Categories > Original > Drama > Pocket Change
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Pocket Change
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[08: /six o'clock meeting/]
Joss doesn't really mind going to Takeo's business appointments, she just doesn't enjoy having her clothes ruined. It's not as though he doesn't reimburse her (and /generously/), it's just that she's had so little before that it feels like a waste. Of course, when she's allowed to join in /the fun/, she could care less- but now?
Takeo kicks the living daylights out of some generic henchmen while Joss stands in the doorway. Her companion dispatches his foes at an almost inhuman speed. She knows why he's acting so quickly, too: it's because he doesn't want to risk her getting involved. She has long since given up on looking for a good opening to thwart his protective act and simply resorts to try and avoid the blood. After many similar outings, she's getting quite /bored/.
Suddenly, a hand shoots out from behind. It clamps over her mouth and yanks her back while another pulls her wrists together. She feels metal, hears a click.
"Lyon," rumbles the voice behind her. She watches as her captor pulls a large, sterile-looking blade against her neck. Takeo turns slowly, the blood on his knuckles stark against his pale skin.
His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. A smirk plays on his lips, but that's all it reaches.
"Sidoh."
"Oh, Lyon, I'm flattered!" Sidoh's voice sounds genuinely happy; she can even feel the chuckling against her back. "For you to remember my name... Quite an honor." He tightens his grip on Joss, the knife flashing in the light.
"You're still alive, then?" Takeo asks good-naturedly, causing a falter in Sidoh's laughter. "Well done. I never expected it."
Joss tries not to swallow as the flat of blade is pressed ever hard into her skin.
"I bet you never expected /this/, ah?" The words tumble out of his mouth, the obvious struggle of a foreign tongue. "And I bet you never expected that today would be your last, either!"
Takeo opens his mouth to reply, but Sidoh cuts him off.
"/No/. We'll first discuss my terms if you wish this girl to remain unscathed... Oh, but she's a little young for you, isn't she?" Joss grimaces as he wraps his free arm over her chest, pulling her flush against his body. When he speaks again, she can feel his breath hot on her ear. The sensation is wholly unpleasant.
"Yes... Much too young for /you/. Myself, on the other hand-"
"This coming from a middle-aged fuck like you?"
Takeo's using that tone of voice, the venomous, quiet delivery that just promises pain with every syllable. True to his word, Takeo darts forward and punches Sidoh in the face before the other man even knows to be indignant. Sidoh hits the ground with a /thump/, followed by a metallic clatter. Takeo grabs Joss' shoulder and pushes her behind himself, one arm stretched out to the side to still any action she may take. He stalks forward, head slightly tilted, watching as Sidoh attempts to stem the flow of blood pouring from his mess of a nose.
"Y-You /bastard/!"
It sounds muddled and watery but, for the most part, the stranger spits the insult out with surprising clarity. He looks to be in his late fifties, with white hair combed back and deep creases in his skin, reminiscent of a crumpled up paper. It occurs then to Joss that she doesn't know exactly how old Takeo is, or even the full story of how he got to be how he is. She /does/, however, know how he acts when he uses that tone of voice. She's seen it, once, back when she was new to the Inn. Taryn had come in with a stranger and a black eye, and the stranger had come out in a bodybag.
Well, that wasn't right. There wasn't enough left for a bodybag. Besides, no cops or paramedics ever came to Ollis Inn.
Takeo paces around his fallen enemy, fluidly plucking the knife from the ground. He twirls it over his fingers, watching as Sidoh's eyes widen. The old man tries to growl, but it's a pitiful attempt drowned in blood. Joss begins to think that drowning in your own blood would be a terrible death, but Takeo lunges and suddenly drowning doesn't seem half bad. If you were drowning, you couldn't make those /screams/.
Joss stares on in dull horror as Takeo plunges and twists the knife in places nothing should ever prod, as he pulls out organs she never even knew existed/, as he /keeps his victim alive as long as he can. Sidoh- no, not Sidoh, that couldn't possibly retain a name, off all things- screams 'til the last, agony clear in the garbled bursts of vocal incoherence. She wants to scream at Takeo, tell him to just /stop/, she's fine and oh /God/, just let the man /die/, but she's rooted to the ground, frozen in place, save for her shaking.
This is Takeo Lyon. This is with whom she shares an almost unparalleled sense of camaraderie, this is the shoulder she cries on, the person Edson leans on, the friend Elysia relies on. This is the man she finds herself increasingly attracted to, the man who, at the moment, is elbow deep in blood and guts and /screams/.
Joss thinks that she's forgotten how to breathe.
Takeo throws the knife aside; it hits the wall with a clatter that's deafening in the thick silence. He rises to his feet, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the mangled body before him. He half-turns in Joss' direction, raising his head toward her. His eyes are ablaze, brighter than the stippling of scarlet on one white cheek. The image he portrays clicks into her mind as that of the Reaper's, deathly pale and bloodstained and excited/. She doesn't think she's ever been afraid of him like this before, not since that first week of hers in Ollis Inn. Even then, it was never such a /crippling fear, grasping her by the throat and /squeezing/.
