call me out

[marshwiggle]

muse list

▪ all muses on the linked page are eligible for call outs! if they're in the ( tba ) list, they may be needing icons as yet. confidence in voices will vary, but that's what voice-testing is for!

▪ please put the name of the character you would like in the subject line.

▪ any format is fine, i'll match prose or bracket style.

▪ feel free to jump in with a scenario, roll or randomly generate one, or ask for plotting. happy to work out a longer psl to take beyond this post, if i have a character here with whom you'd like to play a plot!

▪ open to gen or romance, canon or cross-canon, aus, adventure, slice-of-life, fantasy, angst, and horror to some extent. can do smut with certain characters; if you're unsure, please ask! m/m, m/f, and f/f all fine with me.

▪ basically, i'm open! if you're ever unsure, please feel free to ask in a comment here or through a pm.

( i'll probably pretty this up later lol )

Comments

Riki! :) I hope this is okay!

[phakeout]

The slums of Ceres were nothing new to Akechi. Having grown up there from Guardian, it had been some years since he last returned. Three.. or was it four? Carving a path for himself from that disgustingly unique slum to ascend to having an apartment in Midas was no small feat. He even ran a decent business for himself, as underhanded as his methods could be.

Sometimes, there was no choice but to stoop to such means. If it meant he could sit in someplace decent a little longer, in the detective agency that he had carved out for himself and himself alone, there was very little that he'd shy away from the keep it. Years of honing his body and intellect - to allow him to attain and rise beyond the street-smarts of the slums - could never be for naught.

As it was, the filth-kissed air greeted him as it had years before. Uncaring to blend in, he'd donned his usual fancy suit, tie, and black gloves. After stopping by his old gang (of which he was not, and never had been, leader,) to catch up after awhile, he moved on to his true goal: a bar in an out of the way place. He never drank a lot to begin with, and he drank even less after he'd moved up int he world (finding his disgusting roots wasn't easy!,) and his fake documents eventually turned legitimate thanks to his navigation of the systems in place.

The bartender greeted him at first stiffly, and then a little more warmly once they recognized Akechi. Ordering the strongest drink there was, he surveyed the area only to notice a familiar gang at one of the tables: Bison.

Their groups had more or less left each other alone, to his recollection, by they were by no means friendly. They simply had no reason to interfere or interact with each other.

In any case, Akechi knew that his presence alone, in all its peacock-like glory, had drawn a few stares in general, though he only paid enough attention to the basics in order to avoid staring in return. Red-brown eyes glanced down at the watered-down liquor in his glass, and sipped it. The familiar burn brought back memories as well, and while his tastes in alcohol had adapted to more refined flavors over the past couple of years, by no means could he ignore the potency of familiarity, to the comfort, of something so frequently imbibed by comparison.

Hearing some noises of at least one chair scraping against the floor, Akechi braced himself, mentally, for violence. Or at the very least, harassment. The pistol he carried in his jacket, and the knife in his pocket, gave him some comfort of safety, but he knew that openly reaching for it right now would only cause more trouble than solve.

it's lovely~

[slumdog]

When the young man first entered the bar, the members of Bison couldn't help but notice him: at a glance, they nearly mistook him for Kirie, who was lately sporting stylish new threads and flashing his sudden good fortune around. Just the other day he had even stopped by, trying to get them to join in on a job he had; though Riki had turned him down, put off by his naive arrogance (and in no small part unnerved with how much Kirie reminded Riki of himself at that age), he feared for a moment that he had returned to persist on the matter.

But as he watched the man approach the bar, Riki could tell he was nothing like Kirie; where that boy flaunted his new-found status, preening for attention and ready to boast, this young man seemed much more settled in the position he held. He struck Riki as vaguely familiar, and reminded him of the days when he worked for Katze. For Riki, it would have been just as surprising to see him enter this bar as it was to see this stranger; there was a certain air they shared that the mongrels of Ceres simply did not possess.

Riki pulled his gaze away from the young man; intriguing as he was, he had nothing to do with them, so he was best ignored. The rest of his gang, however, did not seem to feel the same, all of them openly staring across the room at him. Riki scowled. He understood their curiosity and really couldn't blame them for it, knowing it was his past - those three years kept as a pet in Tanagura - that tempered his own interest. Yet he couldn't help feeling bothered, even alarmed, by their active interest, both in Kirie's new mysterious connections, and this stranger now. If only they knew the regret Riki felt for his prideful thinking as a youth, if only he could share the consequences of his ambition, perhaps they would understand his desire for quiet, to keep the status quo, now.

That was the one thing he could never tell them, though.

"Hey, Riki, that guy-" Sid said, leaning across the table toward him, "-do you think he knows anything about Kirie? Maybe he could hook us up with his connections too-"

Riki cut him off with a firm shake of his head. "Drop it," he muttered. "What that brat's up to is none of our business."

Sid sat back, frowning, but staying quiet all the same. Luke, beside him, grunted softly, a look of irritation crossing his face. "You may not care, Riki, but we do." He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, slamming his glass down on the table. "I'm gonna go find out."

