フロント企業

i know what you're here for, but what am I?

[specialdisaster]

 Oh yeah, he’d heard of this guy. 

For sure! You couldn’t tread very far along these widelands (not wide enough…) without hearing in through one ear and on the other out, ——needless to say, this a-dult well he was, it was one sound away from a dolt. 

And he wasn’t sure about that either. He should be relieved to take it or give it, but thank goodness he didn’t have anything on his hands that the dubious figure wanted, here was one known fact that everybody knew. …If they knew what was coming for them. if He, yes that guy over there, were to so much as drift his fingers over all things good —- 

There problem lied therein, whatever they were …wouldn’t stay in that stellar quality for long. It’s taking a great deal of stubbornness (which he has a lot of) to keep him rooted in his position and not bolt. 

He’s a tough kid, you see.

[letdown-city]

You can find these little collections in the big, biig cities sometimes, "disciples" (quote-unquote) sent in by their weary (but influential) parents countries over to some master (quote-unquote) who was just as weary as the rest of them. Most rich families prefer to have the tutor-- masters come to them, but for some families, keeping traditions alive isn't so important.

So there's a few here, a few there. And, being a soldier of duty and loyalty, he's seen more than his fair share. One might even call it exciting! It's nostalgic, if he has to pin a word to it -- it reminds him of his days having to listen to an old teacher with old books and a temper as short as the hair he had left.

And apparently? His interest has sparked some reciprocal. He can't deny the humour that bubbles within him when the group of disciples (hah!) tense as he passes by, especially one slightly older boy who sticks out of the crowd of plain, naive faces.

They make eye contact, briefly. That's all he needs.

He snatches the boy's wrist up with a flourish of his own, separating him from the pack and dragging him away to somewhere where privacy was more provided. It does cause a bit of a ruckus, but apparently, they've yet to learn actual courage. None of the other boys try to stop him.

And that's fine.

He pushes the boy up against the wall of the city's giant cathedral, giving him the courtesy of not being pinned. He could do at least that much.

'In my country,' he says on an inhale, working up a bright smile. This is actually pretty fun! '-- did you know? It's this humble country called Almid. -- in Almid, boys are supposed to know their place. That means showing respect!' He grins a little more. 'And you might not know, but making eye contact with a social superior is very, very bad. In my country, you'd be punished severely.' And doesn't that sound amazing!

'You at least know about that, right? They're teaching you the important things?' Like customs, history, wars? He especially liked the "war" part himself. 'Truth be told, it's so important that I might need to raise concerns with your king.

'Do you want to be responsible for that? You would be, you know. Since you were so rude.'

[keie1-blog-blog]

He’s really as blank as he started off this morning with when he rolled out of bed. Nothing’s changed, 

 comparatively four or five years before could have been like a blink of an eye, at least it was to him, see if you’d have it not now but some other way not much has changed. he’d like to think but that’s not quite like sticking with the factbooks, is it. he’s never been so great at that.

So he’s pleased to see his squeeze in the streets, his guy in the sheets. They don’t go by labels, not necessarily, otherwise they’d be in a separate ‘nother world of trouble that he didn’t want to get into right about now. 

 That’s the face that he has on, that’s the vibe he can’t shirk off and honestly why should he in such lousy company! He doesn’t care, and that may just be the energy that they share. He couldn’t care any less about these poor heads, taking or making the blade within the year. There was no real difference. No one gave them a medal for that, though they probably should.

But him? He has to group with them because his old man’s not got the recreational time to do any of this face to facetime, anymore. 

That and the old man is finally decrepit most importantly ready to keel over at any second, but he’s respectful. He’s a respectful son. and in the next half of a decade, if they played their cards right?

If they turned lucky overnight. 

'Is -Is that right?’ He really does try to hold his own, but he’s just as impressed as he is not surprised with the surfacing of his soon to-be endowed and entitled lover. He’s really something else, and it’s why it’s so hard to put on another face in front of him. ‘Let me check my schedule, ‘

He gives the inconsiderate gap it takes to check his phone, open up the (blank) appointment app 

 Ah gentlemen.’ and gasp over how some conflict of interest, switching off the device just as inconspicuously he had when he first took it out. ‘It would seem,

'That we'd best continue this tomorrow over lunch.' He murmurs a series of other not-excuses, they're called formalities, terribly sorries.

 He’s not. Maybe the old man wouldn’t be alive to watch the happily bound legal union get picked at by a pick axe if you will, and fall apart. That’s if his time came at an optimal time, because his current interest really isn’t all that gentle.

That’s something to keep in mind. …Maybe with his hobbies. 

He’s actually never seen those put into action, but the man who’d yanked the spotlight back to him so that it may focus in on him, was normally pretty delicate. That description may be dated, but he held the capacity to handle things daintily, but that time certainly was not now. 

