[ He's not sure whether or not he should be glad that today's job is a one-man case: Jigen is the backup 'just in case' things go south, 'just in case' they run into a few problems along the way, but he's been assured time and time again that the likelihood of him having to reach under his suit jacket for his Magnum is very, very close to none.
Jigen knows how reliable those numbers are. They aren't.
But with a pat on his shoulder and a bump of forehead against forehead, he'd been told to 'enjoy himself for once', which he'd obliged with a hard jab to Lupin's side with an elbow, a low 'go get us our money'.
Or a necklace, or a ring, or whatever it was that Lupin'd been on the lookout for this time. He's pretty sure that he's not going to see the profits from this anyway, he's given up an any caper that involves jewelry and the mention of Mine Fujiko.
So here he is, party guest of the century, hovering near the bar with a glass of bourbon (straight, no ice to worry about freezing his hand) and an expression that screams 'I have no idea what the hell I'm doing here'. He's the only one wearing a hat indoors, too, which adds to the general weirdness. ]
[It's not that she didn't expect him to leave her; no, she just expected a little more hem-hawing and brown nosing, at least five instances of groping before he dove off into the fray. Being left for older women with bountiful chests would smart if he were anyone else...(well maybe a little, currently)
The fact of the matter is, she has a weird feeling. When Baroqueheat suggested an adult party, Rahzel had initially held his head in the toilet bowl for up to five minutes. When she heard it was an auction, well, the wheels started turning in her head. What could he possibly want? Was it some famous jump suit of gross quality? A pair of snake skin boots? She really hopes its not something having to do with fashion...
Oh, but if it's jewels~ His family jewels just might be safe. On the other hand, where is he getting that kind of money? A trust fund he never told her about? That train of thought leaves her a little indignant as her eyes scan the crowd for the familiar shape of his back, the back of that slicked hair.
What she spots instead is a man in a nicely tailored suit, probably Fendi, nursing a drink and clad in a hat. Indoors. Rahzel finds herself frowning as she watches him, alone and uninterrupted, entire bubble of personal space screams discomfort. He must be here with his equally rich and charismatic brother or maybe wife? Married for five years, no kids, at least three dogs...She definitely dragged him out to this, he doesn't look like he'd tear himself away from his Gundam models that easily.
He must be so lonely. Is what she thinks, followed by, Oh god, did she leave him to take it up with the pastry chef she's been seeing for the past year?! Okay, that's it. She has to do something.
So she takes a little plateful of whatever's at hand, some chocolates and cheese (oh, c'mon), some sort of expensive crackers, a little (non alcoholic) drink, and saunters over to the poor man.]
So what are you in for? [Cue a charming smile] You know, pastry chefs may know the way to a woman's heart, but he's really greasy and they tend to be obsessed.
[ When he's initially spoken to, his line of vision swims directly in front of him— somewhere at eye level, expecting to see some pretty something-or-other in a tight dress that scoops too low, with jewelry that glint too sharply in this brightly-lit room.
When he swings and misses with that assumption, he lets his gaze wander to the right, then to the left, and eventually down, down to the outline of this little girl with chocolates and crackers and a smile that can melt ice. Oh, you little heartbreaker.
For a moment, Jigen's at a loss. ]
...Where're your parents.
[ He says, maybe a little dumbly. Not very conversational, the laconic gunslinger. ]
[The swivel of his gaze to and fro brings about a haze of indignation welling up inside her for a split second, long enough for one sacrificial cracker on the edge of the plate to go crack under the tip of one manicured thumb, and then her expression smooths over into something exasperated when he finally speaks.
Yup, he's definitely someone's uncle, five dogs, the whole nine yards. Where is his wife to lead him around and introduce him to people he'll be awkward at for all of five minutes before moving on to the next one? At least he looks...charming. She's not afraid of put off by his standoffish aura.
Cocks her free hand on one hip.]
Where are your parents? That has nothing to do with your pastry problem. If you can cook a steak you might win out, women love red meat more than they're willing to admit. We're carnivores in pretty finery. You're going to lose if you stand around half asleep on your feet, man!
[ Why does he feel like he's being lectured because of his lack of plus one? At the very least, the avoidance of the topic of her parents and/or her lack of excuse makes him assume (erroneously) that her parents are either: too busy making out in the coat closet (thank god he didn't put his jacket there) or too busy getting drunk to care about their little girl.
Rich people.
He taps his glass of bourbon against one knee, thinking, before he finally answers her long non-answer to his question. ]
It won't kill you to say that you just want to talk.