Before Riki could do much more than stand up from his own seat, Luke had walked over toward the young man, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "Hey, you workin' with Kirie?" he asked.

:D Yay!

[phakeout]

Akechi was so grateful that he quelled his startle reflex years ago. The touch didn't even draw a flinch as he was addressed, and he turned a little as the contact of Luke's hand met his shoulder. Without a word at first, he nudged Luke's hand off of him and regarded him with an expression that was both irritation and... vaguely, respect?

"Goodness, a few years of working in Midas, and I've forgotten how blunt we mongrels can be."

Flashing a bit of a smile, one almost playful in nature, he shrugged. Even so, it was definitely a smile with a dagger's edge behind it, but whether it was drawn or not, it wasn't easy to say.

"Might I ask whom is asking? I'll trade information, but you can't expect it for free." Looking him over, he gave a slight roll of his shoulder, and then turned away just enough to retrieve his glass, chugging the contents and silently tapping the bar, asking for a refill. He received it, and brought the glass back to his lips to sip it.

"Not even a member of Bison gets free stuff."

[slumdog]

Riki startled as the young man spoke, not shocked by the mention of Midas - his manner alone implied as much - but at the phrasing "we mongrels". Sure, there was work for even Ceres slumdogs in Midas, given the connections and the drive, but the way the stranger spoke, Riki could tell the difference between him and Kirie - and yes, his own self, when he was still naive and thought a strong enough will was enough to claw one's way up to the top.

Had this man done what Riki could not - escape the slums with his pride intact? And if so, what was he doing back here? Though he had stood to stop Luke from bothering him, Riki found himself compelled by curiosity to approach the stranger. He strode across the small room toward them, ignoring the questioning stare Guy threw him as he did so.

Clapping Luke on the shoulder, he gently but firmly moved past him; a silent order to back down that the man obeyed, although reluctantly. Riki slid onto the bar-stool beside Akechi, signalling to the barkeep for a drink, but keeping his attention on the young man.

"Good to know we made such an impression that you recognize us even now," he said as way of response. "I'm afraid I can't say the same for you, sorry."

Luke still hovered on the edge of the conversation, watching Riki with confusion. Riki paused and glanced over at him, his expression intense, his communication silent. After a moment, Luke turned around and returned to Bison's table, grumbling under his breath.

His drink had arrived during that brief exchange. He reached for it and took a swig, his head inclining back and exposing his neck as he gulped it down.

"So, you deal in information or something? You seem to have more of it than we do, if you know us by sight..." Riki frowned, considering... Placing his glass down on the bar, he looked directly at the young man, leaning forward a little.

"Names," he said. "I'll trade you, mine for yours. I'm Riki; what about you?"

[phakeout]

"Mn. That's fine. The gang I was affiliated with has a reputation even quieter than the infamous Jeeks, after all, and I myself tended to keep my head down." Of course, there was no need to tell them by name. They couldn't, and wouldn't, pose a threat to Bison at all, holing themselves up in their own corner of the slums.

He tried not to stare, however, as Riki gulped his drink down. Shit. There was no one in Midas whose heart would be unaffected by him of all people, and Akechi found himself swallowing slightly in reflex. Fortunately, it was easy enough to keep his expression completely composed, and without the slightest blush.

"I've made a name for myself as a detective for the common-folk. I mostly work with domestic issues that the police would rather avoid, without having to report to them directly. My name is Goro Akechi. Here, I don't mind being called 'Goro', but outside of here, I'll have to politely ask you to use 'Akechi' when addressing me."

Maybe being on the "side of the law" wasn't the best thing, but it was work, and it kept him busy. And... he did genuinely enjoy his new business.

"So, I don't deal with information, precisely, but I know where to get it, and how much it costs, and how to worm my way around using loopholes. Back then, I just happened to be rather fond of the concept of Bison, without having the courage to step forward. You all just happened to leave a mark behind in my mind for the long-term. So I used that fire to reach high."

Bringing a gloved fingertip to his lips, he then sipped more of his drink.

"It's a comfortable living. Not boring, but not dull, either, and it pays the bills without leaving me scrambling between payments. It's taken me the better of six years to get this far. A lot of luck was involved, avoiding the gaze of those I didn't want to draw near, and getting the attention of those I did." He'd dove out into the world at fourteen, and was now twenty. A lot of luck was had.

"In any case, as for what your companion asked, while I sometimes see a person named Kirie in passing - he has heterochromatic eyes, and curly hair, yes? - we do not work together. If I may, someone with his poor attitude and fire would only hurt my business if he was. I try to avoid him if I can."

As much as he normally would put on a fake smile, Akechi let his mild disdain show through.

"As he is, he's nothing but hasty decisions, misplaced charisma, and bad news. Well, that's my professional opinion. He just rubs me the wrong way whenever we talk. It's a bother."

[slumdog]

"No arguments here," Riki said, hiding a mirthless smile behind the rim of his glass. "He's nothing but a brat who doesn't understand how the world actually works. The way he's going, he's setting himself up to fall hard when reality hits."