[letdown-city]

He's not giddy. He doesn't get giddy. But the way 

that his sort-of boyfriend goes along with his plan without batting an eyelash is... really satisfying. It's a real fight to keep from grinning and ruining the whole thing.

'That's what I thought,' he says, able to keep from smiling, but not so much from gloating. He takes one good look at the faces around the man and then promptly ignores them: they're not his problem. The guy can deal with the fallout on his own time. He reaches forward and grabs for the other's wrists, tugging back and then tugging him along.

'It doesn't reflect well on your business if you miss appointments, you know!' he says, an annoyed maelstrom of words that doesn't suit the way he pulls the big bad businessman in. He keeps them moving, walking, away from the building and off to who-knows-where. 'You should be glad I'm a nice guy. Most people would make a complaint. But since you admitted your mistake, I guess I can let this go. But you definitely don't want to try losing my business...'

When he gets to that point, they're around the corner and out of sight of what he assumes are the man's important relations (he himself has a "don't know, don't care" with them). The suits and ties have thinned out in the crowd of people going to and fro, replaced by people who look more like him, with graphic tees and jeans and a lack of care for anything else.

It's not "safe," but it'll do.

He drops his hand from where it'd migrated to the other's shoulder to hustle him along, going for his hand as soon as he's able. He relaxes, and by a lot -- the accomplished smile on his face is more than enough evidence for that. He did it. He finished some business. And all in a nice way.

'I totally didn't mean to do that.' That's what he says, and for just a second (half a second?--- half a second), he looks almost guilty. But it doesn't really shine through how triumphant he looks. 'I just figured I should get you away from there and keep you away from there.' There, of course, was the building. And there meant the House of Horrors, a.k.a. That of Which We Do Not Speak.

'I was thinking we could go somewhere nice! Just me and you. It doesn't have to be fancy. You just have to turn your phone off.' Because, knowing the witch, she would try to call at least ONCE before the evening was through. He makes a face when he thinks of her, the same face people make when they eat lemons. 'So! What do you say to that?

'I mean, you're excited to see me, right? I totally saved you from something awful back there, right?' That was heroic, right? Granted, he was no knight, and there and there weren't evil lairs with dragons in them, but STILL.

[letdown-city]

Truth be told, he doesn't do this very often. Some people probably think it's weird -- and some people probably think it's romantic. It's probably a bit of both. And you know what? He really doesn't care which one it is.

'cause for this guy, he'd do anything.

And what's this "anything?"

It's ambushing the guy the second he's off work, kidnapping him and taking him somewhere nice. Romantic.

Except, he hasn't gotten to those second or third steps yet. He's only thirty seconds into the first one, actually, taking decisive steps that pit him in front of the working man and block his path home.

He means business.

But in a nice way!

'You there! In the really nice tie,' he calls out, his authoritative tone nothing compared to the lazy flop of a point he gives. He cocks his head up and puts on a sober face, which is how you can tell he really means business. Some of the man's colleagues look their way, looking way weirded out, but he doesn't falter. That's not what he's here for!

He's here to make business in a nice way. In a romantic way.

Ish.

'I don't know what you think you're doing, but last I checked, you were supposed to be with me.' He means that in this multi-layered, meaningful sort of way, but the frustrated look that crosses his face right after isn't exactly helping him with that.

'Is that how you want your clients to think of you?' "Client." Right. ''cause you're doing a great job of that.' And as much as he'd like to, he's not about to sabotage the man's social standing. It'd be a lot of fun! It'd be great! It'd be romantic!

But not today.

He steps in a little closer and crooks his head against his hand, going for "contemplative" and ending up with "sort of creepy."

'It wouldn't hurt to send an e-mail if you're going to be late.'

[letdown-city]

It's the disappointment of the century. They've never been so let down. In fact, they might even cry, it's so awful. He manages to keep himself in check, but he really can't help the confused, dismayed, judging look that springs up on his face, here to stay -- unless this is all a big joke.

He's pretty sure it's not.

'You're not even going to beat them up?' he questions again, running it through for what is now the third time. The teenager's on his couch, and Nozoya's sitting across from him on his other couch, looking at him with that look on his face. 'I thought that was your thing,' he comments. That's SUPPOSED to be Caine's thing. That's supposed to be 85% of what Caine is.

But Caine isn't going to beat them up. Because.

---why again?

'Why?' he asks, again again, voice rising and tipping towards incredulous. It doesn't matter that they're part of his group (in fact, that should encourage it!). It doesn't matter that only one of the boys actually said anything to him, a stray insult sent at him when he came to close to their internal spat. It doesn't even matter that they're basically twice Caine's size.

None of that matters, because getting in stupid fights is supposed to be Caine's thing.

