As Shizuka sat there, not touching the food or the blue drink she had previously gotten from the bar, she notices Kazuma showing her a message on his phone again, "A friend of mine invited me over to her house for tonight, she said I should bring someone with me. Would you like to come along? She said we're going to play games and sleepover." Though Shizuka didn’t have any alcohol in her system, she wasn’t thinking with her usual frame of mind. Normally, she wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone, or she would be cautious and find such an invitation extremely dubious. Instead she said, “I-I suppose I could take your friend up on her offer. I need a place to spend the night.”
Kazuma nodded in response, getting up from his seat. He gently took Shizuka’s hand and guided her out of the venue. As they left the building, Kazu lifted the mask off his face and let it sit on his head as he took in a deep breath of the cold air. He felt the chill embrace him as they walked toward the street. Everything felt better already. It’s as if the party never happened. He waved down a taxi, ushering Shizuka into the backseat before getting in after her. He showed Amie’s address to the taxi driver, ”Alright kiddo, I’ll take ya there.”. He quickly texted Amie, ”Almost at your place.” it read simply. The tone of it was ambiguous due to the lack of expression in text form. It wasn’t long before they made it to Amie’s house.. Or rather mansion. He didn’t expect his new friend to be so… wealthy.
When Shizuka and Kazuma arrive at Amity’s mansion, Shizuka is quite stunned; she hadn’t expected Kazuma’s friend to live in such an opulent estate. She treads lightly as she approaches the front door, almost afraid that she’ll get something she can’t afford dirty or damaged. Strangely enough, Shizuka has kept her helmet on; something about what happened at the New Year’s party has made her feel an inexplicable sense of shame, and keeping the mask on has helped her deal with it somewhat. Glancing at the time, Amity wondered if Kazu and his possible friend(s) were arriving any time soon (not having checked her phone). A crazy night of games and revelry would ensue and she couldn’t wait! Curiosity fell upon the little idol as she walked out onto her balcony. By pure dumb luck, she saw a taxi car drive into her unreasonably long driveway. Something she knew her trio (Liam, Luke, Renee) wouldn’t need to drive. Giddy inside, the idol raced passed Kyle and yelled over the music, “THEY’RE HERE!” While the two friends had waited, they brought an abundance of alcohol and snackage into her bedroom (premade sandwiches, a lot of junk, and water, for when people started feeling sick). They also set up beer pong just in case everyone wanted to break the ice with that game first. She had music playing throughout the entire mansion (who knows where they’d end up tonight).
The current song that was playing:
As an idol, who loved to dance, Amity took it upon herself (ever since she was little) to learn as many dances as she could. She even knew some Seyoncè and Justin Kimberlake grooves. Kyle would know this very well, since in America she danced in front of him on numerous occasions for the hell of it.
During the time they waited for Amity’s friend to show up, they had prepared for a night of fun up in her room, though there was the potential to go downstairs and do other things as well. After they set everything up, they basically sat around, continued to drink and just talked with each other. Most of the topics were about random things, like how her work was going, memories of high school together, that one time Kyle got pantsed and immediately turned around and gut shot the unlucky bastard who did it to him. Good times.
He forgot how nice it was to just hang out with a friend of his, and the possibility of making more friends, like this Kazu person she invited was exciting. The prospect of it all had Kyle’s mind slipping in and out of reality. It wasn’t until Amity exclaimed at the top of her lungs that their guests had arrived and she bolted past him that concern and instinct brought him slamming back to earth.
Going to her stair railing, the idol slid down it like the hyper, drunkard she was, almost slipping off but no worries! Her landing was stable, for the most part. Before the new arrivals had the opportunity to ring the doorbell, Amity reached for the knob and swung it open abruptly. Her ice eyes gleamed under the front porch light. Along with her cute, small red kimono pajamas the idol wore light pink, thigh high stocking socks.
Kyle chased after the young idol, nearly having a heart attack as he saw her go sliding down the stair railing. His running speed picked up and it wasn’t until he saw her safely stumble to the ground that relief washed over him and he quickly jogged down the stairs just as she opened the door. Presumably the male was Kazu, though he was curious about the kimono clad….Silver Fox?
The bass resounded through her mansion as if a dance party had been happening all night long. Without a second thought, the idol pounced on Kazuma excitedly, “Kazu~! I’ve missed you.” She couldn’t help but stay in his embrace for a moment or two, it was warm and comforting to her.
Just before Kazu could even press the doorbell, the mansion door swung open. And before he could even react, a pink hurricane pounced on him. He soon felt the warmth of a smaller body pressed against him, he wrapped his arms around the pink haired embodiment of energy, whom he knew to be Amie. Her scent was sweet. Sweet Peas? A good choice, he thought, trying to hold back the urge to actually sniff her. Her clothes were soft. Silk. He liked the feeling of silk.
And with that, Amity pulled away from Kazuma and started introductions, “Oh how rude of me… Welcome to the Shitty Night Club! Well, me not as bad as him though.” She gestured to her best friend, ”Oy! Rude.” The American’s brows furrows and she continued, ”Either way, hello, hello! Welcome to my home. I’ll give a tour after game night. I’m…” Giving a little twirl and an exuberantly adorable pose as if pictures were being taken for a magazine (with an added peace sign in the end), Amie simpered, “Amity Bellerose! International pop icon.”
Kazu’s eyes went up and down Amie’s form when she had pulled away from him. He could feel his face go a slight shade of pink. Her outfit looked amazingly beautiful on her. He’d be lying if he was to say that he wasn’t slightly aroused as well. He shook his head slightly, attempting to banish gutter thoughts. Thankfully, something she said distracted him, Pop icon? that would explain a lot. Amie’s outfit when they first met. Her driver. Her mansion. It all made a lot of sense now. But that didn’t really change Kazu’s view on her. She was a good friend, a beautiful one at that. As his mother once told him, never judge a book by it’s cover. But he could damn well love one because of the cover and contents together. He couldn’t help but give her a bright smile as she did her pose though.
Kyle was somewhat curious to see how the two new guests would react to the ‘pop idol’ introduction. At this point most anyone who was a fan of hers would be screaming and/or drooling all over her, but he was pleasantly surprised to find the exact opposite of a reaction. Perhaps she had already told this Kazu fellow about her career and heritage, or maybe simply, he just didn’t give a fuck like Kyle; either way he already liked the guy.
Breaking out of her pose, the idol shrugged nonchalantly like it was not a big deal at all to meet a celebrity (did she even tell Kazu she was a pop icon?), ”That’s besides the point. This is Kyle, he’s American. Kyle, this is Kazuma, he talks by phone, unless you learned sign language over the years.” She briefly gave Kazu a small phrase (one out of maybe three?) she learned over the week in sign language, ”I’m glad you came.” Sure, she didn’t teach herself the basics and just watched UsTube videos for phrases but she would learn soon enough. When Amity wanted to learn something she would, even if it took her years. Learning another language probably wouldn’t be terribly hard, especially since she knew more languages than the average human.
Kazu gave Kyle a nod, tapping onto his phone for a moment before showing him a message. ”It’s nice to meet you.” it read. He was taken aback by Amie’s use of sign language, he didn’t expect her to have learnt any already, but he figured that she used UsTube to learn a little. ”Thank you for inviting me!” he wrote onto his phone, giving her a grin. He didn’t know if she knew how to understand that if he signed it to her, so just in case.