[ Jigen please... despite his dismissiveness, though, his tone warms a notch. Maybe he's just teasing. ]
[Because just what did he do to make his own wife or nephew or brother avoid him like the plague at a party for plagues!? The curiosity burns like a swirling vortex of nosiness. So not too fun. For the other party, at least.
Rahzel turns her nose up at him, pops a cracker into her mouth and chews daintily.]
No it probably wouldn't, my pride can't be snubbed that easily. It's got it's own aura and everything. People shouldn't be alone in weird places like this where they stick out like a sore mutant thumb.
[i-is she calling you a mutant? An eyesore? What is happening. But the line of her mouth gentles when she recognizes the teasing.]
[ Despite the maybe-insult, Jigen doesn't take it too seriously. Maybe because it's coming from someone who's chest-height, someone less than half his age; either way, he's not offended by the implication that he stands out, because he knows he does.
He finishes his drink, sets it on a nearby tray and faces the little lady properly, hands in pockets. ]
Important adult things. [ Is the preliminary reply, scoffed, because he knows how stupid and unconvincing that sounds. He has a feeling that this girl isn't so naive. ] That, and warming the bar for someone I know.
[ That "someone" being the blonde moving "her" way around this party, but he doesn't want to think about that right now. He pulls a bit of a face. ]
[Well, points to him for not bending down to speak to her at eyelevel or else his beard would have been toast. Okay, she wouldn't go that far...maybe just the tie. In tartar sauce. Rahzel also appreciates having his full attention now. There's the raise of a fine eyebrow]
Important "adult" things. [nose wrinkle] You know they call that type of art Renaissance nowadays, you don't have to be so shy about it or play it off. If you can call it art in this kind of place.
[Which she's not sure she would. It depends on whether or not its tasteful and if she can laugh at it. She hums, considers his words, then offers him her plate.]
So she really did run off to frolic with the pastry chef. Well I can't make her jealous, but I can help you with some great conversational one liners to keep her from falling asleep!
[Have a cheery grin as she rocks on her heels, clearly excited by this idea, eager to help.
[ It takes him a second, but he pieces the implication together. Somehow he's been mistaken for a sad husband with a pushy, possibly unfaithful wife (she's on to something), and if that weren't cause for vague amusement, the fact that Miss Precocious over here wants to be his plus one for the moment is... well.
It's rude, but his initial reply is a stifled kuh from the back of his throat, a half-chuckle that almost stops there before turning into a full-fledged laugh. He doesn't mean to be condescending, he swears. ]
Is that right.
[ He manages to say, between light chuckles and a kitty-curled grin, one hand on his hat for stability's sake. ]
What do you think we should talk about, then. Let's hear it.
[Baby blues narrow at him. Just what the hell is so funny about worrying for the mental stability of a total stranger? How is she supposed to know he won't murder the pastry chef???? And then who will make that other cake she was looking forward to!!
(Priorities, thy mistress is Rahzel)
If he knows someone has his back, even if his twelve cats like his wife better, maybe the pastry ch- er, his sanity can be saved.]
That's right. [somehow restrains the urge to stamp her foot like a little kid] Got a problem with that? We're talking about stuff, interesting and exciting stuff! Right now.
[She scans the room for a moment before those baby blues lock on to a young man. He chats up an older woman, someone who clearly isn't a relative, and swirls all but liquid tar in a glass. She juts her chin out to indicate--]
Okay, how about him, right there. His mother is incredibly stifling and overbearing, one of those helicopter moms. So, while he doesn't hate her, per se, he resents the hell out of her. And he thinks that if he makes her so repulsed by him, she'll leave him alone...as if she were some kind of stalker. [scoffs] So he's taken to spending a lot of time with her friends...
[ He just continues laughing, quiet heaves of his shoulders as Rahzel concocts her backstory, leans in conspiratorially. It says something about the kind of person he's perceived to be, if a teenage girl sees the need to seek him out to lift his spirits, but he won't complain for the moment— gruffly, grudgingly, and sweetly, he accepts. Her parents are missing out. ]
That's some imagination you've got.
[ A note to self: this girl watches too many daytime soaps. Maybe. He's never been too keen on making stories for people he'll likely never speak to, but he humors her because she's humoring him. Equivalent exchange.
His eyes narrow under his hair, a little endeared. Possibly. ]
So what you're saying is, what I need in my life is schadenfreude.
Why thank you! It's all my own, no one's getting the royalties to these lines.
[She offers a sarcastic little curtsy, hem plucked delicately between two fingers, before straightening to her full (non impressive) height once more to peer up into his amused face.]