'Aren't you supposed to defend your honour?' he suggests, voice suggesting he doesn't even believe in that himself. Last he checked, the boy didn't even have a sense of personal honour. But still!-- 'Or show them that they can't fuck around with you??' Nozoya leans all the way forward in his seat, on the brink of falling over. But that doesn't matter.

He's never been more disappointed. Ever ever.

'You're gonna at least break one of their arms, right?' he tries, and at this point, it's almost like he's pleading. 'cause, what else is Caine even good for? If he doesn't do that, he's nothing! It truthfully, honestly has nothing to do with him wanting to see someone get messed up. Not at all.

'Do I even KNOW YOU any more?'

[letdown-city]

------when the voicemail starts, there's silence. It stays that way for a couple seconds, finally broken by the sound of rustling fabric on the other end. Following that is a deep sigh, which is again succeeded by what must be a bodily slump. There's the sound of bone knocking against wood, which is the same sound you might hear if you rocked your knuckles against your desk.

The caller sighs again, this time into the phone itself, making the line crackle with harsh static. When it dissipates, you can hear him in the middle of a long groan.

He -- and it's a he -- doesn't sound happy.

'Look. Look. L-look,' he starts, each "look" deeper and more shaken. 'You know how -- how sometimes, really great people can fuck up? They can have everything going perfect for them, and then they fuck up?' It sounds like he fucked up.

     'I fucked up. I think. I might've... I dunno. I went a little too far this time.' Out comes a laugh, abrupt and sudden. The line explodes into static. '"This time!" Like this is the only time! Actually, there'sbeenalottatimes, but they're usually... okay. I'm usually OK. But this one? I dunno. I think I might've really fucked up.

'So. ------------- I'm sorry, OK? Not in THAT way, but I. I liked you a lot more than I let you think. I mostly? Liked you for your money. If I've got to be honest. But, you're not all bad.

'This is just in case I end up missing, OK? If you don't find me in a ditch, if you don't, um. ---This is a joke.

'That's all I wanted to say. OK?-----

'Okay.'

CLICK

[letdown-city]

It's not even one of their date nights -- one of the few times he's allowed to drag him away from his ball and chain (read: wife and family) -- but still, he's excited. He's dragged his beau out at basically 3 in the morning, right to the centre of town, where the lights are still on and nobody's sleeping.

He can't seem to decide whether he wants to wrap his arms around the man's, or make the man wrap around his.

'You promised me last week!' he lies, a bright face on so you can't (as) easily tell that he is. He guides them through the sparse crowds of people, not really caring who stares and who ignores them in favour of their phones. He's just excited. 'And this is the only time I could get, so. You should be glad you don't work tomorrow!'

And that, too, is part of the plan. You exhaust someone, you can pretty much guarantee they're yours once the early morning's gone.

It's another couple minutes of walking (which is just the tip of the last twenty minutes) until they finally get to the destination he picked out. Fortunately for his date, it's not a love hotel, but it doesn't look any better: it's a water bar, more or less.

'They give you a discount if you bring your own date,' he mentions, which is also (also) part of the plan. He links their hands and swings their arms towards the door. 'You're excited, right? You wanna go in, right?

'You skimped out last time, so you can't this time.'

[ryuugasempai-blog]

 He wouldn’t complain, but wow, this again! He makes a point of waiting for the third ring before he force forwards it TO voice mail, which would have stood fine actually if he’d just let it be. 

But he really didn’t care what the man had to say! Not right now, anyway. 

   He might later. He might regret this later. this was a given, a fact proven time and time again on snubs that started out small and they never grew to their fullest extent but he didn’t have to SEE it you see, for it to drive the point home. 

'Don't call again.' He’d like to say, and a number of other things that should carry weight because when he says them aloud, he means them. 

But he thinks he knows better not to. 

 ’Tch.’ He speed dials the questionable contact with one press, craninghis head this way and that until it gave way to some relief and cracked.  The phone’s still ringing, so he can shelve his reluctance to be outed another day. Something like that? ‘Barely know how to work this thing, what did you do to my phone. I don’t recall,’ He tapers off, thinking it over. Thinking about it. Programming you in there, to be precise.

'You saying that you were due to drop in for a visit. What's the occasion? It can't be approved, if I don't know. 

…Take it that you’ve been busy.’ He grinds out with some hesitance, as if replaying the memo in his head, the increasing migraine zoning in and concentrating just between his eyes, where he takes to furiously rubbing at it. Hoping to snuff it out, maybe before it takes the reigns on the rest of that day. 

 I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Click. 

[letdown-city]

Is he a stalker? Is he the kind of person who lurks around dark corners, just waiting to pop out and scare the object of his affection? Does he seem like that kind of person to you?

