Zechuanās attempt at appeasement doesnāt convince him of anything. No matter how velvety and persuasive the otherās voice might be in pretending to promise heāll listen and leave the office at a reasonable hour, Chiye still feels a steep measure of suspicion even through his intoxication. āBefore that,ā he insists. Ten is late enough-- but so is nine, and eight, he thinks. If Zechuan stays at his desk until eight, how will he ever find time to eat supper properly? The obvious solution would also be the simplest, he thinks: Chiye could pull him from the office by force, lead him into the elevator, down and out to the city to take him out to dinner-- if the other would let him.Ā
ā¦The presumed obstacle brings a wrinkle to his brow as his distracted thoughts take him farther and farther from the situation at hand. Wonāt willingly go out to dinner with him. Wonāt text him back anything less than a few reserved lines, wonāt use the presents Chiye gave him for the officeās holiday gift exchange, wonāt come over to Chiyeās apartment-- unless he has a reason to, apparently. On a normal, non-birthday-day, isnāt Chiye being here himself reason enough?Ā
It should be; maybe he only needs to be more persuasive in proving so.
The other continues to tease him with the prospect of not giving him his present, which wouldnāt be acceptable in the slightest, however much he relishes the teasing note in the manās voice. āI donāt want to wait that long,ā he states unnecessarily, his words determined. That glint in his eyes, that flicker of a grin-- the unspoken challenge, to try and take the gift by force-- thatās why Chiyeās certain that heāll be driven mad by this man sooner than later. His gaze narrows hungrily, fixed on Zechuanās face instead of the gift box cradled in his palm. There will be time for indulging later (he can make time).Ā
Drink(s) first, as heās politely reminded. No matter how foolish and hole-filled Chiyeās half-reasoning had been about the otherās trek up to the buildingās penthouse, the fact remains: drinking is good, Zechuan is here, and therefore Zechuan should enjoy a good drink. And because itās his celebration, Chiye deserves to pour himself another one, too.Ā
With a newfound buoyancy in his uneven step, he heads to the makeshift bar. There are a wide array of choices spread out for the picking, the island in the middle of the kitchen having turned into one long bar atop which the remaining clean glasses are stacked along with an impressive display premium liquor of all kinds, cocktail mixers, toppled shakers still holding the remnants of the last cocktail mixed in them, and a bucket now filled with half-ice and half-water, in which floats a variety of chilled beer bottles, both lagers and ales. The champagne bottles have all already been finished off hours ago, so thatās no longer an option. Nor is the beer. The taste of beer on Zechuanās tongue would only make sense, Chiye thinks, if it came from the taste on his own lips first-- but on its own? No.Ā
A well-mixed cocktail would do, he knows could put together a good one with decent flavor, but thereās a drink that would suit the other man far better-- āWine. Whereās the wine?ā Itās more of a question for himself as he sorts through the clinking bottles of alcohol, since surely none of his other guests would know. Thereās a third of a bottle of dry wine left open, it seems like, and the only other remnants of the partyās available stash are the empty wine bottles toss haphazardly into the trash. Itās nothing to regret, being too late for those wines; a finer wine would suit Zechuan best, and those hadnāt been on offer at his party to begin with.Ā
Chiye does know where to find them, though: how fortunate it is that his party is at his apartment, and he knows exactly where he keeps his own wines. So after having led Zechuan to the kitchen, its time to move on. āMy office,ā he says by way of answering his own previous question. Home office, though he has the distinct hunch that Zechuan would find a way to ridicule him further if he attempts to clarify that distinction. āI know what wine you'd like, and the best ones are in my wine fridge.ā Best being synonymous with most expensive, in this case. There's one especially that's sweet, which he received as a gift a few months ago and hadn't opened yet because sweet wines aren't his first choice, but in this case, it would be perfect-- and the longer he thinks about it, the more sure he is of its perfection for the current scenario.
"Come this way--" Chiye starts to coax the other down the hall, leading him by the wrist (his thumb pressing against the otherās palm), weaving around the remaining well-wishers. His facial expression is oddly serious; heās on a mission, after all. But thereās still the beginnings of a satisfctory grin on his face, since he knows Zechuan will love the wine when they get there, and equally important is the fact that in his home office, he can shut the door.