#homareautba

[lightlorn]

@ryunonendai liked for MOST WANTED.

“And how much for a night with the boss?”

He’s making all these pretty boys nervous. Even Majima’s crush, that steel-balled man’s man, shifts uncomfortably from the other table. None of them make a move. He notices with a growing sense of pride he’s even staggered the manager with that question. Looking up at his newfound partner in crime, his lips split into a vile grin.

“Not like that, ya fuckin’ degenerates.” 

Nishitani laughs into the discomfort he’s created, shuffling through his coat for a little motivation. There, the kid in the suit is already on the move, trying to get between his boss and the menace. Retrieving a tall pile of cash, he made a great show of dropping it onto the table with a satisfying thunk. It must be all the sweeter in this economy, he mused, washing the thought down with another glass of whiskey. 

The former patriarch looks past the hired help, looks past the pretty boys all shifting uncomfortably. This relies on Yuka, and he’ll acknowledge her answer alone. He came here for fun, after all, and as great as it is to bait Tamaki... He really needs to know what Majima-kun has walked him into, taking this woman on.

[lightlorn]

[amonweep] a glance at nishitani from a distance. a look down at his pin, up at his face, and shuzi squints and nearly snarls like an animal would if she hadn't any self-control. she doesn't say a word, but by the look upon her face, she isn't pleased with the man in her peripheral. // @amonweep​

At his age, you get used to the breadth of looks that people throw your way. Judging by the energy roiling off this kid, a storm on that horizon, he must have fucked her mom right in front of her. Least it should have something comparatively nasty for that sullen look on her face. Coming to a stop, hands planted into his pockets, Nishitani rocked to and fro on his heels.

“Somethin’ I can help you with, kid?”

It was important to mind your manners. Billiken had told him that, Goda had told him that, hell, even Sagawa had tried to rein him in with the concept. It was the last of these that prevented him from taking the advice to heart. Fuck Sagawa. And fuck whatever whelp wanted to eye the pin and then cop an attitude.

There was no respect in this city. He hadn’t done much to deserve it, but he definitely hadn’t asked for that half-wild expression of open disgust. He didn’t know her from anywhere, but shit, she had to know him with that pointed glare.

You could call it hurt feelings. You could chalk it up to curiosity, or boredom. Either way, the Patriarch planted himself there at her side and waited.

[lightlorn]

“I swear to god, if you get blood on me…” ( nishitani ) // @shikaal​

Reasonable request, really. Even though he’s just been put through the ringer, the ghost of blows he could not avoid still radiating ache, a broken tooth piercing at his tongue, he can absolutely control the crimson flood. These cuts aren’t anything serious, surely. He locks eyes with her, deliberate.

The blood in his mouth is metallic. It feels good to spit it at her feet, like a good cleansing. The projectile doesn’t stain her, at least, and it’s an argument he’s all too ready to make. Swiping bruised knuckles against his split lip, he parks himself on the curb, fumbling in his pockets for a pack of smokes.

“Can’t make any promises if you stick around, sweetheart.” If his lighter was a casualty of the latest brawl, he was hunting those limp-dicked fucks down and giving them a round two. Sighing, he twirled the now useless cigarette between his fingers, dancing along busted joints gone brown and yellow from impact. 

“If yer gonna kick me while I’m down, get it over with. My ride’s on the way.”

[lightlorn]

“I didn’t mean to stab you!” for nishitani // @nakazonoluck​

“Ah, that changes everything, blind kid --”

He stares down at the nick along his side. She could have gotten him good, and he smiles as he traces the cut in his shirt, the torn flesh beneath. Watch out world, the blind kid’s annoying as ever, chatty as ever, and now she’s armed! The old man huffs out a laugh.

“That changes everything. Ya didn’t mean to, and that’s what matters. See, intent changes the impact. Blunts the knife, doesn’t it?”

His grin is toothy as he draws his fingers back, gone crimson with blood. She got him, alright. He paces himself -- she’s not the girl for this, and he tames the beast in his veins til it rests on the floor. Still, he feeds it what scraps he can allow it in her presence, a taste of his own lifeblood as he licks rough digits clean.

“But ya already know that’s BULLSHIT, don’t ya, blind kid? Shit. Who’d you think I was? You had that thing ready.” And Homare knows to stop talking, knows to apply pressure, but he’s not done teasing. He’s had a lot worse from a lot better.