We probably do, he thinks with some not-regret, the second the voicemail ends and the second he reaches out to grab the teenager's shoulder.

"Let me just start out by saying," he starts, and that's really all the time it takes to get his arm around Kado's shoulders, turning him and marching him along. "That I get it. Being cocky and super-authoritative is your thing. And I like that!

"But you do know that in the real world, it doesn't work like that, right? Right?" he jostles the high schooler to prove his point, smiling like his day's been made. "I can come visit you a-n-y time I want, and there's no-thing! You can do about it! Nothing!" He takes his stalker hand and splays his stalker fingers and sweeps it to the side, a nonchalant gesture meant to convey how little the boy's resistance actually means.

"Actually, we bring up a good point," he continues. His smile falls, and he looks confused, almost bothered.

"It's really rude to just send a voicemail, you know. I mean, for me, it's fine! Since you're the big bad president who has things to do and people to see," and here he scoffs. "But you? Sending voicemails to me? It's like you grew up in a barn!

"So here's what we're going to do." he resets his hand back on Kado's shoulder, and starts leading him towards the less crowded area of town. "You're going to spend the day with me - so you can learn respect. Or something. I dunno. We'll see how it goes!

"You don't get a choice, but.

"How's that sound to you, Mr. Responsible?"

[letdown-city]

TEXT: What's the deal? I thought you said that this week was looking up. Where are you.

[??:??:05 P.M.] It was! Sent

[??:??:10 P.M.] But then Angry Birds happened. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ Sent

[??:??:15 P.M.] Don’t tell me you think you’re more important than Angry Birds. Sent

[??:??:16 P.M.] You’re kidding, right? (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ)) Sent

[letdown-city]

How do you get to speed dial there are some people I don't know on here

"That's our problem how?"

I mean, if you're talking technicalities, it totally is. He's the one who put those numbers in there. But is that a problem? A real, big, serious problem? Of course not!

If anything, it's actually a big help.

"Don't be boring! Live a little. Try them out.

"Actually, you could really stand to know some of those people."

[letdown-city]

     Who knows if he kept the phone he gave him.

          He tries it anyway, and

               It goes straight to voicemail.

"You should really leave your phone on! You know, lots of bad things happen to people who leave their phones off. What if I was dying and wanted to talk to you before I kicked the bucket?

"Or what if you were my emergency contact, huh? That’d cause all sorts of problems.

"I’m not your teacher, though — you don’t need a lecture, not when you’re so *cool* and *strong!*

"But, honest. As much as we like springing things on you - and I do, and I know you like it too - if you answered your phone sometimes, we could plan things. Make dates. Do things like that.

"Aren’t kids your age supposed to be addicted to their phones, anyway?

'I’m not old. But you know what I mean.

"Call us back sometime. And here’s your warning: I’ll be at your school tomorrow.

"Also: there may or may not be a gang. Still working the kinks out on that.

     "So, you had your chance!

          "I’ll see you later."

                                                 Click.

[deprayvity]

 ’Well that’s, a fucking shame.’ His voice develops an edge in it, like he’d pried it out from under some messed up vehicle pyramid. Sounding offended for him, because the pedestrian he’d nabbed was, well he seemed, to be fair. Like a pretty nice, generous if not nice, like the type to dole out a massive check to some cause just because it would mean, having his name on it. 

He did so well, anyhow, when he first flew off the handle but oh this wise-crack was going places, and the ”issue’ at hand. Literally, it really wasn’t even one. It was just a mode of conversation, an attention-getter, one that most people didn’t care for so he could pledge himself wherever and the whole point, really, was that they wouldn’t even notice. 

'Doesn't seem right,' he pipes up. 'For someone to treat you like that, unlike most residents in the area,' his tone dips and if he had his hands free he'd be motioning towards himself. He doesn't.

It was his crutch! Blowing things up into big deals, when they weren’t, load it with facts that were either total bullcrap or didn’t matter, and that was the catch of it. Not being listened to. 

But he’d nabbed the guy for a reason? What was it again. Well he had company, some that he’d instigated so by god if he’d be able to brush it off with any, tact to go with it. He wouldn’t be able. 

He was warming up to the qualified individual, maybe he had his name on a desk placard somewhere. Or up on some building, he seemed. …important. ‘That’s ——-always a thought, but.’ He exhales all the air he’d been holding, what was the nerve of this guy anyway? He wasn’t that open-ended, really. He came off pretty straight and clean-cut, to most people.

 ’The real problem here, is that you are alone until your person comes and collects you, or gets back to you.

What are we going to do about that.' 

[letdown-city]

Oh.

Oh.

He sees how it is. He gets it now. He didn't get it before; he trusted too much, too fast, too soon. But now, he gets it! No more needs to be said. They can all go home, or laugh it off, or... whatever this know-it-all planned to do with him. Which he thinks he knows! He does, he does.

