bakerstreet | random scenario

random scenario

THE RANDOM SCENARIO MEME 3.0

- Post your character, name, and series in the subject. Include any preferences as well.
- Go to RNG and enter 1-7 for a scene type, and 1-20 for a scene to play out.
- Have fun!

TYPE OF SCENE.
① Action → Gun fights, bar brawls, fights to the death are all possible scenarios.
② Angst → Characters suffer emotionally or physically from relationships breaking up, death, injury, etc. Hurt and comfort themes are included.
③ Crack → Genderswaps, super powers, sudden compulsions are all possible outcomes.
④ Fluff → Something that is devoid of angst. It's light-hearted and might have the overtone of romance.
⑤ Gen → General fun, things that didn't fit in the other categories.
⑥ Sex → First times, kinks, even dubcon are all possible themes of sex related scenarios.
⑦ Your choice → Think of your own scenario, choose one of the above or make a combo even!

ACTION.
① Zombies → It's the zombie apocalypse, lock and load!
② Bar brawl → You had one too many drinks, said something wrong, and now you're being asked to take it outside.
③ Chase → You're caught in a high speed chase.
④ Gun fight → You're caught in a big shoot-out.
⑤ Fight with a friend → You're fighting with a friend, all out.
⑥ Interrogation → You're being interrogated for some offense you've done.
⑦ Aliens → Aliens are attacking and you're not going to take your probe laying down!
⑧ Final battle → This is it. The battle that will end all the fighting for you. Will you win? Will you get that peace you want?
⑨ Training → You're not actually fighting, just training for the inevitable.
⑩ No hope → You know this fight has no hope. It's not going to end well for anyone involved, but you can't turn away.
⑪ Sneaking in → You're stealing a diamond or sneaking in to kick some bad guy butt, but whatever it is, you have to practice stealth.
⑫ Blue wire → You're faced with a bomb that needs to be disarmed.
⑬ Fight for honour → You've been disgraced or someone you care about has, so it's time to fight for honour.
⑭ Showdown → Time for a cowboy-style showdown. Whoever draws the fastest wins.
⑮ War → You're caught in the middle of a war here. Remember to keep your chin up and keeping fighting.
⑯ Apocalypse → The apocalypse finally happened and now you're left to scavenge and fight for whatever is left.
⑰ Sabotage → It's time to sabotage someone's plan! How is entirely up to you. Do you set up a bomb in their toilet? Do you double cross them at the last minute?
⑱ Big damn hero → You know you have to handle this one alone, so that means disarming or knocking unconscious the person who wants to join you.
⑲ Fight club → You know the rules... you're in an underground fighting ring and you're fighting with all you've got.
⑳ Threaten → You've just been sent here to rough them up a little, threaten them into behaving.

ANGST.
① Injury / illness → Your character has become injured or ill! To what extent is the mun's choice.
② Last moments → You character has been gravely injured and this is their last chance to say their last words.
③ Depression → Your character is depressed, what actions they take is up to the mun.
④ Betrayed → You character has been betrayed by the other. How do they react?
⑤ Tortured → Your character is being tortured and needs rescuing or at least a sympathetic ear to help him through it.
⑥ Jealousy → Your character is feeling jealous and must deal with it, how will they do it?
⑦ Breakup! → This relationship has gone as far as it can, it's time to breakup.
⑧ Broken → For whatever reason, the character is broken, mentally or or physically.
⑨ Fight → You can't even be in the same room as your friend or lover without arguing anymore.
⑩ Lost → You lost the biggest fight of your life and now all you can do is try to pick up the pieces.
⑪ Worst nightmare → Whatever you fear the most is now real or maybe you're just trapped in a dream together, but whatever it is, it feels too real.
⑫ Addicted → You're addicted to something, alcohol, drugs, sex, whatever. It's destroying your life and you can't do anything to stop it.
⑬ Hurt you → You're being forced to hurt someone you love either by betraying them or even being forced to shout things you don't mean. It's for their own good in the end though.
⑭ Separation → You were forced to leave this person for their own safety and while you've been miserable without them, you really didn't mean to run into them again... maybe it was by accident or you were watching them from afar this whole time.
⑮ Becoming a monster → You are slowly changing, becoming a monster: vampire, zombie, demon, something you can't recover from and no-one can help you.
⑯ Frozen → You are entirely helpless, frozen, to stop some kind of disaster.
⑰ Prison → You were very bad and now it's time to pay the price by turning yourself in or maybe the law just finally caught up to you.
⑱ Fear → You're not sure why, but you are suddenly terrified and you can't deal with it. You need help.
⑲ Hated → You are now hated by the person you loved the most.
⑳ Down and out → You're living on the streets, you've hit rock bottom, and you don't know what to do.

CRACK.
① Sexswap → Uh-oh, you're suddenly the opposite sex!
② Forced confessions → No matter what it is and no matter how hard you resist, you're going to be compelled to spill some deep dark secret!
③ Mind-reading → You've suddenly got the ability to read minds!
④ Animal → You're suddenly part animal or transformed into an animal!
⑤ Awkward pick-up lines → You're compelled to use bad pickup lines on whoever is closest!
⑥ Back in School / Graduated → You're suddenly back in school! Or if you were already in it, you've aged and long since graduated!
⑦ Vampires, werewolves, and zombies, oh my! → You're suddenly a vampire, werewolf, or zombie! Maybe even a demon or a devil, whatever creepy crawly you can think of. What do you do now?
⑧ Ghost → You're suddenly a ghost or at least invisible. What are you going to do with this new ability?
⑨ Awkward conversations → So did you just fart or what? Any conversation goes, as long as it's embarrassing and awkward.
⑩ Crossdressing → For whatever reason, you're suddenly dressed in clothes of the opposite sex.
⑪ Suddenly naked → Oops! Your clothes are suddenly gone.
⑫ Suddenly a kid → You're a kid again! Have fun with that second childhood.
⑬ Fortune cookie → You've suddenly received a note with something that will happen in the future, either precise or vague.
⑭ Super power → And suddenly you're like Superman! Any power goes.
⑮ Bodyswap → Somehow you've changed bodies with the other person.
⑯ Back in time → Somehow, you wound up in the past again. Do you try to correct something or just sit and wait for time to jump? Maybe it jumps to various points in your life or maybe you actually think you're back in the day. Have fun, run wild with the idea!
⑰ To the future → Is it everything you've dreamed? Is it horrible? Whatever happens, you're here to witness what happens to you in the future. Either you take the place of your future self or you're just there to watch. Might cause some confusion if people start seeing double though...
⑱ Angels, mermaids, and fairies! → You're not necessary something dark or evil. You're just something different. How do you deal?
⑲ Locked in a closet → For some reason, you're locked up in a closet with someone else. Do you make nice and try to figure your way out or what?
⑳ Finger trap → You're caught in a Chinese finger trap... with somebody else! You can't figure out how to get loose either... have fun with that.

FLUFF.
① Cuddling → For whatever reason, characters feel like being close and cuddling.
② Pillow talk → After the main event, characters are up for some pillow talk.
③ Celebration → Anniversary or some other big event is taking place and characters want to celebrate!
④ Love confession → Someone has finally decided to confess their love and today is the day!
⑤ Appreciation → You feel the need to show appreciation for that person closest to you, even if it's just a pat on the back.
⑥ Apologies → You made a mistake and now it's time to make it up in some way you know the other can't refuse!
⑦ Get back together → Why did you break up again exactly? Whatever the reason, it was a huge mistake and you both know you can work through it.
⑧ Date night → You've planned for a wonderful night together and you can't wait to get it started.
⑨ Family → You've either found out you're pregnant or you've already got that addition to your family.
⑩ Marriage → You're just about to get hitched or maybe you're enjoying your honeymoon. Maybe you've been together for years now! Whatever the case, it's time for that next big step.
⑪ Meeting again → It's time for that happy reunion finally!
⑫ Love at first sight → For whatever reason, you are now insanely in love with the first person you set eyes on.
⑬ Flirtation → You can't resist to do a little bit of harmless flirtation all of a sudden.
⑭ In the snow → Look outside! It's a winter wonderland, so why not go out and play in it?
⑮ Engagement → You've planned it all out and now it's time to finally pop the question.
⑯ Friendly games → You've set up the game station or board games for a friendly competition!
⑰ Gift → Time to give that special someone a gift just because.
⑱ Recovery → You're taking care of someone who's just recovered from some illness or injury.
⑲ Healing → Time to help mend that someone who's been through hell and back.
⑳ Better than ever → You've finally got everything you've ever wanted here. What is your ideal life and who does it include?

GEN.
① Nice meeting you → It's your first time meeting this person! You bumped into each other on the street, in a bar, at work... whatever!
② Drinks → You're out for drinks! Or just chilling at home with some beers. Wherever!
③ Lost → You're lost and you kind of need help finding your way to where you're going. A little help with directions?
④ Costume party → You're at a costume party, both of you are wearing masks. Do you keep the anonymity or take it off and see whose company you've been enjoying?
⑤ Wrong number → Oops, actually you didn't mean to call that person...
⑥ Drunk → You're already drunk! Drunk dialing, stumbling into someone, showing up unexpected... what type of drunk are you anyway? Aggressive, loving, happy? How does the other react?
⑦ Old friends → you haven't seen this person in a long time!
⑧ Rivals → you're suddenly rivals! Or maybe you have been all along...
⑨ Problems → you've got a problem with each other, just got in a huge fight, whatever. Try to work it out!
⑩ What are your intentions... → This person? They're dating a close friend, family member, etc. You need to find out if they're going to hurt them! Or you need to discuss your friend/family's dating choice.
⑪ I saw you → you saw the other person doing something bad and you need to confront them about it.
⑫ Sorry but no → the other person has feelings that you just don't share. They don't necessarily have to be romantic... maybe you just don't agree with their sudden desire to quit their job and start a business making tiny, fuzzy teddy bears.
⑬ My hero → you need to tell this person how much they mean to you. They've been your best friend or your role model your whole life and they need to know.
⑭ Enabler → you're enabling the other (or each other) to do something bad, really bad. Addiction, stealing, killing, or just any other self-destructive behavior.
⑮ Cooking → Time for an impromptu cooking lesson!
⑯ Oh, sure, I remember you... → It's that awkward moment when someone comes up and seems to know you, but you have no idea who they even are!
⑰ Rescue! → One of you was in trouble, but you came to the rescue!
⑱ Boss → One of you works under the other. Is your relationship good? Are you scheming things? Or do you hate each other?
⑲ Perfect crime → You and the other person have just pulled off the perfect crime... or you're planning to! What are you doing? The heist of the century, an assassination?
⑳ Movies → movie night! Maybe it's a sleepover. Whichever the case, it's time to eat a lot and have fun.

SEX.
① First time → it's your first time together or your first time ever! Enjoy the awkward times!
② Bondage → You and your partner decide to experiment a little with ropes or handcuffs or whatever you'd like to tie your partner up with.
③ Rough / Aggressive → Your characters want it rough.
④ Romantic → Slow and gentle, meaningful, that's how characters want it.
⑤ Dubcon → Character A wants Character B and it doesn't really matter if Character B wants it as bad or not.
⑥ In public → Characters feel like taking a risk and doing it in a public place.
⑦ Roleplay → Naughty nurse fetish? Pirate kink? You and your partner decide to try it out now!
⑧ Healing → You've both fought hard or gone through a rough time and it's time to get some R&R in.
⑨ Last time → This is the last time you're going to this because you're breaking up or maybe your lover is running off to sacrifice their lives in some heroic way. The possibilities are endless, but you better make this one count.
⑩ No strings attached → You're just friends with benefits. Nothing wrong with that, right?
⑪ Anonymous → You met in a restroom or bar, any location of your choosing, but you don't even know each other's names.
⑫ Toys → You're eager to try something new, so why not toys?
⑬ Aphrodisiacs → You've been slipped a strong aphrodisiac somehow and now you absolutely cannot control yourself.
⑭ Show → You're putting on a show by either doing it right in the club or filming it for a bunch of people.
⑮ Ménage à trois → It's time for that threesome you've always dreamed of.
⑯ Non-penetrative → Frottage, handjobs, whatever you want to try out.
⑰ Controlled → You are under mind control and must do whatever your lover asks of you.
⑱ Hatesex → It's not just rough or aggressive, you absolutely cannot stand each other.
⑲ Extreme → Fisting, knifeplay, whatever you can think of so long as it tests the boundaries.
⑳ Fantasy → This is just a fantasy, a dream, and you know it, but what is your ideal fantasy and how willing is your partner?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Semi-alternate prompt: any of the above, but it's also a dream! No smut pls.]

[Let's talk first about shipping or smut. Everything else is good!]

((I feel like there's a chance for combining scenarios with this two. action/angst/crack... any thoughts/prefs?)

[All of that sounds good to me! I haven't really played with a Coulson before, so feel free to hit me with whatever, or shoot me a PM if you're not sure.]

[awesome. I'm traveling this weekend but I'll start us off with something soon as I'm able]

[Works for me!]

((Whoop. Just got over vacation exhaustion. Would you still be interested in something? I can set us up.))

[Yeah, go for it!]

((OOC: wow so my rp drive puttered out the past month. Please feel free to ignore if it's way too late and sorry for asking again. But anyway I have a thought of doing an AU or something similar to this for Coulson? And do something post AoU? Maybe another AU where Ultron actually won?))

[ no smut can write starters ]

[This is fine.

Ichimatsu has been wandering the streets, with none of his brothers to balance or understand him, clothes getting steadily more ragged and his body getting steadily more thin. He's passed out from hunger more times than he can remember already, but this is fine.

There's no other way, right? It's something they all have to do, or they'll get torn apart in... even worse ways. Even he can understand that much, even if he tried to hold on for so long.

This is fine. After all, there's the occasional person who helps him, buys him food, gives him money. Even for trash like him. He sometimes entertains the thought of finding something better, somehow, but... well, he's not his brothers, is he? He thinks about doing something about it and it's far more frightening than one more night cold and hungry and lonely. So he doesn't.

He doesn't even realize how close he's wandered to Choromatsu's place when he collapses at the entrance to an alley, slumping against the wall and staring bleakly ahead. Well, that's it, he can't walk any more today. He'll sleep here, he supposes.]

[Man, he wishes somebody had told him in advance that working would be so much... well, work. It's a bit of a lonely experience too; he's the youngest and most junior of the group, and it feels like he's constantly making little errors. But at least he's getting the experience he needs.

It hasn't been easy, though. He's barely heard from anybody in the family besides his parents calling every so often. And Osomatsu... he still hasn't heard a thing from him. Did he get his letter? Did he read it? Does he hate him? They're the sort of questions that keep him up at night. Either way, he sure misses his brothers.

Maybe too much. He thinks he sees one right... now... wait.]

...Ichimatsu?

[Ah, he must really be out of it, he thinks he hears someone calling his name.

Someone who sounds awfully familiar. Is he really hallucinating that badly, now? It isn't that many days ago that he last ate, he thinks...

But he begrudgingly blinks his eyes back open, staring blearily in the direction of the voice. He's dizzy and his vision is blurred, but he does see someone. A grey suit, and... a blotch of... green?

His stomach turns, and he actually heaves a little. There's this simultaneous sensation of creeping dread and feeling like he's looking at a god. It... can't be, right? Not now.]

Choro... matsu...?

[It takes a moment for him to register exactly what he's looking at. When it does... well, it wouldn't be Choromatsu if he reacted in anything short of a full tsukkomi overreaction.]

I-Ichimatsu! What the hell have you been doing to yourself?! Come on, come on, we gotta get you inside!

[Ragged, thin, looking for all extents like a... well, a stray cat. He'd heard that Ichimatsu had left, but like this?! He rushes over, supporting his brother and guiding him towards his dorm.]

A-ah, hey...