Ah, but you didn't let me finish the story.
[Not that that phrase, harsh on his tongue, doesn't take a sliver of truth from the mix. Her expression is utterly patient, too knowing for her tiny body.]
While he had every intention of messing with his mother's brittle ego, he found himself in love with one of her greatest rivals. This isn't simply two star crossed lovers on opposite sides of the spectrum...their gap is like a canyon but somehow they managed to pass each other in the night and hang on. It's a little bit of schadenfreude, certainly, and ironic at best. Assholes should always be laughed at and ground into the earth.
[ Ah, this joie de vivre. These are heavy words from a girl her age, a worldliness that's disarming. He has a feeling a conversation about schadenfreude would have been easier to deal with than this alternative.
He finally stops laughing, evaluative because of the shift in story, fingers reaching for a cigarette at the corner of his mouth that isn't there. It's instinct. ]
...Can't tell if you're trying to cheer me up or to do the opposite.
[ Sad love stories are the worst, don't you know? Don't talk to Jigen about love, he doesn't subscribe to it (h e h). ]
To an extent, Rahzel might not be thrilled by the thought of getting stolen goods, but he has a justification for any complaints that may get thrown his way from a princess whose heart is too big for her own good: the jewels he's gunning to give her are already stolen goods, pilfered from a previously well-to-do family whose fortunes dissipated with their luck. They're a family heirloom, parted with tearfully and left in the hands of greedy misers who barely appreciates the history behind it or the heart contained within.
Of course, an excuse is an excuse— in the end, sir shitlord extreme just thinks that the thing'd look great on Rahzel (and maybe, maybe is a little happier about something sentimental ending up in someone sentimental's hands), and he's willing to jump through a few hoops to see his princess happy.
Ah, he's such a prince, truly... Such virtuous goals, befitting a bastard of his caliber.
But that's that and this is this, and before the auction can take place, there's the little issue of the party that they have to power through. And power through he will, with a smile on his shit-eating face and a glass of champagne in one hand, on the prowl for some conversation and maybe a nice rack or two to oggle.
Speaking of.
He taps a particularly pretty lady on the shoulder, one that looks like she might be alone and bored, and gives her the most charming smile he can muster (pretty charming, surprisingly). ]
[Well here's the bright side: they almost got Goemon to go with this ensemble. But in the end the three of them (minus the samurai in question) decided his legs were made for shorter stuff. Miniskirts, maybe. Of course, the comment had cost him dearly and sorely but-- so worth it.
As it turns out, Lupin looks pretty good in any kind of formal wear, as great as he does out of it. It's one of those little black numbers with a severe slit right up to the hip, great for moving around in and showing off some skin to those with Lazy Eyes and wives with dagger eyes. He oozes grace and poise in his ensemble, moves with more concentrated feline grace through the crowd like liquid (liquid feline? huh), weaves and flutters but no one can touch him--
No wonder Fujiko feels so powerful sometimes. He also wonders if she'd be into doing it like this....he can think of someone else who'd surely be into it after some hem-hawing around. The thought sends a little chill of excitement through him-- Gotta focus, Lupin, focus and then you can get your own diamond in the rough~
Speaking of being touched, a touch to his shoulder, just lingering over the smooth flesh, catches his attention and he turns, blonde hair whirling.
Doesn't this guy think he's something. A young brash stallion, actually. Lupin almost rolls his eyes. A grateful smile worms it's way across red painted lips instead, voice low and smokey, the maturity of a woman who's seen the world and then some.]
How kind of you to offer...You know, there are a lot of gentleman here who can talk the talk, but not nearly enough walk the walk, if you know what I mean~ [Arches his brows, lips quirked]
[ Baroqueheat is a stallion— the nickname "horse seed" isn't one borne from nothing, after all. Perhaps it's also nothing to be proud of, but hey, if the cap fits.
But that aside, Miss Slender and Slinky, meet Smooth and Smarmy. Of all the lovely ladies in all the parties in all the world, he had to hit on this one; talk about probability and chance. But he's always been about making the impossible possible, or alternately, about making the most possible things impossible through willful self-sabotage, so this might be a case of the latter. ]
Really? Well, I'm not that bright, so you might have to explain it to me and walk me through it.
[ He laughs at his own joke as if he's just so funny (with a grin and a wink), handing 'her' his untouched champagne with a flourish. Please God, don't let Rahzel see this and start telling everyone that he has crabs. ]
[This stallion better tread carefully or he could fall right over a hurdle, right onto his ass.