He gets it.

'I figured we weren't going to do anything about that, actually. I thought we were focusing on your "problem?"' Here, he injects more life into his tone, adding air quotes in case the boy didn't get in before. He's not annoyed or anything (not so much an more), but he definitely doesn't believe the story any more. He smiles, a little, and then encouragingly, works his arm around the younger man's shoulders, tugging him to walk at an about-even pace. '--actually,' he continues.

'I think I've got a solution for the both of us!' That story? That problem, with the girl? It's hard to believe in something like that when he doesn't even flinch at the suggestion to go be gay, and furthermore, the boy isn't even trying to hide it: he's flirting. In some ways, it's flattering (and lets him know he still looks around 20, which is great, because he paid a lot for that skin cream), but in other ways, it's kind of pitiful! This one definitely needs work.

So maybe he can help. Maybe.

'See,' he begins, off on a new tangent, one accompanied by a bright smile and increasingly effeminate gestures. The punk kid's welcome to be scared off at any time. But, he doesn't think he will be. He's not that type of brat. 'It's true. I got stood up. And honestly, I'm a little upset about it. HE,' and that's a big, red "he," just in case the boy didn't get it, 'always leaves me like this. But this time was pretty bad. I just can't believe it.

'So. You have someone who won't pay attention to you. I have someone who won't pay attention to me. Do you see where I want to go with this?' He flexes the hand he has wrapped around the punk-rock-stunner's shoulder, flaying out his fingers. 'I think you and I could, ah, go of together, just for tonight. You get me, I get you...

'What do you have to say to that?'

[deprayvity]

 ’Okay seriously. Seriously, I don’t know about you but.’ He grabs the guy by the back of his collar, not once scuffing his shoes on the lamp post he’s hanging off of 

'You tell me if this sounds right. Guy likes girl. Girl.' He repeats, but it sounds really wrong coming off his tongue. 

'Girl decides that she does not like guy, except when she likes guy, but she totally doesn’t. Everybody knows she don’t. Got a thing for him, I mean. So.

What’s a guy got to do.’ He wrenches the ”’ unsuspecting’ man close and bumps noses with him, 'To get a yes or no these days.' 

He slumps, letting him go with a reluctant drop but drops with him, disposing all his weight onto the slighter frame. He might be less developed, sure, but maybe it’s the layers of jackets over vests, the heavy jewelry. The way he has to put all his weight and three times’ worth into everything he does, the impact should speak loudly enough. 

But maybe I’m bound better not asking total strangers on life advice, right. Pretty darn pathetic, ya feel.’

 'Though that does, bring the question to light I’ve been meaning to ask all night. Didn’t mean to follow you, just felt like a danger to see you without something attended.

What’s a guy like you? doing out all by himself.’

 'I wanna know. Like, she doesn't have to get with me, I don't want her to get with me. Not really. Because that sucks half the fun out of it. 

'Is that how it works? I seriously don't know.' He deflates a little, shaking his head. 'Is it because you got stood up? 

You got someone you’re liking too, they just didn’t show? Surely there’s got to be some weight-y explanation behind that one. These eyes don’t see foul. Only see the pretty.’ He taps at the side of his head and since he’s now slumped on the poor dude, escorts him along. Both bulkier arms wound around his shoulders as if to keep him still.

[letdown-city]

There's something about him. No, no. He's not going off on one of his daydreams again. No, this time, there's something about him: namely, himself, the most important person there is. For some reason or another, teenagers (related or not) see him as this sort of pillar of guidance, capable of hearing them out and helping them through their problems, in the way that only a true counselor can. Which he isn't.

He'd just like to put that out there: he is not, actually, here to help you with your problems.

But off the kid goes, actually hanging off of him, keeping him from seeing him for the first couple minutes. That's all the time he needs to start guessing: the boy got stubbed. The boy is kind of tall. He sounds like he doesn't give a crap, except for this one girl. And he sounds like he might just be a little punk.

At least he got hit up by someone with some fashion!

After those couple minutes pass, he's finally released, and he's able to get a good luck at the boy who decided he needed an ear to chat off. He was right: it's some punk, who also looks punkish, and also looks like he really isn't all there. Does he know who he's talking to (of course not; if he did, if anybody did, they wouldn't even look at him)? --well, maybe, it's not all that important. He can give advise! Just for tonight!

Which is what he says every time.

'--yes, I might've been stood up,' he offers, in a wary sort of voice. He's actually not wary at all, if he's being truthful, but he has to sound like it, so the teenager doesn't get the wrong idea. He comes along without any qualms. 'but I'm not so sure that's important. I can just remind the person I'm waiting for.' And he had. He'd texted about 17 times, and he was furious. But right now, that didn't mater, did it?

