Word took flight around Night City quickly. The Tyger Claw had lost a piece of their turf to a gang that all but came out of the WOODWORK. And they weren’t happy. But they weren’t in a position to do anything about it in the moment. That would be HIS BAD. The Sons of Drakon were thriving, their reputation growing, as well as their enemies. Jakša was out to make impressions among the other gangs. The Tyger Claw would have felt their bite sooner or later.
The solo also knew of the affiliation the Fixer had with the Tyger Claws. She was ranked high within them ( how high though, he wasn’t so sure ). But he respected the woman. It was her who put the most trust in him upon his entry into Night City. Gave him work. A good name among other fixers. If it weren’t for her, he’d still be skimming by, he’s sure. And he rather be the one to admit to his actions then her find out by some other goon.
He was forced to sneak his way around Japantown to her office. Doing well to avoid any Tygers he saw stalking about along the way. Her office was empty— but he knew where else to seek her company. So he made his way outside. The solo carries himself like a SCOLDED child almost. ( He was surely about to be, after all . ) Its out of respect that he waits briefly for the man that accompanied her in her nook to silently wrap up their conversation. Watching the pink-haired figure disappear. One of her sons— if he was to guess.
Carefully Jakša approached. He doesn’t move to hastily and he makes sure not to get too close. He cracked a small smile down at her, “Wakako.”
“Mhm. My roots in NC lead back to you, always. And… hmmm at least not with holes you can see.” There was a slight chuckle at his words. He gave a small bow to her. His following words were spoken in a softer tone. Unusual for him. “またお目にかかれて、うれしく思います. I— I wanted to speak with you. Ispričavati.”
That smile remained stilly etched—spurring crows’ feet, laugh lines to divot mature skin—even as he approached. It was the way he spoke in her native tongue, the way he dipped his head, crooked his spine in a bow, his tone uttered as soft as a feather …
… He respected her. That much was clear. Though, she didn’t need this once-off to know that. Jakša, despite his formidable height and daunting impression, had treated her with much grander respect than many of the little bugs in NC’s solo scene. Not many would come crawling back to that whom rooted them into their career in this shitshow of a metropolis—not unless they wanted something that only her spidery fingers could pluck free.
But, an apology? Consider her interest promptly piqued.
“Let’s get you inside,” she said simply. What could be seen as a paradoxical acknowledgement yet dismissal wrapped into one tight little package was far from unintentional—as, if one were to peel away the layers, beneath it would loom some semblance of protectiveness. After all, if she wanted to gun him down, she would’ve. Or, better yet, speak loud enough to attract the attention of nearby Tyger Claws.
There was a beat of a pause, eyes locked, before she wove herself around him and back towards the office tucked neatly away in her parlour. A few security bypasses later and she entered, leaving the door agape in her wake. If he knew what was good for him, he’d close it after.
With her back turned, she fetched herself two small glasses and a bottle of well-loved whiskey. “さあ、すっかり打ち明けなさい , Jakša.”
