[Lupin the Third and Partner-- just what kind of partners are they? How does Fujiko Mine feel? Has Goemon Prayed for them Yet?
It's not long at all, those brief moments of contact, warm fingertup against his pleased and flushed face; he keeps himself from careening backwards by fast whirls of his arms, knees bent and "Hey, hey! Cut that out, I'm not a bobble head!"
Lupin's Ready, Freddy: (Jigenny....Jiggy..) From his partner's movement, he assumes that shadow is going to quickly swallow up his own, a little snuu snuu in the form of a hot, rough mouth, and Lupin even tilts his chin, peering up through his eyelashes for The Moment--
Instead, instead, he's left with those fingers raking through his hair, mussing it up just the way he doesn't want it. He lets out a huff, all smoke and sulk, arms crossed to warm himself-- he's not running that hot just from that. But he's trying to absorb as much of that warmth as possible, escaping into the night just like his smoke.]
Speak for yourself. I've never seen you ill. I don't know if you're capable-- unless you time it for when we're not together. [considering, eyes narrowed--] You're a shitty patient, aren't you.
[ It's not cold enough and there's not enough for Jigen to discard whatever dignity he has left to smooch in public... but he does pat Lupin's hair back into place after messing with it, calloused hands just a little too gentle to be innocent.
He's fond; he has been for a while. ]
If I ever get sick, trust me when I say that you'd be the last person I tell.
[ This may or may not be a joke, prideful dumbass that Jigen can be in the worst possible times. Fingers in hair move back to their position against Jigen's pants, tapping an idle rhythm that eventually synchronizes itself with his resumed walking. ]
And, I dunno. What's a "shitty patient", in your terms?
[Ah, there! He takes those precious, scant few seconds to bask in the affection, leaned into the hand, eyes fluttered closed. He misses it when Jigen finally pulls away but instead of pouting (surprise, surprise), his teeth gleam with a smile in the dark. Lupin: Energized!]
You'd tell Goemon before me? Hmmm, yeah you'd probably ask him to pray over you or get you some weird recipe with slug guts. You'd tell me before Fujicakes, right? You won't get those fantastic jugs to nurse you back to health...[said snootily, of course, with the confidence of a man who Knows]
The type who sucks it up and doesn't tell anyone, only to pass out on a job and really be in deep doody. Or the type that whines and acts like they're dying.
[He's definitely talking about himself but does he know he's talking about himself??
Fujiko wouldn't let me hear the end of it if she found out.
[ That's a "like hell I'll tell her", except everyone knows that she'd be the first one to find out and lord it over him very subtly and very cutely. She'd make a sport out of it: How far would Jigen go to keep her from telling Lupin about his illness? The answer: pretty far, actually.
He laughs under his breath, turns a corner away from the incoming sound of cars towards their discreet hideout on the top floor of a fairly benign apartment building. ]
Listen to yourself. If I've never passed out during a job in all these years, what makes you think I'll do it now?
[ A rickety door swings open, and Jigen pitches himself inside, rubs his hands together for warmth. ]
[Lupin's at his heels through the thresh hold, then skitters off to finagle the thermostat because it's environmentally conscious and saves money to be stingy and keep the heat off when they're gone, forget about the frigid blast of air that has goosebumps popping out across his skin. (The dishonest means of working this thing over? Well, he'd never tell. Trade secret) When he's got it at a good 67 degrees, probably too high, to be honest, but damn that-- he immediately sheds the outfit, the tee, the pants, toes out of his shoes, and launches himself onto the couch where a big fluffy blanket awaits, heart print boxers and all.
He laughs at the usual grumblehumbug; as much as she nags she does care...probably...somewhere in there. As long as Jigen doesn't catch on and lets Lupin have all the bedside nurse visits~~
From the eyes and tip of a nose peeking from beneath the blanket:]
True, she'd scold you for being a naughty boy and not getting all your shots or taking your vitamins. Didn't anyone nag you to wear your sweater, even when it was hot out? [breezing along--]
You've got to be prepared for these kinds of things. Your tennis knee, sometimes I worry about it.
[ While Lupin beelines for the couch (and general state of undress...), Jigen makes his way to the minibar that they've set up in the corner, if one could call a plank on top of a box a bar. Jigen chooses a half-empty bottle of Blanton's from the mix, sets it on the "counter" as he rummages around inside their shitty mini-fridge for some ice.
Rising above the distinctly domestic rustling: ] Nothin' to worry about if you don't make me haul ass on rainy days.