Oh isn't he trying to be cute. With half a brain and a ready-made grin full of promise, this kid is probably a heartbreaker. Or a Pussy Destroyer. Psh, but obviously he's got much to learn if that's the follow up on his opener (which Lupin fails to admit he, too, has used ones exactly like this).
So 'she' takes the champagne, pretty red lips parting over glass as he takes a swallow, there's the flash of pink as he licks the remainders from his lips, turns a smile on to Smooth and Smarmy.]
You don't say. I don't know, I think your light's brightening the whole place by at least 60 watts. I wonder if I could walk you through it, with these heels and all...this isn't exactly a runway.
[It's a good thing he doesn't have Futuresight, then, because...it's coming.]
[ Maybe Lupin should be informed that the contents of Hi-tan's wallet tonight is a miserable 5 dollars, or whatever the equivalent is in the currency they're currently toting. But Baroqueheat is a man who is broke with expensive taste, and whatever he doesn't have in his pocket he compensates for with social grace. And the thing under his pocket, in his pants. Basically, his dick.
Mercifully, he tones down the grossness a few notches so that the police don't come running straight away (even if that might be a little fun), keeping his hands well-behaved for the time being just to gently, chivalrously tuck a piece of hair behind a pretty little ear.
(Somewhere miles away, Alzeid gags and feels the urge to go empty his stomach in the nearest toilet bowl.) ]
Whew— who told you to give me lines like that? [ a low little whistle, mock-impressed, teasing. ] This is a PG-13 party, right? Are you trying to get stricter ratings?
[Five dollars worth of condoms???? HE BETTER NOT HAVE ANY EMPTY CANDY WRAPPERS FOR THAT GLORIFIED KNOB. Well he can't depend on Lupin to be his sugar mama tonight; well, perhaps on the bill of Koichi Zenigata, if he's a good boy.
Lupin can practically feel goosebumps pucker over his skin. And not the nice kind. This bastard and his supposedly smooth moves...it's like he's taking a page out of the thief's original book!! Thinking he can get some. What a loser. But Lupin giggles all the same, offers a smoldering gaze, face turned into the hand]
Your eyes did. ['She' takes another small sip, lips give way to shiny pearly whites, sparkle sparkle.] It depends on who I have to share my Oscar with...I'd rather not be up on stage all by my lonesome, though.
[ Thankfully, Hi-tan is not in possession of a candy dispenser in the shape of a familiar green-skinned ogre, so any trauma that might have occurred on this day is averted— unless one of the partygoers has one stashed under a belt buckle or in a bra, why would you ever.
But. Well, well, well. She seems to be into it— into him— which is a change of pace from the routine mauling he gets from his princess (not that he dislikes that, he's a sucker for punishment). Casually, he reaches behind him and swipes a whole plate of hors-d'oeuvres from a server that's passing by (who looks momentarily stunned, and then pretends that he just... did his job), offering it to his lady companion of the night. Look at these fancy-ass moves and this fancy-ass... olive plate? Fuck, is this escargot? He honestly has no idea. ]
Good to know that big, gold, and naked isn't your type! [ how rude to the Oscar statue. He cackles. ] I hope the big and naked is negotiable, though.
[Surely it's shaped like a certain jack-ass who just so happens to be his spirit animal, waffles and all. Perhaps they're a-d-d-dick...ted to the choice flavor of candy that's probably going to go into a strippers bootycrack later. Rich people.
Aw, The Hunte(d)r is cute, so proud of his skills of foraging. He even gets points for it not being snails this time-- how do you eat- do you sucky? Thankfully Lupin knows all of this, the sucky sucky proper manners will be stowed away for later.
Toothpick in hand, he samples from the green olives and the purple ones and even the little black ones, popping them onto his tongue, eyes wide and innocent]
No, I prefer something a little sweeter. I could see some room for that in my contract.
[ Baroqueheat thinks that he can maybe walk away from this with a bit of sucky sucky, but for now: olives. He takes one, doesn't particularly feel anything about it one way or the other, but pretends that they're great for the sake of his own victory.
Balancing the tray on one finger (circus background, initiate), he uses that other free arm to do the "parrot on this shoulder or that shoulder" trick, except with a slender waist. Suave.
(Making mental measurements: hm.) ]
Contract? Sounds mysterious.
[ Businesswoman? Corporate mogul? Either way, she's pretty, and that's what matters. ]
Non, non, non, though! Tonight's a party, no business talk, 'kay?
[Yes, grunt grunt, Bbqhead done good, win much meat for tribe. But no fur for underwear??? We can't have it all.