Of course not.

'But you,' he starts, fixing his glasses so he can take a good look at the as-yet-unnamed boy. He looked good. Good enough not to be ignored.

'You can't do that, can you? Young love really is hard!' He offers a wistful sigh, clasping his hands together and tucking them under his chin. Any kind of love was hard, actually, if they were going to go on about that. Especially the cheating kind of love. But that wasn't the point! 'If I were you -- and I've been there...

'I'd, maybe, switch to not-a-girl? Maybe?'

[letdown-city]

'What are you trying to pull?'

He doesn't like questioning people older than him (yes he does), especially not someone he's supposed to respect like this (yes, he does). But can you really blame him? What they're supposed to be doing is doing work, taking care of the responsibilities bestowed upon them for being allowed to take part in the student council. In normal people terms, that means they're supposed to be working.

It doesn't matter how late it is.

It doesn't matter that they have homework.

And it doesn't matter that that one store he loves! love love loves! is having a sale on right now, this day only.

They're supposed to be doing work.

But can this person, this beautiful, amazing person, who he's supposed to respect, even see that?

He's starting to doubt it. Starting.

'We're supposed... ... to be taking care of things.' he hesitates over "supposed," not because they're not! not not not! supposed to be doing work, but because he's said the word so many times in his head, he's not sure if it's really a word any more. Is it? He pauses in his controlled tirade to search his senpai's face for any sign that he isn't making sense.

-beyond, you know, how the guy probably doesn't think he's making sense anyway. Work? He's never been one for that. It's the one flaw tarnishing his perfect, perfect image.

'Are you listening?' he even sounds a little doubtful there, because he's honestly not sure if the other is tuned in. He takes his pen hand, reaches over, and shakes the boy by the shoulder, pen tucked between his fingers.

'Are we here? He-llo? Tokyo Tower to President, do come in...'

[keie1-blog-blog]

 So, about this time of night is when a family man (What family), should turn in on his accord, because he’s missing whatever that makes him gravitate back there. Whether it be the aspect of serving as hideout that allows some the elbow room to not have to impress just anyone, or let’s say. a beautiful, beautiful wife expectant of you. And if your marriage is not on the verge of falling apart, you’d be glad to rush home, too. There were small things that only home fostered, kind of like shortlived but ever rewarding freedom you get from losing the suit, taking off those seriously uncomfortable capsules people call shoes. It was unfair! Such was a price to stay outside. 

He did have a wife, yes. And she was lovely, and she was reliable, and every so often he could not bat down the urge to check up on her. He guessed that was a healthy sign, to some extent. Said that spark hadn’t completely flickered out, hadn’t died. Always good to know.

But there was something severely lacking in the whole No, I’d rather — I wanna be home formula, like a dog on three legs and dragging its last one. It’s not that he wasn’t thinking about it, but there were definitely more cons than pros that weighed out going home while his dear was still awake, if she wasn’t out, like him. And rampant. 

 So what were his options! Many a thing, but for all the nonstop showiness that made up his day, a lot of things had lost their luster. It also paid, to be around beautiful people, all the time. Treating them like objects, slapping an adequate price on them. Shipping them off to the next local vendor that loved them best. 

You just couldn’t hold onto things out in that jungle, it’d sure as fast kill you than did chain-smoking, than did women, these weren’t women. These were merchandise, and that was that. 

It gave him that much more reason to stay selective with his extracurricular activities, and all considering — it wasn’t too shabby of a deal. Not really. 

Even he had his go-to, and his more than eccentric go-to was his sort of brazen investment, highly adored and in great bursts where his affection had all been shot in the knee back at home. He could project himself here. It didn’t take long to locate him, give it some patience and he was sure that his ‘mark' could have found him first. 

Winding an arm around the slighter man’s frame, and across his front he gently presses his chin into their shoulder. “Hey, got some time? 

You do. For me, always, don’t you?”

[letdown-city]

There's not much that can make his day worth it. Ohh, sure, he's got his toys -- lots, and lots, and lots and lots and lots of them, some actual toys, and some bordering on the more human persuasion (when they had the coherency to, anyway), and sure, they're fun as all get out. But do they really fulfil him? Do they really reach into his very core, tug at his heart strings, take care of him and satisfy his emotional needs?

-- well. They satisfy some of them. But vanity and cruelty are worlds away from affection! And even the world's biggest superstar villain needs a hug now and again, no matter how much he may try to deny it. Which isn't saying he denies it, either. On the contrary, he welcomes, expects, and will take it, and there's basically nothing anyone can do to stop him.

But back to the present. The present, the present he's been handed on a silver platter, is one ambush, with probably the only guy in the whole universe that can satisfy him playing the role of saboteur. Now, he's no damsel or anything, but how are you supposed to say no to that? He can't. And he's got no intentions to! That'd be just cruel, and his cruelty hours only run from 9 to 9, thank you very much.