He shrugged, putting his glass down on the bar. "Well, doesn't matter to me one way or the other. He'll learn the hard way, and whether he can walk away from the experience or not, means nothing to me either way."

Riki leaned back in his seat, looking at Akechi with a gleam in his eye. "Sounds like you've got things figured out, though. Goro, was it?" He folded his arms across his chest, the corners of his lips turning up in a slight smile. It's not exactly a friendly expression, but one that does betray the keen interest Akechi's brief introduction has lit within him. It's some small part fueled by envy, amazed that this man has apparently achieved the dream a younger, much-less-wise Riki had to abandon long ago, ever since Iason first placed that damned pet ring around his cock.

"I'd love to hear more about how you managed all of that, sometime. Must be one hell of a story."

Shifting in his chair, he unfolded his arms, reaching for the glass again and taking a sip, before placing it down again and leaning forward. His elbows rest against his knees, his chin cupped in his hands as his new posture brought him in closer. Lowering his voice, he said, "But I'm more interested to know why a mongrel who escaped the slums would return to it after so long. I'm assuming it's not just a social call?"

[phakeout]

Akechi took him in, a little bit amazed that he has gripped Riki's interest so thoroughly. It was a bit daunting, and he found that the flush on his face was not entirely due to his drink. He managed a faint laugh, and nodded.

"You would be correct. Officially, I'm looking into the whereabouts of a Midas citizen named Charlene Anders. Rumor has it she's found herself a lover from here, and she's sold her estate, as well as many belongings. Her parents want her to come back, never mind that she's an adult and can take care of herself, for good or ill. But they worry more about their reputation than her. So, I'm going to at least make sure she's well first before I take further action. Be far it from me to stop someone from living a happy life, no matter what hardship lies before them."

A beat, and he shrugged a little. "Would you like to assist me? I'll split the payment. And it'll be easier to cover more ground that way with numbers."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a picture of a fair-haired woman with curly blond hair.

Playful, he cracked a soft smile.

"Unofficially, I missed the alcohol, anyway. Midas has such exquisitely-made alcohol that sometimes, the burn is too smooth. Might as well take a little trip down nostalgia lane while I'm here before getting to work."

[slumdog]

Riki's eyebrows visibly raised as Akechi told him about the job, surprise evident in his features. Females were rare enough in this world and unheard of down here in the Ceres slums; that one should willingly run away here, giving up her status, her possessions, everything for the sake of love? Riki couldn't begin to imagine what force of emotion could push someone to sacrifice so much for nothing more than a feeling. For the briefest of moments, his mind strayed to Mimea, recalling the way she'd called out to him when he had turned away from her. But that wasn't quite right, more attraction to the novelty in it for both of them: he had never been with a woman before, and she was intrigued by the mongrel pet among the pedigree breeds of the salon. And of course, for Riki, there was the act of rebellion in it too, a little thing to prick at his master's pride. He had paid in pain for it, though.

Sitting back up, he reached out toward the picture, catching it by the corner to tilt it toward him without taking it from Akechi's hand. Charlene Anders, huh... She was lovely, young and seemingly innocent, her blond hair like gold; he could certainly see how a mongrel from the slums could fall for her, but could they protect her from the rest of the rabid dogs here, itching for a bite? Her lover must have good connections or a strong gang to shelter them, or else he was a foolhardy idiot who had likely lost her already.

Riki glanced over at his own group, still seating at their table, appearing laidback, but all with a curious eye and ear turned toward them; Guy didn't even try to pretend, his whole focus turned on Riki.

"You get paid whether she's forced back home or not?" he asked, turning his attention back to Akechi. "If so, then we're in. You can count them in too," he gestured with a slight headtilt toward the rest of Bison. "Might be our reputation could open a few avenues of investigation for you.

"But this might not be the best place to continue a business discussion." Even drunk, slumdogs were never hard of hearing. "If you're really feeling nostalgic, I've got worse shit than this back at my place."

[phakeout]

"Yes, I get paid no matter what. I have no way of knowing that anything I do will be successful until I'm there, so clients pay a partial sum up-front. My reputation there, after all, tells them that I'm worth the cost."

Draining the last of his glass, Akechi paid and tipped the bartender a bit more generously than he remembered being able to before his ascension, and stood up, taking the photo back and putting it away.

He didn't mind that people overheard, though Riki had enough of a point.

"Stuff worse than this? Consider me in, after the job. I've considerably lost my endurance for alcohol over the years of staying mostly sober." Perhaps not the best admission by far, but Riki seemed to be the type to not appreciate even the slightest fib. Furthermore, he didn't want to be completely plastered on the job. His pride could take the hit easily enough, while pretending that it didn't make him wince a bit inside.

"As for your offer for your own connections, let's go somewhere else - your choice, since I don't know all of what's changed or stayed the same here - and talk it out. I'll give you more details as well, and, of course, answer any questions you like on the matter." Unspoken, of course, if Riki thought the deal smelled like shit, he was free to leave. He'd been working on his own for so long that he was used to it.

