KIM KITSURAGI
@KitsuragiBot
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Moments, quotes, thoughts, etc from everyone’s favorite lieutenant || Updates every three hours || Created with @GimmickBots 🧡
Martinaise
Joined March 2024
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Sunrise, Parabellum.
#DiscoElysium
#KimKitsuragi
Full quote list, along with a few extra things about the bot can be found at the link below!
☀️
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"Yes. That is a downside of having a 130 kilowatt engine." His voice is tinged with pride. "It lets the bad guys know when you're coming."
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("I'd like to dedicate this song to my partner, Kim Kitsuragi.") The lieutenant doesn't say anything, but gives you a quick smile, before turning away. (He's incapable of blushing, but if he weren't -- he'd blush.)
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1K
"*Sunrise, parabellum*," the lieutenant says. He's in the middle of a freshly cleaned room, with the fan above his head like a halo. His face is covered in bruises.
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"*Sunrise, parabellum*," the lieutenant says. He's in the middle of a freshly cleaned room, with the fan above his head like a halo. His face is covered in bruises.
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"Harrier Du Bois..." He looks you up and down. "It suits you. I'm going to call you 'Harry,' since it's short for 'Harrier'." (No, he's not. He's going keep calling you "officer" when he's angry with you -- and "detective" when he's not.)
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"Harrier Du Bois..." He looks you up and down. "It suits you. I'm going to call you 'Harry,' since it's short for 'Harrier'." (No, he's not. He's going keep calling you "officer" when he's angry with you -- and "detective" when he's not.)
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"Women like women too, officer. Try not to fixate on this. Let's move on."
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"God, please..." the lieutenant says quietly, without trembling. He aims, face pale..
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"You didn't stop at all, did you? You're just obsessing about *other people's* sexuality now." ("Yeah, but...") "... but am I? I'll spare you another *20 hour mind-project* -- yes, I am. Now let's get back to work."
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"Women like women too, officer. Try not to fixate on this. Let's move on."
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"I think this racist is better than the last -- but the next racist will be the really good one." ("That will be our lucky racist!") "He will grant us three wishes."
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(Elsewhere in Revachol, the lieutenant has also just turned on the radio. In his privacy, he doesn't even try to stop himself from smiling.)
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"Harry... it explains *everything*. The running around. The jumping. The *bicep girth*. Your inexplicable facial hair... The fact that you don't seem to *know* what homo-sexuality is... And how you're able to perform a 360-degree spin-kick too!"
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"Stop, STOP. You won't even call me by my *actual title*. It's always, 'Kim this, Kim that.' Has it even occurred to you how disrespectful that is?"
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"Women like women too, officer. Try not to fixate on this. Let's move on."
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566
("We should hit a blunt some time.") "How about we 'hit' the crime we came here for instead. And by 'hit' I mean 'solve' it. Solve it *hard*."
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"I'm not your partner." He says quickly. "This... this union is temporary."
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"God, please..." the lieutenant says quietly, without trembling. He aims, face pale..
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"Women like women too, officer. Try not to fixate on this. Let's move on."
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478
"Something the matter, detective?" ("Nope, all good here." You casually adjust your pants.) The lieutenant nods. You think you detect the faintest trace of a grin on his face, but you can't say for certain.
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478
("Women, am I right?") "No, you ridiculous fool. You're *not* right. You're not even remotely right." "It's as though *right* is over here..." He holds up one hand. "... while *you're* over here..." He holds up his other hand, as far apart from the first as possible.
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"Stop obsessing about your sexuality officer, you're about to seriously compromise the coroner's case."
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("Two's all you need. Me and Kim are the same way.") "Kim and *I*..." the lieutenant mutters under his breath. He scribbles something in his notebook but adds nothing else.
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("To me, you're my partner.") For a moment the lieutenant seems to be suppressing something uncomfortable. Then he clears his throat... (The lieutenant's not comfortable with emotional openness. He's eager to change the subject.)
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"I think this racist is better than the last -- but the next racist will be the really good one." ("That will be our lucky racist!") "He will grant us three wishes."
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369
"God, please..." the lieutenant says quietly, without trembling. He aims, face pale..
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"I think this racist is better than the last -- but the next racist will be the really good one." ("That will be our lucky racist!") "He will grant us three wishes."
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("He's always leaving... Why is he always leaving, Kim?") "Who knows, detective? It's a... mystery," he says, turning his face away from you. (There, he's laughing again!)
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"It's okay, you're just having a *little* panic attack. Try to breathe as slowly as you can, alright?" He shakes you gently by the shoulder.
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("But I don't wanna get my shit together!") "Then the world will turn away from you, and leave you behind."
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A red circle has appeared on the lieutenant's jacket. It's growing fast. Like a pillow, he falls on you. Cold nylon and blood slumped on you, as the lights go out. All the lights. The last thing you hear is the sound of his spectacles landing on the pavement next to you.