'-doesn't sound like much of a question! What a jerk, you know? Can't just go up to a guy and ask him straight, can you? You have to pull your ladykiller act and try to be all smoooth. Some of us aren't going to fall for that!' He conveniently leaves out the fact that he is not, in fact, immune to these charms.

He turns, dislodging Mr. Ladykiller so he can face him properly. There's no sizing up to be had, no "hello, how do you do" -- he jumps immediately to physical contact, tugging at the man's shirt and then settling his arms around his waist. He envelops him in sort of a hug (one of many to come), and right-after-immediately starts to sway them both, conveying affection in what might just be the gayest way possible.

'What, no important business to get to? No domestic life to keep intact?' he pulls a face even as he says that, joy giving way to temporary displeasure. But one tick, then two, and his smile is more or less back, flowery as they come.

'Or are you just being nice? Is that it?'

[letdown-city]

He's got a visitor! From the heavens above. And from what the guy starts rambling about, it's kind of like he's an angel -- questioning him about his deep, dark origins, of course. Truth is, he's actually a demon, come from the underworld to prey on the souls of mere mortals. And that's why he never ages: there's no better beauty cream than the soul of a virgin maiden.

And so he digresses.

'If you really knew your stuff, you would know I'm immortal,' Nozoya starts. He speaks in this light, airy kind of way, with his voice on the border so that it's not clear whether he's joking or not. The carefully animated expression on his face doesn't give any clues, either. 'But sure. Let's go with your idea. I spend about 50% of my money on beautycare...

Just so I don't lose any clients. It's a lot better than it sounds, I assure you.' He pats the man on the shoulder, just to double-reassure him. Surely there's no reason for him not to believe him now.

Digressing again! What a nasty habit.

'But, you can't have made that kind of entrance just to ask that.' There's a rising inflection to his voice now, almost daring the guy to say otherwise. 'So? What can I do you for?'

'You can't just come out with something that boring! It hurts your cred. --your street cred, I mean.'

[ruthelinse]

 ’Hey, you!’ He snaps his fingers loudly, not a couple of times, enough to be obnoxious. Sure-fire sign that either sex on legs was not going to go anywhere, any time soon, or his next target ought to consider running - if they wanted any way out of this, fast thinkers were the best escapees. He got what was coming to him, that was legit. ‘Course it was. He claps both palms above his head, sound loud as thunder carried by the narrow street that only enhanced it. That was warning enough. Right? Okay, so he’s got to be fair to the boy in question. He’s unguarded, busy with who knows what —might even dare to say that he’s occupied with something important! 

Yeah, big whoop. Doesn’t matter if he’s going solo, party-of-one’s are always available, always. Who knew, maybe he was waiting for a volunteer to help him film whatever he was trying to nail. Tripods sucked, they couldn’t give you feedback. You’d just have to get choosy with which take you took and published it out for bragging purposes. 

Now genuinity, that was something you should look for —and he could help!, make the product better; all be damned if that wasn’t actually a word, it was now. 

Shit. 

He pockets both his hands into this guy at random at the end of the alleyway, shoves them right into pockets not belonging to him, but they belong there. They do. 

 Knocking their heads together he stares down the other’s neck and aims straight for his ear. ’ Yyyyyow! Whatcha doing! That looks fun. You know what that could make that even funner,' So a word. Couldn't be bothered by it, though. He wrenches his hands out of the other's pockets spins the both of them into the wall, snatching the camera from him and holds it high above his head. ' If you let somebody that knows what they're doing join in! Whatever it is, scout’s honor, star’s confidentiality and all that.

I’ll film you. Do what you were doing. — Trust me, I’ve got a steady hand. — And I’ll even keep zipped up about it, your hobby or fuckever.

Better than sneaking out of the house just for your calling, right?’ 

[letdown-city]

Looks like somebody just came over and started flipping into his book, reading the middle of the ninth chapter without even pausing to look at the back. Okay, context: that might sound a little superior, but really, he's startled out of his mind. People don't just come and do that! Normal people, anyway. They're supposed to start at the start, and that's only supposed to be a thing in normal situations--

Not situations that involve a dark alley in the middle of the night.

So, first his space gets invaded (that's okay, since he still hasn't looked up the phrase "personal space" in the dictionary), but the real kicker is when the guy up and snatches his camcorder out of his hands, holding it high, not in glory, but in threat, endangering the last three hours of his life that he's spent recording. He makes a quick reach for it, but that's not exactly going to work, is it?

At least he wasn't in the middle of his routine when this new stranger showed up.