[But Ichimatsu is hardly in any condition to protest, barely resisting as he's hauled to his feet and practically dragged along.

...He weighs far too little, even as Choromatsu has to essentially carry him to the dorm. Smells like he hasn't bathed in a few months, too.]

Ch-Choro...

[What the hell! He hadn't meant to run into his brother here! They're supposed to all be on their own now, right?? Isn't this breaking that pact? But still, he's so... he doesn't know what to feel right now. He doesn't have the energy to even think about it, so he'll just let his older brother pull him along.]

[Phew, holy crud ripe. That just makes Choromatsu fret more as he finally maneuvers him inside. It's sparsely decorated, but functional; Choromatsu leads him over to the table, forcing him to sit down.]

Just wait there, will you? You look like you're starving.

[He hasn't got much but convenience food right now, but that's better than nothing, right?]

Ah...

[He just mutters that affirmative, hunching over the table and looking around. This is Choro's place? It's so... well, it's very Choro, that's for sure. He's not sure what he expected.

...It feels like there's something missing though.]

[About five identical brothers. Maybe some Nyaa-chan stuff, but Nyaa-chan had retired and married, so...

He returns finally with a cup ramen, looking apologetic.]

Sorry I don't have anything better. I'm trying to learn how to cook for myself, but it's hard to find the time sometimes, you know?

[They really should have relied less on their parents EARLIER.]

[Choromatsu gets a bit of a blank stare at first, because no... Ichi doesn't really know. Time is all he has, in excess. Time and time and time and nothing else, and it's excruciating.

But then the scent of the ramen hits his nose, and his gaze rivets to it like it's the only thing on the planet that matters. Before he can register it he's taken it from Choro's hands and is inhaling it like he hasn't seen food in a week.

Which probably isn't that far off from accurate. When he hits the bottom of the cup and slows down enough to savor the broth as he gulps at it, his entire frame is shaking, and there's tears in his eyes as he sets the empty cup down on the table. He ducks his head immediately, trying not to show it, but they're already starting to roll down his cheeks and he can't grit his teeth hard enough to stop it.]

Ichi...matsu...

[He'd never seen him eat that fast before. Ichimatsu had always been the most... well, withdrawn of the bunch since high school. But here he was, apparently so weak that he can't even manage that much. What exactly had HAPPENED since he left?]

How long?

[He doesn't say how long what, but it's obvious from his tone. How long have you been living like this?]

...don't know.

[He lost track of time quite a while ago, other than being able to see where the sun was (or wasn't) in the sky whenever he was conscious. He lifts an arm to rub at his face with a stained, dirty sleeve, taking in a heaving breath just short of a sob.

It's clearly been long enough for him to just. Start wasting away, though. Ichimatsu, the one who once had the most pudge of them all in recent years due to being the most sedentary. Even his face looks thin and hollow now.]

I left the last, aside from...

[He can't even say his name right now, but Choromatsu will know well enough what he means.]

I-it's okay. I fed the cats well before I left, so...

[Left the last? Then that meant...]

You left the house without a job or a home?! Ichimatsu, that's insane! Why would you do that?! Didn't you think of yourself at all?!

[He knew the others had left -- besides Osomatsu -- but his parents hadn't mentioned THIS!]

I said it's fine.

[There's the darkness in his voice, the rough conviction, but also the pain. Sure it's fine. Just fine, for trash.]

It doesn't matter that I don't have a plan, if all of us can't...

[But he cuts himself off with a half-hiccup, and stumbles to his feet.]

Choromatsu, thank you. But I should go.

[He stands up, abruptly, and moves, blocking the door.]

...you're staying here. Just... even if it's just for one night. I can't just let you go back out there knowing about this.

[He rubs the back of his neck.]

I... I'm sure I have a spare futon, or at least some blankets. We don't have a bathhouse, but you could use the shower...

[His hands curl into fists, and he has to start yelling or he knows he'll start sobbing. It still feels like a dream, seeing, talking to Choromatsu again... and to have someone insist on taking care of him, even for one night...

Does he really deserve that?]

No... we're supposed to be independent now, Choromatsu! If... if I let you take care of me, how am I changing?? I can't... I can't...

[But he can't keep this up, and he's already cracking, shoulders slumping forward as he feels heat pour down his face.

God, he missed his brothers so fucking much. He doesn't want to admit that he needs someone, that he needs care, that he can't just build a new life like everyone else, even if he's realized that he has to. Or at least that he has to show Osomatsu that even he knows it's time to move on, and that every one of them needs their eldest brother to move on with them.

Moving on apart, like this... it's too much. It's too much.]

This isn't about independence right now, Ichimatsu! It's... it's about family!

[Ugh. It strikes him in the heart as well, like a double-edged sword. If he didn't know about Ichimatsu, then what about the rest of them? What's been happening to the family since he left? And... how much of this is because HE left?

He has to take some responsibility. Worst case scenario, I'll just take care of you. He'd said it to Karamatsu; there's no reason why any of his other brothers should be exempt. Especially if it had been his departure that...]

Independence... You have to be ready for it. If you're not, then you're just jumping off a cliff with no parachute, and then where are you? Don't you understand?

Just... let me help you. Please. I mean, I...

[He wipes away a few tears himself.]

I've missed you guys so much...

[It's those last words that break him completely, and the pathetic sob finally escapes him as his legs wobble and he falls back to his knees.]

Choromatsu-niisan... someone like me... do you think I'll ever be ready?

[Ichimatsu...

In the past, Osomatsu or Karamatsu was there to be the older brother. But this time? This time, only Choromatsu is here. And isn't that part of being an adult?

He stoops down, hoping Ichimatsu doesn't find it too weird if he gives him a hug.]

Yeah... yeah, I think you'll be ready sometime. It may take a little help, but I think you'll be ready. If I can get this far, then we all should.

[He smiles, an odd sad smile.]

If I can't trust you guys to make it, what can I trust?

[No, he clings to that hug with arms that shouldn't be that wiry, shaking the whole way, burying his face in his brother's shoulder and inhaling deeply.]

Y-yeah. We won't let you down, not even trash like me.

[Ichimatsu sits there a long minute, feeling weak and pathetic and exhausted as always, but... loved. He's starting to feel like a brother again. No matter how independent they get, that's something they'll always be, right?

...maybe. He wishes Osomatsu thought that way.]

Choromatsu...

[And then he's bowing, slowly, hesitantly, as he tends to.]

...Please take care of me, for now. I'll repay you, someday.

A...ah...

[He pauses, astounded by Ichimatsu's show of humility towards him. And then... he sighs, smiling slightly and shaking his head.]

Can't be helped, can it? All right, let's get you back on your feet. I can't promise I can get you all the way there, but I'll do what I can.

[He wrinkles his nose.]

Though step one might be a shower. Phew.

[Sorry Ichi, but bros gotta give each other shit 'bout that sort of thing.]

(( Anything is fine by me! Assumed CR is the preference in general though. ))

Honestly, it's amazing what ideas people can come up with at 2am in the morning. Maybe it comes with the sort of unique sleep deprivation that the hour implies; hot heads can turn that sleepy disregard into a form of courage, if they really want to. Or if they have an itch to do something, and have nothing better to do.

There are always the aspiring fools, too, wrapped up in dreams of fame and grandeur on the local level. It's a dare or challenge of mettle tossed around so often that it's almost become a bit of a joke, among the gangs and criminal circles of Ikebukuro: the man that can kill Heiwajima Shizuo will be undoubtedly declared the new strongest man of the city. And the untimely death of Heiwajima Shizuo is also about as likely as pigs taking flight.

But some still have yet to meet the man in person. Some still think, in their arrogance, that the rumors of invulnerability can't be that true--that everyone else that's tried have simply been too weak or cowardly to succeed. At 2am you feel like it can be done. At 2am, loitering around on the smaller side streets with a throng of your gang, you feel unstoppable, and the guns itch in your pockets. Spotting the man in his bartender suit making his way down the sidewalk all by himself becomes a stroke of incredible good luck.

It's raining pretty heavily, which Shizuo figures is about fitting enough for such a miserable hour. His open umbrella's propped against his shoulder and half-tucked under an arm so he can free both hands while he fumbles around for his lighter in his waistcoat--the warmth of a lit cigarette is a welcome prospect, and he still has several blocks to walk yet. Up ahead, several yards away, there's a long-haired woman walking down the same sidewalk too; he doesn't think he recognizes her. ...Probably. The air's quite damp, even under the dry space of his umbrella--it takes a couple of tries before a tiny flame finally winks to life on the lighter between his fingertips, a singular point of light in the rainy gloom.

And then thunder cracks--or was it? He doesn't get a chance check the sky. Two strong jolts register in his body, one in his back and another in his side, and he's suddenly on the ground and his lighter's clattered away somewhere and asphalt presses against his cheek, rainwater soaking into his suit. ...Oddly warm rainwater...

"Oh shit!" "Holy shit!" "Direct hit--!" Delighted raucous voices filter into the rainfall, as the sidewalk fills with men in hoods and caps. Two more gunshots ring out; the man on the ground is still, and the men crowd closer. But the woman is spotted too, soon hemmed into the ring of men trickling into the vicinity, and victorious whoops tilt derisive. "Ooh, we got a witness though! Can't have those..." "Shit man, can't have that at all--"

Her walk has little to do with insomnia. Namie is on her way home from an errand, one ever so kindly gifted to her by Izaya, and she's more than ready to be off of the street and out of the rain. Her apartment, and her bed, are only a couple of blocks ahead and she's half considering the thought of simply crashing the moment she gets inside. It won't happen - her umbrella isn't entirely saving her from the rain - but it's enough to make her look forward to getting there as quickly as she can.

The thugs, because that's what they are, get little notice from her when she initially passes the street they're hanging out on. They have about as much interest in her as she has in them and that's that. Or so it should be. Until gunshots sound and she's brought to a stop by them, looking back to watch a man hit the ground.

She knows who Shizuo is. It's hard not to when she works for Izaya and he's fairly clear about his hatred, even when that grin seems to remain in place no matter what he says. Knowing, though, doesn't mean she cares or finds herself worried about dealing with him. Izaya's problems are his own, after all, until they're not.

The shouts combined with the shock of blond hair visible through dreary weather make it clear that Shizuo is now a problem of hers, too, for entirely different reasons. Reasons that soon surround her as well when she makes no attempt to turn and walk away.

Her expression only shifts from neutral to irritated as some of the men begin to close in on her. But it's the one who reaches for her that gets the show of her irritation - a taser pressed into his side long enough to have him writhing on the ground once she lets up.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a fighter!" It's all she hears before she's trying to ward off another set of hands, landing one more shot with the taser before their group mentality works in their favor. She takes aim again, but there are multiple sets of hands this time, catching one arm and her shoulders while another wrestles the taser from her hand and threatens to return the use on her.

Slipping in the rain again, really? Is he forgetting how to goddamn walk now? This is the first thought that occurs to Shizuo, in his surprise, before he remembers that he hadn't actually slipped the last time either. Shit, right. ...It's too loud--it's too god damn loud at an hour like this. What's going on? On the ground the patter of the rain on cement is even louder, but he's sure he can hear other voices too. Way too many voices.

Already the heat of it is starting to boil up in him, that searing knot of annoyance-turning-anger tightening in his chest. The man initially goes unnoticed as he begins to shift on the ground, preoccupied as the thugs are with subduing their "witness"; Shizuo pulls himself to his knees, and then onto his feet, slow and deliberate. Pain never registers--gunshot wounds never really do, anymore--but there's still a faint sort of pins-and-needles, where the bullets hit, a numb stiffness in his back and torso. Shizuo scowls down at his shoes, noticing for the first time how rainwater isn't the only thing dripping off him, if the watery circle of red pooling beneath him is anything to go by.

Again.

"In the dead of night..." At first the growl is almost inaudible, in the rain--but not for long, as his voice rises, and Shizuo begins shambling forward. "At barely past midnight...who the hell shoots a guy at two in the morning, ah? Who shoots a guy when it's raining at two? What kind of half-assed criminal--"

--The woman registers now, too, thronged among thugs with their hands all over her. Shizuo finds himself forgetting about his pins and needles entirely, and the knot in his chest snaps.

"You bastards can't even wait until the sun rises to PULL YOUR SHITTY STUNTS?!"

If their attentions hadn't been accosted earlier, it certainly is now, as that roar of a voice fills the air. Laughter chokes and dies midway as the thugs freeze up almost in unison, heads turning, grips loosening on Namie's shoulders as choked surprise rings out. "W-What the fuck?!" "He's still--" "Oh shit!"

Hands jerk--guns try to raise and aim in uncontrollably shaking grips--but they're too slow, and the anger is always far too fast. The sidewalk darkens as a nearby light post is uprooted like an overgrown weed, and the shriek of bent metal has hardly left the air before that same light post swings, and three thugs are sent flying simultaneously.

They're laughing about her efforts, surrounding her and loudly talking about ways to "quiet" her and what would be the most entertaining for them. In all of this, she only looks angry, like this is an inconvenience that'll end soon enough. Like they aren't talking about letting her go so they can chase her down like a pack of dogs just to end her in some alley and take her purse so it looks like a mugging instead.

Her taser is still pressed into her side and there's a gun trained on her, one of them clearly thinking about ending it now and leaving her on the ground with--

Someone who's no longer on the ground.

She can't see through the group surrounding her, but the surprise is clear enough. It isn't until they start making an effort to go after him again that she sees it. The figure of Shizuo holding that light post like he's wielding something as simple as a baseball bat instead. This is the first time she's seen it, the monster that Izaya's mentioned, and she's left staring in surprise both at Shizuo's strength and at the way the thugs don't turn and run away.

Then again, that can probably be blamed on the 2am courage that made them start this in the first place. But once three of them are hit, a few scatter. The gun that was trained on her disappears, as does her taser, and she thinks she's safe to walk away. Until she finds her arm in a tight grip and that gun now pressed to her head.

"S-stop or I'll shoot her!" It's a weak threat, both his voice and hands shaky as he shouts at Shizuo, and Namie snorts softly at the attempt to regain control of the situation.

"What makes you think he'll stop to save me? We don't know each other."

It is rather surprising, how the rest of the gang don't scatter outright the moment the light post starts swinging. Courage in the dead of night can get you a lot of places, evidently--but Shizuo is in no particular state to wonder about that kind of thing. He's already swung the light post again, and sent another two thugs onto their backs, when one of them finally grabs Namie and levels the gun to her head.

Shizuo does stop, then--briefly--though it's a slow and reluctant process, like a semi truck at full speed trying to grind to a halt. He pauses, straightens, and turns, holding and planting the light post upright on the ground beside him like some sort of ridiculous staff. And the look he levels at the thug with the gun probably would have been enough to kill right then and there, if looks could do such things.

His glare flicks from the man's face to Namie's, at her words. There's a drawn second's pause, and then his shoulders roll in an imperceptible shrug.

"Yeah, don't know her. Doesn't matter, though." His glare shifts right back to the thug, with a widening grin that's really more of a grimace. "Making a threat like that...means you're ready to die, right? Because either way, you're dead. But it's good you don't mind. Now, I won't mind killing you where you stand, either!"

--But he doesn't want it to be either way. Even as the words grind out with heated certainty, there's a very small prick of cold unease--no, fear--realizing the woman is still there, and right in the line of danger on multiple fronts. He doesn't know her, and he doesn't need to know her; he hadn't known the others in the past, either, and that hadn't stopped the guilt at all when they were hurt after the fact. The chances of this one getting hurt too are too high to ignore; Shizuo can figure that much even without needing to think up the numbers.

It's too early in the morning for guilt, though. And it's just early enough, apparently, for all kinds of snap decisions to be made. And so...