”Yo,” Kyle raised his hand nonchalantly before bringing it back down. So Kazu was a mute then? That would explain while he was looking through Amity’s UsTube channel that her feed was littered with a few of those ‘how to epic sign language’ videos...though some of those ended up having the guy smash a shit ton of eggs and pour gallons of milk everywhere.
Tilting her head and giving a puzzled stare, the idol brought her attention to the girl standing beside Kazu and wondered if she would remove her mask. Tonight would be a strange drinking night if the young lady kept her mask on. Allowing her attention to solely focus on the other girl, Amie approached her carefully (knowing very well the newcomer probably felt a little awkward) and gave a soft, accepting stare, “Sorry if I seem a bit... much. I’m just so happy for you all to be here. I’m glad Kazu was able to bring someone. It’s even better that you’re a girl!” Scratching her head and realizing she didn’t have any girlfriends, excluding Renee (and her maids), Amity sighed at the thought. Unfortunately, Amity and Kyle’s ex, Julia, hadn’t talked since before the break up and obviously (referring to the incident with Nori earlier this evening) Amity scared females away.
“You can call me Amie.” The idol urged, in hopes that calling each other by nicknames would be a good start for a growing friendship.
“I-I’m sorry,” Shizuka said, coming out of her shock at Amity’s revelation, M-my name is Otonashi Shizuka.” She introduced herself formally and bowed. “I didn't know Kazuma’s friend was so famous.” While Shizuka had heard of and seen Amity, she wasn't much of a consumer of popular media so she was slightly unfamiliar with Amity’s work, but she hoped it wouldn't show. However more pressing than that, Shizuka took her helmet off, took out the hairpin that she was using to keep her hair up, and shook her hair loose. ”You were at the Shining Kettle a few weeks ago, right?” Shizuka recognized Amity from before. She didn't know who she was at the time because she wasn't that familiar with celebrities (and because Amity was in disguise) but seeing her again up close was enough. ”You were playing with a little girl...Lucille…” Shizuka’s voice dropped off. Thinking about Lucille made her think of Alban. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness and frustration even though she mentally chided herself not to, that there was nothing there, that they were just friends.
Kyle watched as the kimono-clad girl removed the helmet to reveal her face, instinctively his first thought went to ”She’s cute,” before immediately banishing it and listening as the conversation went on.
The idol’s brows furrowed as she took note of an underlying sadness in Shizuka’s voice, especially in the end when she mentioned Lucille. If they were given a moment alone, just girl to girl, the pink hurricane would inquire further but for now, Amie was going to turn Shizuka’s frown upside down (with alcohol)! Determined to change the subject as soon as possible, the idol agreed, “Yepp! That was me and if I do remember correctly, you’re a Veterinary Science student at Shine City Academy, yeah?” She realized how creepy that sounded... ”Sorry… I may have eavesdropped on your conversation…” Her face was apologetic and if her cheeks hadn’t been already pink from alcohol, Shizuka may have seen her blush. Yet, this showed how great of a memory Amie had when she wanted to remember something. Her mouth suddenly dropped when the rest of Shizuka’s words at The Shining Kettle made its course through her brain.
”I’m also a teaching assistant for Dr. Matsuoka in Biology. I’m glad you’re…”
Bringing her mouth back up and acting like she wasn’t just surprised with the thought, the idol stared deeply into Shizuka’s eyes and grabbed her soft hand (the one that wasn’t holding a helmet), “I’ve decided. We’re going to be the best of friends.” Earnestly, Amie wanted to know Shizuka and it just so happened that her future bestie might know someone related to Shou or perhaps Shou himself?
“I-it’s okay,” Shizuka reassured Amity, besides, conversations at a cafe couldn’t really be expected to be private. So as not to make it seem too one-sided, Shizuka added, “I remember you ordered a caramel frappuccino with...well, I guess I don’t remember the rest, but I think it's admirable, to always know exactly what you want.” When Amity grabbed her hand, Shizuka wanted to place her other hand over on top of Amity’s, but she was holding the helmet which she didn’t exactly want to drop, so she just gave Amity’s hand a gentle squeeze in acknowledgment. Becoming best friends with a pop idol was not something Shizuka expected to happen tonight, heck, it wasn’t something she expected to happen in her entire life. Shizuka took Amity’s offer of friendship seriously. While anyone could say ‘let’s be best friends’ without really meaning it, something about Amity didn’t seem that shallow to Shizuka. So far Amity didn’t seem to treat her friends or Shizuka as ‘playthings’, as ‘lesser’, or as ‘fans’ for their lack of fame and wealth. While Amity seemed to revel in opulence, it wasn’t the insecure, in-your-face way that some rich flaunted themselves. No, Shizuka could tell that this was all Amity knew and she couldn’t be faulted for it, that there was an innocence to Amity’s wealth.
"Thank you. I guess I don't like to keep people waiting." Amity's face softened. This woman was filled with kindness, truly beyond anything the idol knew a person was capable of. The idol could tell that Shizuka's heart was gold. The way she spoke, held herself... the idol wasn't dumb, this was probably the first time she's been in a situation like this. Amity would keep an eye on her tonight, at least until she herself lost her own inhibitions.
It wasn’t until the two newcomers were finally let in and the door was closed that Kyle immediately whipped out a couple of shot glasses from his pocket. Bottle of Bacardi 151 in hand he poured the shots and handed the bottle to Amity.
”Right, first rule of ‘The Shitty Night Club’ is to begin getting shit faced, and this rum will start off the night for you two, cause you definitely need to get on our level.” He handed one shot to Kazuma, the second to Shizuka, briefly stopping and smiling at her as he gestured towards her helmet, ”I like your helmet by the way, very cool.” He took a couple of steps back and pulled his wool hat down so it covered his right eye and in the best, deepest and gruffest Daniel Hater voice he could muster he said in English, ”(IRON GEAR!)” Making sure to emphasize the line as much as possible, with his fist clenched towards his chest for dramatic effect. He then began laughing, ”Haha, sorry, bit of a geek-gasm there.”
The idol blinked confusingly but her drunken smile never faded away. Anything video game related flew right over her head.
“Th-thanks…” Shizuka replied, “I won it in a raffle at the arcade, but unfortunately, I’m not that familiar with the game it's from.” She hoped Kyle wouldn’t judge her negatively for not having the same interests and being a ‘poser’ for wearing a helmet she knew nothing about.
Relieved that she wasn't the only one who didn't understand the reference, Amity made a hidden fist pump (already taken a strong liking to Shizuka).
Looking at the shotglass, she figured it wouldn’t be a problem as it was only her first drink of the night, having missed (avoided) the chance to sample the strange blue concoction that had turned Alban into a completely different person. However, Shizuka had only had experience with beer in small quantities, sake at formal events (so not a lot), and recently, a glass of wine. She had no experience with hard liquor. With a certain degree of abandon, Shizuka drained the cup only to have the liquid assault her mouth and throat. Though she managed to drink it all down, she started coughing, her eyes watering from the intensity. Shizuka doubled over, holding the empty shot glass to her stomach and taking long, ragged breaths. She could still feel the fumes burning through her nose as she straightened up. “Th-this is...rum?”