"I'll wait outside, if you still want to drink more before we start. I have time, but if you take too long, I'll leave without you."

Although he made his way to leave, his pace was deliberately slowed to show that he wasn't particularly looking to leave them behind. For now, he exited the building in order to absently rake his hand through his hair, and then idly put it back into place. The lingering acrid taste of alcohol stayed on his tongue, prompting his mind to drift to times past. He wondered how his younger self would feel to see him now.

But, that didn't really matter now, did it? Akechi was rather contented with his station, and so long as he remained careful, he could keep it. Honestly, this sort of temporary(?) alliance had him somewhat giddy. With Riki the Black assisting him, he had no doubt that he could find the woman.

And honestly, if she was safe, he had no intention of making her return home, anyway. The transaction logs were legitimate on Charlene's part, and not even sudden. These transactions had been happening slowly over the months - and over the course of nearly a year - likely to stave off any suspicion. And then, taking the plunge had likely been what tipped her parents off.

Perhaps he could call in a favor to falsify a death certificate for the woman....

Well. Hopefully it would be falsified.

[slumdog]

Riki watched as Akechi stood up and settled his check with the bartender, his own drink half-forgotten on the bar beside him. He stood as Akechi suggested they continue their discussion elsewhere, prepared to follow him, but as he offered to wait for him, Riki thought better of it. At the very least, he should let the others know he was heading out before he went. With something new and interesting to focus on, to break up the monotony of boredom in which they usually wallowed, Riki didn't feel much like drinking more tonight; the alcohol dulled his senses and helped him feel numb - a blessing, most days, when all he wanted to do was forget his shame and drown out the feeling that lay just beneath his skin, that he no longer belonged here.

Draining his glass, as it would be a shame to waste what little money he had, Riki headed over to Bison's table, where four pairs of eyes stared up at him, varying degrees of interest and curiosity depending on how many drinks in they were in. None of them spoke, but their expressions told of their expectations.

"Well, I'm heading out for the night," he said, almost casual in his tone. As though Riki ever headed out of bars with beautiful strangers before. "Meet up tomorrow at our hideout, may have a job for Bison."

He stood at the edge of the table for a few seconds more, making sure they understood his message, then turned to leave. He'd only taken a few steps toward the door, however, when he felt a strong hand grab his arm, just below the elbow, and turn him around.

It was Guy. Unlike the others, his eyes were clear, his brow furrowed with concern and - perhaps jealousy, as well.

"Riki, where are you going? Who the hell is that guy?" he hissed, keeping his voice low to keep the others from hearing.

Riki shook his hand off, his expression tightening. "He's no one, Guy. He may have a job for us, so I'm just going to find out some more. I'll tell you and the others about it tomorrow. That's all this is."

Of course, that wasn't true, as Riki had a personal interest in learning more about Akechi, an envy of his own that he hoped to satisfy. But how could he possibly explain that to Guy without revealing everything that had happened to him in those three years of absence? Without revealing his past as a Pet, without telling him about Iason Mink, without showing him his deepest shame?

Guy wouldn't understand, and Riki feared the look he might see on his face if he ever learned the truth.

But Guy wouldn't be brushed off so easily; he had lost Riki for years, only to gain him back yet find him colder, distant, not at all the charismatic ball of fire that had drawn so many in when they were younger. Riki still cared deeply for his former pairing partner, but he wouldn't - couldn't - share the same relationship they had before, and it confused Guy to no end. Now, seeing Riki walk off with another young man, Guy's jealousy would not be silenced so off-hand.

"Riki, are you- Is he-" Guy sighed, turning his head down, frustrated out of the words he wanted to say, but feared asking. "...I know we've never talked about it, since you got back, but I- I guess I always thought that we might still be...partners?" He glanced over at the door. "Are you and he...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"No," Riki replied almost at once, leaning in toward Guy as he spoke. His expression was intense, a desperation on it that Guy didn't understand. But for Riki, the thought of sleeping with anyone, after his experience with the Blondie, was utterly unthinkable. "No, Guy, that's not what's happening here. It's just business."

He gestured back at the table behind them. "Go back. I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

Before Guy could respond, Riki turned around and walked out the door. That had taken a little longer than he'd intended, so he was pleased to find Akechi still outside, waiting for him as promised.

"Hey. Let's go back to my place; it's not too far from here. You can tell me more when we get there."

Hoping he would follow, Riki started to head away from the bar, in the direction of his apartment.

[phakeout]

Hm? Not with the others? Alone? Alone, well... Akechi could fight much better than he used to - the necessities of the job for more violent cases - and he was armed well enough with a pistol and a knife, but this was surprising.

"Ah. I was under the impression the others would be joining us for this discussion. But that's alright."

He followed then, quickly catching up to walk beside him. Glancing at him with curious red-brown eyes, he wondered just what he was getting into now. Not... that he minded too much. And while he could appreciate Riki's good looks - and he knew that he was attracted to folks of both sexes - for him, this was just business as well.

