When Schuldig left the room, he was a mess and grinning.
Hair stuck out in all direction, seemingly uncaring about the prospect of gravity. There were soft pink lines along the lengths of his arms and collarbones and neck. Not deep enough or bright enough to demand attention, but enough to catch the eye. He was a vain creature, sure, but he also knew that vanity didn't always mean polished shoes and square-cut nails.
As if he would ever want to look like /that/. It took the promise of many gifts and the threat of having certain parts of his person removed to get him in a stiff suit.
The redhead ran a hand through his mane, preening at no one in particular as he walked down the busy Tokyo street, fingers looped through low-slung belt-loops and shirt decidedly rumpled. And ruined, most likely, judging by the red stain between collar and heart. Blood, possibly, but possibly also wine. The first he knew how to get rid of.
Catching his reflection in a window, he decided that it didn't matter. Nothing mattered at the moment except that it was Friday and he was...
He caught his image in a more flattering window and winked.
Debauched chic, he decided, should be the latest fashion. It was certainly the cheapest.
It was almost noon by the time he reached Schwarz's front door, wincing as he peeled off the shoes he had picked out the night before. They were kind that felt good until you actually had to do anything in them.
"Yo," Schuldig said to the empty hall, glancing around. He noted that the paint was starting to look a bit shabby. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch as he passed passed through the living room. "Guy comes home from a hard day at the office and no one welcomes him. Typical."
The house was quiet and grey aside from the addition of Schuldig, lights off but dusty sun peering in through cracks and slits. A television was on, somewhere, and the distant roar of cued laughter rang up. Heading for the kitchen, the telepath smirked and leaned on the doorframe.
Nagi had his chin on his hands as he sat at the table, Farfarello lounging against the counter on the other side of the room, both of them apparently fascinated by whatever show was on.
Wait, no. Schuldig reassessed and decided that neither of them were actually watching the television. Nagi's eyes had that annoyed glazed over look that usually signaled a tantrum while Farfarello glanced back and forth between boy and screen. At least he looked as amused as Schuldig was currently feeling.
On one of those glances the Irishman saw red and raised an eyebrow, attention on the German. "You look terrible," he observed.
The Irish clearly had no sense of style. "Thanks, Far."
Nagi finally looked over and glared. "Where's Crawford? I thought he was coming home."
"Still at the office. This new guy likes having us around all the time; we should probably demand overtime or something," Schuldig drawled as he trudged over to fridge.
The telekinetic's mouth twitched. "But I thought it was your shift tonight too."
Schuldig gave up on the fridge, declaring it a hopeless cause, and moved on to the cabinets. "Crawford decided to take it. Nice, huh? Probably doesn't think I can be a polite bodyguard for the suit and tie man."
Farfarello gave him a once over, to the telepath's growing amusement, and snorted. "It doesn't seem like either of you were guarding his body."
"Stress relief, Far. Very important in this business. And it puts our fearless leader in such an agreeable mood," Schuldig grinned and flicked his hair over his shoulder.
"So you conned Crawford into taking your shift. Wonderful," Nagi muttered.
Grabbing a pack of fruit snacks, the German went and slumped into the chair next to their youngest teammate. Taking one Hello Kitty shaped treat, he popped it into his mouth and said, "You bet."
The Japanese boy wrinkled his nose and shifted slightly away.
One fire-colored eyebrow raised. "What's your problem, kid?" He had really hoped that the teenager had finally moved past the PMS-ing emo phase of his life.
Nagi pretended to love the television.
"There was a bunny on TV. Now Nagi is moody," Farfarello supplied.
"It's your fault. You're the one that said her name," Nagi snapped. Schuldig heard something crash in what was probably the beserker's room.
"Who?" Schuldig questioned even though he already knew.
"Bunny-girl weirdo," Farfarello chuckled. "Distant relative of the Penguin."
"Holy rusty island, not her again."
"Shut up," Nagi growled defensively, hunching over on himself. "I liked her, you bastards. Then you," his glare swung towards the albino man, "had to go and kill her."
"Call of duty. You brought her back to life again."
"Then Schuldig killed her again!"
"Civil duty," Schuldig stated and was promptly shoved off his chair. "Hey!"
"You're a bastard," Nagi said, just in case he hadn't made it clear before.
The redhead pulled himself back onto his seat, shaking his head. "You're the one that hasn't gotten over her yet. You didn't even like her all that much; I know you didn't."
Nagi bristled. "I lov-"
"Agh! No! Cease, desist, halt! I need my ears and sanity in one piece, thanks."
Farfarello laughed and two sets of Looks flashed at him. He coughed.
The telekinetic picked up his argument. "But I still love-"
"La la la la!"
"It should be a truth universally accepted," Farfarello interrupted, "that you never get over your first love."
The other two stared at him, Nagi looking miserable but thoughtful.
Schuldig, on the other hand, laughed. "Smooth, Farf. There's a poet's heart in you yet."
"Probably the one I killed last week," the Irishman decided after a moment. Schuldig's eyebrows battled between rising and furrowing.
"Who was your first love then?" Nagi asked suddenly, quietly, palms flat on the table. He glanced at both of them, settling on Farfarello for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the table.
Schuldig was about to make a comment about Nagi's love for his own hands when Farfarello said one word that made them both freeze.
/Uh-oh/, Schuldig thought and Nagi had to agree with him for once, both of the psi's tensing as they pondered whether to run for the straight jacket or for the hills.
But Farfarello didn't continue, just stood with relaxed grace and seemed to be content with his answer.
"That...makes sense," Nagi ventured after a moment.
"No, it doesn't, but it's the truth," Farfarello continued on in the same even tone. He inclined his head towards the pair. "And you two?"
Nagi offered him a wry expression, making bunny ears with his fingers, and then Schuldig suddenly found himself the center of attention.
"Hey, hey, this wasn't a 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' deal," the German protested.
"It was implied," Nagi said. His earlier gloom seemed to have disappeared somewhat, intent as he was on wheedling information out of his comrades. "Come on."
Schuldig chewed on his lower lip for a moment. His first love wasn't something he liked to discuss. His first love wasn't even his first love, really, because the telepath had never believed in ideas like that, had never had the opportunity to believe.
He just remembered skin paler than his and already calloused hands. Schuldig had resembled something of a scarecrow with a mop of fox-fur on his head at the time but he had been /chosen/. The bastard had decided on him, could make his jaw lock tight even as his knees threatened to give out. The bastard had come to him, smirks and gunpowder cologne, and had seem so completely surprised by the fact that it would be his first time.
The bastard had snared him like a jackrabbit, some big bad alpha wolf after Little Red. It had changed their lives, ruined them and hurt them and made them live just to see the other one die with a razzle dazzle bang someday, when the game was finished and there was nothing else to fuck up.
His first-obsession-was the bastard that cut up his credit card four days ago after the German had bought a mirror to hang over their bed.
Schuldig smirked, long and slow, bangs falling into his eyes. "You really believe in that stuff, Nags? Not getting over your first love?"
The telekinetic blinked. "Yeah...I guess. I mean, it makes sense."
"Good. I loved myself first," Schuldig said with a quick wolf-grin. "You can't tell me to get over myself ever again."
He wasn't too surprised to find himself on the floor again.
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