like rainclouds, you never know when a storm is going to hit until you're worried you're going to drown in his floodwaters, personal experience has left me rather wary of his emotional range. I am sure to consider my next few words carefully.

   "It means, if you weren't so nosey, maybe you'd have a different opinion."

   "I'm not nosey." His voice is almost shrill as he is taken aback with insult, his eyes going wide. I can't stop myself from laughing as the shrill sound of his voice catches me completely off guard. "I'm not!" 

   "You asked me a question and then went digging through my thoughts before I could even give you an answer," I laugh, the words barely able to escape me through my humor. "that sir, makes you nosey."

   "Maybe I wouldn't be so 'nosey' if you weren't so secretive." He snaps defensively, his lithe arms crossing just below his ribs. 

   "I thought you said I was bad at keeping secrets, am I suddenly good at it now?"

   "Stop twisting my words!" He snaps, lightly hitting my forehead with his palm as I laugh. "It's not a cute quality, your poor crush has no idea what they're in for." He chuckles, failing to restrain himself from laughing with me.

   "I'm a blessing!" I argue, my bubbling laughter robbing the phrase of the intensity I had intended to supply. Yami sighs quietly as he looks down in his lap, probably trying to school his vulnerable expression into one of composure before looking at me again. I say nothing as I give him the time he needs, focusing on silencing the laughter that tap-dances off my tongue and into the air with ease. 

   After a few minutes we both linger in silence, my hands resting limply on my chest as he keeps his eyes trained on his lap. His shoulders are tense, but for Yami that's fairly common whenever he's thinking or feeling vulnerable. Calling him nosey probably struck a nerve he wasn't even aware of, its both endearing and slightly unnerving watching him sit in such stoic silence.

   "You're not nosey," I offer, breaking the silence. His shoulders relax slightly and I notice the slightest sway of his hair as he stops himself from turning to look at me. "but you have to admit, I am a bit of a blessing." A quiet huff of laughter escapes him, evolving into a sigh before he finally meets my gaze.

   "Yeah," he grumbles, falling back onto the carpet beside me, eyes cast towards the ceiling. "sure you are."