Oh gross, he's already going for the waist. Here come the goosebumps again, at least his palm isn't clammy or hairy, at least it won't stain the dress he has to return later. (debatable, by the end of this night) But Lupin's lips twitch up, stubbornly refusing to grimace, and the eyes follow, a bright look glints there.]
Oh but it is. If I tell you I might have to hurt you deeply...and I don't want to do that. The girls'll cry for such a loss.
[He's definitely someone's rich kid, too big for his britches, maybe a middle child, running from the invisibility it brings. Snooty boarding school, the works.]
Bien, bien. I get so carried away sometimes, it's as easy as breathing for me.
[Manicured fingernails flutter up, trace the line of his shoulder]
[ Lupin's almost got it right— Baroqueheat's simultaneously the baby and the shitty third wheel child that thinks he can skate on by with bullshit and charm. Which is why he might look just a little disappointed that things are going so smoothly— he's gotten so used to the fighting and the vicious pinches in return for stolen pinches that it throws him off his game— before those dark eyes flutter and twinkle again with a mischievousness as only he can deliver. ]
Mm, I dunno, sometimes people think whips and chains are relaxing! If hurting men deeply is your hobby, I won't knock it 'til I've tried it. ♥
[ To what degree is he joking here and to what degree isn't he, he likes blurring that line... senor butthead tries to butt heads with her gently, though, like a particularly gross bull chasing a skirt instead of a matador's cape. ]
Too many people think living's a chore, I don't want that happening for a pretty girl like you!
[Okay Lupin can't stifle the not so ladylike snort that escapes. He recovers quickly, widening of the eyes and whatnot.]
Are you always such an obedient boy? I'm a woman of many hobbies. You could say I do a lot of [a pause] careful work with my hands to relax me most of the time. Spiciness...now there's something.
[He sure thinks he's smooth...its not dull, if anything. When Baroqueheat opens his mouth again, with a node of truth, Lupin's eyes widen a smidgen. Huh. Whether it's just pre-recorded bullshit or not, a mostly honest answer wouldn't hurt.]
A chore? No, it won't ever be that. Not with the freedom of the skies. There's too much to do and too much to see, I don't have time to roll over for boredom. Peace? Possibly for awhile. To relax.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
( rahzel anadis and jigen daisuke. )
Jigen knows how reliable those numbers are. They aren't.
But with a pat on his shoulder and a bump of forehead against forehead, he'd been told to 'enjoy himself for once', which he'd obliged with a hard jab to Lupin's side with an elbow, a low 'go get us our money'.
Or a necklace, or a ring, or whatever it was that Lupin'd been on the lookout for this time. He's pretty sure that he's not going to see the profits from this anyway, he's given up an any caper that involves jewelry and the mention of Mine Fujiko.
So here he is, party guest of the century, hovering near the bar with a glass of bourbon (straight, no ice to worry about freezing his hand) and an expression that screams 'I have no idea what the hell I'm doing here'. He's the only one wearing a hat indoors, too, which adds to the general weirdness. ]
no subject
The fact of the matter is, she has a weird feeling. When Baroqueheat suggested an adult party, Rahzel had initially held his head in the toilet bowl for up to five minutes. When she heard it was an auction, well, the wheels started turning in her head. What could he possibly want? Was it some famous jump suit of gross quality? A pair of snake skin boots? She really hopes its not something having to do with fashion...
Oh, but if it's jewels~ His family jewels just might be safe. On the other hand, where is he getting that kind of money? A trust fund he never told her about? That train of thought leaves her a little indignant as her eyes scan the crowd for the familiar shape of his back, the back of that slicked hair.
What she spots instead is a man in a nicely tailored suit, probably Fendi, nursing a drink and clad in a hat. Indoors. Rahzel finds herself frowning as she watches him, alone and uninterrupted, entire bubble of personal space screams discomfort. He must be here with his equally rich and charismatic brother or maybe wife? Married for five years, no kids, at least three dogs...She definitely dragged him out to this, he doesn't look like he'd tear himself away from his Gundam models that easily.
He must be so lonely. Is what she thinks, followed by, Oh god, did she leave him to take it up with the pastry chef she's been seeing for the past year?! Okay, that's it. She has to do something.
So she takes a little plateful of whatever's at hand, some chocolates and cheese (oh, c'mon), some sort of expensive crackers, a little (non alcoholic) drink, and saunters over to the poor man.]
So what are you in for? [Cue a charming smile] You know, pastry chefs may know the way to a woman's heart, but he's really greasy and they tend to be obsessed.
no subject
When he swings and misses with that assumption, he lets his gaze wander to the right, then to the left, and eventually down, down to the outline of this little girl with chocolates and crackers and a smile that can melt ice. Oh, you little heartbreaker.