With widen eyes, Amity went closer to Shizuka to offer support if she needed it, "I definitely need to keep an eye on her tonight..."
”Ha-ha, no worries, you'll have to play the game sometime, the stealth tactics are pretty unique and fun, especially the original for its time.” Even drunk Kyle could tell a few things about games, but he was more concerned with her reaction to the shot of rum. He wanted to ask if she was going to be alright, but when she straightened herself out and asked about the rum he instead answered her question. ”Well, it's 151 specifically, helluva lot stronger than normal rum.” He scratched his head, ”You'll probably be feeling that really soon, but trust me when I say that if you can handle a shot of that, you'll be able to drink most everything we have upstairs.”
Kazu didn’t get much time to take in the interior of the mansion, since he was immediately given a shot glass the moment he walked through the door. He took the shot glass and looked at the alcoholic liquid, before shrugging and downing it as a shot should be. He was pretty alcohol tolerant, but his friend back in Japan had once recalled what Kazu had done during a party. Something about him sitting on the couch with a bunch of drunk girls around him, swooning apparently. He didn’t remember any of it, so he assumed his friend was making stuff up. Let’s hope it wasn’t true. The alcohol tasted quite good. But Sake would always be his number one go-to. Ice cold sake. Now he wanted some.
Kyle clapped his hands together, ”Right, why don’t we take this upstairs? We’ve got booze, food and games for all!”
”BUT! Before any of that” The idol exclaimed proudly.
“You two need to get into some comfy clothes!” Amity looked up at her best friend and asked, ”Kyle, can you bring Kazu~ to Liam’s room? And I’ll bring Zuka to Renee’s!”
Kyle nodded and gestured for the mute fellow to follow him, beginning the climb back up the stairs.
Kazu nodded back at the American, following him up the stairs. He wondered what they’d give him to wear. His clothes were pretty comfy, in his opinion anyway.
Renee’s wardrobe was elegant to sexy, entirely filled with designer brands, and conservative for the most part. Her assistant would always say, “Clothes enhance a woman’s beauty, may it be simple or filled with intricate designs. Nevertheless, clothes will always be just pieces of fabric. Without a woman’s personality, our outfits are meaningless.” The clothing selection was quite a contrast to Amity’s closet (which was filled with frills, lace, and cuteness) but it made sense since Amie's style was far different than her assistant's. With little to no struggle, the idol found a light beige, satin outfit that she thought would look great on Shizuka. As the idol assumed, simplicity looked gorgeous on her new friend. Though they were alone, Amity felt like it was too early to inquire about the sadness in her voice from earlier, so she decided to keep the talk to random chit chat hoping Shizuka was beginning to like her.
Shizuka had willingly followed Amity to the wardrobe. While the rum was strong, Shizuka wasn’t completely drunk yet, maybe a little buzzed. But it did slightly remove her inhibitions, making her more compliant to Amity’s suggestions. Shizuka was unable to maintain her usual, formal demeanor and spoke quite a bit more freely, and was more willing to impose on Amity’s graciousness instead of being the reticent and undemanding guest that propriety would have dictated. Shizuka tried the nightwear Amity offered. While she normally would have refused to change into someone else’s pajamas, or be seen in nightwear in front of two boys, she was buzzed, and the clothes were modest enough to fly under her current modesty radar.
"After seeing you dance at the club, I didn't expect to see you waltzing, Sabine."
"Now where have I heard that voice before?"
Sabine was, honestly, a little anxious. She had let her feelings come out too quickly. It wouldn't have taken a 10 year-old to know how desperate she must've sounded at the time, but...
...well, he did say yes. Perhaps a plus; perhaps not. She considered leaving early to recollect herself and avoid getting left off in the middle of the dance floor, but it appeared a certain magician had whisked her away from the fresh night air.
"Dancing's fun, really. It's like the one thing besides drugs that you can really do stuff with other people that doesn't involve purposely..er, 'beating' people. No competition, no goal but to see if you and your partner are happy. Waltz just...isn't in style.
She took the taller man by the wrist and dragged him off to the side as the next song came rolling in. They were clammy now; she had a weird feeling in her gut ever since her last dance partner waltzed his way off to his intended mistress.
It was like she wanted to pound her head until she had dropped a good 30 IQ points. Maybe she'd go fishing for shrimp with an amputee and marry a blondie, some real goldilocks like Nori...
...okay Sabine, stop fantasizing about her. Bad girl.
"But I'd guess you'd want a spin with me here, huh? I would...if my legs weren't jello. So...how about some hor d'oeuvres?"
Right...food...Zac was nice enough to let her calm down, right? She could feel the blood in her body pulse as alcohol seeped into her veins.
She had forgotten to eat, hadn't she?
The brunette slide on a barstool, and ordered a glass of water as she scanned the rest of the room to search for a few waiters and servers. But...dammit, why did they have to wear masks too, of all times?!
Alban was resting against his favorite pillow, twirling a strand of Mari’s hair between his fingertips. They had gotten to his place perhaps 20 or so minutes ago, and they had immediately gone on a very exciting adventure to his bedroom. This time in particular was his first “adventure” in years. But now, they were simply relaxing, snuggled together in his bed. Al was ready to pass out, still fairly intoxicated. However, he peered over at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It wasn’t quite midnight yet! As if to further his protest against sleep, his stomach growled loudly. He didn't recall eating much at all today, now that he thought about it.
“We need to stay up until midnight, Mari. I think we should go get snacks… Like hamburgers or something.” he told her, almost too comfortable to get up though. Unproductively, he pulled her closer to him, kissing her forehead. He honestly felt great right now. How long it had been since he had felt so at ease and relaxed, he couldn’t say.
Mari giggled as he kissed her forehead, “ But Aaaaaallllllll….” She cooed in protest as if she were ten again. If she had a choice in the matter she would have been happy to just lay there and enjoy each others company for the rest of the night. Everything felt amazing in this moment; her body, her mind (though spinning), and most of all her heart. Everything just felt… right. God, it had been so long since she had felt so at peace.
However, almost in agreement with Alban’s stomach, Maribelle’s own growled as well. When was the last time she had even eaten something today besides alcohol… and Valium? Sitting up and pulling the sheets up to cover herself, she glanced around the room to find her clothes. Everything had basically left a trail from the front door and lead to his bedroom. Just outside the doorway to his room was her dress, and she suddenly realized that going out in such an extravagant dress might have looked a little ridiculous. “ You wouldn’t by chance have some clothes I could fit into?” She looked over at him, her face still flushed from their previous escapade.
Following the vixen out of bed, completely in the buff, Al scratched his head in response to her question. “You might be able to fit into a t-shirt and one of my sweaters… And I think I have some pants that are too small for me.” he spoke hesitantly before his legs stumbled over to his closet, unashamed of his nude form. When he opened the door to the small closet, his eyes spied the neatly folded clothes, all arranged in a particular fashion. “Yeah. This should do.” His hands reached out and took a light blue shirt and a pair of jeans from their respective shelves. With a goofy grin, Al came back to her and presented her the clothes.
Suddenly, staring at the ground, he noticed a bag of white pills lying there against the maple wood. “Oh, vitamins?” the Frenchman asked, assuming their purpose. After handing her the clothes, he reached down and grabbed the bag, quickly prying it open and taking one of the pills. Without asking, he popped it into his mouth. “I always tell Lucille to take her vitamins! Can’t be a hypocrite, can I?” Alban stated with a laugh.
