Week two of Yosuke's exile was just beginning, and already he was starting to feel sorrier than ever that he'd decided to go and play the big dumb hero when the store was under attack. Being a manual labour gopher really wasn't his thing: he was more of a brains guy than a brawn one (and okay, some might argue not much of either) and his scrawny build was far from up to the demands of the job. He'd been going home with sore muscles and stress headaches a lot more often than he was comfortable with, lately, and it was starting to affect his free time, as well. What's more, the hours for stockroom employees were frankly just weird, which meant he and Souji couldn't walk to and from work together, and their breaks were staggered at different times so they didn't run into eachother in the breakroom nearly as often as he would've liked. Despite the fact that they'd finally managed to sit down and talk properly, Yosuke still felt a bit lonely.

In retrospect he could've been paying more attention. As it was, he'd been mulishly dragging an empty clothing rack through the stock room with his headphones on, some moody english new wave band setting the soundtrack to his self-indulgent gloom. He didn't even realize he'd wandered into the path of Artemis' makeshift training exercise until he was stopped dead by the path of a knife whizzing in front of his field of view, embedding itself in the "head" of a box dummy and knocking it clean off its cardboard shoulders.

Understandably, his reaction was a strangled scream.