One moment Shizuo is standing there, and the next moment he very much isn't. The light post whips through the air, and it's thrown like some kind of javelin--missing the thug with the gun by only a foot, and nailing several men behind him instead. But before the thug can react further, Shizuo flings himself into that small window of surprise with all the dashing speed he can muster...which is quite considerable, after the years he's spent chasing Izaya through Ikebukuro's streets. He's there before a trigger can be pulled, tackling the thug out of the way shoulder-first and wrapping his arms around the woman. Scooping her up in his arms is hardly a matter of much thought; and this way, as two more gunshots ring out, the woman is unharmed, even if his frame jerks twice on absorbing the bullets. No big deal, though--nah--that hardly stops him from kicking one thug out of the way and freeing an arm just enough to slug another in the face before he's breaking out of the crowd and down the sidewalk at a sprint.

Pride or stupidity seems to beat out the need to save themselves, but it's nothing Namie feels admiration for. If anything, there's more annoyance because seeing something like that should've sent all of them running and given her the chance to walk away. It should've all ended with the show of strength and what it could mean for the rest of the idiots who started this. But they're idiots for a reason.

As is proved by the way the man holding her hostage doesn't shoot her or turn to run away when he's leveled with that look and the acknowledgement that, no, he doesn't know her but it hardly matters. Because even she realizes that the guy holding her has further pissed Shizuo off.

There's not enough time for any further exchanges, though. She doesn't offer anything else herself and the man still holding the gun only opens his mouth before there's a light post flying beside him, so close even she felt the whip of rain thrown off of it as it flew by. Her eyes widen as it goes by and she glances over her shoulder, looking at the way it's taken out a number of men behind them.

And then, before she has much of a chance to refocus her attention on Shizuo and the gun still being pointed at her, she's freed from the grip and in Shizou's arms. It's a position that leaves her staring, her arms hooking around his neck for the sake of stability, as she feels him jerk and realizes he's been shot again. How he manages to continue on with who knows how many bullets in him, she's got no idea and no real time to consider when a look over his shoulder proves that a stupid few are chasing after them.

"You attract the biggest idiots in Ikebukuro," she mutters as she turns her attention ahead again, the sound of gunshots ringing out after them enough to make her duck her head for a moment now that she's in the arms of their prime target.

"One more block then take a right. We're going into the second building."

It's not a suggestion.

"I'll kill them," he snarls in reply--or maybe he's talking more to himself, really. It's a bit difficult to say. But it's obvious that Shizuo's own anger has yet to quite abate just yet, if the grind of his teeth and the rigid lock of his arms is anything to go by as his shoes pound the sidewalk. (In reality, it's taking a titanic effort and no few mental reminders for him to not squeeze Namie too hard in his grip at the moment...) "I'll kill 'em all, every last one of them, I'll--ah?"

Her words finally do seem to penetrate, at least, just as they start crossing the last block in question; Shizuo's head jerks, and as a few more gunshots ring out from behind he seems to regain his bearings by just a fraction. They reach the sidewalk corner and he plants a heel in the ground, careening to the right without bothering to slow down--how he doesn't slip and fall in the process is likely another mystery to remain unsolved. Then there's buildings--a bit easier to pick out here with more lights, at least--

"--That one?" He tilts toward the one that's--probably second down (though it's a bit difficult to count, between the rain and the gloom), still never slowing. If it's not he'll just turn around again, he figures, but in the meantime he's making a beeline for anything that looks like an immediate entrance.

He should probably be more frightening than he is, honestly, with the way he's talking and the show of strength. But, really, the anger is far less disturbing than whatever's going on in Izaya's head most of the time. Though not being on the other side of that anger helps. She can't say she'd feel the same way if she found herself watching him swing a light post in her direction.

That her words sink in is a relief because, as fine as this is, she prefers the idea of getting inside somewhere before the bullets catch up with Shizuo. Despite his grip on her, she's sure he's quite human and that means he's not as indestructible as he seems at the moment. And when the adrenaline runs out, she doesn't want to be left with trying to move him instead because, whether she's willing to admit it aloud or not, she owes him for getting her out of this despite basically being strangers.

"That one." It's said in confirmation, her arms still tight around his shoulders thanks to the way he took the corner moments before. The door is just up ahead and is bound to get another hard turn so they can crash through it, but once they're inside, they'll be able to get out of sight easily. "Don't break the door."

It's good and well that Namie advises him against breaking the door, because that's exactly what Shizuo had been planning to do the moment they reached it. Tackling the thing down seems just as easy as anything else? He turns sharply to the entrance, heels skidding a little on the rain-soaked asphalt, but the warning has him staggering to a proper halt in front of it with a great effort of restraint.

"Dammit..." He grumbles just under his breath as he frees a hand to try and turn the handle instead. This takes several more seconds than entirely necessary, his fingertips slippery with rain and the blood soaking through his shirtsleeve--and the shouts of the pursuing gang are almost audible again, behind them, when he finally manages to get the thing open and lurches inside.

At least he has the presence of mind to shut the door behind him, too. Shizuo pauses once they're inside at the foot of the door, dripping irritably and squinting around as his eyes adjust. "...Where is this?"

Knocking the door down would be fine if they weren't escaping a group of people. A door torn off the hinges seems like a dead giveaway for where they've gone, after all. And she prefers not being part of the reason the building she lives in ends up destroyed when that's very likely to get her evicted from her apartment.

He manages to get the two of them inside and the door is closed before she has a chance to suggest he do that as well. Namie's quiet as she listens, the sound of the gang's shouting growing closer as her arms loosen around Shizuo's shoulders. "My apartment building."

The answer comes as she looks him over, the light and lack of chaos giving her the chance to get a decent look. As much of one as she can get from the position she's in, anyway.

The shouting gets louder and it's obvious that they're running by the building, pursuing ghosts now that the two of them are out of the line of fire. "You can put me down now."

Just as well for Namie to have such foresight; foresight is something that Shizuo has always rather lacked in his life, truth be told. Whether or not having any would even make any difference to his troubles, of course, is a question that will probably never get answered. But at least in the meantime, here and now, that foresight pays off for the both of them. Yelling voices pass the building and then fade gradually, and the door is untouched.

Still, the sound does have Shizuo's lip curling a bit, and his frame tenses as if he still has half a mind to go right back out there and finish what he started. In truth he does very much want to, bullet wounds be damned--and in any other situation he would have. But Namie's answer--and request--reminds him that he is actually carrying someone right now, and he blinks down at her with something almost akin to surprise.

"Oh. ...Yeah."

His arms finally loosen, and he does set her down on her feet with a gentle caution that might be somewhat surprising, after all his earlier displays. Shizuo straightens rather slower than normal, nor quite wincing, but maybe swaying on his heels just slightly as the room tips oddly around him for a moment. Blood is already beginning to stain the floor under his shoes, still streaming from his pant leg and right arm; it's needless to say that his bartender suit is a proper mess between being soaked with rain and the spreading bloodstains on the white bits. His bowtie hangs askew around his neck, half-yanked off in the earlier scuffle.

Shizuo stares at Namie for a moment or so, breathing evening out and slowing as the anger finally begins to ebb away somewhat. His shades are still in one of his waistcoat pockets--he'd opted to take them off, when the rain started that night. He raises a hand and runs it through his soaking hair distractedly, wondering...just how things had ended up here, all of a sudden. Has he really never seen this woman before? In better lighting and slightly less chaotic circumstances, he's not so sure now...but ah, he was always terrible with names. Whatever.

"...Anyway. Sorry about all that."

In the moment, her choice of a nondescript building to live in has come in handy, right down to the door not being glass. The lights in the windows upstairs are the only things that make it clear that the building is used at all, which means it's generally passed by without a second look.

The lobby is a decent size with a door that gives way to stairs right beside the doors of a single elevator. Nondescript as it is from the outside, the apartments the building houses aren't cheap. Meaning the blood on the floor will likely get complaints and a letter sent to tenants, but it's much better than inviting a brawl inside.

His look of surprise gets an arch of eyebrows in return as she's carefully put down. And then she's looking him over again, taking in the damage and the blood with a quiet sigh. He's a mess and it's clear that he's unlikely to make it far with the amount of blood loss and no anger and adrenaline to fuel him. So it's probably for the best that she was already planning to deal with this, the mess that is Heiwajima Shizuo. Who, while his strength lends to Izaya calling him a monster, isn't scary enough to honestly live up to a title like that.

"It's fine." There's no offer of thanks because it's not something she actively got herself involved in to begin with. Instead, she's giving him a critical look then glancing across the lobby at the elevator. "Can you walk? We just have to make it to the elevator and down the hall to my door."

If he collapses at that point, she can get him inside. She'll be cleaning blood out of the hall afterward, but that's something she intends to do anyway. Let the rest of the building think someone died in the elevator or lobby.

The lack of thanks is fine--Shizuo hadn't been expecting them anyhow, and would have been quite surprised to get any in the first place. (Dragging innocent people into his own trouble doesn't strike him as anything to really thank about, after all.) He looks around as Namie assesses his person, taking in the lobby and its space. Definitely a nicer apartment complex for sure--a lot better than his own, at any rate. Which doesn't take a lot, and isn't particularly surprising.

He'd be a little guilty about all the blood later, but at the moment he honestly needs to be reminded that it's even a thing right now. The blood loss is certainly getting to him a little--even durable as he is, his body hasn't quite developed to the point of stopping harmful blood-flow just yet--but Shizuo's still half-inclined to chalk up most of that to the sprint and the fading vestiges of his own anger. He has a difficult time gauging how well off his body actually is anymore, in situations like these.

And so the question earns a quizzical blink. "Oh, yeah, I can walk fine. Sure." Namie outlines the way, and he automatically starts drifting in the elevator's direction, assuming she's going to follow and probably lead eventually.

It doesn't occur to him to wonder why she's even taking him to her room in her apartment. This is half blood loss and half suspension of disbelief, on his own part--but either way, he's automatically assuming this lady doesn't mean any harm. (What harm could she do, anyway?) For all he knows she probably just wants company to the door or something...after that whole situation earlier outside, and all that...

He pauses by the elevator doors as Namie punches a button and they wait for it to come down, considering her properly now. Aside from looking about as damp as he is right now, after all that rain... "You okay, though?"

Edited 2016-03-24 21:20 (UTC)

She may work for Izaya, but their agendas hardly match. For the most part, she cares very little about the people he keeps an eye on and that includes Shizuo. So, needless to say, harming him is pretty far from her mind and it's not something she'd consider even if she was paid to. Not after seeing the display outside since she is a generally level-headed person when it doesn't involve her brother.

Waiting for the elevator finds her trying to squeeze some of the water from her hair, the loss of umbrellas leaving both of them looking like they washed up into the building from a river. His question gets her attention and she looks up, eyes widening only slightly. "I'm okay."

Aside from the possibility of bruises from both the grip of the guy who tried to shoot her and Shizuo's earlier hold, but those are nothing considering the involvement of guns. The elevator doors slide open and she waits for him to step inside before joining him, only then reaching into her purse, which has been deadlocked in the crook of her elbow since the first time she was grabbed. Her arm is a little sore thanks to it, but she's glad she managed to keep the bag with her since it means unlocking the door rather than asking him to rip it open when they arrive at her apartment.

She hits the button for her floor then steps back, looking at him again.

"I can get the bullets out. And the blood." Of him and his clothes, respectively, but she doesn't think it needs to be said. While she doesn't intend to try to hurt him, she'll do what she needs to if he refuses her help.

Shizuo files into the elevator acquiescently enough--indeed, with the last flags of his temper dissolving into the warmer air of the building and the composure of the woman opposite him, something about him seems to quiet and withdraw. He leans against his side of the elevator wall as they wait for it to reach the right floor, heedless of the bloodstains he'll be leaving there later, and his frame folds a little as if he's automatically trying to take up as little space as possible despite his general height and countenance.

He continues watching Namie with a faint frown as she sorts through her purse. She says she's okay, and she looks pretty okay rainwater aside, and Shizuo finds he's very glad about that. No guilt at this hour of the morning after all...that's good. He's quiet until she speaks, though at the words his eyebrows arch a little--this is quite unexpected.

"What, you can? ...You sure you want to?" So--that's why she's taking him to her room, then? He blinks slowly, one hand rising to start rifling distractedly around the inner pockets of his waistcoat. "I mean, you don't have to...I've usually got a guy I go to, for this stuff. 'Cause I'm hard to cut into, and things."

Perhaps not the most impressive explanation in the world, but Shizuo isn't really one for explanations to start with. His frown deepens as he realizes his pockets are empty. "Ah, damn. Dropped my lighter..." But this is a grumble more to himself, before he moves to retrieve a (now very damp) pack of cigarettes from an outer pocket anyway. He fumbles with the lid, frowning attention returning to Namie now. "You're a doctor?"

They get into the elevator and it's as if the last of his tension is left in the lobby once the doors close. He seems like an entirely different person than only minutes before and she's glad this is the version going up to her apartment if only because she doesn't intend to deal with property damage.

She's vaguely aware of the time. Her phone is still tucked away in her purse and she hasn't checked it since she got off the train some time before getting caught up in this mess, but she knows it's late enough that no one else will be getting on the elevator when they get off. And it's unlikely anyone will wander out into the hall before she gets to clean things up. The one decent thing the late night has done for them.

"One or more of those would be in me if it weren't for you." It's not so much gratitude as it is a statement of fact. She would've undoubtedly been shot if it hadn't been for Shizuo grabbing her. It's an exchange, she supposes, and she prefers remaining on Shizuo's good side, unlike her boss.

Namie watches him search for his lighter then pull out his cigarettes, considering her own apartment and whether she has a lighter there. She likely does, maybe even one in her purse in all honesty, but it's something she'll save for once things are truly calm.

She shakes her head at his question. "Not a doctor, no. But I studied medicine and I can handle getting bullets out." The elevator comes to a stop with a quiet ding and she steps off, holding the door for Shizuo to follow and waiting until they're approaching her door before she speaks again.

"I'm Yagiri Namie, by the way."

"...Yeah, guess so..." The agreement is almost reluctant, oddly. That is a fact, he supposes, from what he can recall of that whole mess earlier. If Namie has any gratitude about this she's certainly not making it evident, though, and Shizuo is glad for that too. As far as he's concerned, his temper rarely ends up having a good influence on the outcome of things--he's not sure he'd know what to do with having somebody actually grateful at him about it. It's a lot easier this way.

But he pauses after that, mulling over her stated medical credentials as the elevator halts and they step out of it. It's hardly that he doesn't believe her--indeed, he doesn't see any reason why he shouldn't believe her, and so Shizuo does, because that seems like the obvious thing to conclude. But then again...should he really impose like this? He thinks about Shinra, and he thinks about the hour, and he thinks about how Shinra's business always seems to pick up at exactly around this awful time of morning. Idiot probably wouldn't even pick up if he tried calling now, come to think of it...and Shizuo suddenly finds the prospect of dealing with that man's incessant chattering very tiring just to think about. He's good at what he does, sure--the best, maybe--but right now...

Ah, maybe he just doesn't want to deal with that shit right now. This arrangement seems like it'd be just a little easier, for the meantime. Sure.

He finally manages to free a cigarette from the pack; Shizuo absently sticks it between his lips, despite its mild sogginess and the lack of an actual light. It's just nice to have there anyway. Something to do. He follows Namie to the door, and voices no other objections about bullets or the removing of them--this is a tacit agreement to her proposal, in the end.

"Yagiri?" The name stirs something incredibly vague in the back of his thoughts--but his head's already feeling a little odd, honestly, and he's bad with names on a normal basis anyway. Shizuo pauses, and then shrugs off his own question. "Right. I'm--Shizuo." And belatedly, it occurs to him that he probably didn't need to introduce himself anyway, if only because introducing himself feels so strange in his mouth as soon as he says it. (Haven't needed to do that in a long time...) If she's a local of Ikebukuro she probably already knows--but ah well. It's good manners, or something, right?