'None of that's any of your business!' he exclaims, looking as irate as he feels. He's not liking this. Sure, he likes surprises, but he doesn't like this. 'Anyone would tell you that,' he continues defensively. Problem is, there isn't just some random person on the street at this time of night that he can up and ask for their take on the situation. But he's sure -- assured! -- that most people would probably agree with him: this isn't fair. Granted, some people might think he's got it coming to him, given the location (and timing and how little he'd been paying attention), but it's all about context! Context.

He makes another ineffectual grab for his camera.

'For all you know, I was filming snakes.' Yes! Snakes! In the big city, in one of the most dense areas in that city. Snakes. It makes perfect sense, if you would just consider the context... 'Filming snakes is a one-man job. And amateurs can't do it. Especially not with really expensive equipment!' Belatedly, he gives the guy a dazed sort of once-over. He doesn't recognise him, so it's probably fine if he doesn't act like a prude. Probably.

'Do you love snakes that much? Huh? Or are you just a huge jerk?'

[keie1-blog-blog]

   Ah, this guy.

Unforgettable face, unpredictable stack of tricks and a —-prize-winning, priceless name that he’s totally going to wrestle out of him by the end of the evening. He’s got it right on the tip of his tongue, swear to god. — He’s so into it, actually. - He’s started sweating, there’s his weather check. - Why would it matter? He goes through business affairs even though he’s a memorizing maniac when it comes down to it, — because you can’t offend anybody in the business! You just, can’t!— You’d have to be suicidal to do that, and mark his words, he thoroughly knew as much how to enjoy life. 

' So that you are.’ At first, it seems like the two are having two separate conversations but the enthusiasm isn’t missed. He always needs to one-up, and if it meant blowing through introductions and all that gritty nonsense, then so be it ! ’Just who I wanted to see!’

He finally shows some teeth and, starting with his tooth-filled grin fill in all right the little details of the upperclass; this was a man of luxury who had time to pay attention to his every last flaw before bringing himself outside. It was down on his profile, and maybe the way he grabbed for the smaller man and collected him closer to himself, looking him over. ’ You look good as ever, where has my favorite man of all time, been? I couldn’t sleep you know, not a wink. — Worst feeling in the world, hasn’t anybody told you? Being put down soundlessly, oh I don’t like that. 

And neither should you,' He drags two fingerpads across Nozoya's forehead, drawing aside the bangs that obstructed him from being able to radiant it out, '— We? Are we getting company?' He spared a glance down at his opportunistic resourcer —you had to be a guy easily duped, easily trusted. To be a realistic client, you’d have to be willing to be played just as well. He was just that kind of guy. 

'Thought you'd forgotten all about me.’ For now, he’d expend all his concentration on drowning this guy in his meaningful gaze. Get him to loosen up even if a tad, shatter that all-business, no to fun attitude. 

Obviously, he knew this guy starting from the inside out. Nothing to it, right !

'Come along, we'll squeeze in a lot of talk and a little celebration, anything for my favorite, favorite man.

Name it! We’ll see it done.’ 

[letdown-city]

SO not the attitude he usually went for! See, he's more of the type of guy to go for resistance. Where's the fun in the game if somebody's not playing hard to get, huh? But he can do this too. Jack-of-all-trades, master of just as many, after all! And it's no lie, either, that he likes being sweettalked.

'You almost sound serious! You really, almost had me going. Here's a tip: try not to pull that on the next man you see. He probably won't buy what you're selling.' Making the man sound as much of a prostitute as possible? Fair compensation, to be absolutely sure. 'Lucky for you, I feel for your case. We never ignore people, trust me -- not when they're so important, after all!' Nozoya rakes his hand back up to Keiei's shoulder, leaving it there, now that they've broken about two or three personal bubbles.

This is nice, too.

'I really wanted to get back to you! Really. But you know how it is -- things get so busy, life happens...' he trails off, like he expects the man to completely understand. It's so general a statement that most anyone can understand it, anyway. 'Just last week, I was swamped. You'd think the police had finally come after me.' And there he goes, breaking the illusion. So sad! But he's in good company. 'I bet the same thing has happened to you at least once -- twice?' He pulls back a little, looking him over approvingly. 'No. Four times, must've been. Am I right?'

And that's a total compliment!

Nozoya leans in a little closer. It's a big crowd, they've gotta make more room (or live a little, depending on what appealed to whom), whatever! All signs point to him finding that last offer pre-tty appealing.

'As long as we don't need to go to one of those clubs of yours, we'd love to see what you have in mind for your favourite, favourite man.' And here he starts acting like he's swooning, not so much tipping but leaning forward instead. 'Something classy for our favourite classy man, I'm guessing? Would just love to sit down, chat, and... --talk about whatever else comes up!

You're a busy guy, am I right? I'm sure we can think of something.'