He notices the look on her face, the slight gape of her mouth, and he smiles.
"Aw, what's the matter, Jay? You aren't /scared/, are you?" He sounds so /pleasant/, as though he is coaxing her to join him on the Ferris Wheel instead of just having dismembered a living person.
She curls her fingers into fists, wishing that her body would muster up the courage to do more- like run, maybe. But she doesn't know that she would if she could.
"Y-You..." She clears her throat and tries again, hating how timid she sounds. "You sh- shouldn't have done that."
Turning to face her completely, he cocks a brow. That terrifyingly feral grin twists his lips, sparks the terra-cotta of his irises. She can see his canines, sharp and almost monstrous. He begins to walk toward her, effortlessly side-stepping around Sidoh's incapacitated comrades.
"Shouldn't have? Shouldn't have done what- kill him?" He stops when his toes touch hers, and leans forward ever so slightly. "You know just as well as I do that if I hadn't taken care of him, he'd be pressing that knife into her throat and dragging his tongue along your ear."
He's too close. She can smell the blood on him, the throat-sticking scent of death. She grits her teeth and shoves away from him.
"No- /No/. There's killing and then there's /killing/, Takeo!"
He snarls and shoves her against the wall, pinning her up with his body. He holds her upper arms in a bruising grip, glaring up at her bitten lip and furrowed brow. The corners of his lips twitch upward.
"That's the problem you're having? Oh, /Joss/," he brings his face closer to hers, whispering almost against her lips, "what's life without a little /pain/?"
She tries to pull away, but he splays a hand over the base of her skull, effectively keeping her in place. Half-lidded eyes bore into hers.
He breathes, "I want to make you /hurt/."
She tries not to, but she begins to cry. She can hear the truth in his voice. She can see the sadness in his wicked smile.
Her tears trickle harmlessly onto his cheeks, blurring through the scarlet. His hungry, blazing expression melts into a quiet frown. He releases her, leaving bloody handprints on her arms. Takeo turns away, staring at his crimson fingers. Joss slumps down the wall, trying to remain silent.
Honey, I wish you weren't so tired.
She fails miserably. She buries her face in her hands to muffle the noise, but Takeo's always had better-than-average hearing, and in a room with a dead man, an unnatural being, and an undoubtedly ruined carpet, Joss' sobs are all he can hear.
Pocket Change
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[08: /six o'clock meeting/]
Joss doesn't really mind going to Takeo's business appointments, she just doesn't enjoy having her clothes ruined. It's not as though he doesn't reimburse her (and /generously/), it's just that she's had so little before that it feels like a waste. Of course, when she's allowed to join in /the fun/, she could care less- but now?
Takeo kicks the living daylights out of some generic henchmen while Joss stands in the doorway. Her companion dispatches his foes at an almost inhuman speed. She knows why he's acting so quickly, too: it's because he doesn't want to risk her getting involved. She has long since given up on looking for a good opening to thwart his protective act and simply resorts to try and avoid the blood. After many similar outings, she's getting quite /bored/.
Suddenly, a hand shoots out from behind. It clamps over her mouth and yanks her back while another pulls her wrists together. She feels metal, hears a click.
"Lyon," rumbles the voice behind her. She watches as her captor pulls a large, sterile-looking blade against her neck. Takeo turns slowly, the blood on his knuckles stark against his pale skin.
His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. A smirk plays on his lips, but that's all it reaches.
"Sidoh."
"Oh, Lyon, I'm flattered!" Sidoh's voice sounds genuinely happy; she can even feel the chuckling against her back. "For you to remember my name... Quite an honor." He tightens his grip on Joss, the knife flashing in the light.
"You're still alive, then?" Takeo asks good-naturedly, causing a falter in Sidoh's laughter. "Well done. I never expected it."
Joss tries not to swallow as the flat of blade is pressed ever hard into her skin.
"I bet you never expected /this/, ah?" The words tumble out of his mouth, the obvious struggle of a foreign tongue. "And I bet you never expected that today would be your last, either!"
Takeo opens his mouth to reply, but Sidoh cuts him off.
"/No/. We'll first discuss my terms if you wish this girl to remain unscathed... Oh, but she's a little young for you, isn't she?" Joss grimaces as he wraps his free arm over her chest, pulling her flush against his body. When he speaks again, she can feel his breath hot on her ear. The sensation is wholly unpleasant.
"Yes... Much too young for /you/. Myself, on the other hand-"
"This coming from a middle-aged fuck like you?"
Takeo's using that tone of voice, the venomous, quiet delivery that just promises pain with every syllable. True to his word, Takeo darts forward and punches Sidoh in the face before the other man even knows to be indignant. Sidoh hits the ground with a /thump/, followed by a metallic clatter. Takeo grabs Joss' shoulder and pushes her behind himself, one arm stretched out to the side to still any action she may take. He stalks forward, head slightly tilted, watching as Sidoh attempts to stem the flow of blood pouring from his mess of a nose.