Shinra is likely the best option, Namie wouldn't bother to deny that when her background focuses on medicine more than operation, and she wouldn't be surprised to hear that he's who Shizuo normally goes to. But she also wouldn't blame him for sticking with her offer given that she and Shinra have very different dispositions and she's unlikely to engage him in an endless stream of conversation while she's working. Or in much conversation at all, honestly, since he seems as calm as she is now.

His lack of response and the way he continues to follow her are answers enough to her offer to help, though. And she wastes little time in getting her apartment door open, glancing back over the bloody footprints left in their path before she steps inside to toe her shoes off, humming in acknowledgement at the question of her family name. "Like the pharmaceutical company."

That's what she offers as she holds the door to allow him to follow, nodding at the offer of his name in return. She knows it, but she doesn't bother to say that.

Once inside, she flips the lights on and moves deeper into the apartment, passing through the entrance and disappearing from sight. Shortly after, she calls back in his direction, just loud enough to be heard. "You can wait in the kitchen. I'll be there in a little bit."

If Shinra ever found out about this he'd have a word or two (or a dozen) about it all, undoubtedly. But whatever. Shinra can deal with not being the favored doctor for at least one night, as far as Shizuo's concerned, and if he has to pay for it with the reproachful complaining later then so be it.

Pharmaceutical company... "Oh, right. Yeah." Well, that explains it, doesn't it? Shizuo steps inside after her, utterly forgetting to remove his own shoes and promptly trailing more bloody footprints into the apartment entrance too. He blinks around as the lights are flipped on, letting Namie move ahead as he takes in the area and glancing up when she calls back somewhere up ahead.

Wait in the kitchen? Alright, then. He steps towards the first entrance he spots, assuming the kitchen probably lies beyond there--but something blurs and tilts halfway, and Shizuo finds himself shoulder-first against the nearest wall instead, with no immediate recollection as to how he got there. Okay.

Unexpectedly--what, sleepy?--he slides down the wall and ends up sitting on the floor against it, a little winded and rubbing at his eyes. Namie will find him there when she does return, frowning a little blankly into the middle distance, blood gradually puddling on the floor about him. But he does look up at her approach, at least, waving a hand halfheartedly to her.

"Ah...I know this isn't the kitchen. My bad. ...Just figured I'd sit down a bit..."

She takes the time to gather the things she needs, including a medical bag that's been under her bathroom sink since she moved in. It doesn't have an amazing amount of things in it, but she can deal with wound care, bullets included. Needless to say, she's prepared for any number of situations at the drop of a hat, though she never considered that things could be necessary for anything but an emergency call from Seiji.

When she returns, she finds Shizuo on the floor in a slowly growing puddle of his own blood and it's only then that she realizes just how many times he's been shot.

"Here is fine," she states, waving a hand as she moves to settle on the floor as well, putting things down before coming to rest on her knees at his side. He gets another critical glance over and her hands are quick now, one temporarily pressing a towel against one bullet wound as she opens the medical bag to begin pulling things out of it.

"Can you get out of your clothes?" It'll be easier if she can just clean them and give them back to him given that men's clothing is possibly the one item she doesn't have lying around for her brother. If she needs to cut them to get to him, though, she's willing to do that, too.

The nearest bullet wound in immediate sight is lodged in one of his shoulders--accounting for one of his particularly blood-soaked sleeves--and Shizuo doesn't so much as twitch as a towel is pressed to it. Instead he blinks at Namie, and the bag of things she's setting down and quickly beginning to unload, looking much less overall concerned than he probably should be about all of this.

"I mean, I can still move if you need to," he adds somewhat belatedly, even after she tells him that here is apparently fine enough. "Could carry your stuff, too, make things a little easier to--what?"

Her question also registers belatedly, and Shizuo pauses, looking up with confusion.

"My clothes?"

(Rather far too late, it finally does sink in that this is a lady getting ready to operate on him in the first place, and--oh. Oh, he hadn't considered this. Oh......)

His lack of concern is fine with her. This is a man who was swinging a light post around less than an hour ago. She can't help wondering if concern is even a thing that registers with him outside of when it comes to other people getting caught up in things involving him. That, she knows, is already something of a concern.

"I said this is fine. You can move once I'm done." She's still remarkably calm despite the amount of blood he's losing. That's something he should probably be concerned with, but that's clearly not happening either.

Namie looks up from his shoulder to level him with a look.

"Your clothes. Everything that's covering where you've been shot." Meaning he's free to leave anything on that isn't in her way, though she gets the feeling this will bring him down to his underwear regardless.

"It's easier if you take them off so I don't have to cut them."

Honestly? Not really. Which is something that seems to surprise a lot of people, even if Shizuo isn't entirely sure why--even that Saika thing had been astounded to find it, back when it had tried to cut him and had found no fear at all to even enter with. But then, why has he ever needed to be concerned with himself? Getting himself hurt has never been the problem. Getting himself hurt has never been the only thing to happen...

But--alright, so maybe this particular situation is also just a little concerning as well. (Though maybe 'concerning' isn't the exact right word here...) It's just enough to register vaguely even through the mild haze starting to set in his head as the blood's been steadily leaving it, and Shizuo returns Namie's look with eyes that widen very slightly--before he glances sharply away in search of literally anything else to look at, scowling.

"--No, don't cut them--I get it--" This is the most terse his tone's been since they made it into the apartment complex, if only because of how unpleasant the idea of cutting up his brother's gifted clothes is. Not that they aren't already in a sorry shape, of course, but still...Shizuo takes a breath and settles somewhat, even while still scowling to the side. "Here, just--hold on."

He starts unbuttoning his waistcoat, and the shirt under that. It's probably somewhat impressive that his face can even flush the very faint bit that it is now, considering all the blood he's already lost.

She sees no problem in what she's requesting given what she needs to do, but it takes that look and watching him look away as he does before it finally registers: he's embarrassed by it. Or shy? She's not entirely sure since Shizuo isn't the easier person to understand, but it's something along those lines. The idea of losing his clothes in front of her is enough to make him refuse to look at her.

It's when he starts to unbutton things that she pulls her hand away from his shoulder, turning her own eyes away as a courtesy, as if she's not going to be the one to turn her attention back to him once he's finished. And she waits for skin to be exposed before her hand returns, towel pressing to his shoulder once more while she allows him the chance to get his pants off as well.

"How many times were you shot?" He may be embarrassed by this, but she's still focused considering what a sight he is. It looks like someone's been brutally murdered just inside the entrance of her apartment. It's not like his lack of clothing is going to prove much of a distraction from the growing amount of blood. Something she'd like to put a stop to sooner rather than later.

Embarrassed, shy--a little bit of both, though he'd almost rather die than admit any of that. But the truth of the matter is that Shizuo has interacted with very few women for any extended period of time in his life, and half the time he forgets what to do when he does. Or when situations like this crop up. (Actually, he can't remember the last time a situation like this has ever cropped up...) Either way, undressing in front of a woman he barely knows was not something he'd ever expected to be doing anytime particularly soon.

Still though--he'd chosen this over Shinra, he reminds himself--and Namie seems to be entirely unaffected otherwise. Medical sorts like her probably have this kind of thing happen all the time, right? It's only going to be weird if he makes it weird. Don't make it weird. His top layers are peeled off a bit gingerly, waistcoat and shirt set to the side; for a man that can swing around light posts with abandon, he's peculiarly rather more lean than particularly muscled. There's another bullet wound in his side, also bleeding freely, and two more in his back are visible when he leans forward.

The pants will have to go too, of course--Shizuo is almost positive there's at least one bullet in his leg as well, for his shoes to be this thoroughly soaked. Fumbling at his belt, the distracting question is appreciated, even if a low and uncertain hum follows it. "How many times? Well, probably more than once. Twice maybe? ...No, more than that..." It all feels the same to him--picking out individual wounds is actually pretty difficult. He shrugs, nigh oblivious to the bullet in his shoulder. "However many places it's bleeding most, I guess?"

He nudges off his shoes and starts working off his pants, expression carefully schooled into a flat scowl. "Oh, also, don't try wasting any painkiller things on me. Don't need them...I don't feel anything already."

Edited 2016-03-25 06:22 (UTC)

This isn't a situation she usually finds herself in either - both the situation of having a person bleeding out on her floor and the one of having a man undressing in her apartment. One, because she's rarely, if ever, inclined to help anyone. And two, because her interest is quite focused already. So, Shizuo has become an exception in one way, at least. The way that's likely the least embarrassing of the two possibilities.

Though, the longer she's beside him and taking count of the wounds once his shirt is gone, the more she does find herself intrigued. Is he a product of Shinra's father or Shinra himself? Is he naturally like this? How does a person take this many bullets and not pass out the moment the adrenaline stops pumping? She doesn't normally find herself all that curious, but seeing him in action in person combined with Izaya's litany of complaints leaves her more inclined to question.

She waits until he's getting out of his pants, allowing him the time to work them off as she switches her attention to the wound at his side. His shoulder is in use and she can't do anything for it at the moment, but she focuses on his side, trying to clean some of the blood from it as she shifts, grabbing the pair of forceps from the things she's taken out of the bag so she can carefully begin the act of getting the bullet out.

"How did you get to this point?" The question is both to satisfy her own growing curiosity and to distract him, both from the embarrassment and the potential pain that might come from wrenching the bullets back out. "Of not feeling anything."

The forceps are applied to his side, but Shizuo hardly seems to register them--in fact, it's possible he might not have noticed them there at all if they weren't right in front of him, and digging into his side. He glances down at them for a moment and then returns to staring straight forward, pants set aside as well; and now that they are, the last bullet wound is easy to find too, lodged just below one knee.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I can still feel other things--heh," he finds himself having to bite back half a laugh as the forceps prod at a particular spot (it's kind of ticklish). He shifts just a little bit. "It just doesn't hurt anymore. Not a lot does. Ah, how did I get to this point? It's always been like this for awhile. Started ever since I was around seven, I guess..."

Namie may or may not be having a harder time getting into his side than expected. It's less like poking into a pocket of flesh and almost more like poking into a pocket of rock, with how tense the muscle gets right there. Abnormal to say the least. (Shizuo never leaves Shinra's care without ruining at least one of his best scalpels in the process.)

"I'd get mad and throw things too heavy for me. But every time I broke something it healed back stronger, you know?"

It's difficult, to say the least. Luckily, it's not as if she differs all that much in terms of strength compared to Shinra. What it really comes down to is the use of tools and, listening to him talking about how things don't hurt - something that's already apparent, but the lack of wincing at the digging in his side clarifies just how far it goes - leaves her with little hesitation when it comes to the thought of digging a scalpel in as well.

For now, though, she pulls herself back slightly, blood now streaked against the floor by her thanks to being too close to Shizuo. Then she reaches forward, leaving the forceps sticking out of his side while she grabs the leg closest to her and drags his hips toward her. It's to let him rest against the wall at more of an angle so she can see what she's doing with more ease as she pulls a scalpel out and resumes rooting around in the wound to try to pull the bullet out.

"So, you conditioned your body to be like this." It seems insane, honestly, but not the worst thing a person could do to themselves. His tolerance for pain is incredible, though that's just as likely to be the reason he dies one day. Hearing that he started throwing things as a kid, she can't help but wonder...

"Why?" She glances up after a particularly hard prod with her scalpel, one that manages to get the blade wedged between one side of the bullet and muscle. "Do you just have trouble controlling your anger?"

The shift in position is unexpected--or rather, the method in which the shift happens is unexpected--as Namie abruptly grabs one of his legs and pulls his hips towards her. It's a pretty inoffensive gesture on the whole, of course, and the reason behind it is obvious, but that still ends up earning more of a reaction than the forceps ever did. Shizuo glances at her in surprise for it, cheeks faintly coloring again, though he quickly looks away and plants a hand on the wall to help before the moment can stretch out too awkwardly or anything. (Everything feels weirder without pants, dammit...)

It's almost a bit of a relief when she resumes digging into his side, now with a scalpel as well as the forceps. Conditioned his body? Well, that's one way to put it, though honestly he's not so sure if his body didn't just condition itself. He certainly never felt like he had much of a say on the matter, insistent as his body seemed to be on either getting stronger or dying, no in-between.

But Namie ends up pinpointing the reason for that on the head--so quickly and immediately that it manages to draw his eyes back to her despite himself. Shizuo pauses, staring at her a bit, and then his eyes drop.

"Yeah. Can't really control it at all." He sighs, frowning at a window across the room and the rainwater still streaking across it. "You won't believe me, but I hate violence."

Why did he say that out loud? He'd wonder about it later. Probably the blood loss. But so few people get to hear it, and he never really gets a chance to say it. Not without feeling like the biggest hypocrite in the world--but hazy as things are right now, being a hypocrite doesn't feel quite as bad at this particular moment.

When it happens, she's not sure, but she finds herself considering digging into his side more of a distraction from the conversation than the other way around. That's not how it started, the conversation was initially meant to satisfy a bit of curiosity and keep him occupied by something other than his state of dress in front of her. But, as limited as the conversation is, she finds herself training more focus on the wound so she doesn't give in to the talking too much.

It's a good thing for both of them, really, because it's in the space between her speaking and his replying that she manages to dislodge the bullet. And it's after he speaks that she finds herself yanking it out of him, letting out a quiet sigh as she looks down at the mangled bullet caught in the forceps.

"I believe you." It's not as shocking as he thinks it is, but it's different to go from seeing his violence from a distance to being caught up in something of his. Being there, listening to his anger-induced muttering and watching the way it took her own words time to get to him, then seeing the shift in the way he acts between their time surrounded by thugs to now... it's not a stretch.

She considers the wound then glances up at him.

"Do you usually end up with stitches or are those impossible?" She can handle them, she knows, but it's more a matter of whether or not she should bother trying on him. She doesn't want to waste too much time with one wound when there are still four more that need her attention.

The bullet is yanked out; Shizuo barely twitches, though he supposes that the pins-and-needles do almost intensify in just that moment. Still, it's not saying much. He eyes the bullet dispassionately as well, as Namie examines it, but makes no particular comment on it.

Her admission of belief is a lot more unexpected, really, and he gives her an odd look at that--but he doesn't say anything in response to that, either, save for a small hum and a shift in expression that might almost count for some sort of smile. (His scowl diminishes considerably, anyway.) Does he believe that she believes it? Maybe. She still hasn't given him a reason not to...

"Stitches? Sometimes. Bit of a hassle, though. Shinra always gives me shit for using or ruining all of his supply, too..." The reasons he hardly ever uses a proper hospital are probably becoming particularly apparent with every passing moment of this, really. "I'd save them for any bigger holes. Bandages usually work fine, I heal pretty fast." Once bullets come out, the bleeding generally tends to lessen pretty fast, as far as Shizuo can recall--for some reason. He doesn't know why, but he's certainly not complaining about that.

He pauses again, quiet as Namie prepares to tackle whichever bullet wound she aims for next...but at length: "You haven't been scared once this whole time, huh?"

The bullet is discarded on the floor for the time being since there's a clear need to clean once they're finished. She doesn't offer any kind of explanation for her belief even after the look he gives her. If he doesn't believe her, that's fine. But she's too straightforward of a person to lie about something like that.

Her focus is on both the wound in front of her - which she begins to clean and bandage at his reply - and the bullets left in him. And, beyond that, on the cleaning and the distinct possibility that he may end up on her couch for the rest of the night. She's still half expecting him to pass out while she's in the middle of this thanks to the blood loss.

With the first wound bandaged, she moved on to his back, planning to get both clear. She's got more of a handle on what she's doing now that she's cleared one and she wastes little time in cleaning her tools - or really just the forceps since the scalpel bent with the effort to free the first bullet - to dig into another wound.

The question comes as a surprise to her and she glances up at it, staring at his back for a moment before she shakes her head and returns her attention to her work. "No. There hasn't been much to be scared of, has there?"