[ He's not entirely serious— the cliche about your joints aching and your old wounds flaring up in bad weather, he's experienced it before but not enough for it to be anything close to a concern— and his expression mirrors the casualness of his statement when he moves towards the couch and hands Lupin a glass of whiskey, on the rocks. ]
[He waits until Jigen's handed his drink over to answer, lets the covers droop to pool at his shoulders, a fistful of the corners secured at his chest. He accepts with a nod and a wink.]
Rain or shine~ In sleet or snow. We've been mailmen at least four times, right? [probably four million, one way or another, but who's counting] I'll getcha a poncho, what do you think? It'll go great with your shoes.
[snerk snerk; There's no(t) much worrying here. Wor- looking out for each other's lives, from death to a case of the sneezes, just comes with the territory. The man still kicked ass and took names with a toothache he really should have gotten taken care of, Lupin trusts him to get through anything even with a kidney stone. But he knows...right? He knows that he'd get him ice for his dick or whatever you're supposed to do in those cases, if he needed it...right? Lupin considers his partner for a couple of beats, before raising the glass towards Jigen's, letting the ice clink along the edge]
To glue in Zenigata's asscrack. To sticky fingers!
[ Normally he wouldn't mention that last one, but he's feeling generous. Lupin looks like a little kid, all bundled up and snug in those covers, and Jigen laughs as he sits his ass down on the arm of the couch, tipping his glass to let it meet his partner's. ]
To Pops' shower bill.
[ A more dignified derivative of Lupin's toast, delivered in warm deadpan. Listen, if Jigen got dick frostbite, he would definitely...call a doctor, yeah, there would be a joke here about popsicles but I couldn't do it.
Kicking back his bourbon, Jigen sighs in contentment before ruffling Lupin's hair again. ]
Oh yeah! How could I forget the grass skirts? I think I still have a picture somewhere for when Goemon gets too sassy...
[Leave it to Jigen to take a bit of the dignity side for Pops, for his own sanity and stomach, actually.]
To Poopin' Reps.
[He adds, tilts the glass to his lips and takes a swallow. He leans into the hand in his hair, just for a moment, and his eyes light up at the prospect of revealing the price. Jigen's never gonna believe this!]
Weeelll-- the deed will give us a nice karma boost. And the toilet flusher...?
[He idly toes at his clothes, where each item is hidden, for dramatic effect. When Lupin speaks again his voice is hushed--]
[ The whiskey burns right down his throat comfortably, heating up wind-chilled insides... up and until the point where the tail end of it goes down his windpipe.
He hacks, coughs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hands. Manners, Daisuke Jigen. ]
Three hundred—
[ For a part of Putin's toilet?! Scratch whatever he said before about never wanting to see the damn thing again, he'd brave another three rooms full of kitsch and statues of cats in lingerie for Putin's toilet plunger.
Boggling, he leans in, ear near Lupin's mouth, as if he just needs to hear that again. ]
[Very little could hide the satisfaction, the shit eating grin or the warmth flushing Lupin's cheeks thanks to this wonderful reaction. He relishes moments like these, pride loose in his chest.]
Three hundred mil for part of a crapper. Just think how much the golden turd could've been.
[Lupin's words a purr, enunciating clearly and decidedly, the cat that's got the canary. The shit covered canary. He takes another satisfying gulp of his victory drink, it goes down like a line of pure fire.]
[ "I could kiss you", is the sentiment seeping through eyes previously painted stoic, now painted delighted. He doesn't ask for much, Jigen, but he's still a thief, money is still exciting.
Still half-choking on his drink, he washes down the acrid burn with another big gulp, slamming his glass down to drive his triumph home. ]
Too bad Pops is gonna confiscate the rest of that statue, huh? That's one hell of a thing to have decorating the evidence room!
[ He's laughing, thin shoulders rising and falling with his chuckles; ah, it's these moments he lives for. ]
[Just when you think Lupin's preening and the prideful light in his eyes, lighting up his entire face, couldn't get any brighter-- tips his drink in another silent I'll toast to that, golden turds and oceans of booze, knocks back the rest. He juggles the cold glass between his fingertips]
Ahhh, how the cowboy changes his tune so quickly~ For shame, for shame, art is so cheap these days to you youngsters! I don't see why we couldn't get the rest if it'd be worth it.
[ Well. The thought of going back and patting a heavily-superglued Zenigata on the head, only to pilfer what little dignity the man has left, right in front of his face?