From chugging it as he had, the alcohol was starting to hit him a little, but he managed to keep his composure up well enough to keep from showing how his footsteps might sway on accident.

"I assumed it would be prudent to let them all ask questions, but perhaps I only think that way because I've been away for so long." Akechi cracked a faint smile, sheepish, and settled one hand into his pocket as they walked. "So please forgive me if my proper manners are off." But he didn't really sound all that sorry about it even if he did forget. In this case, anyway.

"Ah, but... am I right in thinking that you want to talk to me about things that... you don't want them to hear?" he asked, lips set into a slightly worried expression. "I'm fine with it, if that's the case. I won't speak a word to anyone else. And if not, well, now you know for the future."

[slumdog]

Riki waved off his apology with a shrug of his shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he said, glancing over at Akechi beside him to reassure there was no need to worry. "The rest of them are too much into their cups to think with a clear head right now. Figured you can meet with them in the morning, once they've sobered up." And, Riki reasoned, it would give him a chance to gain a better understanding tonight whether this - partnership? alliance? - would work out well. Bison's headquarters weren't exactly secret or anything, but he'd still prefer to take his time before inviting a stranger into their midst.

...And as Akechi surmised, there was an ulterior motive to Riki inviting him alone to his place. He had questions: about Midas, about how Akechi managed to establish himself there, to rise above his status and obtain citizenship. He wanted to know...but he had a feeling that to earn that knowledge, he might have to share some of his own sordid background. His gang could never learn of it - especially not Guy.

In truth, though Riki longed for nothing more than to forget those past three years, there was a small part of him that was bursting to lay his burden with someone else, even if only for a short while. It was killing him to walk around with his secret and no one to share with. Akechi seemed...almost ideal in that sense. A cautious man who understood the value of information and the value of silence too, who knew what it was to be a mongrel and yet, by his very occupation, was destined to move on sooner or later.

He didn't know when he'd decided on it, but Riki wanted to tell him. Would it affect their business arrangement if he did? There was always petty jobs waiting around the corner, the loss of this more lucrative opportunity was a small price to pay for some psychological relief, he reasoned.

"...I see you're not half-bad a detective," he replied after a moment, his voice low. Riki kept his eyes turned forward, not meeting Akechi's eye as he spoke. "Yes, there...may be something I'd like to- to tell you. If you say it's fine, I may have to take you up on that."

Riki came to a stop then, in front of a darkened archway, beyond which stretched a flight of stairs. "Here. Just up this way." He started up, leading the way, to the door at the top. It only took a moment to unlock the door, and it swung open onto a moonlit room. The space was sparsely furnished, nothing more than a worn-down couch and a table before it, its cracked surface giving it the appearance it might break at any time. The window on one wall was large, the evening light streaming through the panes, casting a blue hue over the area. An open doorway on the other side of the room led toward the bathroom, and off to the far side was the bed, a small and unimpressive piece.

Riki held the door open for Akechi. "Make yourself comfortable."

[phakeout]

It was fine. How often was it that a mongrel managed to worm his way into such a seat of power (at least, compared to the lack of it in Ceres?) Anyone with half a brain cell would wonder.

He was relatively quiet, nodding with a soft sound in understanding. Of course he could talk, if he wished to. Once they're inside, and with Riki's permission, Akechi stripped his gloves off in order to put them into his pockets, followed by tugging his tie loose so his shirt opened up a little more. The alcohol made him feel warmer than he actually was.

After a moment, he carefully, slowly, opened up his jacket in order to take off his gun holster, and set it carefully on the table, followed by the knife he kept on his person, tucked in his boot. They looked incredibly well cared-for, and Akechi made sure to point the business end of the holstered gun away from the both of them, in a way that not even the safe end faced him, either.

Perhaps unwise, it was a gesture of good faith on his part, and only once he was unarmed did he fully look around, taking in the beautiful and wistful view.

After a moment, he shrugged out of his jacket, and settled that on top of his weapons, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows as he settled down on the couch. Old scars littered the exposed skin of his hands and forearms, faded with time but far from memory.

"Nice place you have here. I don't think even my old place was as good. The windows were broken and never repaired, for one," he commented lightly, with a faint smile, only for his expression to lighten with remarkably innocent playfulness. "The moonlight's a nice touch. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it romantic."

But this was business, not pleasure.

"Would you like me to talk first? Ask anything you like."

[slumdog]

Riki watched Akechi as he almost literally peeled his layers away, exposing his vulnerabilities before him. His eyebrows raised only slightly as the weapons came into view, but he noticed the deliberate way the other man turned them away. It was clear Akechi knew how to communicate without words, and his efficiency was to be admired. I am in your home and I am unarmed seemed to be the message he was sending Riki, a pointed way of reminding him to treat his guest properly.

Not that Riki had any other intentions. Following Akechi to the couch, he responded in kind, stripping off his jacket and placing it over the arm. He had a knife strapped on underneath; this was Ceres, after all, and former legends or not, the name of Bison carried with it certain expectations. He could never be too careful...but for now, he took it off and placed it on the table with the rest.