Shizuo leans forward accordingly when she turns her attention to his back--for some reason there's something a lot less awkward about this. Less difficult to avoid looking at her too much this way, maybe. He absentmindedly pats at the newly-bandaged spot on his side, and decides that Namie really isn't such a bad substitute for Shinra after all. No, not half-bad at all.

She's right to worry, though; a long nap on the couch is probably very likely to be in his future for sure. Though it might surprise some, it's actually been a very long time since he's actually been hurt enough to even lose this much blood--Shizuo doesn't make much complaint or indication about it, but again, he's terrible at gauging his own body's limits these days. He'll also probably insist that he's fine on his feet until his body literally decides to stop walking, with or without his say.

Her response, nonchalant as it is, earns a slight huff of a laugh from him. "Dunno. Stupid-ass street gangs, shoot-outs, running into Heiwajima Shizuo..." He has to resist shrugging for the umpteenth time, remembering that might disrupt her work back there, but the sentiment is audible. "Most people think that stuff's pretty scary."

As difficult as it is to work on him, there's more of an ease to it with one under her belt. She's more careful with scalpel this time, working at the next bullet in more of an effort not to ruin another tool. She's got enough of them to finish this, but it would be nice to make it through without ruining every scalpel she has in the process.

She's not really worried about him ending up on her couch. What's the harm at that point? It's not like she's going to wake up and find him ready to drop her dresser on her in the morning. The only thing still bothering her, and it's more of a small nagging thought with the passing of time than a real worrying issue, is that she needs to remember to get back out into the hall and clean the trail of blood leading from the elevator to her door.

"Idiots with guns are annoying. And you..." She trails off, pausing as she shrugs to herself, her focus on the second bullet as she manages to extract it. "You're not scary. I don't know anyone I would put that label on."

The statement is followed by a thoughtful sound, though, as she begins work on the next bullet. "No, there's one person I'd consider it for. But it isn't you."

Oh, seems like she's gotten a second bullet out. Probably? He can't tell exactly when it actually comes out, but she seems to move on to another spot after that, so Shizuo assumes this must be the case. They must be making pretty good progress.

But that's...a pretty interesting answer. Is it because she's lived long enough in a place like Ikebukuro that she's used to idiots with guns, or is it something else? And even then, that still doesn't account for that second part at all...but this takes too much energy to wonder too hard about. Shizuo settles on being pleasantly surprised, instead.

"Ah, so you're not most people. I gotcha." Is that an edge of humor in his tone? Kind of hard to say, but it's likely. She can't see it, but that does come with a bit of an actual smile. He finds he has some curiosity now too, though, because that very last bit is even stranger than the rest. Sure, he knows a few other people that aren't scared of him either--good friends, or the kind that just don't care. But finding somebody that thinks there's actually someone scarier? "That's a first, though. Who's that?"

Any progress is good progress, honestly. The sooner she finishes, the less likely he is to pass out in a pool of his own blood. It's better for both his health and her future cleaning that she get done as quickly as possible, though.

For someone new to Ikebukuro, maybe things would be more frightening. Maybe she would've felt worried if the guy holding the gun to her head had more conviction about it. Or if Shizuo's anger had spilled over in her direction. That might've been worth the concern. But, as it is, the night has just been more chaotic than normal.

His response earns a soft scoff from Namie, but it's not the hard sound of dismissal that most usually get. It's probably the closest she's come to amusement since coming in contact with him. "Most people don't end up caught up in something like that. It's different to see it from this perspective."

His question makes her glance up at the back of his head, a soft laugh coming from behind him as she shakes her head. "I prefer you calm while I'm doing this. I'm not answering that."

Shizuo couldn't claim to tell whether the scoff is a good one or a bad one, but it doesn't seem to mean any pointed offense either way. Then again, he's not sure if he entirely understands what her initial reply means either--that sort of thing would take him a little unpacking even if his head didn't feel like it was half-full of cotton balls at the moment. Perspectives? He hums again at that, a little quizzical but mostly noncommittal.

--Until his own question gets met with a soft laugh, and an answer that's not really an answer whatsoever. Ah, what's with that? Shizuo actually straightens a little, overall embarrassment at his current shirtless state almost entirely forgotten in favor of trying to crane his neck to look over at Namie.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? I'm calm right now." It's faintly indignant. He waves a hand. "I'm not a jealous guy either--is that what you mean? I don't care if there's somebody scarier than me out there. They can have all of it, if they want. --It'd be kinda nice not being the scariest for once, actually." This is the only reason he can think of that Namie would be withholding names, anyway.

It's something she'd clarify if asked, but she doesn't see the need to without it being questioned. It's one thing to see Shizuo and his destruction from afar and another to end up caught in the middle of it as an innocent bystander that gets no part of his anger. Perhaps she should consider herself lucky for not ending up injured, but the potential for being hurt isn't enough to make her consider him frightening.

He straightens up and her gaze moves up from his back again, watching as he tries to look back at her.

"You are." She nods her agreement, straightening up and leaning herself over slightly so he can see her. "It's got nothing to do with jealousy. It's a matter of not saying a name that may make you want to throw my kitchen table through the window." Supposing his anger is triggered that easily, of course. Namie knows the sight of Izaya is enough to set him off, but she isn't willing to test his name.

Whether what she said gives him enough of a hint, though, she's not sure. Izaya may or may not be the only person he'd like to permanently run out of town.

Shizuo blinks up at Namie as she leans over, a heavy frown set on his features, and it takes a second or so for her words to filter into actual meaning. But when they do--well.

It's just enough of a hint, yes. Names to make him throw tables through windows? There really is only one, with that kind of immediacy, and even hazy as he is right now there just really aren't that many dots to connect.

Shizuo's entire frame stiffens with a jerk--which is more of a wince than he's had in the entire time he's been sitting here getting bullets pulled out of him--and his gaze snaps forward, teeth setting with a sudden grimace. Izaya, a scary person? Yeah, sure, that's probably true. It's scary that he hasn't beaten that flea to his death with his own two hands already--

The urge to stand up itches and tempts--he's sure he could do it--but Shizuo stares over at the medical bag set down beside him, and he has to remind himself where he actually is right now. And who it is calling Izaya scary. He shouldn't be surprised at all, really, but he's also not sure if the vague implications this has make him even angrier or not to think about. Which--means he should probably stop thinking on those right now.

"...I see." This is ground out at great length, with the tenuous effort of somebody trying his level best to keep his voice down. Shizuo takes one deep breath, and then another; beside him, his hand has curled into a fist whitened at the knuckles. "--How many more have you got back there?"

Bullets in his back, he means; it's a valiant attempt at turning the conversation around, at least, with what little presence of mind he can muster.

The moment the realization clicks is very easy to tell. One moment, she can move the scalpel, the next it's very firmly lodged in his back with the bullet and little chance of getting anything out thanks to the stiffness and tensing of already ridiculous muscle.

Namie sighs and settles for cleaning and bandaging the wound she's already taken care of. Then she shifts, ignoring his question as she jerks the forceps out of the bullet wound and moves out from behind him.

"One that I can't get out now." The statement is made with a pointed look as she settles beside him again, returning her attention to the wound in his shoulder. Maybe that one or the one in his leg will be easier to remove at the moment. It's worth trying while she waits for him to calm down again.

She turns herself, on her knees and angling to face him, nearly sitting against his side while she cleans his shoulder then pulls out another scalpel since the second one is currently sticking out of his back. Then she's back to work, more effort now with the tightness of muscles that comes with his anger.

"Look at me while I do this." She glances over at him for only a moment before her attention returns to his shoulder. "If you snap now, how do you think this is going to end?"

This being her position so close to him. She's come out safe so far, but it's unlikely to remain that way if he gives in now.

Shizuo very obviously does not want to look at her at the moment, to say the least, but between the shift in position and the direct request, Namie seems determined to undermine that. Even as his temper heats his chest again, though, a small coil of cold guilt winds through it too--that he's making her work more difficult now than ever, even if he can't feel the scalpel now wedged into his back.

It's still another few moments before he does turn his head to look, though, his features rather pained for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with the new scalpel prying into his shoulder. She really is way too close--close enough that a lock of her damp hair brushes his arm while she works, earning more of a flinch than the forceps ever could--and maybe that'd be embarrassing too, if it wasn't also the most alarming thing he's run into tonight. She shouldn't be this close at all, after all. This is dangerous--he's dangerous--and now Shizuo's half-wishing he'd tried for Shinra instead after all, because at least Shinra already well knows what to expect. If he did something now--what if he does do something now? How is she so sure that he won't? (Because if she wasn't sure, then surely she wouldn't be sitting right there anyway...)

"This is why people are scared of me," he tells her, half a mutter, and even with his face turned her way his eyes still drop. "--You don't have to stay. Like this. You really probably shouldn't." His fist opens and closes, nails digging into palms; and his frame is still tense, but more at turns now, wavering with his breathing.

A glance out of the corner of her eye catches that pained look and she finds herself looking over at him again, surprised by it. No, she probably shouldn't be this close, but giving him distance isn't going to make a difference, is it? And she still holds a level of indifference in regards to his anger. It's not as if he has any reason to direct it at her, so there's not all that much to worry about.

Still, she knows she'll be stuck leaving bullets in him if he doesn't calm down again. The forceps and scalpel - still whole for now - are pulled out and end up on her lap as she reaches for one of his hands.

"Do I look scared of you?" She pulls it, ignoring the fact that both his hands and her own have his blood on them, and she's more demanding than she is careful. Her fingers fold over his last two as she aims to leave his index and middle fingers up, watching him as she pulls his hand toward her neck, intending to press his fingers against her pulse point to prove that she's not just holding a steady face. Her heartbeat is steady and calm as well.

"There's nothing here for you to be angry about. It's just the two of us. And I know you don't want to do anything that will end with me getting hurt. So will you focus on me?"

No, giving him distance really wouldn't make too much of a difference at all--even Shizuo knows this, on a subconscious level. But that sort of logic is difficult to reconcile with the fear of knowing what might happen this close. It's not like it's never happened before, after all. It's not like it'll never happen again. And if Namie knew that, he's certain she'd probably be reacting differently too--but she doesn't, and he has no idea how to explain. Where he'd even start. Or if it'd even matter, in the end, with how determined she seems to be about all this...

She reaches for one of his hands, and the gesture is so unexpected that he doesn't get a chance to even consider pulling away. She's already got his in hers before he can even consider what a bad idea this could be, and she's folding his fingers and pulling them up to--her neck.

It's very warm. The rate of her pulse couldn't be more different from his own, which he finds is racing now, for-- some other reason? He stares at her.

"I don't know why you're not," he says. Not scared. He's not sure if any amount of explanation she could offer would be enough to put away that sort of confusion, either. But even then, the tension is leaching out of his shoulders now, very gradually. That's rather at odds with the way his hand trembles a little, at her neck--he doesn't dare to move it--but that's because Namie's quite managed to succeed in one aspect of this at least.

His calm might have been disrupted by the thought of Izaya earlier, but now he's almost forgotten about Izaya entirely; the lesser residual tension is for other reasons now, the same way the heat in his chest isn't--all on account of his temper anymore, all of a sudden. He's still pretty uneasy right now, honestly, but also...

"...I can try, yeah." If she really doesn't mind his focus to that degree, he guesses--and she's not really leaving him much of a choice anyway, all things considered.

She knows something could happen. Whether he means to or not, people are bound to get caught in the crossfire when his anger is as explosive as it is. And she's aware of how that could end for her with being the only person around while he's worked up. She doesn't think he'd take it out on her, but there are only so many places to move to get out of the way of someone who could probably launch her couch through the wall.

So she opts for what's probably - definitely - the more dangerous approach: trying to calm him down again. She felt his grip earlier, the hold he had on her while running. The unintentional tightness of it that may or may not have left bruises where his hands were.

But there's no hesitation in pulling his hand up to her neck and she stares back at him in turn.

His statement just earns a shrug. She doesn't have anything to add to the things she's already said in that regard. He's not frightening. And he's less frightening with the way she can feel his hand tremble in her hold and against her neck. The feeling is a reminder to pull his hand away now that her point's been taken and she does, lowering it back to his lap so she can free her own hands to get back to work.

She reclaims the scalpel and forceps from her own lap as she nods, glad to hear his agreement while she resumes work on his shoulder, her focus trained there.

"Thank you. Getting these out will be easier once you relax."

That's exactly what he's afraid of--people caught in the crossfire. It happens more times than he can count, and Shizuo has long learned to accept it as inevitable instead of hoping it won't--because hoping certainly hasn't gotten him very far in the past. Having such little confidence in himself, it's always difficult to believe that anyone else would have more confidence in him of any kind at all.

Still, here he is now, with a hand pressed to this woman's throat. --But not for long, and that should be a relief. (He's--pretty sure it is...) Namie returns his hand to his lap soon enough, and the break of contact seems to empty the rest of the tension out of him; Shizuo's frame folds a little, and it's only his early agreement that keeps him from immediately looking away again. Not angry anymore, to say the very least--but now he's not entirely sure what he's feeling at all. Tired? Maybe. Could be all the lost blood getting to him, too--but that doesn't seem right, either. Shizuo decides not to think about this.

Instead he watches as Namie renews her work on his shoulder with an air of someone dazed. "...Sorry." It sort of feels like he should say more, along that vein, but he can't seem to think of anything fmore elaborate--and that sort of covers it all anyway, in the end. Instead, after a pause, "How many have I got left in me?"

There's a difference, though, between getting caught in the middle of things and him hurting her on purpose. She's just honing in on the fact that he doesn't want to hurt her, something he's already made clear. Because she knows there's a calm and rational Shizuo in there and reinforcing something she already knows is true seems like a decent enough idea, as if all he needs is a stricter voice of reason, even if it comes from an outside source.

The loss of the last of the tension doesn't go unnoticed, but she takes advantage of it instead of questioning why their contact was a source of it. It's still like digging a bullet out of stone, but it's less like the stone is trying to close up around the bullet now.

"You don't have to apologize." She's digging, only glancing at him out of the corner of her eye to see that he's still watching her. And there's no response to his question. Not for a little longer, once she's tugging the bullet in his shoulder out to discard it with the other two.

"Two left." The answer finally comes as she lowers her tools to clean and bandage the wound at his shoulder. Then she's moving again, turning and leaning over his leg so she can immediately start in on the next one. Another glance is sent in his direction after a few moments, though. "Will you be able to wash yourself up after this?"

Maybe he doesn't need to apologize, no, but Shizuo has no desire to take it back either. It'd felt like he should have anyway--for multiple reasons, both clear and not so clear even to him. His temper getting in the way of things is a fault he assumes is entirely on him, for one thing. And--it's difficult to forget how warm her neck was, for some reason, and there should probably be an apology somewhere for that, too. When he gets around to actually thinking about that, again. Which may very well be never, if he's going to wait for that residual anxiety from the contact to go away first...

But anyhow. Just two, though? Well, that's not so bad, then. He's still not actually sure exactly how many times he'd ended up getting shot in the first place, but it already feels like a very long time since they got started on all this. It's somewhat nice to know it's probably going to be finished up pretty soon, assuming nothing else happens to delay things. (...Like his own temper...)

Thinking any further into the future than that hadn't occurred to Shizuo at all yet, though, until Namie brings up the relevant question. He blinks slowly, and glances down to himself for a moment, as if just now truly noticing his generally bloodstained state on the whole. Sure, his clothing had soaked up a lot of it, but even still...he frowns at one of his bloodier hands, considering this as Namie shifts to his leg.

"...Oh. Guess it'd probably be a good idea to." He would rather get all of this off sooner than later, now that he's actually aware of it. (Of course, whether his body will keep him upright long enough for any washing to actually happen is another story. Shizuo assumes that it will; he doesn't always assume correctly, with these things.)