"Y-You /bastard/!"
It sounds muddled and watery but, for the most part, the stranger spits the insult out with surprising clarity. He looks to be in his late fifties, with white hair combed back and deep creases in his skin, reminiscent of a crumpled up paper. It occurs then to Joss that she doesn't know exactly how old Takeo is, or even the full story of how he got to be how he is. She /does/, however, know how he acts when he uses that tone of voice. She's seen it, once, back when she was new to the Inn. Taryn had come in with a stranger and a black eye, and the stranger had come out in a bodybag.
Well, that wasn't right. There wasn't enough left for a bodybag. Besides, no cops or paramedics ever came to Ollis Inn.
Takeo paces around his fallen enemy, fluidly plucking the knife from the ground. He twirls it over his fingers, watching as Sidoh's eyes widen. The old man tries to growl, but it's a pitiful attempt drowned in blood. Joss begins to think that drowning in your own blood would be a terrible death, but Takeo lunges and suddenly drowning doesn't seem half bad. If you were drowning, you couldn't make those /screams/.
Joss stares on in dull horror as Takeo plunges and twists the knife in places nothing should ever prod, as he pulls out organs she never even knew existed/, as he /keeps his victim alive as long as he can. Sidoh- no, not Sidoh, that couldn't possibly retain a name, off all things- screams 'til the last, agony clear in the garbled bursts of vocal incoherence. She wants to scream at Takeo, tell him to just /stop/, she's fine and oh /God/, just let the man /die/, but she's rooted to the ground, frozen in place, save for her shaking.
This is Takeo Lyon. This is with whom she shares an almost unparalleled sense of camaraderie, this is the shoulder she cries on, the person Edson leans on, the friend Elysia relies on. This is the man she finds herself increasingly attracted to, the man who, at the moment, is elbow deep in blood and guts and /screams/.
Joss thinks that she's forgotten how to breathe.
Takeo throws the knife aside; it hits the wall with a clatter that's deafening in the thick silence. He rises to his feet, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the mangled body before him. He half-turns in Joss' direction, raising his head toward her. His eyes are ablaze, brighter than the stippling of scarlet on one white cheek. The image he portrays clicks into her mind as that of the Reaper's, deathly pale and bloodstained and excited/. She doesn't think she's ever been afraid of him like this before, not since that first week of hers in Ollis Inn. Even then, it was never such a /crippling fear, grasping her by the throat and /squeezing/.
He notices the look on her face, the slight gape of her mouth, and he smiles.
"Aw, what's the matter, Jay? You aren't /scared/, are you?" He sounds so /pleasant/, as though he is coaxing her to join him on the Ferris Wheel instead of just having dismembered a living person.
She curls her fingers into fists, wishing that her body would muster up the courage to do more- like run, maybe. But she doesn't know that she would if she could.
"Y-You..." She clears her throat and tries again, hating how timid she sounds. "You sh- shouldn't have done that."
Turning to face her completely, he cocks a brow. That terrifyingly feral grin twists his lips, sparks the terra-cotta of his irises. She can see his canines, sharp and almost monstrous. He begins to walk toward her, effortlessly side-stepping around Sidoh's incapacitated comrades.
"Shouldn't have? Shouldn't have done what- kill him?" He stops when his toes touch hers, and leans forward ever so slightly. "You know just as well as I do that if I hadn't taken care of him, he'd be pressing that knife into her throat and dragging his tongue along your ear."
He's too close. She can smell the blood on him, the throat-sticking scent of death. She grits her teeth and shoves away from him.
"No- /No/. There's killing and then there's /killing/, Takeo!"
He snarls and shoves her against the wall, pinning her up with his body. He holds her upper arms in a bruising grip, glaring up at her bitten lip and furrowed brow. The corners of his lips twitch upward.
"That's the problem you're having? Oh, /Joss/," he brings his face closer to hers, whispering almost against her lips, "what's life without a little /pain/?"
She tries to pull away, but he splays a hand over the base of her skull, effectively keeping her in place. Half-lidded eyes bore into hers.
He breathes, "I want to make you /hurt/."
She tries not to, but she begins to cry. She can hear the truth in his voice. She can see the sadness in his wicked smile.
Her tears trickle harmlessly onto his cheeks, blurring through the scarlet. His hungry, blazing expression melts into a quiet frown. He releases her, leaving bloody handprints on her arms. Takeo turns away, staring at his crimson fingers. Joss slumps down the wall, trying to remain silent.
Honey, I wish you weren't so tired.
She fails miserably. She buries her face in her hands to muffle the noise, but Takeo's always had better-than-average hearing, and in a room with a dead man, an unnatural being, and an undoubtedly ruined carpet, Joss' sobs are all he can hear.
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