“ Uhm, actually- No!” Before she had a chance to tell her blonde lover what those “vitamins” really were, they were in his mouth and gone forever. She frowned at first, then slowly began to bubble up with laughter. She shook her head and put her head in her hands, laughing at him. The fact that he had just drugged himself was a lot funnier to this drunken woman than it would have been if she were completely sober. “ Alban…” She met her green eyes with his blue eyes, peeking through her fingers and grinning. “ Those.. weren’t vitamins…” She laughed a little harder, dragging her hands away from her face and burying them in the sheets. “ That was my Valium!! HAH!!” She giggled harder, taking the clothes he had given her and stepping out of bed; revealing her own nude figure. “ You’re gonna feel real ….. “zen” in about thirty minutes or so, mon amour.” Oversized clothes in hand, she leaned up and quickly pecked him on the cheek.
Too intoxicated to explain why she had Valium on her, she threw on the clothes he had given her - stumbling a few steps when she attempted to put on his pants. While looking a little goofy in his clothes, she somehow wasn’t the least bit worried about what anyone would think about it. Plus, his clothes smelt like him and it was comforting. All that really mattered now was food. HAMBURGERS!
“Valium? Jeez, I didn’t realize you went so hard, Mari. Reminds me of high school…” he muttered, not the least bit worried about the pills in his system. It’s not like it would honestly be the first time he’d done it either. High School Alban had been a completely different person. Striding back to his closet, he pulled out a simple white t-shirt and khakis. The both of them looked like they didn’t give a damn at all once he had put on his outfit. Grabbing her soft hand, he tugged her through the living room. “Let’s go get McRonald’s!” the blonde exclaimed, his stomach growling louder with his words. The drunk man quickly pulled her in for a peck on her lips before slipping on some furry loafers next to the front door. Luckily, the closest burger joint was just right across the street.
Outside, it was freezing. At least the moon still gleamed over them and the stars twinkled with a dim radiance. Hand in hand, the two of them began their exhilarating journey across the street, jostling down the stairs from his 2nd floor apartment. “Maybe we should get chocolate shakes… And like, mozzarella sticks. And… nuggets.” he began to list off various items he was seriously craving right now. “I think we’ll just get everything on the menu. I am really that hungry right now…”
Mari gasped from both a combination of the cold hitting her and the mention of chocolate shakes. “ I want SIX CHOCOLATE SHAKES, AL!” She squealed, lacing her arm through his to cling to his side like she had at the party. Why did food always sound ten times better when you were drunk…. and high?
She nuzzled into his side and closed her eyes as they crossed the street, not even bothering to watch where she was going. Alban was her guide and she trusted him wholeheartedly. Suddenly Maribelle tripped, betrayed by her black high heels that she had been forced to wear out. Catching herself only because she had ahold of Al’s arm, she giggled and continued onward. Maribelle had to have looked like a hot mess; huge shirt that no where near fit her tiny form, pants that she had to keep pulling up to keep from falling, her hair that had once been neatly braided was undone and laid in frizzy curls, and extremely fancy heels compared to the rest of her attire. Despite looking like she had just crawled out from under a rock, Maribelle was happy for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
“Six chocolate shakes? Really?” the otherwise normal looking Al asked, tilting his head at the petite woman. “I don’t know if you could even finish 2.” A mischievous smirk crossed his face and he silently dared her to prove him wrong. “But if that’s really what you want…”
Before she could answer, he grabbed the handle to the fast food restaurant, wrenched it open, and pushed Maribelle through. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her stomach from behind her. Like penguins, he made them waddle over to the front counter, nuzzling the back of her head and breathing in her scent. A young and bored kid stared at them and silently judged them. Both of them smelled like sex and alcohol, so it was fairly clear that they were drunk out of their mind. Not that it was too surprising, on account of the holiday.
“Welcome to McRonald’s. How can I take your order?” their cashier asked dully.
As he tried to read the illuminated menu, Alban realized that he forgot his glasses, though they probably wouldn’t have made much difference in the state he was in now. “Uh… Can I get six chocolate shakes, three double cheeseburgers, an order of nuggets, two large fries, and mozzarella sticks? Oh, and can I get one of those cheeseburgers with bacon? Also this’ll be to go.” the blonde ordered as he thumped his nose against Mari’s head. The cashier blinked a couple of times before he began to press buttons on the console in front him.
“That’ll be… $51.45.”
At least Al hadn’t forgot his wallet, and he promptly took it out of his back pocket. He surprisingly had about $200 in cash on him, being a skeptic of the banking system used around here. Currency was exchanged, and now all that was left was for them to wait for their order to be brought to them. They stepped to the side, and Al began playing with his companion’s dark hair.
A few trips, stumbles, giggles, and kisses later Maribelle and Alban made it back to his apartment with several bags of fast food in hand. How they even managed to find their way back in one piece was nothing short of a miracle at this point.
Sitting on his couch with an array of food covering his entire coffee table, Maribelle wiggled out of Alban’s jeans and ditched her heels. It was much more comfortable to sit in nothing but her under garments and his shirt. “ So…” She looked over at Alban, a sly smile slowly forming on her lips. “ Don’t think I’ve forgotten that challenge, mister. I never back down from a challenge! ” She exclaimed, her words slurred but full of excitement. “ I will finish these chocolate shakes!” She leaned over his lap to reach for a shake at the other side of the coffee table, purposely lingering a little more than she needed to.
Now, if Maribelle had been sober, she would have never dreamt of downing six chocolate shakes in one night. Much less eating McRonald’s at all. In fact she almost never ate fast food, so she was bound for an upset stomach if she managed to complete this ridiculous challenge.
Sitting back up and gluing her mouth to the straw, Mari slowly leaned into Alban as he stuffed his face. She rested her head on his shoulder, spacing out as she sucked down as much of the milkshake as she possibly could, as fast as she could. About a quarter of the way through Mari released the straw and audibly cringed, closing her eyes hard and out stretching her arms as if to get the milkshake away from her. “ Owowowowowowowowowwwwwww….” She repeated for a brief moment before opening one eye and looking at Alban, already defeated. “ Brainfreeezzeeee…” She fell silent for a moment, then giggled and shook her head. “ Maybe I can’t break the record for most milkshakes consumed in minutes after all.” She sighed, as if she had really set all her hopes and dreams on being in the book of world records for “Best Milkshake Drinker.”
By now, the Valium in Al’s system had started to kick in. Time seemed to slow to around him, yet he felt wonderful, like drifting atop clouds. His indigo eyes watched her attempt her Herculean task, eating a double cheeseburger all the while. A stifled laugh came out of his mouth along with some bits and pieces of his sandwich. “You look like you need some help there, missy.” he teased before snatching the milkshake from her hand.
As if on cue, the man sneezed loudly and violent, and he lost his grip on the shake, sending it tumbling onto his lap. The frigid ice cream sent him into a shock as he yelped, leapt up, and tore off his pants and shirt. “THAT IS SO COLD!” he cried while shivering and cradling his body. The rest of the milkshake ended up on the floor. Normally, Al would have immediately went to clean this mess up, but he wasn’t even able to compute the slowly melting liquid spreading on his wood floor.
