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bakerstreet2018-07-21 12:08 pm
byok) wrote in bakerstreet2018-07-21 12:08 pm
Entry tags:
I get a little bit Genghis Khan
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Have you ever wanted to make sure everyone knew what was yours, so they'd keep their hands off? Well, if you haven't before, you're feeling that now, and those emotions are not towards a possession. They're towards a person you want to claim, no matter if your personality is territorial or not. Or maybe you're the one wanting to be claimed. Either way, this will end in sex that's either public, running a high risk of discovery and publicity, or that leaves marks There are as many reasons why this desire has cropped up as the imagination allows: frustration, sexual tension, disbelief of others that you're a couple, anger at others trying to steal what's yours, punishment or to remind someone they're yours, a personality-altering gas, hormones, heat, a mutual kink, for fun, for showing the world how much you love them, or even in order to save them and show some despots that this person is taken because better you than anyone else. How serious the "claiming" instinct also depends on entirely upon what you really want. Remember, wanting something to be your own isn't bad. how to play
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thank you, thank you, i'll be here till monday
Still, successful crazy people were arguably the most dangerous of all, weren't they?]
None. [Stated a little too firmly, as if it was a detailed testament of character instead of a personal flavor preference.] I don't need any.
[Let alone four, jeez...]
I don't know how you can take four and get that stuff down your throat.
[Perhaps ironically, he wasn't even trying for any kind of power play, moral or otherwise. This was just him making conversation.
... Okay, so maybe the humanizing was working a little, after all.]
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It helps keep me awake. Anemia has a way of inducing near permanent lethargy.
[He perfectly knew well that his problem could be solved by taking multivitamins and meals of better quality, but when one was engaged in a cat and mouse game against the locals from various factions, his options were limited more often than not.]
Based on your vehement response, I take it that you will disagree with this method.
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[Chuuya just liked giving his opinion, whether it was wanted or not. It didn't mean he'd insist on people agreeing with him, let alone on people changing their life choices accordingly.]
But that's definitely too sweet for me.
[He's sweet enough on his own, don't you know?]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx2u5uUu3DE
Then are you more partial to bitter tea? Or light and fragrant blends?
[One thing that might get lost in translation: the pot Fyodor is steeping may take fifteen minutes. It's not the perfect brew of zavarka he is accustomed to making at home, but the resulting concentrate is no less potent and still flavorful. Once done, he will pour half a cup's worth of concentrate, then dilute it with water from the electric kettle to taste.
The little mafia might not care for the intricacies of tea making, but that was no reason to not have a good cup. Perhaps with tea cookies.]
so that's where you got the hairspiration, fyo dos jovi...
[And booze at night, of course, but even Chuuya wouldn't hit that stuff too early. Mostly because then he'd pass out drunk long before the work day is over, and for all his flaws, his work ethic was strong.]
Tea doesn't have enough of a kick.
[In spite of his complaining about sugary tea, he might still eat some cookies. His body might be... concentrated... but it still needed energy.]
I did not notice that lmao xD have an upvote | his phone looks like it's from the same period too
[He takes off the lid of the teapot and peers in, careful to not look directly to avoid steam. Has it been fifteen minutes? Let's say it has been. The water used is a few degrees off after they were initially boiled, but it is still piping hot.
Satisfied, he pours half a cup for the both of them. The concentrate's color is a rich, dark amber, and he goes to retrieve the electric kettle and a plate of biscuits.
He'll take his seat once again after the cups are topped off with hot water, and begin adding his sugar.
The little mafia may start with the cookies, if he so wishes.]
I MEAN it's a bit of a stretch, but thanks to you I will never unsee it now
He's not even gonna comment on those spoons anymore. He doesn't have enough spoons for that.
With the tea obviously too hot to drink, he grabs a biscuit, leans back in his chair again, and starts crunching down on it.]
You didn't bring me here just for a tea party, did you? [He doesn't talk with his mouth full, but it's a near thing.] The longer I'm off the radar, the bigger the odds of my absence raising questions.
What's the plan?
accidental accomplishment acquired | lmk if this makes sense
for nowFyodor stirred his tea. Now, to business. What can and cannot be told at this moment in time.]
An outright attack during the convention will only postpone the agreement. Wherefore, it's more prudent to discourage one, if not all three, parties from pursuing this deal. It will be of their own volition, no less.
[The scientists, private institutions with a variety of backers and interests behind them, required funding and, more importantly, a legal shield for their planned activities. The Japanese Self-Defense Forces, the de facto military, restricted to peacekeeping activities and from having offensive weaponry, forced to find alternative means of defense and offense. The Ministry of Internal Affairs, tracking ability users, paramilitary troops, and other covert operatives, concealing their existence with their hold over telecommunications affairs and government red tape for the sake of national security.
Politicians were relatively easy to sway and influence. Already, the incidents with the Guild brought into question what the government was doing to protect its citizens, and the military needed to prepare to address those concerns. Fyodor could engineer a plot for them to consider alternatives, or be forced to drop the project.
It was the scientific community he needed the little mafia to work on. Both his history and his experience made him the ideal bloodhound - perhaps, not fully in the way the other expected.]