For a moment, Jigen's at a loss. ]
...Where're your parents.
[ He says, maybe a little dumbly. Not very conversational, the laconic gunslinger. ]
no subject
Yup, he's definitely someone's uncle, five dogs, the whole nine yards. Where is his wife to lead him around and introduce him to people he'll be awkward at for all of five minutes before moving on to the next one? At least he looks...charming. She's not afraid of put off by his standoffish aura.
Cocks her free hand on one hip.]
Where are your parents? That has nothing to do with your pastry problem. If you can cook a steak you might win out, women love red meat more than they're willing to admit. We're carnivores in pretty finery. You're going to lose if you stand around half asleep on your feet, man!
no subject
Rich people.
He taps his glass of bourbon against one knee, thinking, before he finally answers her long non-answer to his question. ]
It won't kill you to say that you just want to talk.
[ Jigen please... despite his dismissiveness, though, his tone warms a notch. Maybe he's just teasing. ]
no subject
Rahzel turns her nose up at him, pops a cracker into her mouth and chews daintily.]
No it probably wouldn't, my pride can't be snubbed that easily. It's got it's own aura and everything. People shouldn't be alone in weird places like this where they stick out like a sore mutant thumb.
[i-is she calling you a mutant? An eyesore? What is happening. But the line of her mouth gentles when she recognizes the teasing.]
Like I said, what are you in for.
no subject
He finishes his drink, sets it on a nearby tray and faces the little lady properly, hands in pockets. ]
Important adult things. [ Is the preliminary reply, scoffed, because he knows how stupid and unconvincing that sounds. He has a feeling that this girl isn't so naive. ] That, and warming the bar for someone I know.
[ That "someone" being the blonde moving "her" way around this party, but he doesn't want to think about that right now. He pulls a bit of a face. ]
no subject
Important "adult" things. [nose wrinkle] You know they call that type of art Renaissance nowadays, you don't have to be so shy about it or play it off. If you can call it art in this kind of place.
[Which she's not sure she would. It depends on whether or not its tasteful and if she can laugh at it. She hums, considers his words, then offers him her plate.]
So she really did run off to frolic with the pastry chef. Well I can't make her jealous, but I can help you with some great conversational one liners to keep her from falling asleep!
[Have a cheery grin as she rocks on her heels, clearly excited by this idea, eager to help.
In other words: Run]
no subject
It's rude, but his initial reply is a stifled kuh from the back of his throat, a half-chuckle that almost stops there before turning into a full-fledged laugh. He doesn't mean to be condescending, he swears. ]
Is that right.
[ He manages to say, between light chuckles and a kitty-curled grin, one hand on his hat for stability's sake. ]
What do you think we should talk about, then. Let's hear it.
no subject
(Priorities, thy mistress is Rahzel)
If he knows someone has his back, even if his twelve cats like his wife better, maybe the pastry ch- er, his sanity can be saved.]
That's right. [somehow restrains the urge to stamp her foot like a little kid] Got a problem with that? We're talking about stuff, interesting and exciting stuff! Right now.
[She scans the room for a moment before those baby blues lock on to a young man. He chats up an older woman, someone who clearly isn't a relative, and swirls all but liquid tar in a glass. She juts her chin out to indicate--]
Okay, how about him, right there. His mother is incredibly stifling and overbearing, one of those helicopter moms. So, while he doesn't hate her, per se, he resents the hell out of her. And he thinks that if he makes her so repulsed by him, she'll leave him alone...as if she were some kind of stalker. [scoffs] So he's taken to spending a lot of time with her friends...
And therein lies the problem.
no subject
That's some imagination you've got.
[ A note to self: this girl watches too many daytime soaps. Maybe. He's never been too keen on making stories for people he'll likely never speak to, but he humors her because she's humoring him. Equivalent exchange.
His eyes narrow under his hair, a little endeared. Possibly. ]
So what you're saying is, what I need in my life is schadenfreude.
no subject
[She offers a sarcastic little curtsy, hem plucked delicately between two fingers, before straightening to her full (non impressive) height once more to peer up into his amused face.]
Ah, but you didn't let me finish the story.
[Not that that phrase, harsh on his tongue, doesn't take a sliver of truth from the mix. Her expression is utterly patient, too knowing for her tiny body.]