“I don’t know if I like milkshakes anymore, Mariiii. They’re too cold.” he mumbled. Being free of his clothes sent a strange craving to his brain, and he reached out and pulled his lover to her feet. “Let’s play Simon Says!” he spontaneously declared, an extremely goofy grin on his face. His daughter absolutely loved the game, so why shouldn’t he? “You can be Simon first.”
“ Oh I haven’t played Simon Says in so long!” She clapped her hands together, all thoughts of the mess on the floor completely gone. “ Hmmmm… Simon Saaaayyyss…..” She put a finger on her lips, thinking for a moment, though suddenly distracted by her partners body. She hadn’t taken a good look at him in their haste before, but wow. He looked good.
Snapping out of it, her face flushed. “ OH! Uhm… Simon Says… Make a pillow fort!!” She grinned and stepped away from the couch, waiting for Alban to create a masterpiece from his couch pillows.
Alban had created something a bit less than a masterpiece in a matter of minutes, but to Maribelle it was perfect. It needed a few more blankets and pillows, but she was sure they could make a fun time out of it a little later on. “ Now.. jump on the table!” She said in a haste, hoping it would catch her drunken lover off guard and he would lose.
The Frenchman gave the saucy brunette a quizzical look before he brought his gaze to the table. While he wasn’t really athletic enough to jump onto the table, he really felt like he could. So with a staggering half-jog, Al built up some momentum and threw himself at the plastic table. Unfortunately, this table wasn’t meant to hold a human being and promptly collapsed under his weight.
While there was sure to be bruising from the incident in the morning, he felt little to no pain. “Aw… I thought I could do it…” he confessed, sighing at his failure. With that, he flipped himself onto his back and attempted to get back onto his feet. Unfortunately, he felt like a turtle on its back, unable to pull himself up. “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” the man joked, referencing an old ad he used to see all the time on TV.
“ Hah! I got you!! You lose!” She exclaimed between laughs, reaching out her hand to help her gravity impaired lover up. His living room was now a complete disaster, as if a tasmanian devil had just blown through it, but the mix of alcohol and Valium made it easy not to notice. Once he was on his feet, Maribelle wrapped her arms around his semi-naked body and embraced him in a hug. “ Okay, it’s your turn to be Simon.” She looked up at him with big green puppy dog eyes, “ Be nice though, okkkaaayyy?”
”You made me loseee though! So I think I should get my just desserts…” he whispered deviously into her ear. From his tone and demeanor it was very obvious what he wanted right now. The blonde Rico Suave walked the two of themselves back to where the pillow fort was. “Simon Says…” were the words that came out of his mouth before they fell back into the pillows, lost in a myriad of kisses as the clock hit 12.
That fucking bitch. How was she not dead! He torched that place, burned it down to the ground, he heard the screams! Oh, how he wanted to snap her neck and tear her eyes out. But this time...
He pulled the bolt back on his Ruger M77 bolt-action sniper rifle, loading the .270 cartridge into the chamber.
He had to make some head wounds. He wanted that bitch dead. He wanted that bitch dead. No one lives. No one lives. No one lives. No one lives. No one lives. NO ONE LIVES. NO ONE LIVES. NO ONE LIVES.
How his fingers trembled with bloody eagerness, with violent trepidation, with murderous joy. This blonde DJ was attending a party tonight, right in the middle of town hall. All these windows so many targets.
SO MANY PEOPLE TO KILL BUT HE COULDN'T CHOOSE WHICH ONE. HE LOVES THE GUESSING GAME.
The clock was approaching midnight, and he could see her through the blackened scope of his sniper rifle. That blonde hair, that pale skin, the way she carried herself with a sort of mix of fear and boldness.
He flicked the safety off his weapon.
It wasn't raining.
But for Nori Haywood, he would make an exception.
You little runt. Time to die. Time to die. Time to die. Time to die. I'm going to POP YOUR NECK OPEN AND SUCK THE BONE MARROW FROM YOUR SKULL!
The night was cool. It was a new year. A new victim. A new era of death and violence and killing.
It was so beautiful, how the cross hairs lined up so perfectly with her neck. That pale, beautiful neck. But how was he supposed to snap her neck...
IF SHE DIDN'T HAVE ONE.
I'M GONNA MAKE YOU BLEED OUT IN FRONT OF THE ONES YOU LOVE. HEAR THEIR GORE, SMELL THEIR SCREAMS, SLICE THE MEAT FROM THEIR EYES AND MAKE THEM WATCH THE END. Die. Die. Die. DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!
A gloved finger on the trigger, a quick jerk, a flash from a smoking barrel, the boom ringing out into the night like a shriek of death.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
He pulled back the bolt, the a wisp of smoke emitting from the tip of the tip of the shell, the smell of gunpowder in the crisp winter air.
The thought whisks through Ryoki's mind once more as she turns to address the man in which she was mostly certain of as being the man she'd been searching for all night (if one could call sitting at a table with another man "searching"). He wore a different suit from last time, adorned a mask that partially covered his face, so Ryoki only had voice to go by.
Thankfully, she was a good listener.
Something she would regret in the end...
She greets the man with a kind yet knowing grin, one that clearly shows a hidden motive. The classic flirtatious greeting; a smile and a wink; the crossing of legs, and the sipping of a glass. The raven speaks of her experience so far at the party, shooting off rapid fire questions in retaliation about his attire, where he's been and which lucky ladies he's had the pleasure of dancing with. Not to mention the innumerable sexual references and innuendos. She giggles like a child...
Such innocence never lasts...
Comfort fills the air. Contempt. Perhaps it was her sister's kindred presence, and Yutaro's familiar and calming aura that made her feel this way. With the dancers dancing, and the musicians playing to a slow and unfamiliar tune, Ryoki's mind slowly entered a state of relaxation - calm. A calm she hadn't felt in... awhile, actually. She couldn't remember a time in which she wasn't so filled with solitude. Perhaps it was the coming of the New Year that made her feel this way? Perhaps it was the company, or the atmosphere in which she found so, so pleasant. It was soothing; unnaturally calm, like...
'Like death...'
'No,' Ryoki thought, 'now isn't the time for such thoughts. It's time for a New Year - a new start! More importantly, Kimasu and Mokyu's birthday is tomorrow! I shouldn't be focusing on dumb stuff like that. Stupid Ryoki!'
Yet, the crack of a gunshot would dictate otherwise...
Not a thing was out of the ordinary. The dancers were all still dancing, and the recent song change had caught the attention of the raven. However, as much as she wishes to look away, her eyes are caught on Yutaro - fixated. Captivated, even, perhaps for the first time since they met. She clings on to his every word as they spoke; she's entranced, to put it simply. Such a dangerous situation for her to be in someone else's grasp, yet she couldn't help it. What an interesting turn of events...
Even so, fate was a cruel mistress...
And so came the offer of a dance - the one thing Ryoki had been hoping for the entire night. The night may still be young, yet Ryoki had been looking forward to this since... well before their arrival. Curiosity fueled her; she was interested in seeing just what the casino dealer was capable of when it came to dancing. Though her forte was dances of a faster pace, Ryoki wasn't afraid of testing his abilities in the more slower, classical dances as well. One last sip of the clear liquid within her glass, and she stands.