"Some meetings are best under moonlight," he replied, though whether he agreed that romantic ones fell under that category he did not say. Settling down on the couch, he turned his full attention on Akechi, his expression one of careful consideration.

"If I asked anything I liked, we might be here still for tomorrow's moonlight," he confessed. "I'm curious about how you managed to make it out of the slums, how you made your way in Midas. I can't imagine you did it without help?"

He glanced over at the window, but his sight was focused on the past. "...I tried, once. Found a job on the black market, maybe it could have worked out eventually, if my luck hadn't..." He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. Riki stared out the window for a moment more, than turned his attention back to his companion.

"I was working for a man known as Katze. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

[phakeout]

Listening carefully, Akechi weighed every word. Every twitch, gesture, tone, pitch, pace.... Nodding, he leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his lap.

"I certainly have. My information networks, while not as far-reaching, at least have enough strength to find a man so well-known among the underground. I worked for him, for a time, squirreling away my funds until I wouldn't need to. I learned very quickly that spending frivolously so early would not be good for me, long-term, so I pinched every credit I could. Went without meals if a payment I received was too low to save otherwise, if I had to. Above all, I wanted to realize my dream of getting out, permanently. And I only had a singular limit to my drive, which, fortunately, rarely came up.

"I worked along with the underground. Smuggling foreign and highly desired goods. Occasionally, I killed, in situations where my life and theirs were in a singular balance. Above all, I had to believe in the dream I had, and I had to live. If I lost faith in either, I would never achieve it.

"So I did. I've paid off my debts, and am running my own show. I do as I please, within the reason of my own moral compass, and I get paid for it. And if someone doesn't want to be found ever again, I help my clients with that, too. In the... non-violent way." Just so he was clear. "My clients are both the seeking and the sought. There's always more than one side to the story, and with my current contract, I have ample reason to believe that the person running away meant to do so."

A beat, and he laughed. "Ah, my apologies. I tend to get very excited about my work. It's the one thing I've wanted to do since I was a child, and the novelty has yet to wear off.

"I hope that answered your questions well enough so far?"

Yuuri! Soulmates AU

[rennotrin]

Over time, Ren had become aware of one thing: soulmates were real, and they were linked through their skin. It was something that hadn't taken root until his late teens, and while he felt that it would have been nice to have growing up, he was glad to have it now.

It didn't happen all that often for him - to see his soulmate's writing on his arms. Perhaps the person often washed it off first.

But Ren often did not. From minor reminders to pick up coffee from the shop, to a random drawing or two, Ren decorated his arms with miscellaneous writing and doodles. But in the end, never dared to write any words directed at the person he was linked to.

It took some years for him to stray from the States. After his twenty-first birthday, he managed to save up enough money to make Japan his next stop. From there, he decided to travel even further from there if he couldn't find what he was looking for.

Was it coincidence or fate? A building called Ice Castle catching his eye, he walked in (having left his belongings at an inn not too far away from there,) his hands in his pockets as he looked around.

Seeing someone already practicing there, he decided to watch a bit for now, idly pulling red a marker out.

...He was gorgeous on the ice, all dark hair, and the movements he made left him feeling oddly warm everywhere.

Note to self: watch ice skating more often, he wrote on the inside of his forearm. This guy on the ice is gorgeous. Of course, his native language was English, so that's what he wrote it in.

Maybe he'd get on the ice after the guy was done practicing. It would be less embarrassing to keep falling over when he wasn't being watched.

(Of course, the person working there caught his attention. He wound up paying for the time to skate, and borrowing some skates. RIP his booty, doubtless.)

Aladdin (Jazzmyn is a genuine male version of Jasmine! :D)

[sivtest]

Living as the son of a Sultana was no easy walk; never mind being the son of the Sultana of Agrabah. Prince Jazzmyn found himself struggling to create a proper pace between his increased tutoring and his own personal ventures. It always felt like he was increasingly stifled by books when all he'd prefer to do is venture beyond the castle walls.. He knew the death of his father deeply wounded his mother, but surely she knew that her son would need to see the world he'd reign over sooner or later?

He fought with her that day, Rajah chasing out a pompous princess, part of her robes between his fangs. He'd petted his faithful companion then, but made his decision early that night. In the dead of it, he found some servant robes, donned them, and climbed the tree to slip beyond the walls for the first time.

Once far away from the castle, he found a run-down, empty place to sleep, and did, watching the stars overhead with an awed smile. Although the stars were no different in actuality, for once, he felt a little more at peace.

Morning soon came, and Jazzmyn rose in order to explore the bustling marketplace, in awe of the wares. Frowning a little to himself at the sight of a young boy looking longingly at an apple cart, Jazzmyn quietly cursed himself for not swiping some gold from the treasury. Lowering his hood, he calmly reached for one of the large piercings in his ears, removed it, and dropped it in the merchant's hand before grabbing a few apples. Passing one to the boy, he looked around as he nibbled on the second, the remainder held steadily in a cloth bag in his free hand. Once more, he wandered, startling and nearly dropping the apple in his hand as another merchant excitedly offered his wares.