...He can't say that that's not tempting, but Zenigata might also burst a blood vessel on them and that might be one mess they don't want to deal with. Reaching behind blindly for the rest of the bottle of bourbon, Jigen pours the two of them another double-shot. ]
Art history's never been my strong suit.
[ has it ever been a suit, that's the better question. ]
And, well. Guess this is where Goemon'd say something like "excess greed breeds bad karma" or something like that.
[He'd probably shit the golden egg if they did that. Would it really be worth the mental scarring they'd all experience? Lupin's brow furrows like he's considering it over the next round. He lifts it to his lips, takes a smaller swallow.]
You know all you've got to do is say so and we'll take a few more strolls through some museums, buddy! We'll join one of those snoozefest old folks tours and while everyone's asleep or taking their meds we'll help ourselves to some history.
[meaningful raise of the eyebrows; he's only half serious, doesn't have his eye on anything in particular just yet, he's got at least twelve other potentials in the works.
The very mention of karma and Goemon's karma has him feel the distinct urge to have a deeper sip, waving a hand dismissively when he comes up for air]
He said that once about q-tips in bulk. But I think Pops needs some time to lick his wounds, anyhow.
[ Perched on the armrest, Jigen seems to melt into the darker corner of the room: all black, all shadows. A foot swings, a gentle pendulum that seems to consider its options before planting itself on firm flooring and moving towards the couch proper. ]
Quit hogging the space.
[ The ice gently clinks in his glass when he waves it; a shooing motion more fitting for a dog, too rude to be impersonal. He doesn't do this, not usually— besides, he's usually the one hogging it with those stick-thin legs sprawled on the upholstery— but Lupin just scored then three hundred mil and sharing couch space doesn't seem so offensive. ]
Fujiko, Goemon, Pops— you're a damn magnet for the bottom of the barrel.
[ Himself included, but he says this with too much fondness to put his name on the list. Jigen Daisuke, shittalking people when they're close to his heart. ]
What am I, a fly? A big sleepy cat? Hmph. The way I'm treated around here...
[Lupin's huff at the order is more good natured than anything, and though he rolls his eyes, does make room for his partner, feet squished beneath the cushion between them for warmth as well as bratling tendencies. Again, good natured. Jigen's a bony foot rest, anyway.]
What are you saying? I obviously bring out the best in the barrel! Sometimes it's the ripest down there, anyway.
Monkey. [ is his correction, whistled over the rim of his bourbon as he settles down on his side, feet still planted on ground. He'll let Lupin keep the blanket for now; his partner looks better in it, bundled up like some kid on a snowy day. It's endearing.
But of course, the innuendo is there to shatter the innocence (why does Jigen even try). Chin cast up towards the ceiling, he sighs. ]
Lay off, we're the stuff that they all try to filter out.
[ Another correction, or perhaps chastisement... ] But it's thanks to us that the booze is so damn good.
[ He'll gladly toast to being the bottom of the barrel— he doesn't hope for much in terms of reputation, the millions of random half-acquaintances who want to kill him do a good job covering that side of things for him— but he's never actually been more satisfied than he is now, on a shitty couch with a drink in hand, listening to sirens whine and helicopters buzz in the distance.
The prod with a toe is returned with a huff, as shoulders slide down on the couch (glass deposited on the floor) and stop once Jigen secures his shoulders on the back of it, Borsalino lifted off his head and onto his face.
[There's a vague complaint of what's the point of coasters if you're just gonna go ahead and ruin the hardwood floors, how are those gentlemen lessons coming along?, then Lupin promptly throws his legs over Jigen's lap, shuffles, and gets even more comfortable by pulling the folds of blanket over his feet over his partner as well.
The confession? The tilt of his chin, there's a smile or at least a peaceful expression on Jigen's face, isn't there? It's a good thing he doesn't see the fingers that reach for his shoulder, hanging mid-way in the air, then.]
I know what you mean. This is the way to live it up. In class, style, and shit stirring crazy, eh.
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It's not long at all, those brief moments of contact, warm fingertup against his pleased and flushed face; he keeps himself from careening backwards by fast whirls of his arms, knees bent and "Hey, hey! Cut that out, I'm not a bobble head!"
Lupin's Ready, Freddy: (Jigenny....Jiggy..) From his partner's movement, he assumes that shadow is going to quickly swallow up his own, a little snuu snuu in the form of a hot, rough mouth, and Lupin even tilts his chin, peering up through his eyelashes for The Moment--
Instead, instead, he's left with those fingers raking through his hair, mussing it up just the way he doesn't want it. He lets out a huff, all smoke and sulk, arms crossed to warm himself-- he's not running that hot just from that. But he's trying to absorb as much of that warmth as possible, escaping into the night just like his smoke.]