She's been thinking ahead since arriving in her building and, by this point, her thoughts have reached the morning and work. She already planned to be late thanks to going out of her way tonight, but now she's sure she won't be in until lunch or maybe later than that. Leaving Shizuo sleeping on her couch is an option, one she still might take depending on how long he sleeps, but she prefers the thought of making sure he wakes up before going anywhere. There's nothing appealing about the vague possibility of finding a dead man on her couch when she comes home the following evening.

That's something she'll give more consideration come morning. For now, her thoughts are split between getting him cleaned up enough to sleep on the couch and the cleaning she needs to do herself. Floor and wall aside, she's a mess now as well with her clothes soaking up some of the blood from the floor, her hands bloodied from her work, and now a smear of it against her neck thanks to dragging his hand to it. It's likely there's some in her hair by now, too, given that it's not tied back. So she'll definitely be showering before going to bed herself.

"If you can't, I can throw a blanket over the couch and you can clean up when you wake up." She speaks as if it's an accepted fact that he's staying, like he has no say in the matter. Though, by this point, it's probably clear that he has very little say in it.

With the sacrifice of another scalpel, she frees the bullet from his leg and deposits it with the others. It's all with little thought now, the cleaning and bandaging and moving to the next wound. And, with that, she's behind him again, one hand sliding against his back to make him lean forward slightly so she can get what she assumes is the last bullet out of him.

"The couch?" On the contrary, Shizuo had always figured he'd be leaving at--some point after all this. And sooner, rather than later, hardly expecting that Namie would actually let him sleep in her own apartment. But it's quite clear now that this is the case, and Shizuo has to take a moment to wrap his head around this. Would it really be alright, him sleeping over?

"Don't want to make more of a mess for you," he ventures, as his line of thought slips into something verbal. "Could leave tonight. If you'd rather--ah--" She's working on his back, again, and as her hand slides against it his breath catches very oddly in his throat for a moment. Because--it was unexpected. Yes. Shizuo leans forward without really thinking, and tries to ignore the heat in his face in favor of remembering where he'd just left off. "--If you'd rather I do that, I mean."

Granted,she kind of does already sound pretty decided about this. But he still can't imagine why she'd want him to stay if it could be helped, and so this seems to warrant at least a little double-checking. (Even if, in reality, he'd probably pass out in the lobby before even getting out the door at this point.) Surely, most people would be rather leery to have Heiwajima Shizuo sleeping on their couch even without the accompanying bloodstains. But, as she's been quickly proving for the last hour, it would seem Namie really isn't 'most people' at all.

Edited 2016-03-26 14:13 (UTC)

Throwing him out isn't something that's really occurred to her because she knows he's unlikely to make it far. At best, he'll make it out of the building before collapsing in front of it. And, sure, that's not something that should concern her after all of this, but there's now a small, grudging part of her that isn't entirely indifferent to Shizuo as a person. So, on top of not wanting him to end up passed out in the elevator or lobby for more selfish reasons of remaining in her apartment without eviction, the last hour has served to make her give the smallest of damns about him.

She blames it on the time and energy she's invested in this so far. It's not something she usually does. Even after getting help, she rarely thinks about owing the person who helped her. So that has to be it. (Because she absolutely can't reason liking another person, even if only vaguely.) She's glad she's at his back again as she gives the back of his head a thoughtful look, like it may give her a reason for the tiny collapsed bit of indifference.

"If I wanted you to leave, I would say that." The words are directed at the back of his head and then she's working with the scalpel that's still sticking out of the hole again, sure it's bent in there now. At this point, she couldn't care less about the scalpels. "Don't make me fight with you to keep you in this apartment."

Her hands are working while she talks and while she thinks and it isn't long before she's wrenching the final bullet from his back, bent scalpel following. She lets out a soft sigh with finishing the job then sets to taking care of the last wound, not bothering to pick anything up from the floor once she finishes. Instead, she pushes herself up and moves around him, holding out one hand in an obvious offer to help him up.

Oblivious to any thoughtful looks or mysteries surrounding the debatable likability of his person, Shizuo huffs a little at the mention of a fight. It's a very mildly exasperated sound. "Tch, no thanks."

It'd probably been a joke, but for some reason he's not entirely certain if Namie wouldn't actually live up to the threat either. Predicting how she might react to things in general has turned out to be far more difficult than it should be, and Shizuo is on the verge of just expecting anything altogether at this point. Maybe he'd be more prepared for whatever other curve ball she decides to throw at him, that way. And if she's really willing to fight him before he leaves for the night...well, that doesn't exactly leave him with a lot of options, does it? He probably couldn't have argued this even with a clearer head.

He feels her patching up the last wound on his back, though, and looks up to stare at her hand a little when she offers it to him. As if she assumes he might actually need help getting up...huh. He takes it anyway, because it probably would have been a little rude not to (and getting the offer in the first place is a pleasant surprise)--heady from blood loss and somewhat fuzzy on the bounds of his own strength at the moment, he almost ends up pulling her down to the floor instead, which makes standing up a rather less graceful affair on the whole. "--Sorry..."

Eventually Shizuo's on his feet as well, though, frowning down at himself for a moment. He attempts to stretch--sways a little on his heels in doing so, and decides to maybe not--and ends up absently rubbing his bandaged side, more for the principle of the thing. "Ah, guess I could probably pass for half a mummy now, huh? ...Or maybe a quarter of a mummy..."

This is an unusual quantity of bandages for him, after all. He takes a couple of steps, pauses, and braces an arm against the wall, frowning. "Think you got all of them, though. ...Thanks."

She would certainly live up to that threat, though her initial comment is meant more in a verbal than physical way. But, if it came down to it, there wouldn't actually be much hesitation in engaging him in this situation. She has enough sense not to do something that stupid normally, but he's not in the best physical state at the moment.

There won't be any need for it, though, and she leaves the thought be. He takes her hand and she finds her free hand at the wall a moment later in an attempt to steady herself at the pull, belatedly realizing she should've had the sense to hook a hand at the door frame leading to the kitchen before doing something like that. But he manages to get up and she shakes her head at his apology, looking him over once he's upright.

He sways and she reaches out for his arm, as if she won't end up toppling along with him if he loses his balance now. He doesn't and her hand comes to a stop before she reaches him, but she's still watching, close enough to try to stop him from tumbling forward if the swaying comes that way.

"Quarter of a mummy." She offers her agreement as if it's a serious topic of conversation, stepping back just to circle around him and look him over from behind now that he's upright. Because the back of his legs are something she didn't initially consider. Luckily, though, there doesn't seem to be blood flowing from any other wounds. It seems to just be from the things she's already taken care of.

When she circles back around him, it's to stop at his side this time. "You're welcome," she finally replies. Then she leans down, scooping up the least bloodied towel to offer it to him as she continues, "Stay here. I'm going to cover the couch so you can sleep."

And then she moves away from him, giving him a last glance to make sure he's still upright before she pads off down the hall again.

Her reaching doesn't go unnoticed, when he sways, and he's left wondering about that as she withdraws in favor of circling him instead. Evidently she seems to be happy with whatever he sees, though, and Shizuo figures this must mean he's stopped bleeding quite so actively everywhere now. She offers him the marginally cleanest towel in vicinity and he accepts it wordlessly, starting to slowly scrub at his bloodier arm and watching as Namie moves off down the hall.

--Couch it is, then. Shizuo frowns at his arm as a fraction of the blood starts coming off onto the towel; most of what's left on him has already started drying some, in the hour it's taken to get the bullets removed, and with a grimace he wonders if he shouldn't try for a shower or something anyway. But trying to move forward and having the entire room shift disconcertingly around him in the process, even Shizuo has to concede that standing upright probably isn't going to be in the cards for him much longer. Ah well...

Still, as he attempts to towel off his torso and what he can reach of his legs too, the sopping bundle of his clothes catches his eye, piled on the floor to one side. And when Namie returns she'll find him leaning against the wall with the towel over his shoulder and the clothing bundle in his arms; he looks up as she approaches.

"Please don't throw these away." The request is immediate and flat; he indicates the bundle in question. "--Got my phone and wallet and stuff somewhere in here. But, it'd also be good if these aren't damaged--more." The addendum is tacked on after a pause and a mild, chagrined grimace. He knows this particular set of clothing is going to need plenty of repair already, probably, but still... "They're a gift from my kid brother."

Her disappearance is off to her bedroom first to grab one blanket then, after some thought, another from the closet. Before she exits the bedroom again, she drops the blankets on her bed long enough to shed her tights, knowing they're bound for the trash anyway. She feels like she'll be less likely to slip with bare feet against the floor while cleaning later.

On her way back, blankets in her arms, she stops by the bathroom to collect another couple of towels. And when she comes out of the hall, it's to head right to the couch, spreading one blanket over it and leaving the other draped over one arm so he can cover himself with it if he wants. With that done, she returns to him, eyeing the bundle of his clothes in his arms before nodding at his request. "I wasn't planning to after you refused to let me cut them off."

She unfolds the two fresh towels and shakes them a little, reaching out to take the one from his shoulder so she can replace it with the other two. Then she has her hands around his clothes, waiting for him to hand them over to her. "You'll have them tomorrow. Now..."

Considering his earlier swaying, she doesn't trust that he can make the walk from the spot they're in to the couch. It's nearly in view from their spot, but that doesn't mean anything. So, once she has his clothes tucked under her arm, she moves to his side and pulls his arm around her shoulders, holding his wrist with one hand as she hooks the arm nearest to him around the middle of his back. "Come on. I don't want to be forced to drag you to the couch instead if you fall now."

He could still fall, obviously, but she's hoping that having someone to lean against will give him enough stability to make it across the room.

As soon as she visibly agrees to the request, trading off his clothes for the other two towels is easy enough; Shizuo seems pleased enough with the confirmation that his suit will be back to him by tomorrow. (It'd really be no good to lose track of them--sure, he's got a full wardrobe of identical sets, but it's the principle of the thing...)

But then Namie's suddenly at his side, pulling his arm over one of her shoulders, and Shizuo very nearly freezes up on the spot; this isn't helped when she hooks her other arm around him too, all very warm and--once again--surely too close to be safe. He hadn't realized just how short she is in comparison to him, either...his head jerks, and he looks away across the room. There's that heat in his face and chest again--both such a far cry from the usual burn of his temper that it's almost as alarming as it is mystifying. Ah, what the hell's the matter with him? It's not like he's never had anyone help him across a room like this before. He's done this exact same thing with Shinra more times than he can count, so why...?

"If I fall now you might as well just leave me on the floor." It's a grumble that might be directed more to himself than it is to Namie. But he moves forward anyway, slowly, and the process is easier with the support at his side--even if he's apparently having very mixed feelings about said support. He rests his arm across her shoulders very gingerly, far too anxious to consider resting much weight there, but when the dizzy bursts come he can't help leaning into her a little anyhow, and it manages to work out all the way to the couch.

"...You make it a habit of helping strangers like this?" He's surprised that the question even makes it out of him, but there it is, after a stretch of silence.

That tenseness returns when her hands are on him again and she looks up at him, watching the way he looks away from her. It's then that she takes in the bit of color in his cheeks and she wonders, again, if this is embarrassing for him because she's a woman. She'd wonder if it honestly bothered him, but it's not like he's shown any signs of being particularly unhappy with her help. So she chalks it up to the fact that he's used to Shinra's help and not that of some woman he doesn't know and she doesn't give it much more thought beyond that.

"Leaving you on the floor is more trouble." For her cleaning, that is. If he's on the couch, she doesn't have to worry about getting around him to do what she needs to do. And while she knows she'll be passing by the living room enough, she doubts she'll wake him once he falls asleep.

His leaning has her tightening her arm around him until they reach the couch. Then she turns them, dropping down to sit with him before pushing herself back up, giving him the space to get comfortable as she hears his question.

"... No. I never help anyone like this. I'm not Kishitani." It's hesitant, but bluntly honest as she looks down at him, her own gaze shifting away after a moment like something about this is vaguely embarrassing after everything else. "I'm going to clean up. Go to sleep."

It's a strange way to get sat down onto a couch, but at least Namie's only sitting briefly herself, and standing back up again before Shizuo can gather any time to get nervous about that too. Or--whatever the hell it is his head's been doing with him for the last hour. Calling it 'nervousness' might not fit quite right, but he's in no particular mood or state to find any better terms.

He remains sitting on the couch's edge for a bit as she stands, and answers, and--actually looks faintly embarrassed about this herself, on some level. As if everything else up to this point had been business as usual anyway. Shizuo tilts his head slightly, considering her for a long moment.

"...Yeah. Guess you're not." The agreement is hardly anything condemning--in fact, it's not really colored in any particular opinion one way or another. But instead it's thoughtful, maybe even faintly puzzled. After all, if she never helps anyone like this...it seems all the stranger to Shizuo, now, that she's helped him in the first place. And that's another question he almost wants to ask out loud, but Namie's already dismissing the conversation before he can give it a try. Shizuo simply blinks, scrubbing slowly at his neck with one of the new towels.

"Okay," is what he settles with instead after a bemused pause, lame as it ends up sounding. And then he does--giving up on the more stubborn bloodstains on his person, he leans to set the towels across the top of the couch for later, and then slowly stretches across it himself. Noting the extra blanket, he pulls that down with him as he goes, and settles flat on his back with the sheet haphazardly pulled over his chest, legs sticking out a little over one of the couch's armrests. But he doesn't seem terribly uncomfortable, and he's silent from then on. Staring up at the ceiling with a slight frown, for the first few minutes--and then asleep, before another hour passes, should Namie ever stop to check from that point.

It's for the best that he doesn't ask because it's something she can't really answer even to herself. She can't come to a firm answer on her own, no completely solid reason sticking out in response to her own wondering. A combination of reasons makes the most sense but also leaves her questioning herself. It's not like she expects him to owe her after this, so she's not actually gaining anything from it.

His agreement to sleep is enough of an answer for her and she moves away from him and the couch, willing her thoughts elsewhere. And while he gets to resting, she starts in on cleaning - first leaving his clothes to soak to get some of the blood out before she can really clean them, then working on the trail of blood leading to her front door so no one down the hall walks out to find it when leaving for work. The floor and wall inside are the most daunting tasks and it's probably another hour and a half after she leaves him on the couch before she finishes and peers in his direction, sighing to herself at the sight of him sleeping.

By the time she gets into her bedroom - after scrubbing his clothes and hanging them to dry looking just as beat up, but far less bloody than before - she barely manages to change clothes before crawling into bed, only then realizing she has no idea how she's managed to stay up so long. She's asleep almost immediately.

And it isn't until noon that she wakes up, jolting upright in bed even without the sound of an alarm going off. It takes a few moments to process the time and the circumstances of the previous night again, but when she does, she relaxes and slowly gets out of bed to fish her phone from her purse and send Izaya a message stating what's already quite obvious: she's going to be late for work if she even comes in at all.

Then she leaves her phone charging and exits her bedroom, making her way to the end of the hall to see if Shizuo is still asleep on the couch.

( If you wanted to end it with the end of the night/morning, don't feel obligated to reply to this. I'm totally fine with ending it there or continuing! )

Certainly, it'd been a long night for the both of them--even Shizuo rarely makes it a habit to stay awake quite that late. But the fatigue of blood loss had taken its toll and settled in thoroughly by the time Shizuo finally settled on the couch, and Namie's additional hour of work never disturb him in the least by the time he's asleep, as dead to the world as he ends up being. It will be a late morning for the both of them; Shizuo tends to sleep in even when he's in better health if he's given the chance, after all.

But Namie will find an empty couch at the end of the hall, by the time she rises at noon--an errant blood stain here and there, but blankets and sheets folded neatly in the middle of it. The towels are missing, however; and, should Namie search around some more, she'd eventually find the bathroom occupied and the sound of a shower running at the other side of the door.