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"Good." He pats you on the back, three small pats in a row.
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("I don't *want* to be Harrier Du Bois.") "Why? It's a cool name. I like it." He shrugs. "Besides, you're Harry anyway. No one's ever called *Harrier*." (He's not going to call you Harrier. He'll keep calling you 'officer' when he's angry with you and 'detective' when he's not.)
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"I think this racist is better than the last -- but the next racist will be the really good one." ("That will be our lucky racist!") "He will grant us three wishes."
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"Sunrise, Parabellum. Sunrise, Prepare-for-War. It's an old revolutionary saying."
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"Oh yeah? I did 15 years in the Juvenile Crime Unit. I can *do* age-inappropriate." "Now check *this* shit out!"
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"Harry... it explains *everything*. The running around. The jumping. The *bicep girth*. Your inexplicable facial hair... The fact that you don't seem to *know* what homo-sexuality is... And how you're able to perform a 360-degree spin-kick too!"
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"Women like women too, officer. Try not to fixate on this. Let's move on."
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"No," the lieutenant gently removes the glasses from your face, setting you free again. "You're definitely not buying those."
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("I'm gonna call you *Kimball* now.") "No. You're *gonna* call me Lieutenant Kitsuragi -- or on rare occasions 'Kim', because it's shorter." He nods. "Let's go."
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("Who's the king of pinball, Kim." You hold out your fist.) "Congratulations, your highness," the lieutenant replies. His knuckles touch yours and he smiles. "That was really impressive."
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"Stop, STOP. You won't even call me by my *actual title*. It's always, 'Kim this, Kim that.' Has it even occurred to you how disrespectful that is?"
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("How old do I look?") "How old? Fifty-eight." ("Oh my god, that's really old -- really?") "You asked." He shrugs.
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"I hope you learned your lesson," the lieutenant says with a sharp smile. ("Yeah, never play board games.") "Never fuck with Kim Kitsuragi."
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"Every school of thought and government has failed in this city -- but I love it nonetheless. It belongs to me as much as it belongs to you."
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"Well, except that one time when he stopped to sing karaoke. Which, by the way -- I have to disagree with you, Mr. Vicquemare -- was a valiant effort. He really sang his heart out."
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He looks at your snakeskin shoes and smiles, suddenly. "Nice shoes, by the way. I like the green. Goes with the orange."
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"Yes!" The lieutenant takes a step closer to you, rubbing his hands together. "There is a *stranger* reason, isn't there?" (He gives you a slight nudge on your side, apparently enjoying himself.)
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He looks at your snakeskin shoes and smiles, suddenly. "Nice shoes, by the way. I like the green. Goes with the orange."
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"And..." he smiles: "We are still alive -- both of us."
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"Stay with me!" You feel burning hot tears streaming from your eyes.
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"I hope you learned your lesson," the lieutenant says with a sharp smile. ("Yeah, never play board games.") "Never fuck with Kim Kitsuragi."
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"Are you fucking insane?!" the lieutenant snaps at you. "Don't answer that! And STOP doing it! Let's go."
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"Damnit, detective. Give me the piss-jacket." (Now he is become the *Pissf****t*. There's no stopping you now.)
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("Two's all you need. Me and Kim are the same way.") "Kim and *I*..." the lieutenant mutters under his breath. He scribbles something in his notebook but adds nothing else.
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("I'd like to dedicate this song to my partner, Kim Kitsuragi.") The lieutenant doesn't say anything, but gives you a quick smile, before turning away. (He's incapable of blushing, but if he weren't -- he'd blush.)
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("I *did* say there was an emergency on the dance floor, did I not? The emergency?! NOT ENOUGH KIM!") "Oh, c'mon, Harry..." (Did that just cheer him up a bit? Could be... It feels like the lieutenant cracked a little smile there.)
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("His shirt... why is his shirt always unbuttoned?") "His shirt..." The lieutenant squints his eyes, trying to hold back laughter. ("His shirt.") "His shirt..."
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"And..." he smiles: "We are still alive -- both of us."
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"Press your damn cheek against Lamby, okay?" The lieutenant sounds authoritative -- and surprisingly gruff.
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"Stop obsessing about your sexuality officer, you're about to seriously compromise the coroner's case."
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213
("I don't *want* to be Harrier Du Bois.") "Why? It's a cool name. I like it." He shrugs. "Besides, you're Harry anyway. No one's ever called *Harrier*." (He's not going to call you Harrier. He'll keep calling you 'officer' when he's angry with you and 'detective' when he's not.)
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"Yes, I've definitely never seen you cry before, nor lent you my handkerchief to dry your tears."
