Three words.
The voice, only faintly familiar. He’s trying to put a face to the voice– it is womanly.
It’s also his new superior.
It’s enough to finally force him up, eyes fading into red to force some clarity to the situation. The entire room is strange, not-his-own, and he’s lacking any sort of protection, namely, his clothing.
The body beside his is just as nude, shifting away from Itachi’s subconscious, drowsy attempt at affection.
What had even happened? The very last he recalls is being introduced to Akatsuki’s leaders, just a few days after the worst day of his life. Perhaps there was a handshake, or two. Plenty of time to feed him some sort of slow-acting poison, to bring him to a private chamber while his mind is clouded.
He doesn’t wait to ask questions. Him, and his clothing, disappear with the crows.
UchihaSavior 