How worrisome, he thought. That even children go hungry in my kingdom. It was hard to fathom, honestly, but he didn't doubt the pain in that child's eyes.

It was something to bring up, he decided, unaware that showing such monetary wealth (even in the form of the remaining heavy earring on his ear, as well as the simple crown upon his head,) was prone to attracting company of a more unsavory type.

Well, might as well keep looking around, he decided.


[ooc: Got suddenly inspired. Figured this is a good start as any; we can always zip between points.]

[princed]

That morning, as most mornings went, Aladdin and his friends were out in the bazaar, scoping out the wares for the day. None of them had family nor trade nor training, and though they called themselves pals, they were connected mostly by circumstance: being that they had none, and were regarded by most as "street rats", young men with no means and empty bellies to fill.

As they vanished into the crowd, looking for a loose purse or unattended food stand, Aladdin fell behind to stop his monkey companion Abu from filling his arms with apples; his skinny arms could barely contain his haul, and the stall attendant was about ten seconds away from spotting him. Kneeling low so as to avoid being seen himself, he caught sight of the young man bartering with the apple stall merchant, catching the bright glint of gold that passed between hands. And still, the young man wore an earring of gold, easily spotted by anyone with a keen eye...or those looking out for an easy target.

Aladdin lingered behind for a moment, curiosity piqued by this careless or carefree person, and somewhat concerned. From the brief glance he got of the young man's face, he was quite handsome, and had an innocence about him that would be a shame to mar...

It was then that he noticed the two men who, like himself, were shadowing the young man. Even from behind, Aladdin recognized them as his friends Babkak and Omar, which meant Kassim couldn't be too far behind. They weren't the sort of group to resort to violence; at worst they would probably try to intimidate him a little to get the gold. It wasn't every day an opportunity passed by like this, so he couldn't blame them for wanting to try. And yet... Aladdin was intrigued. Who would walk into the marketplace and pay a gold earring for a handful of apples? Even more surprising, when he had handed one to the little beggar boy, keeping only the one for himself. No one showed that sort of kindness in this part of town...

Aladdin moved a little closer through the crowd, and in doing so, locked eyes with Babkak, who raised a questioning brow. Are you in? he seemed to ask. Quickly, he pondered that, then shook his head and raised a finger to his lips. He...had something else in mind.

He moved through the throng until he was nearly behind the young man, then, taking one of the apples Abu had managed to hang onto, rolled it along the ground to rest by his foot; Abu darted after it and he followed on his tail.

"Abu, stop that!"

He ran up, and scooped the monkey up, apple once again in his grip. Looking up with chagrin at the young man, he smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I think this was your apple? You must have dropped and, well, he couldn't help himself."

[sivtest]

"Ah!" A little startled, the prince smiled in answer, and shook his head. So the monkey's name was Abu, but who was... oh.

Jazzmyn, for a moment, felt his heart flutter in his chest in a peculiar way at the look of the handsome rogue before him. He took a breath to push the feeling aside, but the maddened pounding in his chest lingered. He'd been offered the hand of many a princess, but none had swayed his heart like this.

And this man, of course, was no princess. How peculiar. As problematic as it was, he found himself wanting to explore it. Ah, but no.. he had to be wed to a princess. The family line was too important to let end with him.

With a heavier heart, he tried to ignore that pounding, and couldn't. Nothing and no one else had made him feel this way.

He didn't want to ignore that feeling. Even if it would be painful to embrace it.

"Perhaps I did? But don't worry over it. If he wants it that much, he can keep it. It's only one." Reaching into the bag he carried, he pulled another one out, and offered that one.

"Would you like one as well? I can't possibly eat them all by myself." Or rather, if he was pushed to, he could, but would his taste buds permit the repetition? Not really.

"You may call me Jazzmyn, if you wish to." Flashing a warm (if, unconsciously, almost sultry) smile, he gestured slightly with the apple in clear invitation for him to take it. "Pleasure to meet you."

[princed]

Seen up close, Aladdin was struck by the young man's lovely features and that smile -- by Allah, what a smile that was! For a moment he felt struck dumb by the sight; nothing and no one he had ever met had seemed to him as quite so beautiful before. He honestly didn't know what to make of it, not that he had entertained much thought before to falling for someone. Waking up hungry every morning and going to bed hungry every night didn't give him much room for anything else...and growing up on the streets with a single mother certainly didn't endear Aladdin to the idea of passing on such circumstances to anyone else. But to look at a man like that...well, if it was this particular man, he was certainly easy on the eyes.

Aladdin looked at the offered apple in surprise, his smile growing slightly tight as he accepted it from the young man. He would never turn down food offered to him free of charge, but he couldn't help but wonder if he really looked that poor to him. Still, there's nothing about his manners that suggest anything but honest friendliness, and letting his pride stand in the way of what could be a pleasant and fruitful (in many ways) encounter won't do him any good.