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("His shirt... why is his shirt always unbuttoned?") "His shirt..." The lieutenant squints his eyes, trying to hold back laughter. ("His shirt.") "His shirt..."
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The lieutenant leans in confidentially. "You wouldn't be able to hear if he were wearing anal beads," he whispers.
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"I think this racist is better than the last -- but the next racist will be the really good one." ("That will be our lucky racist!") "He will grant us three wishes."
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("Kim, I know the alphabet now.") "Good. I also know the alphabet." (It is a very useful skill to have, he thinks. For all sorts of life-activities. Like reading, and...)
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"Officer, what *haven't* you lost?" ("I haven't lost this satin shirt.") "Maybe you *should*?" He looks at his blue notebook and sighs.
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The lieutenant has taken a small step back. He looks at your face illuminated by the flames and nods silently. Then the fire falters... (The flames warmed him too. Not at all in a bad way.)
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("Two's all you need. Me and Kim are the same way.") "Kim and *I*..." the lieutenant mutters under his breath. He scribbles something in his notebook but adds nothing else.
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"Stop obsessing about your sexuality officer, you're about to seriously compromise the coroner's case."
0
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("His shirt... why is his shirt always unbuttoned?") "His shirt..." The lieutenant squints his eyes, trying to hold back laughter. ("His shirt.") "His shirt..."
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"The problem is..." the lieutenant says, glancing at the lapels, sleeves, and studs, "it really *does* look cool to have both of these jackets on right now." (I can't believe I've climbed aboard the piss-train.)
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"You're bad with kids," the lieutenant remarks with evident glee. ("And what are you, Kid Master General?") "Maybe I am?" He grins.
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"You didn't stop at all, did you? You're just obsessing about *other people's* sexuality now." ("Yeah, but...") "... but am I? I'll spare you another *20 hour mind-project* -- yes, I am. Now let's get back to work."
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He opens one hand and looks at it. A moment passes. "Which school do you subscribe to -- Mambo..." He opens the other hand: "...or Jambo?" ("Wait, which one is the one where you hear your tie talk to you?") "Mental illness."
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("To me, you're my partner.") For a moment the lieutenant seems to be suppressing something uncomfortable. Then he clears his throat... (The lieutenant's not comfortable with emotional openness. He's eager to change the subject.)
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"God, please..." the lieutenant says quietly, without trembling. He aims, face pale..
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"Right. Okay. Anyway, I'm glad you told me your necktie has been speaking to you. That must not have been easy."
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He looks at your snakeskin shoes and smiles, suddenly. "Nice shoes, by the way. I like the green. Goes with the orange."
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("I did it, Kim! I teleported!") "I just *saw* you climb the ladder," the lieutenant shouts from below. "You just climbed it, like a regular person."
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("Kim, you look cold -- maybe a thicker coat?") "I'm okay. You on the other hand, yefreitor... you look like you're about to turn into a popsicle." ("What if I *want* to be a popsicle?") "Don't be silly, no one wants to be a popsicle."
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"Stop obsessing about your sexuality officer, you're about to seriously compromise the coroner's case."
1
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("I *did* say there was an emergency on the dance floor, did I not? The emergency?! NOT ENOUGH KIM!") "Oh, c'mon, Harry..." (Did that just cheer him up a bit? Could be... It feels like the lieutenant cracked a little smile there.)
2
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The lieutenant leans in. "Hey, you promised you'd only ask about one cryptid." ("But, Kim... Don't *you* want to hear about another cryptid too?") The lieutenant pauses thoughtfully. (Something in him breaks.) "Ah, fuck it. Let's have more cryptids."
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("I'll show you yet, Kitsuragi.") "Show me what, detective?" The lieutenant seems immensely pleased by your irritation.
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"Drink -- water." The lieutenant is extending a small canister to your mouth.
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176
"You didn't stop at all, did you? You're just obsessing about *other people's* sexuality now." ("Yeah, but...") "... but am I? I'll spare you another *20 hour mind-project* -- yes, I am. Now let's get back to work."
2
41
176
("I think he's dead.") "I agree." ( There are crows feet in his eyes, he's laughing silently.) "Totally dead."
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"You're bad with kids," the lieutenant remarks with evident glee. ("And what are you, Kid Master General?") "Maybe I am?" He grins.
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"Are you fucking insane?!" the lieutenant snaps at you. "Don't answer that! And STOP doing it! Let's go."
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"Let's go, officer." The lieutenant closes his notes. "These people wouldn't know a good performance if it bit them in the ass." ("You... liked it?") "Lieutenant Du Bois..." he bows lightly. "It was downright *tragic*. Now let's go." (I mean it, he thinks.)
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"I think this racist is better than the last -- but the next racist will be the really good one." ("That will be our lucky racist!") "He will grant us three wishes."
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"You are brutal and *dumb*." He says, his voice ice cold.
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