Speak for yourself. I've never seen you ill. I don't know if you're capable-- unless you time it for when we're not together. [considering, eyes narrowed--] You're a shitty patient, aren't you.
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He's fond; he has been for a while. ]
If I ever get sick, trust me when I say that you'd be the last person I tell.
[ This may or may not be a joke, prideful dumbass that Jigen can be in the worst possible times. Fingers in hair move back to their position against Jigen's pants, tapping an idle rhythm that eventually synchronizes itself with his resumed walking. ]
And, I dunno. What's a "shitty patient", in your terms?
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You'd tell Goemon before me? Hmmm, yeah you'd probably ask him to pray over you or get you some weird recipe with slug guts. You'd tell me before Fujicakes, right? You won't get those fantastic jugs to nurse you back to health...[said snootily, of course, with the confidence of a man who Knows]
The type who sucks it up and doesn't tell anyone, only to pass out on a job and really be in deep doody. Or the type that whines and acts like they're dying.
[He's definitely talking about himself but does he know he's talking about himself??
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[ That's a "like hell I'll tell her", except everyone knows that she'd be the first one to find out and lord it over him very subtly and very cutely. She'd make a sport out of it: How far would Jigen go to keep her from telling Lupin about his illness? The answer: pretty far, actually.
He laughs under his breath, turns a corner away from the incoming sound of cars towards their discreet hideout on the top floor of a fairly benign apartment building. ]
Listen to yourself. If I've never passed out during a job in all these years, what makes you think I'll do it now?
[ A rickety door swings open, and Jigen pitches himself inside, rubs his hands together for warmth. ]
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He laughs at the usual grumblehumbug; as much as she nags she does care...probably...somewhere in there. As long as Jigen doesn't catch on and lets Lupin have all the bedside nurse visits~~
From the eyes and tip of a nose peeking from beneath the blanket:]
True, she'd scold you for being a naughty boy and not getting all your shots or taking your vitamins. Didn't anyone nag you to wear your sweater, even when it was hot out? [breezing along--]
You've got to be prepared for these kinds of things. Your tennis knee, sometimes I worry about it.
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Rising above the distinctly domestic rustling: ] Nothin' to worry about if you don't make me haul ass on rainy days.
[ He's not entirely serious— the cliche about your joints aching and your old wounds flaring up in bad weather, he's experienced it before but not enough for it to be anything close to a concern— and his expression mirrors the casualness of his statement when he moves towards the couch and hands Lupin a glass of whiskey, on the rocks. ]
So. What are we toasting to today, partner?
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Rain or shine~ In sleet or snow. We've been mailmen at least four times, right? [probably four million, one way or another, but who's counting] I'll getcha a poncho, what do you think? It'll go great with your shoes.
[snerk snerk; There's no(t) much worrying here. Wor- looking out for each other's lives, from death to a case of the sneezes, just comes with the territory. The man still kicked ass and took names with a toothache he really should have gotten taken care of, Lupin trusts him to get through anything even with a kidney stone. But he knows...right? He knows that he'd get him ice for his dick or whatever you're supposed to do in those cases, if he needed it...right? Lupin considers his partner for a couple of beats, before raising the glass towards Jigen's, letting the ice clink along the edge]
To glue in Zenigata's asscrack. To sticky fingers!
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[ Normally he wouldn't mention that last one, but he's feeling generous. Lupin looks like a little kid, all bundled up and snug in those covers, and Jigen laughs as he sits his ass down on the arm of the couch, tipping his glass to let it meet his partner's. ]
To Pops' shower bill.
[ A more dignified derivative of Lupin's toast, delivered in warm deadpan. Listen, if Jigen got dick frostbite, he would definitely...call a doctor, yeah, there would be a joke here about popsicles but I couldn't do it.
Kicking back his bourbon, Jigen sighs in contentment before ruffling Lupin's hair again. ]
So, how much is whatever we just got worth?
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[Leave it to Jigen to take a bit of the dignity side for Pops, for his own sanity and stomach, actually.]
To Poopin' Reps.
[He adds, tilts the glass to his lips and takes a swallow. He leans into the hand in his hair, just for a moment, and his eyes light up at the prospect of revealing the price. Jigen's never gonna believe this!]
Weeelll-- the deed will give us a nice karma boost. And the toilet flusher...?