...
...
...
'...Blood...'
Before she knew it, Ryoki was on the ground. She wasn't quite sure how, but she was. Her ears were ringing. Was it a concussion? What just happened? Her head felt foggy - strange. She was perfectly awake, and certainly didn't feel any different, save for an accelerated heart rate. Somewhat at a loss, she pulls herself up. 'Strange,' she thought, 'the music wasn't playing... and the dancers aren't dancing... Just what are they looking a-'
The bloodied corpse of Mokyu Mochizukki
A gasp, with hollow breaths. Just what was she looking at? A painting? No, this wasn't a painting - this was... real. This was something right in front of her. That red liquid was... blood. And the person whose blood it belonged to -- the person whose neck had been shot straight through, creating a demonic display of copious amounts of blood, like a fountain -- belonged to... a girl. A girl who looked very familiar... A girl who she couldn't stand to see hurt, or better yet dead.
And then it hits her. This girl, her sister... ... Dead...
Ryoki was on point as always, easily identifying Yutaro and trading blows in their oh-so-innocent banter. Yutaro was surprised to learn that the girl he had greeted wasn't a friend, but actually Ryoki's sister. There wasn't much of a resemblance, but he was no geneticist so he didn't question it, but instead decided to treat her sister with delightful cordiality; it was important to make a good impression on the family after all. Ryoki inquired about his activities thus far in the evening, and he figured it was best to explain the mishap with Kyle and Sabine now rather than later, and the two shared several laughs before he finally asked her if she would like to dance. He was certain that the waltz with Sabine, while enjoyable, would just be a prelude to the fun he would have tonight. He was curious to see what Ryoki could do on the dance floor, and even more curious to see if she was willing to open up the "advanced rulebook" she had alluded to on their last date. But, most of all he was just happy to see her happy face again after their long week apart...
Whatever Fortune has raised on high, she lifts but to bring low.
A distant crack of thunder. A warm mist. Yutaro wiped the moisture off his face to find his fingers painted bright red. Silence followed by horrified screams. Yutaro looked over to where Mokyu was sitting and his face turned white. He didn't scream, or rather he couldn't scream; the grizzly sight of blood gushing out of a young woman's neck choked his voice and tied a knot in his stomach. The warm mist on his face was blood her blood. He began to tremble as his stunned brain slowly processed the horror that had just unfolded. And than a scream brought him back.
Ryoki... he couldn't even begin to comprehend what she was feeling right now, if she was even feeling at all. Her shrieks of horror may have just been a primal instinct to scare off whatever predator may still be lurking, or they could be echoing the realization that her dear sister was gone forever. Yutaro had no idea what to do. What was the right thing to do in a situation like this? Was there even a right thing to do? His body seemed to move on his own, acting purely on feelings even more fundamental than instinct. He wrapped his arms around Ryoki and held her tight though his own arms were trembling. He cradled the back of her head, and brought her face down to his shoulder so that her eyes would be blocked by the padding of his bloodied tuxedo. "Don't look..." he muttered, stroking her back but expecting no results. "Don't look Ryoki... God, please don't look..."
He couldn't fix what had just happened, and he had no words that could calm her down. All he could do was take that nightmare out of her line of sight, though it may have already been burned into her mind. "Just don't look..."
Arty had seen a lot of things as he worked the door to the party that night. He had seen drunkards stumble out and up chuck into the streets, a few more than frisky couples hop into cabs together, and even a few fights between people who could barely stand up let alone throw a punch. "Just a few more hours." The mountain of a Irishman thought to himself with a slight shake of his head. He was dying to rip his suit off and set fire to the damned mask, the original interest in it had died as soon as he realized it had become quite the chore to breath through. "Who wears this stuff fer bloody fun?!" Arty had to resist the urge to shout as he pulled at his collar. The only thing that was getting him through at this point was the thought him being able to raid that glorious bar after all this was done. "Ohhh Bick ol' boy I'm gonna rack up quite the tab fer ya." The thought of him getting back at his less than stellar boss by partaking in the Irish pass time of drinking ungodly amounts of alcohol couldn't help but put a smile on Arty's masked face. "Ya just have to make it to the end of the year Arty." The bouncer said with quite the hearty chuckle at his own little pun, which may have seen odd to whatever party goers were passing him at the time.
It is jarring how quickly things change. In one moment Arty was blissfully dreaming of pints paid out of his penny pinching boss's pocket the next he was snapped back to reality by a sound that made his stomach turn. "No it can't be..." Arty half mumbled though the second he said it he knew it was a lie, there was no doubting what he had just heard. Shite shite shite shite shite..." He cursed under his breath as he quickly stormed inside the party and it didn't take long to find what he was looking or rather what he was praying for what wasn't there. It was a small looking girl laying sprawled on the ground in a forming pool of her own blood, Arty couldn't fool himself with this one that poor girl was gone. "HOLY SHITE- No no Arty, job first!" Arty thought to himself as he managed to swallow back the sick feeling in his stomach and regain his composure. He made his way through the crowd of on lookers and to the body, which was currently being cried over by another young woman who could only be described as devastated. Taking a deep breath Arty took another step forward and spoke to the young fellow that was now doing his best to console the crying girl. "Get her out of here lad, she doesn't need to see this." He said as gently as he could allow himself to be at the moment before he walked forward towards the body. Taking another breath to steady himself Arty removed his jacket and slowly and carefully draped it over the small girl's lifeless frame, she deserved so much more than to be gawked at in horror. With that done Arty turned back to the crowd and shouted out in a booming voice that cut through the panic in the air. "EVERYONE VACATE THE BUILDING IN A ORDERLY MANOR! STAY AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS AND ASSIST THOSE WHO NEED IT IF YER ABLE!!" After watching a good number of people start to make their way to the exit Arty pulled out a cell phone and got a hold of the Shine City Police. He wasted no time reporting the incident and remained on the line until he was sure he gave all the details he could. "How could I have let this happened?" He thought to himself as he took of his mask and let out a defeated sigh.
Slipping onto a barstool next to Sabine, Zac chuckles and says, "It's no problem. I'm just glad I finally found a familiar face...so to speak. I wanted to thank you again for letting me crash at your place awhile back, anyway."
Seeing her looking around, he realizes she was probably looking for a waiter. He takes a few moments to look around before turning back to her, opening his mouth to ask if she was okay, when he heard a sound he never would have thought he'd hear in a place like Shine City. In fact, a sound he never thought he'd hear, period.
Was that...a gunshot? he thinks, turning back around.
He quickly scans the crowd as screams fill the ballroom. Between the people crowded on the floor, he catches glimpses of crimson amidst the sea of black and white, masks barely concealing the looks of horror on the guests faces. "EVERYONE VACATE THE BUILDING IN A ORDERLY MANOR! STAY AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS AND ASSIST THOSE WHO NEED IT IF YER ABLE!!" a bellowing voice sounds above the horrified clamor of the party-goers.
Knowing the two of them wouldn't be any help, and that he honestly didn't know what he could do, Zac rests his hands on Sabine's shoulders and, gently guiding her toward the exit, he says, "Come on...let's, uh...let's get out of here..."
“Hah, no. Clean yourself up.” Oliver smirks, placing yet another cigarette in his mouth. “Whoever did that deserves a punch in the throat.”