Clues pointing to an easy conclusion; Shizuo had woken up before her, but not too much earlier. He'd been in good enough shape to locate the bathroom too, by the looks of things--which is certainly a step up from his condition last night.

Everything else in the apartment seems to be untouched so far. Though, as Namie passes by whichever place she'd put Shizuo's phone and wallet and other miscellany, she might catch the sound of the phone in question ringing--which is a bit of a miracle in itself, soaked as all of his pockets had been last night. (It's a tougher model, though. Phones of a normal fragility don't tend to last longer than a week in Heiwajima Shizuo's rather volatile ownership. ~~It's probably a Nokia.~~)

(Eh, figured we might as well continue into the proper morning at least! If you're cool with this c: Probably won't be too much longer anyway BUT WHY NOT...)

Passing down the hall, the sound of the shower doesn't actually register with her. But with the lack of Shizuo on the couch, it takes very little to locate where he's gone. It's surprising to know she's slept later than he has, but at least it means she doesn't have to wonder whether or not he'll wake up after all. Or if he's doing well enough to make it out of the building. The rest clearly helped enough to get him on his feet again.

She catches the sound of his phone ringing and gives it a look, but doesn't make any move to touch it. The sight of it with his things makes her recall their time in the elevator and she moves into the kitchen long enough to pull a drawer open, moving a few things around until she locates one of a couple of disposable lighters she has inside of it.

The lighter is left with his things and she pauses by them for a little longer, narrowing her eyes at his now-silent phone. And, after a long moment, she picks it up and inputs her own name and number into his contacts, leaving his phone in place once she's done so she can head back to her room to change into something that isn't sleepwear before he comes out of the bathroom.

( Very cool with it! Just enough time for poor Shizuo to have a last wtf is this reaction moment around her before he hits the road... )

As Namie edits his contacts, the upper part of the screen on Shizuo's phone informs her of a recent missed call and voicemail from Tom Tanaka, as well as several text messages from a contact simply labeled as Celty. It's apparent that Shizuo has missed at least a couple of obligations today already.

Several more minutes pass before Shizuo emerges from the shower himself, at length--significantly less bloody than he'd been stepping into it, and already in a better mood for it. One towel around his waist and another laid haphazardly across the top of his head, he steps out the bathroom door...somewhat tentatively, actually, not entirely sure if Namie's already awake by now or not. The quiet of the apartment and lack of any apparent movement in the hall seems to indicate that she isn't, though, and he pads into the hall a bit more encouraged. Ah, maybe he can at least get dressed or something....if he could--figure out where she's ended up putting his things, that is...

He hesitates a little too long in the hallway, glancing through a few entrances and wondering where he ought to start looking--and so he's still there when Namie opens her bedroom door. Startled, Shizuo grabs the towel on his head to keep it from falling off as he turns, quite fully prepared to continue turning right around if she's--still in pajamas or whatever, hell if he knows how women like sleeping. ...But she's already dressed, apparently, so he simply takes an awkward pace back (and really wishes he wasn't spending over half his time in her apartment in various states of undress).

"Oh, uh. ...'Morning."

The flash of missed messages only makes Namie wonder what line of work Shizuo is in since she assumes that both of the listed contacts are people that have something to do with his job. Or they could simply be friends looking for him, but it's not as if he's been missing for any amount of time.

She doesn't really give it much thought once she's gone from the living room. And she's giving strong consideration to removing her name and number as she steps out of her room and--

"... Good morning." She comes to a stop in her doorway, staring at Shizuo in his current state. It's not like he's really any more naked than he was while she was working on him the previous night, but seeing him in a towel in her hallway does make her realize he's spent most of his time in her apartment wearing about that much. And, without the lack of sleep and the thought of bullet removal to distract her, she also realizes this could easily be why he seems nervous around her.

That doesn't stop her from approaching him, though, her eyes going to the wet bandages on his shoulder and side since they're the easiest to see. There's little regard for the nervousness she seems to induce as she reaches for his side, pulling the covering away some so she can get a look at the wound to see if she should change them before he goes anywhere.

Her assumption is half right, at least; he and Tom usually set out a lot earlier on the work front, and Shizuo is very rarely late or absent without some kind of prior warning. But while he's only been gone for half the day, he's still a common enough sight in some areas of Ikebukuro that the absence can strike a little odd. Especially to any friends, few as they might be--like Celty...

But well, phones aside. Shizuo has no idea exactly what kind of greeting he was expecting, but the staring's already kind of unsettling enough before Namie is walking right up to him, reaching for his side. He's considerably more alert today than he'd been last night, but now that only serves to give the bizarre anxious feelings from last night clearer and more acute definition--and also throws any excuse involving blood loss pretty much out the window. Which...makes this all the more distressing, to say the least.

He almost flinches away from her hand with an odd inhale of breath--after the shower it's a cooler touch, sensitive around the bandage there, and Shizuo raises a hand to his face to adjust sunglasses that (he remembers belatedly) aren't actually on his face right now. But the burning is creeping into his cheeks again, which is stupid and ridiculous, and he tries to pass off the gesture as brushing damp hair out of his eyes anyway. (Why is this still happening? How hasn't she noticed by now? Or maybe she has...but then, if that's the case, why is she still doing--stuff like this? It can't be on purpose...)

"They're, ah--they should be doing okay by now. The bullet places. Feels pretty alright." And indeed they do seem to be 'doing okay', by all accounts; under the bandage, the wound in his side at least is already in better condition than it probably usually should be. As if it's already gotten two days to heal instead of several hours...though the bandage has still accumulated quite a lot of blood in the process, and could probably do with a change anyway.

Edited 2016-03-27 06:45 (UTC)

More of her attention is on the wound and how it looks than on his reaction to her being so close again. It looks like it'll be healed in the next few days at the rate it's going, which is ridiculous, but not entirely unexpected given everything else he's capable of. The bandages do need to be changed, though, if only to spare the clothes she cleaned.

When she looks up, she takes note of the much more pronounced redness in his face now and covers the wound again so she can take a step back. She's noticed, but she hasn't been doing anything to purposely bother him like this. To her, nothing she's done has been all that questionable or worth getting worked up over. But, clearly, this isn't a thought the two of them share.

"Why do I make you so uncomfortable?" It's asked bluntly, but she doesn't stand in front of him waiting for an answer. Instead, she's brushing by him into the bathroom to get what she needs to change his bandages, expecting him to answer her regardless of her movement since she's not far enough away that she can't hear him. And once she has those things in hand, she comes to a stop in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at him once more, her expression still unreadable despite the question that's been asked.

"Your clothes are hanging in the kitchen. I'll change your bandages and then you can get dressed."

It's certainly a very blunt question, straightforward and to the point. Something Shizuo would usually appreciate, if only the subject matter in question wasn't so--awkward. He shifts to give Namie space as she steps around him and into the bathroom, raised hand shifting to slip the towel off his head entirely so he can scrub a hand through his hair instead.

So she's noticed after all; the question confirms that at least, though Shizuo has no idea if that makes it better or worse. (--Probably worse...) He looks after her as she reemerges in the bathroom doorway, a flat frown in place and traces of red still on his cheeks--and shrugs, after a pause, throwing the second towel over his unbandaged shoulder.

"I don't know," he admits at length, glancing away--and he certainly sounds confused and embarrassed enough at himself for that to ring true. Because he really doesn't, and he has no idea where to even start with figuring it out, but he's always honest even if the honesty isn't terribly helpful. He nods at the wall to Namie's side, though, as she brings up his clothes and the prospect of new bandages. "But--alright. Lead the way." He pads aside, ready to follow her down the hall whichever direction she decides to go.

The answer is enough for her even if it doesn't actually answer anything at all. She's almost certain that she hasn't done anything worth making him uncomfortable, but it's not worth starting some kind of exchange if he can't pinpoint a reason anyway. So she lets her thoughts fall back on her earlier assumption that this is uncomfortable or embarrassing for him because she's a woman and he's used to dealing with Shinra in situations like this.

Namie nods and moves by him again once he's out of her way, heading out of the hall and turning to lead them into the kitchen. The supplies are dumped on the small table there and she pulls out a chair for Shizuo to take a seat to make her work easier. And it won't be hard to spot his clothes hanging on the makeshift clothesline stretched from a couple of cabinets to the top of her fridge door - something she realizes looks somewhat ridiculous now that she's functioning on a decent amount of sleep.

"If you haven't seen them, I left your things from your pockets near the couch." And, after a few moments of getting things ready to make the bandage changing as quick as possible, she adds: "Your phone was ringing while you were in the shower."

Shizuo takes the seat in the kitchen as it's offered to him, setting out his bandaged leg so Namie can reach it whenever she gets around to it (and making sure his towel is still securely around his waist in the process). Even by then he's still faintly tense and somewhat fidgety with the remains of his earlier embarrassment, but the kitchen and its contents prove to be a decent distraction. He catches sight of his clothing strung between the cabinets and the fridge, and the corner of his perpetual frown twitches a little at the setup. It does look a little silly...

"Oh, you did? Thanks." He'd missed that on his way to the shower earlier, yes, but it's good to hear where he can find them once they're done. Shizuo focuses on the nearest window, determined to make this last bit of bandaging as not-awkward as possible if he can (as if not looking at Namie would somehow help with this); but then she mentions his phone, and that's surprising enough for him to turn to her anyway.

"My phone? ...Ah, right. Must have been Tom-san..." He settles back in the chair a bit, looking faintly troubled, and considers the window more for the angle of the sunlight now. "Must be late. ...Hey--you late for work too?" And suddenly he's refocusing on Namie again, looking genuinely concerned.

His shoulder is first and she finds herself glad that there's a lot less effort to be spent in changing bandages. She peels away the covering on him, setting it aside on the table to throw away once she's done, then cleans the healing wound again before giving it a fresh covering and making sure it's secure.

"You're welcome." It's offered without a glance up at him as she moves on to his side, the covering there already partially peeled away thanks to her earlier look at it. The mention of the name she saw on the screen doesn't earn any acknowledgement (though she knows it'll be obvious she saw it once he notices her name in his contacts), but his sudden concern about her job is what pulls her attention back up from his side. For a moment, she considers how strange it is to have anyone look at her like that, even just about something like making her late. But the thought is pushed aside as she nods and returns her focus to finishing with his side.

"It's not your fault. I was out late for work last night, so I was planning to go in late today anyway." She finishes with the second bandage then rises from the crouched position she'd settled into at his side to grab what she needs before moving on to his leg, resuming the same position in a spot closer to his leg this time. And, in what is possibly an effort to keep him from growing uncomfortable again, she speaks up again. "What do you do?"

One of Shizuo's hands curls around the edge of his seat, fingertips fidgeting as Namie works on his shoulder and moves to his side. It's a much quicker process than removing the bullets had been, and that makes this a little easier, but the light brush of her fingertips at his skin as she switches out bandages is still very distracting in a way that sort of makes him want to shy away from the contact before he does something embarrassing. --Like what? Hell if he knows. But Namie would probably have no patience for that, and it wouldn't help with getting these bandages switched out in the first place, so Shizuo just as to fight down the urge to move in the meantime and try to distract himself with literally anything else. (At least he's had plenty of practice with restraint...)

Namie's words do help with that, though, and talk of work grounds him somewhat. Concern feels like a natural reaction to learning about his benefactor running late for her own job; even when she assures him it wasn't his fault, Shizuo can't help but wonder if she'd still be at work a little earlier if it weren't for an all-nighter pulling bullets from some guy she barely knows. This thought deepens his frown somewhat...but then she's asking him about his work, and it's Shizuo's turn to blink down at her in some surprise.

Most people don't really care to know what he does in his daily life. Some people would even be surprised to hear he has a job at all. (And he couldn't blame them--honestly, there are days when Shizuo is genuinely surprised he's still holding down this one himself.)

"Aah, Tom-san runs a debt collecting agency in 'Bukuro. I help him with the collecting part. A lot of the clients he gets are dumbasses about paying up when it's due, so sometimes they need persuading--you know." Shizuo glances aside, and his shoulders roll in a small shrug; then he huffs a slight laugh, sitting forward a bit. "Right, guess this is also the part where I should plug for the business or something--Tom-san says we should always look for chances to advertise or some shit? So, you know..." A hand is waved dispassionately. "If you've ever got somebody owing you money we can give him a talk and make him cough up asap? And all that."

Moving would indeed try her patience when what she's doing is so simple in comparison to the bullet removal of the previous night. So it's for the best that he manages to keep himself still since she intends to finish, even if it means literally driving him into a corner to get it done. She's putting for an effort not to make him uncomfortable - though she's made no effort toward it in the first place, but she's keeping it in mind now - and she expects him to at least manage to sit still through the rest of this since it's the last contact she needs to have with him.

Concern is a completely normal reaction that Namie is rarely, if ever, on the receiving end of. So, normal as it is, she can't help finding it strange. Though it probably shouldn't come as so much of a surprise when what she's done comes across like concern for Shizuo. And it probably is, in some way, but that's not something she'd acknowledge when her usual concern is skewed so strongly toward one person.

Conversation seems like the best form of distraction if the previous night is anything to go by and she's glad to be right about it as he answers her. He seems more relaxed when talking and it lets her finish with his leg with ease, the plug of business and his lack of any real attempt to sell it enough to earn a slight laugh as she pushes herself up from the floor.

"You should do commercials," she suggests, obviously taking a jab at how he sounds in promoting it as she moves around the chair to his back, her hand resting on his uninjured shoulder to gently push him forward so she has access to the two bandages on his back. "I don't loan money to anyone. But I'll keep you in mind if that changes."

Shizuo snorts a bit at the suggestion of commercials, shaking his head. "Tch, right? ...But nah, they probably wouldn't hire me anyway."

His own tone is only half-joking, towards the end. Self-deprecation with blunt honesty is a very dry form of humor--but Shizuo catches himself before his thoughts slide too quickly in that particular direction. He wouldn't want to be on tv anyway, bunch of high-maintenance bastards...Kasuka really is much better suited to all that, and Shizuo is more than content with keeping it that way. Never mind that Namie's own comment was clearly hardly serious in the first place...

She finishes up with his leg, and then--oh, right, his back. At this point Shizuo has already almost forgotten he even had any wounds there; but Namie moves behind and plants a hand on his shoulder, and remembering suddenly isn't very difficult at all. Shizuo disguises the slight flinch by leaning forward accordingly, just enough to plant an elbow on one of his thighs and prop his chin in one hand, planting his fingertips against his mouth to hide just how hard he's scowling at himself for a moment. (Man, he needs to get a grip...)

"Don't bother. You're probably better off not loaning anybody money ever. What I've learned so far is that shit's more trouble than it's worth." Though Namie seems like the sort to pay back debts in a timely manner--not that he's vaguely biased in this assessment or anything--so it'd probably be of little concern to her anyway. But in Shizuo's personal opinion, loans in general seem way too convoluted to be worth the hassle. He frowns at the wall opposite as the first bandage back there is peeled off. "Anyway. What about you, then? What do you do?"

That's--a thing you can ask in conversations, isn't it? Namie had just asked him that herself, so he assumes it's in good form to do the same, but Shizuo's never entirely sure about this kind of thing half the time, and it doesn't sound nearly as natural as Namie's question did. He doesn't really engage in small talk often enough to work on these things.

Edited 2016-03-28 04:59 (UTC)

"You'd look good on camera, so they would hire you." Is she saying he's good looking? Or something else? No way of telling, really, because she makes the statement like it's already written somewhere. And then she continues without elaborating much on her reasoning of her second point, either. "But I'm sure you would walk out on them."

He just doesn't seem like the type to work well in a setting like that is her thought.

She doesn't catch the flinch, which is for the best for him since any more thought about her making him uncomfortable will likely begin to vaguely annoy her. It's something she could understand if she were in his personal space for any other reason, but the task makes it necessary.