The researchers will be introducing to an exclusive crowd several successful case studies on the night of the gala. By then, those from government will be re-evaluating this deal due to other factors, but the finishing blow must be felt by all three parties.
Wherefore, we will be at the gala disguised and under assumed identities, and, upon subduing their security, offer those subjects a rare opportunity to decide their fate: to set back the project with their own hands with the remaining time afforded them, or lose the last vestiges of themselves in secret if the military takes them in.
[Fyodor tapped his temple.]
They are seals whose personalities are designed to fade over time to render them docile for their new masters, you see, and their caretakers elected to not inform them of this change.
[Unlike how the little mafia's case turned out. Quite the coincidence, no?]
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But, unfortunately for Chuuya, he forgot any suspicion which that logic might have aroused as Fyodor started detailing his plan. It was interesting - and damn convenient too, letting the test subjects do all the hard work. Maybe Chuuya could avoid being killed by Mori, after all.
Still, that was just barely a silver lining, all things considered.]
They've gone that far, those bastards?!
[He wasn't surprised, of course. The world was a grim place, and people were capable of terrible things - and often eager to do them, too. That was just how things were, and Chuuya had neither the inclination nor the desire to change it. But this was fucked up all the same, and would likely feel more fucked up when he met those test subjects and laid things out for them.
Fuck... He was gonna need something a lot stronger than tea, afterwards.]
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He sipped his tea while this one expressed his outrage. The matter only went downhill from a humanitarian perspective. Fearing that the subjects could turn against them at some point, the research director ordered the placement of other safeguards. Euphoria was induced as a reward, and anything from sedation, pain, or instant death could be used for punishment.
It was all very Pavlovian.
Fyodor could appreciate the benefits of such control.]
It's a black tie affair. Bring something that you do not typically wear.
[He didn't need to acknowledge the outburst.
From his inner pocket, he withdrew three cards. Each carried a set of bullet points written in Japanese: one describing a male high-end escort, another for a female business associate, and one other profile. All roles that would not be associated with Mafia Executive Nakahara Chuuya for the sheer difference in either social status or preferred modes of expression, yet considered for the projected ease in which the little mafia could adapt to the part.]
Pick one.
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... Are you kidding me?
[A very rhetorical question, which popped up (to no one's surprise) at the card with the female persona. Sure, he could look the part of a woman easily enough - and he didn't even mind dressing that way too much, if it was for a purpose. The problem was having to talk and act like some business lady. It was too much effort - and, frankly, just rubbed him the wrong way.
With that card flicked at the table, effectively discarded, he considered the other two for a bit.]
This one.
[The male escort. Why the fuck not? He could make it work somehow.]
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That was fine. It meant Fyodor would mainly be the one to handle socializing before the both of them had to break away from the event.]
Very well. [Fyodor took a tea cookie and nibbled on it.] Your hair color stands out.
[A statement of the obvious meant as instruction for one who might not accept a direct command from him: do something about it.
It also went without saying that this one needed to burn the card once he was done memorizing the details.]
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Yeah, yeah... [Don't bitch about his hair, now.] It'll be fine if I slick it back, right? It'll go darker that way, too.
[Thus changing both the 'do and the color. He wasn't about to cut his hair or dye it, though. Even apart from how he just plain didn't want to, it would attract attention when he went back to the mafia.]
How are you planning to disguise yourself, Petrovich-sama?
[The most sarcastic -sama in the history of the suffix. Chuuya wasn't really expecting an answer, either, but asking the question was making a statement, in a way.]
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"Kolya," or "Nikolasha."
[Both diminutive names, the latter more intimate than the former. Whichever this one can pronounce on a reasonable level, when Japanese used R's for L's.]
Wait and see, dorogoy. [He tapped the skin beneath his eye, aware of the slight discoloration from the lack of sleep. The nickname he also skipped interpreting - it was one picked to imply comfortable and intimate familiarity between Mikalaj and his escort with a touch of foolishness.] You will forget about these.
[A hair tie and glasses. The frames would partially conceal the dark shadows under his eyes, and a different style of hair may add a touch of neatness to his usually lanky hair.]
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[Maybe it was just Chuuya, but it reminded him too much of a certain bastardization of "kore wa". Funny, sure, but being funny wasn't the goal here - and besides, using that kind of slang, however unintentionally, was likely to make him slip into his usual speech patterns. Not exactly appropriate for an escort.
Damn shame. Kolya was nice and short.]
Nikolasha, then.
[However that originated from the full name. Seriously, Russian made no sense.
Side-eyeing Fyodor at that nickname - which sounded awfully close to the Japanese for "thief" to Chuuya's barbarian and biased ears - he nevertheless opted not to ask. It would be something that made sense in context, or Fyodor wouldn't use it. Chuuya just had to trust in that.]
An egghead look to match the job, huh? At least nobody will blink an eye at your scrawny body.
[Clearly Chuuya could comment on such things. Yup.]
no subject
(If Chuuya cared to look it up, he'd also discover that in some contexts, it could be used in a patronizing manner.)