Nori can't suppress the giggle at that last part. “It was Kyle’s best friend, the one I told you didn't like me,” Nori explains, cutting on the water and letting it warm up. “She's really famous and I think she has a thing for dressing people up, or something.”
“Ah, the idol from that one movie. God, what was it…” He snapped his fingers. “Rain, Rain Go Away.”
He exhaled a puff of smoke, absentmindedly scratching the bandages on his arms.
“Amity, was it?"
“Yeah, Amity Bellerose. Some people call her Amie though,” Nori confirms before starting to scrub her face clean. “She is….um…,” the blonde fumbles for a moment, trying to be as polite as possible. “...an interesting girl.”
Nori studies herself in the mirror for a moment. Her flaxen locks were still pulled back in the ponytail Amity’s assistant had done for her earlier, so the DJ takes it down, finger combing it so it’ll lay right again. When she’s done Nori thinks she looks more like herself than she has in days, maybe since before the fire.
It felt good.
“She was acting really...I don't know, predatory, I guess? But she stopped whenever Kyle came in,” the florist tells him, gathering her discarded clothes and the rest of her toiletries before exiting the bathroom.
“That's honestly one of the other things that made me decide it'd be better not to see him anymore. She seems really possessive of him, scarily so. She even called him…,” Nori pauses here, making a face, “...her Kyle-Bear.”
“Not creepy at all.” Oliver returned, shaking his head in disbelief. “It's hard to believe how someone can be so crazy yet everyone fails to notice it.”
He looks at her once more as she continues to pack, tapping his foot as he looked at his watch. “Need any help carrying all this stuff down? You don't look like a bodybuilder.”
Of course he was joking. His job entailed him always being politically correct, so he was quite glad when he got to speak his mind.
“I'll start with this bag.”
“Thanks, dad. I never would have been able to carry them both on my own,” Nori says, the response dripping with sarcasm, but she was still grinning at him. It was nice to have someone to kid around with.
“Alright, that's everything. Thanks for coming up with me, Oliver.”
“No problem.” Oliver responded, narrowing his eyes at her as he suppressed the urge to chuckle. “Ah, you're so funny Nori. I wish that I had met you a long time ago. You could be on tv with a personality like that, why waste your time DJing and spinning discs around?”
He awaited her response as he began to inch out the door.
Nori stopped, flushing a little under the unexpected praise. “Flatterer,” she accuses sweetly, smiling enough for one of her dimples to make an appearance. She grips the other bag and shoulders it, letting the detective lead them out the front door. “I don't really know, honestly, I just always thought I wanted to do it.”
“But I've been having doubts about it, lately,” she confesses, locking the door behind them and waving at Rehelio.
He didn't respond.
“I haven't gotten the prime time slot yet and I've been working there for about a year and a half now. Plus, with all the weigh-ins, skimpy dress codes, and groping I put up with, it just doesn't seem worth it, sometimes.”
“I'm good at it though,” Nori tells him, adjusting her grip on the bag.
“You should let me listen to one of your songs later.” Oliver chuckled, “You have to learn to follow what you want to do. And hell, if that ain’t the club, then you could always find some other avenue in which to follow your dreams. Many doors close, but many more open.”
He opened the door to his surprisingly untouched car, loading in the bag he had been carrying. “I’m thirty one and still haven’t made up my mind about what I want to do with my life. Regarding detective work, however, I can safely say that I enjoy it. After all, there’s a certain satisfaction in putting a man behind bars.”
Holland wouldn’t admit that he felt rage and guilt about the people he had failed over the years. He was but one man trying to fix the world. Such a task was impossible, he realized, when as soon as he saved a life another had ended. With late nights such as these, he had a lot of time to think on why he hated this fucking world.
“I enjoy it.” He repeated.
“I don't have my own turntables anymore. Or a computer with decent mixing software,” Nori explains as she stuffs her bag into the backseat. ’Fire got those too,’ she adds mentally, so as not to bring it up again with the detective.
She was starting to realize that Oliver felt way more guilty over it than he should. After all, he really hadn't had any way of knowing that the Weatherman was going to burn the place down. “If you really wanna hear a song, you’ll have to come see me at work sometime.” she tells him, sliding back into the ford.
Oliver nodded, inserting the keys into the ignition and pulling out of the apartment complex’s driveway.
“I’ve never been one to go to clubs. I’m too old for that now, as you can see. And, probably couldn’t seeing as now I look like a goddamn mummy who escaped from Egypt.” He growled, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Suddenly, he closed his eye, and, sighing, turned to her. “Sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s just this has been difficult to deal with. I used to be such a fucking handsome man.”
He chuckled.
“Or that’s what my mother said.”
“There are still things about you that are handsome,” Nori says quietly, very pointedly looking out the window. They pass by a group of homeless people huddled around a honest to god trashcan fire. “Like your eyes. Or your chin.” The scenery has become incredibly interesting. “Anyways, I’ll burn you a CD sometime, so you can listen to me without having to come to the club. If you want.”
“Ha, glad to know you’ve been looking at me.” Oliver replied, glancing at Nori as he drove. He had noticed her gaze wandering during their little exchange in the flower shop. Slight changes in body language, shifting gaze, slight pickup in her breathing. “Oh, so you like blue eyes and strong chins, hm? Are you looking out that window hoping to find some?” He joked, turning his attention back to the road. “And I’d like that, Miss Haywood. I’d like that very much.”
“S-shut up,” Nori mumbles, scratching at her nose and coughing. If it appeared that her face was any redder than normal, it was only a trick of the light. After a moment or two the blonde carefully shifts her gaze back to the other man, noticing his attention was back on the road. Good. “So, what do you do in your free time, Oliver? Besides smoking like a chimney, of course.”
“Smoking like a chimney? Is it really that bad?” Oliver questioned, feigning shock. “Well, I suppose when I’m not working or smoking it’d be gambling. I love those dice, Miss Haywood. I’m pretty good at twenty one blackjack.” He turned to her, closing one of his eyes and smiling behind the bandages. “I suppose I just like to push my luck.”
“It’s your business,” she tells him in reference to the smoking. “It is kind of gross though.”
“I’ve never been gambling,” Nori admits, toeing off her shoes again so her feet can return to their rightful place on his dashboard. “Besides, it’s not smart to take risks like that when you make the kind of money I do. I’d be broke in no time.”
“Well,” she starts after a brief pause. “More broke than I am now, anyways.”
“Just don’t worry about financial matters as long as you're with me.” Holland replied, once again turning on the heat. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. School books, beauty products, clothes, hell, I’ll even get you some new DJ equipment.” He shrugs, breaking at a red light. “I owe you that much, at least.”
“School books?” Nori repeats, holding one of her hands over the air vents so it can warm up faster. “I don’t go to college, Detective Holland,” she informs him, studying his bandaged face in the glow of the traffic light. If she was being honest with herself Nori was a little self conscious about her lack of schooling, but the blonde did her best to not let it show.
“I’ll be sure to let you know if I need something,” the tattooed girl reassures him as she gives her other hand a turn in front of the heat, but the DJ had no real intentions of asking Oliver for help with that sort of stuff. Nori was sure she could work it out on her own without too many more hand outs from him.