While he had every intention of messing with his mother's brittle ego, he found himself in love with one of her greatest rivals. This isn't simply two star crossed lovers on opposite sides of the spectrum...their gap is like a canyon but somehow they managed to pass each other in the night and hang on. It's a little bit of schadenfreude, certainly, and ironic at best. Assholes should always be laughed at and ground into the earth.
But it's a little mudita, too.
no subject
He finally stops laughing, evaluative because of the shift in story, fingers reaching for a cigarette at the corner of his mouth that isn't there. It's instinct. ]
...Can't tell if you're trying to cheer me up or to do the opposite.
[ Sad love stories are the worst, don't you know? Don't talk to Jigen about love, he doesn't subscribe to it (h e h). ]
Speaking from experience, little lady?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
( arsene lupin the third and sir dickalot the millionth )
To an extent, Rahzel might not be thrilled by the thought of getting stolen goods, but he has a justification for any complaints that may get thrown his way from a princess whose heart is too big for her own good: the jewels he's gunning to give her are already stolen goods, pilfered from a previously well-to-do family whose fortunes dissipated with their luck. They're a family heirloom, parted with tearfully and left in the hands of greedy misers who barely appreciates the history behind it or the heart contained within.
Of course, an excuse is an excuse— in the end, sir shitlord extreme just thinks that the thing'd look great on Rahzel (and maybe, maybe is a little happier about something sentimental ending up in someone sentimental's hands), and he's willing to jump through a few hoops to see his princess happy.
Ah, he's such a prince, truly... Such virtuous goals, befitting a bastard of his caliber.
But that's that and this is this, and before the auction can take place, there's the little issue of the party that they have to power through. And power through he will, with a smile on his shit-eating face and a glass of champagne in one hand, on the prowl for some conversation and maybe a nice rack or two to oggle.
Speaking of.
He taps a particularly pretty lady on the shoulder, one that looks like she might be alone and bored, and gives her the most charming smile he can muster (pretty charming, surprisingly). ]
No drink in your hands yet? Let's fix that. ♥
no subject
As it turns out, Lupin looks pretty good in any kind of formal wear, as great as he does out of it. It's one of those little black numbers with a severe slit right up to the hip, great for moving around in and showing off some skin to those with Lazy Eyes and wives with dagger eyes. He oozes grace and poise in his ensemble, moves with more concentrated feline grace through the crowd like liquid (liquid feline? huh), weaves and flutters but no one can touch him--
No wonder Fujiko feels so powerful sometimes. He also wonders if she'd be into doing it like this....he can think of someone else who'd surely be into it after some hem-hawing around. The thought sends a little chill of excitement through him-- Gotta focus, Lupin, focus and then you can get your own diamond in the rough~
Speaking of being touched, a touch to his shoulder, just lingering over the smooth flesh, catches his attention and he turns, blonde hair whirling.
Doesn't this guy think he's something. A young brash stallion, actually. Lupin almost rolls his eyes. A grateful smile worms it's way across red painted lips instead, voice low and smokey, the maturity of a woman who's seen the world and then some.]
How kind of you to offer...You know, there are a lot of gentleman here who can talk the talk, but not nearly enough walk the walk, if you know what I mean~ [Arches his brows, lips quirked]
no subject
But that aside, Miss Slender and Slinky, meet Smooth and Smarmy. Of all the lovely ladies in all the parties in all the world, he had to hit on this one; talk about probability and chance. But he's always been about making the impossible possible, or alternately, about making the most possible things impossible through willful self-sabotage, so this might be a case of the latter. ]
Really? Well, I'm not that bright, so you might have to explain it to me and walk me through it.
[ He laughs at his own joke as if he's just so funny (with a grin and a wink), handing 'her' his untouched champagne with a flourish. Please God, don't let Rahzel see this and start telling everyone that he has crabs. ]
no subject
Oh isn't he trying to be cute. With half a brain and a ready-made grin full of promise, this kid is probably a heartbreaker. Or a Pussy Destroyer. Psh, but obviously he's got much to learn if that's the follow up on his opener (which Lupin fails to admit he, too, has used ones exactly like this).
So 'she' takes the champagne, pretty red lips parting over glass as he takes a swallow, there's the flash of pink as he licks the remainders from his lips, turns a smile on to Smooth and Smarmy.]
You don't say. I don't know, I think your light's brightening the whole place by at least 60 watts. I wonder if I could walk you through it, with these heels and all...this isn't exactly a runway.
[It's a good thing he doesn't have Futuresight, then, because...it's coming.]
no subject
Mercifully, he tones down the grossness a few notches so that the police don't come running straight away (even if that might be a little fun), keeping his hands well-behaved for the time being just to gently, chivalrously tuck a piece of hair behind a pretty little ear.