"I doubt I will. I don't know anyone worth loaning money to." Because she doesn't consider the money she's given to Seiji to be a loan and anything else she hands over money for is a form of payment. And it's not as if she'd ever need to loan Izaya money - not that she'd hire Shizuo to hunt him down anyway when their interactions go the way they normally go.

She removes one bandage then the other and cleans both wounds again before she starts to bandage one once more, momentarily distracted from it when the conversation turns toward her. There's something odd about having normal small talk. But it probably comes from the fact that most of her conversations as of late have been with Izaya and there always seems to be an underlying threat in nearly everything that comes out of his mouth.

"I'm a personal secretary," she finally answers, with no intention of bringing Izaya into the conversation again after only vaguely bringing him up the night before. Whether Shizuo even remembers it or will make the connection is impossible to tell, but she won't be the one to bring it up. "I just run errands and do filekeeping."

She finishes with the bandaging as she speaks, smoothing her fingers against the tape to make sure it's secure before she moves away from him to collect his clothes from her makeshift clothesline.

--Huh. Look good on camera? If that's supposed to be a punchline for another joke, it's a rather oddly phrased one, but Shizuo assumes that must be what it is. Trying to look at it as a compliment wouldn't make any sense, after all; Shizuo is perpetually convinced he's nothing remarkable to look at, and besides that, Namie hasn't even gotten a chance to see him at decent form in the first place. Between sopping rain and blood everywhere, being full of bullets, and spending most of his time in her apartment almost completely undressed...more awkward physical first impressions probably couldn't be found.

His head tilts a little and he's almost tempted to turn towards her, but decides against it. Still, she does get one assumption right at least, and Shizuo scoffs in agreement. "Yeah, I'd walk out. I've already walked out on those sorts of guys already, before. ...Kinda." Well, less 'walked out' and more 'nearly threw the talent scout out a window', but those are the little details. At least it'd all turned out very well for Kasuka in the end.

Normal conversations with Izaya are indeed probably the opposite of wholesome. At least Shizuo can offer her something different for one morning, even if he's unaware of it; Namie is unlikely to find a more straightforward person to talk to, after all. One new bandage pressed on, and then another, and Shizuo listens with curiosity when she finally answers about her job. "Personal secretary?"

The last bandage is applied and she moves away, finally; Shizuo sits back in the chair again, faint tension he wasn't even aware of loosing from his shoulders as Namie moves to the other side of the kitchen and his clothes. (That whole process hadn't even been that bad at all, though, something in the back of his head remarks--almost nice? In retrospect.) But then he wonders why he's even thinking about it like that, and Shizuo pushes those thoughts away. Instead, he considers what a secretarial job must be like, and the overall conclusion he draws isn't a particularly negative one.

"...Sounds quiet." There's almost something very vaguely wistful, about this comment. Shizuo shows no sign of making any connection between her job and Izaya just yet, either, and so it would seem that Namie's in the clear this time.

The way he carries himself, outside of the awkwardness that comes when they're too close or the intensity that comes with his anger, would undoubtedly look cool to other people. That's what she thinks, anyway, if other media is anything to go by. And maybe, maybe, it's her way of saying he's not unattractive. Even with all of the blood and rain and near nudity she's been exposed to in having him around.

His confirmation makes her nod to herself, but she lets out a quiet breath of a laugh at the way he finishes, knowing how it likely went instead. She almost finds herself curious how he ended up with those sorts to begin with, but she doesn't take the chance to ask.

Straightforward is a welcome change of pace. Maybe that's why she doesn't mind this so much - the alternative is being holed up in one room with Izaya for the duration of her work day. And while she has fairly high tolerance given her circumstances, he does make her want to punch him on a pretty regular basis.

She hums confirmation when he repeats her title as she gathers his clothing over one arm, returning to him once she's done so she can stop in front of him and offer the outfit to him. "It can be quiet, but working alone would be better." Or just working with someone who didn't enjoy the sound of his own voice so much, but she leaves that part out.

Once she hands off his clothes, she gets to picking up after herself. "I left a lighter with your things." So he doesn't think he's taking something that he shouldn't when he goes to gather the contents of his pockets. And, after a moment: "And I put my number in your phone."

He does tend to look cool to other people, apparently--the ones that aren't immediately put off by his reputation or don't catch him in one of his rages, anyway. Shizuo will probably never fully realize this, though; absent as his self-esteem is on the whole, it's just something he could never get his head around if he tried. People being anything other than scared of him in the first place are already rare and strange enough on principle.

Who doesn't want to punch Izaya on a regular basis, really? It seems to be an innate talent, and Shizuo wouldn't blame Namie for such feelings at all--or at least, he wouldn't if even hearing a vague suggestion about Izaya in her vicinity didn't set him immediately on edge like it does. The sentiment is there in spirit, at least.

Namie offers him his clothing, and Shizuo accepts the bundle with something very nearly bordering on relief--for more reasons than one, probably. He stands up, tucking the clothing under an arm and pushing the chair back over to the table, but her words have him looking up.

"A lighter? Oh, that's right, lost my other one...hey, thanks." Clearly he'll be owing her a lighter later, too--sometime down the line, or whatever. And it's possible he might have very nearly actually smiled at this moment, but then the next bit sinks in, and that gives way to something startled. "...But, your number? What for?"

The news that she actually went into his phone to do this in the first place isn't such a big deal, to him--not like he locks the thing in the first place (on account of being too impatient to type that shit in every single time he opens it), and she did mention it ringing earlier. But actually adding her own number, though...that seems like an unexpectedly personal thing to pass on to a near-stranger?

Izaya may be the only person she knows who inspires that kind of feeling in so many people he meets. It would be admirable if she weren't one of the people who would like to be the reason he ends up with another black eye. She'll settle for hoping Shizuo manages to catch him next time, though, since she does need to keep herself in check for the sake of her job and not being handed over to the police.

She nods at the thanks for the lighter, taking his old bandages to the trash before she looks over at him at his questions. They're completely valid ones and she knew they were coming, but that doesn't make her question herself any less for doing it in the first place.

"If Kishitani's busy or you don't feel like dealing with him," she explains, making her way back to the table to gather the supplies that need to be returned to the bathroom. "Consider me your backup doctor."

It's not all that personal a reason, but she refuses to admit that having someone else in her apartment for once - someone she finds she doesn't mind the company of - is a decent change of pace. So, even if the only times she ever hears from him in the future are similar to this last one, she doesn't mind it.

Once she finishes cleaning off the table, she looks over to him again. "You can have the bathroom. I'll put things away once you're done in there."

Shizuo pauses as Namie answers the question, startled expression steadily shifting to one of genuine surprise as she explains. He doesn't answer immediately when she's finished, either, frowning at her thoughtfully instead for a very long moment after. Not a very personal reason at all, no--and really, he has very little reason to suspect there's anything particularly personal to it anyway, underlying or no. But even then...

Well, it's not often people actually tell him he's welcome to drop by their living spaces again for any particular reason, let alone one that might involve patching him up in some future circumstance.

"Backup doctor..." Repeated pensively, at length. And then, as the idea settles, Shizuo nods to himself a little, looking back up to Namie with a faint but evident appreciation. "Huh. Never had one of those before. ...But yeah, Shinra can be a pain in the ass sometimes. --I'll keep it in mind."

And then he nods again, at Namie's remark on the bathroom, and drifts out of the kitchen accordingly to get dressed.

This doesn't take very long in the least--when you wear the same thing almost every day the process tends to speed up a lot, after all--and Shizuo eventually steps out of the bathroom again fully dressed and considerably more at ease for it, leaving the towels folded behind him. Fastening his tie on his way out, he wanders into the main room to collect his things from near the couch--wallet, phone, sunglasses (which go onto his face immediately, despite some smudging from last night), lighter...there's his pack of cigarettes too, considerably less damp now but kind of rumpled. Ah, are waterlogged cigarettes still any good after they're dried out? Shizuo has no idea, but decides he'll find out eventually, and sets one in his mouth very loosely before tucking the rest back into a pocket. He'll light it up for science when he gets outside, he supposes.

But first, though--hm. Everything else retrieved and his phone in hand, Shizuo hesitates by the couch for a moment or so before he drifts over to the hallway again, meaning to catch Namie either at the bathroom or some other room close by. "--Hey, ah..." ...What was her name again? He thinks back--something about medicine? ...Pharmaceuticals... "Yagiri, right?"

The silence along with his frowning makes her wonder if the offer is too much. She doesn't see how it could be when there's no telling how often he sees Shinra for things like this, but maybe he has some kind of standing arrangement with payment there. She's not going to ask him for anything like that should he decide to show up at her door, she makes more than enough with work and it's not an offer she made for the sake of payment, but who knows his opinion on the matter.

And while she's still not entirely sure, his reply and the look he gives her is enough to assure her that she hasn't gone too far with the offer.

He heads for the bathroom and she spends some time taking down the line his clothes were hanging on, waiting for the sound of the bathroom door to open again. And, once it does, she heads off to put things away, allowing him to gather his things without someone hovering nearby. The folded towels are draped over her arm when she steps out of the bathroom and makes her way toward her room to add them to the hamper there. She only makes it a step inside before she heads him in the hallway and she turns to step out again, surprised he hasn't made an immediate move for the front door now that he's dressed.

"Namie is fine," she offers at the sound of her family name, nodding and giving him an expectant look since she's sure he's not just sticking around for the sake of checking her name.

Immediately making a beeline for the door had been pretty tempting, admittedly, but just leaving abruptly without a word seems...a little rude, too, after everything else. Though he somehow doubts Namie would have minded it either way. But even still, there's something else...

Because he still does remember a fair amount about their conversation last night.

"Right. Namie." And apparently he got the family name right too--huh, half and half isn't too bad at all. Better than his usual. She pauses in the bedroom doorway and looks at him expectantly, and Shizuo finds himself unexpectedly hesitating again for a moment, suddenly less sure of what he actually wanted to say. He shifts from one heel to another, glancing down, before bracing a hand on the hallway's wall and looking back up to her again.

"...Thanks. For all this. Sorry you got caught up in it." ...He straightens, glancing away again. "Be careful, huh?"

It feels awkward and blunt to say, but it still feels like he ought to. He might not know anything at all about what Namie does in her daily life, and he's certain he doesn't have a place to ask anyhow, but all the same....somebody calling Izaya a scary person--has probably had some kind of dealing with that bastard already, right? (It's--aggravating. But more so than that, it's a little worrying.)

It wouldn't have bothered her to hear the sound of her front door without another word, but she has a feeling she knows what he plans to say. After the apologies he's already offered, it wouldn't surprise her to hear one more before he sees himself out.

And it starts out as expected, the thanks and the apology likely a standard thing in situations like this. She's already ready to wave it off, to remind him that it's fine as should be obvious by her number now being in his phone, but he continues after a moment and she finds herself staring at him. The show of concern is still enough to throw her slightly and it takes a second before she says anything in response.

"It's fine, I promise. ... and you're welcome."

He's not looking at her, but her gaze remains fixed on him. Whether he means should be careful in general considering the night before or because of her mention of Izaya, she isn't sure. But it's all the same to her. Though, if he knew the amount of time she spends with Izaya... well, he might have opted to toss something at her. Who knows.

"I am. Don't worry." And then, because she knows both of them need to get going sooner rather than later: "Your boss will start looking for you if you don't get out of here soon."

Even not looking directly at her, it's difficult to miss the gaze she fixes on him. She seems--surprised? Well, though that probably makes sense. That was probably the last sort of thing she expected to hear from him, and Shizuo is almost a little surprised at himself too. (Although, thinking back, he can't help but wonder a little at how even normal gestures of concern seem to have startled her more than a few times, over the course of the previous night...)

He doesn't expect Namie to know precisely what--or rather, who--he means with a warning like that, and her seemingly confirming this is oddly relieving to hear. 'Don't worry'...that's a simple enough response. One to be expected. And Shizuo hadn't been expecting much else, so...that's good enough.

She follows it up by mentioning Tom after that, though, and this finally seems to bring Shizuo out of his reverie; he glances up at her, and it's his turn to be startled.

"Oh--right. Yeah." Shit, that is right...he looks down at the phone in his hand as if just remembering he's actually holding it, and draws a step back out of the hall and into the main room. "...See you, then," he finishes, somewhat lamely. But really, there's not much more to say apart from that.

Shizuo turns away, trails to the door and shows himself out, flicking open his phone and running Tom's voicemail as he starts down the apartment hall. Tom remarks on his lateness at his ear, expressing his concern in that mild and lighthearted sort of way. Shizuo approaches the elevator to find a couple of troubled apartment staff in front of it, preoccupied with some sort of cleanup and phoning up somebody doubtless law enforcement-related; he gives them a nod on his way past, expression impassive, and the staff pay no mind to the man in his rather battered bartender suit. He opts to take the stairs instead.

He's leaving Tom a voicemail of his own by the time he's done with the stairs, only mildly winded--seems his body is picking up the slack pretty well already--and he sidesteps more personnel murmuring in concern and gesturing to the now-cleaned entrance on his way across the lobby. Outside, he lights his cigarette; it's not great, but it'll do. And, as he sets off to meet up with Tom, Shizuo decides that it's probably about time he got a backup doctor anyway. Weird he never looked into it sooner...

[Probably no crack or smut, M/F for anything shippy.]

(m/f for shipping/smut, down for some crack options, cross canon and au welcome, assumed cr too!)

[ This wasn't exactly what she'd signed up for when she'd dropped into Gotham for a few days. She'd heard crime was... interesting in the city, but a fighting a giant crocodile that had burst out of a sewer was a little overwhelming, even for her.

She'd managed to put the thing down with the help of the Big Bat himself, but not without sustaining a few nasty bites and bruises.

Wincing, she takes up a perch on the steps of a nearby brownstone, fussing over the gash at her forearm.]

Don't suppose you carry whiskey and a sewing kit in that utility belt of yours...?

[ Bruce Wayne.

Now, rich white men don't really rank too high on Trish's list of desirable interview subjects, but Bruce does happen to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the city which means that her production team are absolutely gagging to get him on the show.

It can't be denied that it would probably get them a whole lot of listeners, mr. Wayne does seem to have a way with the ladies though she can't claim to know why personally, mostly because she doesn't know him at all, and she knows way better than to judge a man by what the media says about him.

She's been trying to reach him for a couple of weeks now but he has been very successful in dodging her attempts, though she has managed to have a couple of very pleasant conversations with his butler. She has yet to persuade the man to come and work for her instead but give her time.

It's time to pull out the big guns, which in this case meant getting dolled up and going to a fundraiser hosted by none other than her intended victim.

Maybe the fact that her tight, blue dress is very flattering will soften the blow of getting cornered by a headstrong media personality a little. ]

Good evening, Mr. Wayne.

[ info in his journal! m/m for shipping; no smut please; ask first for crack ]

[m/f for shipping, no smut.]

[no smut]

[Can play from either 01 or 02 era. Neutral on shipping with him, but no smut.]

[no crack. m/f for shipping, ask before smut.]

[ No smut. ]

Edited 2016-03-22 22:15 (UTC)

[ no smut or anything shippy for this dude, sorry! unless you're andrew. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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random scenario

Paprika

Thor | MCU | ota

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Matt Murdock | Daredevil | OTA

rey | a star war

ren | star wars

karen page | mcu

Choromatsu Matsuno | Osomatsu-san

why did I roll 5-7 after suffering episode 24 WHYYYYYYY (spoilers for that ep btw)

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help my icons aren't angsty enough I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS

YOU'RE not ready enough?

Re: YOU'RE not ready enough?

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bilbo baggins | the hobbit

Goz | Area-D

yagiri namie | durarara!! | ota

1,4; wow rng close to canon much

i had your thread open in a tab to tag it. excellent timing

WHAT A COINCIDENCE...yes clearly this is meant2be

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