This one could comment, just as Fyodor would be unaffected. There was little to be done about his body type when he wasn't inclined to exert more exercise than walking, and he had other concerns beyond his constitution. Besides, looking so lifeless and unassuming had its advantages - he either frightened those who held him captive, or inspired overconfidence that they could break him - until they made the mistake of touching him.
Of course, it wouldn't do to look gaunt during the event. There were ways around that.]
Least of all his escort, who agreed to their terms. [He peered at the little mafia over his tea cup before sipping.] Although Mikalaj does ensure he thoroughly satisfies his companions needs.
[Now, guess what those needs may be.]
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That's just money, right? An escort is an escort.
[Escorts were expected to play a part and behave some kind of lovey-dovey, depending on what their patron was looking for, but there'd never be more to it than the superficial. It was business.
Or so Chuuya presumed. His experience with these things was limited, okay?! He had other specialties.
Having finished his biscuit, he finally went for the tea, himself.]
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It's not a service you've availed of in the past.
[Fyodor might be the one handling most of the talking, though this one would be on the receiving end of certain looks. Not to mention, they did have to look convincing. What was the point of a disguise otherwise?
This one should be able to come to his own conclusions, though - if not now, then shortly. Fyodor continued to nibble on his tea cookie as he observed the little mafia. His reaction should be entertaining, perhaps doubly so by the fact he chose the role.]
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[Have a highly insulted glare for that. Chuuya may not be an infiltration specialist - at least: not the kind that requires playing a part - but he's no idiot. Besides, if this is what it takes to get the job done, so be it.]
I can play affectionate enough around you to sell it. And even if I sucked, people would buy it. Nobody expects an escort to have actual feelings for a client.
[That's about it for Chuuya's conclusions so far, alas.]
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[Having emptied his cup, Fyodor poured himself another cup and redid his routine with the four spoons. Prove it, little mafia.]
Pretend this rundown room is a high end tea house and we are surrounded by vapid socialites. What will you, as my date, do?
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He rose, and considering the expression on his face, Fyodor might be forgiven for presuming Chuuya was going to walk out on the deal altogether. But instead, after a quick, deep breath, Chuuya set himself in motion another way, grabbing the plate of biscuits off the table and wandering over to Fyodor to sit on the arm rest of the guy's chair, legs crossed over each other in a vague attempt to make the pose decent. Chuuya offered the plate with a barely-there smile that was a toned-down version of his smirk rather than something new entirely - and yet it came out remarkably suitable for the occasion, the faintest hint of suggestiveness in it. Still, it was telling of both Chuuya's acting talents and lack thereof that, while his body language was quick to adapt, his expression was the last to follow suit. He'd never been all that good in keeping his emotions off his face.]
Take one, Nikolasha. You barely had anything for lunch, too.
[... Was he a mother or an escort!? Either way...]
lmk if this makes sense
Thank you, zaya moya. [Lookit, more nicknames he won't translate for this little rabbit. Fyodor took a cookie and lifted it to the other's mouth, waiting to see if he'd bite.] Taking delight once more in making those in the next table jealous?
[Pretty sure this kind of PDA was more suited for a bar than a Western-style tea house. Unless the kind of tea house this one had in mind was the traditional local one, complete with having the full attention of a courtesan.]
d ^^
Why not? Everyone should be jealous of us.
[He opened his mouth with a little "ahhh~" for effect.
Chuuya just didn't do blending in very well. He rather enjoyed the right kind of attention - and clearly this was it. In his opinion, this kind of contact was downright chaste. Had it been a bar, Chuuya would have just climbed into Fyodor's lap.]
no subject
Joke's on you, Chuuya. Fyodor would probably be familiar with the language, his irl equivalent having gone to a French boarding school.His prudence in seeing what kind of act this one would do had its payoffs. At least now he saw what sort of garish display he could work with. From this, the reclusive Mikalaj would be somewhat more relatable to those present at the gala, particularly those who looked down upon academic exploits in favor of pursuing power, wealth, and lust.
Should the other take a bite of the cookie, Fyodor would wrap an arm around his waist.
Would this one allow himself to be seated on Fyodor's lap, and how much of his awareness of Fyodor's ability would interfer with the act?]
True as that may be, it would not do for them to choke on their food or suffer a heart attack from envy. It ruins the decor.
no subject
To think they could have bonded over frogs...By now, there was little point in being afraid of Fyodor's ability. If he wanted Chuuya dead, he could have killed him already - or died trying, but the line of reasoning stood, regardless.
Besides, two could play the touched-based ability game. Were Chuuya to die, he was determined to at least take Fyodor with him - and while that wasn't an outcome he was aiming for, it would still be a job well done. No regrets.
So he did indeed take a bite of that cookie, and while that arm sneaking around him caused Chuuya's eyes to widen, he didn't let the shock stop him. What he did, with surprisingly good instincts, was to let it color his in-character behavior, his face flushing a little as he ended up in Fyodor's lap.]
Don't say that sort of thing when you're the one making me sit in your lap.
[God, he hated himself a little. But at least it was a convincing act? Probably??]
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