“Alright.” Oliver chirps, giving her a wink. “Damn, how late is it anyway?” Oliver suddenly asks, glancing at the dashboard. “Huh, it’s actually not that late. You feelin’ tired, Miss Haywood? Want to head back to the apartment, watch some webflix and chill-”
He paused, staring past the windshield and eyeing a car that was swerving just a little too much.
“Hold on.” He muttered, shaking his head as he flipped on the flickering lights of his squad car. “Drunks are out this time of night.”
“Oh wow, we’re really doing this right now, aren’t we?” Nori says quickly as Oliver cuts on his red and blue lights. The blonde takes her feet off the dash and toes her flats back on. It probably wouldn’t be very professional of her to be barefoot when the detective pulled this guy over.
Nori sort of felt bad for them, whoever they were. But then again, driving drunk was incredibly dangerous. It was probably for the best, so they didn’t hurt themselves or someone else. “Go get that miscreant and make Shine City a safer place,” she teases, sticking her tongue out as Detective Holland pulled the ford behind the other car. “I’ll watch your...six? That’s cop talk, right?”
The man behind the wheel on the vehicle the duo spotted had very peculiar silver hair.
“No…” Oliver muttered, tapping on the window. “It couldn't be…”
The silver haired professor groaned in annoyance at the red and blue lights that suddenly appeared in the corner of his vision. Cops who didn't know how to enjoy themselves on New Year's Eve, probably.
It didn't help his demeanour that the man was now more of a mess than when he parted ways with the fashion photographer, Suzy. His hair was dishevelled, hat rested on the passenger seat and he probably smelled - no, reeked - of alcohol.
Shou Matsuoka was not an alcoholic.
…Shou Matsuoka was not an alcoholic.
That didn't quite explain the cheap liquor he kept in the glove compartment of his Ford. Not in the slightest.
Alas, he was forced to pull over. A car tailing you was never a good sign. With his head spinning a little still, he managed to bring the vehicle to a halt.
Now all there was to do was wait. Shou knew the crime he'd be charged with.
Drunk driving, huh? What a good way to start the new year…
With a pang of hesitation, and an odd annoyance making him click his tongue, the professor, relentingly, pulled down the window with a sigh.
“...yes?” he mumbled, alcohol strong on his breath.
Oliver was too busy looking at the notepad in his grasp to notice the professor, rather, he instead continued to drone on about the legality of drunk driving and swerving on the road like some sort of maniac.
“Now, I’m going to need to see your license and registration. Judging by the amount of swerving you were doing back near that stoplight, it seems you’ve been having a little too much fun this new year.”
He scribbles down something in his notes, before looking into the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“Next thing it’ll be the straight line test and…”
He paused.
“Shou?” He let the pen fall from from his grasp, the writing device rolling from his palms and hitting the asphalt below. “Is that really you?”
“Huh?” the professor, with hooded eyes, raised his eyebrow a little. And then his eyes widened.
Was this a true to life mummy, or something?
Unfortunately, despite the police uniform, this immediately made the professor take the situation a lot less seriously. Was someone playing a New Year's prank on him, or something?
“Yeah, officer.” he taunted, and if he was a cat, his feline pupils would already be in slits. He was reaching for his wallet, but found himself stopping midway, looking the man up and down. His vision was blurry, though...the contact lenses didn't quite make things better.
“Listen.” he brought his voice down low, threatening. His eyebrow quirked at the man using his name. Sure, the dropping of the pen was a nice effect, but who was this person, who knew him, out in the middle of the night?
“I do not know who you are, or what you want, but I am going to tell you this just once. If this is some prank, I swear…” he slurred.
“Don't fuck with me.”
Dee couldn’t help but take a glance back towards the squad car, eyeing the DJ that currently sat in the front seat. She had called him Oliver earlier, but he didn’t actually believe her. Still didn’t. However, he suppose he could roll with it just this once.
“Shou Matsuoka…” He began, all of a sudden taking a cigarette from his back pocket and placing it in his mouth. “You’ve got a perty mouth.”
He raised a lighter to his lips, igniting the tobacco as he took a puff, wisps of smoke lingering amidst the cool winter air, blowing into the open window of the Professor’s vehicle. “Shall I ask you to step outta the vehicle? Because, while I always considered you a drinker, I never suspected you’d actually go ahead and drive drunk.”
He raised a finger. “What’s with your getup? You look like that asshole from Sailor Moon. I didn’t know you were into kid cartoons.”
He shrugged. “You know I’m gonna have to bring you in.”
The Detective pointed to his squad car. “Come on, I’ll take you home...again.”
“How do you know who I am?” the professor demanded flatly when the man blew puffs of smoke into the open window of his car. What a peculiar smell...what a familiar attitude. “And what gives you the damn right, pal?”
“I...there was a ball.” he replied curtly. He took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night, especially if this man had no intention of answering his questions.
And then it clicked.
“Come on, I’ll take you home...again.”
“...O-Ollie?” he stammered, knuckles blanching where his hand was still holding the steering wheel. His free hand rubbed his eyes again and again and again. He was probably imagining it. There was no way in hell…
“L-listen, you...you sick son of a bitch.” he growled. His eyes were steely, trained on the man's. He even got the colour of Oliver's eyes down, those confident azure irises…
“I don't know who you are. Or how you know so much about me. But if I were you, and I'm not some lifeless fuck, I'd…” his voice shook.
“I'd bite my own tongue before trying to...impersonate my best friend. Capische?”
“What are you talking about?” Oliver/Dee questioned aloud, giving the Professor an incredulous stare as he spread apart his arms. “It’s me,” He began, glancing back at the squad car. “Oliveeer...”
He trailed off, lowering his outstretched arms as a look of concern began to spread behind his bandaged face. “Damn, this is the worst I’ve seen you. Must be some more girl troubles. Remember that one time at the casino? You had like, what was it, five long island ice teas? And in my mind I’m going ‘damn, how’s this guy not dead from alcohol poisoning yet?’ But you know,” He shrugged. “You always did get fucked up on holidays.”
He took a step back, glancing at his bandaged forearms. “You’re probably wondering why I look like a raisin wrapped in toilet paper.”
The Detective looked down, patting his kevlar vest as he explained. “Getting burned alive can do that to you sometimes. I was wondering why there were so many voice messages from you!”
Holland cracked another grin, snapping his fingers and pointing to the flashing police vehicle in the back. “Now get in the fucking car!” He said with a smile.
That sealed it. There was no way someone could know even that about Shou. In his inebriated state, the memory was still crystal clear. This was years ago, and it was such a good memory. Just the two of them, young and on top of the world. He found himself incredulously nodding with the man at the end of the recollection.
“Burnt...alive?” he whimpered, his previous bark being lost for a genuine concern. Through the open window, he reached out his hand tentatively, tracing his fingers across the bandages on the man's cheek.
“Ollie...is that really you? Oh god, oh god...what did they do to you?”
He was shaken, and even though Oliver was trying to keep things light, Shou was evidently in shock. He tried to smile though, for his best friend. He even managed a little chuckle as he stepped out of the car. Briefly, he wrapped his arms around the bandaged detective, body evidently trembling, before stepping away and giving him a dopey, if still melancholy smile. “How come you're always saving my drunk ass, huh, Ollie? Damn, I...can't believe it's really you.”