"Thanks, Jazzmyn. I'm Aladdin, and this little thief here is Abu." He stowed the apple in his pocket for later, as Abu, sitting on his shoulder, had already begun to eye it covetously. "Your generosity is rare around these parts; I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

Casually, he leaned in towards the young man, bending his head close so he could add in a softer voice, "That kind of generosity doesn't go unnoticed here, unfortunately. Don't look now, but I think you're being followed." He glanced pointedly over at Babkak and Omar, who had stopped by a nearby stall, pretending to shop, but rather obviously keeping at least half their focus on Jazzmyn and Aladdin.

[sivtest]

"Not from this district, no. I'm afraid I tend to keep to myself a lot with my mother," he replied smoothly. A heartbeat after being warned, he eyed Babkak and Omar with a thoughtful stare, frowning a little, before it hit him why that might be. With a sigh, he pulled his hood back up, but the damage was already done. It wasn't hard for him to piece together that he might be robbed if he didn't exercise caution from here on out.

It wouldn't be good if he wound up having to return to the palace, and drew in these two lots. There was a subtle furrow to his brow as he worked to try to figure out how to lose them. Of course, the proximity between them was noticed, and he felt a little shiver tickle his spine, even though sometimes he spoke in such whispers with servants.

"Thank you for the warning, Aladdin. I'll be careful."

He couldn't involve Aladdin in this, he felt. He'd learned to fight to an extent, as was expected of the future Sultan, but he'd never had to actually use the training for what it was necessary for.

Lightly patting Aladdin's elbow in parting, he murmured, "You and Abu should be careful, too."

With quick, sure movements born from learning to sneak around a large palace, with a flooring that echoed as one walked upon it, he then did his best to dart swiftly but smoothly down an alleyway and around the corner.

Just then, the merchant working the apple cart really took a look at what he'd been given, and completely abandoned it, whistling happily, earring in hand.

[princed]

"Uh, yeah...you too." He blinked, almost bewildered by that light pat on his elbow. It was casual friendliness but much more polite than anything he was used to.

Was he just going to walk off on his own like that? Sure, he had picked up pretty quickly on what he'd been hinting at, so even though he seemed somewhat inexperienced, he wasn't a fool. Probably he was thinking to keep Aladdin from his troubles; Jazzmyn seemed like the sort to be more worried about others rather than himself. But as soon as he started to move away, his friends glanced over at him, their query clear on their faces: were they supposed to follow too? How did Aladdin want to handle this?

Just as he was pondering how to respond, Abu, seeing the unattended apple cart, leaped from his perch on Aladdin's shoulder and darted through the crowd toward it. Normally he wouldn't be too worried, as Abu knew the way back home and was a nimble, clever little monkey. But perhaps...

With a quick shake of his head at Babkak and the others, he begin to push his way through the crowd, following after Jazzmyn, catching sight of him as he rounded a corner down an alleyway. He turned down that way a moment later and ran up to him, reaching out to grab him by the shoulder.

"S-sorry to bother you, but Abu..." he looked around, feigning mounting concern, panting slightly as though from exertion. "Abu just ran off. Would you help me look for him? Normally I wouldn't worry, but sometimes monkeys like him get poached, to be taken across the desert and sold at foreign markets. I..." Aladdin shook his head, his rouse becoming a little too real as the truth actually managed to slip out. It wasn't a huge problem normally, but lately it had been happening more and more frequently in the area. Shit, what if they really did catch him?

"...I'm sorry, it's just, he's my best friend. And I could really use another pair of eyes, if you're willing. In exchange, I'd be happy to help you find your way through Agrabah; visitors can easily get lost around here otherwise."

He nodded toward the far end of the alleyway. "Like for instance? The only thing you'll find up ahead is the manure merchant. I...doubt that's what you're looking for, though."

[sivtest]

Jazzmyn wasn't moving slowly, either, so running to catch up was required. He stopped with a startled cry at the sudden grip on his shoulder, spinning around to almost deliver a sharp right hook, but stopped as soon as Aladdin spoke. At once, he dropped his fist, listening with a look of growing horror.

"Oh, no... It's not a bother. We should hurry and find him. Show me where you last saw him! And tell me about the spots he frequents, as well as his habits that you think are pertinent. Among those few points, we should be able to more easily narrow down where he likely will and won't be. On top of following the direction you last saw him."

Grasping Aladdin's wrist before he had even finished speaking, he backtracked to the street that they'd initially parted from, and unconsciously continued to hold onto Aladdin as he scanned the crowds with keen eyes, worry clearly written in his gaze. In Jazzmyn's eyes, Aladdin and Abu were no street rats, but among the many innocents that he needed to learn how to serve better than his parents' generation had.

Furthermore, he could not ignore this, especially on an individual level.

Of course, Jazzmyn's hold was easily broken if Aladdin chose to put significant distance between them, or offer to split ways to cover more ground. Otherwise, the prince's grasp was firm and warm, while his skin was almost silky soft, save for the odd callouses caused by sword practice, and tree-climbing.