(Somewhere miles away, Alzeid gags and feels the urge to go empty his stomach in the nearest toilet bowl.) ]
Whew— who told you to give me lines like that? [ a low little whistle, mock-impressed, teasing. ] This is a PG-13 party, right? Are you trying to get stricter ratings?
no subject
Lupin can practically feel goosebumps pucker over his skin. And not the nice kind. This bastard and his supposedly smooth moves...it's like he's taking a page out of the thief's original book!! Thinking he can get some. What a loser. But Lupin giggles all the same, offers a smoldering gaze, face turned into the hand]
Your eyes did. ['She' takes another small sip, lips give way to shiny pearly whites, sparkle sparkle.] It depends on who I have to share my Oscar with...I'd rather not be up on stage all by my lonesome, though.
no subject
But. Well, well, well. She seems to be into it— into him— which is a change of pace from the routine mauling he gets from his princess (not that he dislikes that, he's a sucker for punishment). Casually, he reaches behind him and swipes a whole plate of hors-d'oeuvres from a server that's passing by (who looks momentarily stunned, and then pretends that he just... did his job), offering it to his lady companion of the night. Look at these fancy-ass moves and this fancy-ass... olive plate? Fuck, is this escargot? He honestly has no idea. ]
Good to know that big, gold, and naked isn't your type! [ how rude to the Oscar statue. He cackles. ] I hope the big and naked is negotiable, though.
no subject
Aw, The Hunte(d)r is cute, so proud of his skills of foraging. He even gets points for it not being snails this time-- how do you eat- do you sucky? Thankfully Lupin knows all of this, the
sucky suckyproper manners will be stowed away for later.Toothpick in hand, he samples from the green olives and the purple ones and even the little black ones, popping them onto his tongue, eyes wide and innocent]
No, I prefer something a little sweeter. I could see some room for that in my contract.
no subject
Balancing the tray on one finger (circus background, initiate), he uses that other free arm to do the "parrot on this shoulder or that shoulder" trick, except with a slender waist. Suave.
(Making mental measurements: hm.) ]
Contract? Sounds mysterious.
[ Businesswoman? Corporate mogul? Either way, she's pretty, and that's what matters. ]
Non, non, non, though! Tonight's a party, no business talk, 'kay?
no subject
Oh gross, he's already going for the waist. Here come the goosebumps again, at least his palm isn't clammy or hairy, at least it won't stain the dress he has to return later. (debatable, by the end of this night) But Lupin's lips twitch up, stubbornly refusing to grimace, and the eyes follow, a bright look glints there.]
Oh but it is. If I tell you I might have to hurt you deeply...and I don't want to do that. The girls'll cry for such a loss.
[He's definitely someone's rich kid, too big for his britches, maybe a middle child, running from the invisibility it brings. Snooty boarding school, the works.]
Bien, bien. I get so carried away sometimes, it's as easy as breathing for me.
[Manicured fingernails flutter up, trace the line of his shoulder]
It's so hard to relax.
no subject
Mm, I dunno, sometimes people think whips and chains are relaxing! If hurting men deeply is your hobby, I won't knock it 'til I've tried it. ♥
[ To what degree is he joking here and to what degree isn't he, he likes blurring that line... senor butthead tries to butt heads with her gently, though, like a particularly gross bull chasing a skirt instead of a matador's cape. ]
Too many people think living's a chore, I don't want that happening for a pretty girl like you!
no subject
Are you always such an obedient boy? I'm a woman of many hobbies. You could say I do a lot of [a pause] careful work with my hands to relax me most of the time. Spiciness...now there's something.
[He sure thinks he's smooth...its not dull, if anything. When Baroqueheat opens his mouth again, with a node of truth, Lupin's eyes widen a smidgen. Huh. Whether it's just pre-recorded bullshit or not, a mostly honest answer wouldn't hurt.]
A chore? No, it won't ever be that. Not with the freedom of the skies. There's too much to do and too much to see, I don't have time to roll over for boredom. Peace? Possibly for awhile. To relax.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
i can't believe what this thread has become
i cant either but at the same time i absolutely can
a monkey and a horse walk into a party
and both fall straight through a trap door and into the pit of hell a.k.a the sex dungeon
this mental image is too real
spoiler alert, fujiko is in charge down there probably
kind of good end...for lupin...? KIND OF??
probably the best end hes ever gonna get tbh
it was this or the crossdressing owl goemon end
...........damn, now i'm torn
those hairy legs and those beady eyes, for eternity
amen
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)