[He idly toes at his clothes, where each item is hidden, for dramatic effect. When Lupin speaks again his voice is hushed--]
Three hundred million.
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He hacks, coughs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hands. Manners, Daisuke Jigen. ]
Three hundred—
[ For a part of Putin's toilet?! Scratch whatever he said before about never wanting to see the damn thing again, he'd brave another three rooms full of kitsch and statues of cats in lingerie for Putin's toilet plunger.
Boggling, he leans in, ear near Lupin's mouth, as if he just needs to hear that again. ]
—million?!
[ Swimming pool full of Jack, here he comes. ]
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Three hundred mil for part of a crapper. Just think how much the golden turd could've been.
[Lupin's words a purr, enunciating clearly and decidedly, the cat that's got the canary. The shit covered canary. He takes another satisfying gulp of his victory drink, it goes down like a line of pure fire.]
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Still half-choking on his drink, he washes down the acrid burn with another big gulp, slamming his glass down to drive his triumph home. ]
Too bad Pops is gonna confiscate the rest of that statue, huh? That's one hell of a thing to have decorating the evidence room!
[ He's laughing, thin shoulders rising and falling with his chuckles; ah, it's these moments he lives for. ]
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Ahhh, how the cowboy changes his tune so quickly~ For shame, for shame, art is so cheap these days to you youngsters! I don't see why we couldn't get the rest if it'd be worth it.
[a shrug, a playful slant to his mouth]
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...He can't say that that's not tempting, but Zenigata might also burst a blood vessel on them and that might be one mess they don't want to deal with. Reaching behind blindly for the rest of the bottle of bourbon, Jigen pours the two of them another double-shot. ]
Art history's never been my strong suit.
[ has it ever been a suit, that's the better question. ]
And, well. Guess this is where Goemon'd say something like "excess greed breeds bad karma" or something like that.
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You know all you've got to do is say so and we'll take a few more strolls through some museums, buddy! We'll join one of those snoozefest old folks tours and while everyone's asleep or taking their meds we'll help ourselves to some history.
[meaningful raise of the eyebrows; he's only half serious, doesn't have his eye on anything in particular just yet, he's got at least twelve other potentials in the works.
The very mention of karma and Goemon's karma has him feel the distinct urge to have a deeper sip, waving a hand dismissively when he comes up for air]
He said that once about q-tips in bulk. But I think Pops needs some time to lick his wounds, anyhow.
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Quit hogging the space.
[ The ice gently clinks in his glass when he waves it; a shooing motion more fitting for a dog, too rude to be impersonal. He doesn't do this, not usually— besides, he's usually the one hogging it with those stick-thin legs sprawled on the upholstery— but Lupin just scored then three hundred mil and sharing couch space doesn't seem so offensive. ]
Fujiko, Goemon, Pops— you're a damn magnet for the bottom of the barrel.
[ Himself included, but he says this with too much fondness to put his name on the list. Jigen Daisuke, shittalking people when they're close to his heart. ]
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[Lupin's huff at the order is more good natured than anything, and though he rolls his eyes, does make room for his partner, feet squished beneath the cushion between them for warmth as well as bratling tendencies. Again, good natured. Jigen's a bony foot rest, anyway.]
What are you saying? I obviously bring out the best in the barrel! Sometimes it's the ripest down there, anyway.
[wink wonk]
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But of course, the innuendo is there to shatter the innocence (why does Jigen even try). Chin cast up towards the ceiling, he sighs. ]
Lay off, we're the stuff that they all try to filter out.
[ Another correction, or perhaps chastisement... ] But it's thanks to us that the booze is so damn good.
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Look, Monkey Butt here wasn't even trying for the innuendo, it's a certain Hat on the Monopoly board who's mind went right to the gutter.]
Try as they might, it's too hard and they're too cheap to filter it out properly. Pretty sure we're just stuck that way, ay, partner?
[he'll toast to that.]
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The prod with a toe is returned with a huff, as shoulders slide down on the couch (glass deposited on the floor) and stop once Jigen secures his shoulders on the back of it, Borsalino lifted off his head and onto his face.
He's smiling. ]
No complaints here. This is the good life.
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The confession? The tilt of his chin, there's a smile or at least a peaceful expression on Jigen's face, isn't there? It's a good thing he doesn't see the fingers that reach for his shoulder, hanging mid-way in the air, then.]
I know what you mean. This is the way to live it up. In class, style, and shit stirring crazy, eh.
[He smiles back, content as hell.]