a-nightmare-soiree:

Wasn’t he a little young to be in a place like this? Tsukishiro supposed that, anyway, what with the fellow’s short stature and boyish face. Then again, the Baku wasn’t really one to judge, either, as evidenced by the slip-up in the other’s speech. His own feminine build led to many such blunders, some resulting in a befuddled walk of shame from a would-be client.

If he were honest, watching those may have been a third of the reason he took this job.

“Calm down, honey, you’re going to give yourself a stroke.” Tsukishiro had adopted a certain manner if speaking from the other employees here, in line with what most would expect from a male of his appearance. Expectations and appearances, that was what was important here. People wanted to get exactly what they saw, in body and in manner, and when he did his best to provide that on the outside, they didn’t even want to look beneath the surface. It made people very easy to deceive.

“An investigator? My, we don’t get many of those around here.” Tsukishiro touched a finger to his chin in thought. Police officers, yes, but he imagined the detectives were always busy with some case or another. This kind of town hardly gave them a break. “You say you want to talk, but what about? I don’t get much time off, so I probably don’t know anything of what you want.”

A detective.

The baku couldn’t help but wonder what kind of gruesome crime scenes were stamped into this little sleuth’s mind. His tongue almost slipped free of his mouth to lick his lips, but he contained himself to a somewhat unsettling smile.

“Would you like to move somewhere more quiet? I’m not trying to seduce you or anything, understand — you just seem a little uncomfortable in crowds,” Tsukishiro supplied, gesturing with his cane, trying to make himself seem innocent and probably failing spectacularly.

Near nodded slowly, once, curls bobbing softly with the motion. “A man has been found dead a few blocks away, you see. His parents hired me and gave me a lead to…this place…” His attention fled to a sudden burst of laughter from the other side of the curtain in the showcase room. “They informed me that he made regular visits, so I supposed I might as well take a look.” He knew the other man thought him just a boy and the pretense irked him. Lips twitching, a skinny finger interwove with his snowy locks. “Seeing as though it is within the vicinity, I would suppose you would have something to say once I reveal to you the details.”

Other courtesans strode particularly slowly, it seemed, and he saw their eyes dancing about him curiously. That alone was humiliating enough, and along with the occasional teasing wink from one of the passing males it seemed a torment crafted just for him. He flushed, burying his face into the high collar of his jacket.

And god, what was it that this androgynous wonder was smiling about? He noticeably leaned back, disregarding his manners at his appreciation as a meal. 

“Uhm,” he murmured, taking a stumbling into his pocket for his notepad as a moment to regain his composure. He didn’t like being so vulnerable, emotionally nor physically, and it seemed the whorehouse was the one place both his cool head and his personal space could be abused and upturned simultaneously. When the Lovely spoke again, he felt a rush of relief rush to his stomach at the same time as another blush fled to his cheeks. “I-I would not assume you would try to seduce me, as a law enforcer. I thank you.” 

Moving slightly to the side, Near made sure to give the other enough time to stand. He wondered why a man so young would even need a cane, but it seemed inappropriate to ask, for the time being. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he uttered quietly. “I will pay you for your time, if that’s any sort of reconciliation for whatever money you may have lost from a night without customer.” 

Still inept at speaking. He grit his teeth.

a-nightmare-soiree:

(Source: near-by)

a-nightmare-soiree liked your photo

a-nightmare-soiree:

Tsukishiro stepped up to the stage confidently, silver hair glinting in the spotlight. His cane rested on his shoulder, not needed for walking but useful for the performance ahead.

The Baku had never thought of himself as much of a show-person, but he’d wear the hat if it fit.

Tsukishiro gave a bow, with a completely necessary flourish of his cane. With a few words he rehearsed in his room beforehand, he began his performance. It went much as one would expect a magic act to go; He didn’t sport a hat, nor did he care for keeping doves, but several usual card tricks went by, as well as a bouquet of flowers from thin air. The classics. Tsukishiro was no genius at sleight of hand, but it was amusing to learn, and he had nothing but time.

The Baku ended his merely passable performance with a disappearing act, having recruited one of the other Lovelies from the lineup who he’d already made a deal with(in short, it involved shower time). Done with his piece, Tsukishiro took his bows and turned to exit the stage, settling down in back to wait for the rest of the Lovelies to finish. 

Soon enough, it would be time for the courtesans to take the stage again, in a row, to see who their company for the night would be.

The place was simply vile.

Near didn’t even know what to think about the unnervingly lewd place he had managed to get shoved into this go around. Rowdy men and voluptuous women lined the halls glittering with deep, sexy red hues, the vermilion looping and shining around the ins and outs of his snowy hair. He slipped around his loud company almost as a mouse, small and hoping to not be noticed- God forbid an employee of whatever stature accuse him of being too young to be in the place. 

He had a purpose here, be it a seeming long shot, and, after being touched one-too-many times in inappropriate ways by uproariously intoxicated or simply feral women and men alike, he found himself wondering if tying down this particular loose end in his case was even worth the humiliation. 

You’ll have to go on to the back, the manager had hissed. He didn’t care that there was a murderer running loose nor did he realize how mortified Near was of the Lovelies and the imminent moment of having to explain himself to one not as a customer but as an investigator. All he could be grateful for the opportunity to skip out on standing in a room with a load of sexually frustrated men-

“If you would please,” he said, far less assertive than possibly needed in the situation at hand- another man accompanying him into his designated destination having squeezed his bottom. This awful place…these awful people…he could hardly breathe, nor wanted to expose his lungs to such filth as the hot, buzzing air around him. God, he wanted out.

Backstage would have to do, for the time being, anyway- as he hurried out of the bustling corridor and through the door leading to the dimly-lit area, Near took a quiet breath in his newfound haven. It was bittersweet- Lovelies fluttered about in the room and he couldn’t help but feel two feet tall. The worst was over, but he was still in Hell, after all. He didn’t exactly feel like picking a demon to interview, but his options were awfully limited. Gathering his composure, Near approached the least terrifying member of the flock, a fairly skinny fellow of light complexion and fair hair.

At least, he figured it was a man. This was the male Lovelies’ showcase, but…

He dawdled. “Ma’a- Sir?” Grey eyes remained fixed on the other apprehensively. “I’m to be your company tonight. I’m- I am, that is to say that I am not here to have sexual intercourse with you but, rather…” A huff.

“I’m an investigator, I mean.”

mellodramatics:

“Of course, that eggplant isn’t poisonous. Markets wouldn’t be able to sell it, now would they? Do you have a computer? If you want, I can research some ways to cook, and would even be happy to assist you,”

“It would be nice to have you as a friend. I’m afraid I am not used to such innocent company…” Well, Mail was certainly good company for him and wholesome in a certain way, but…there was something about this kid that was different and refreshing.

“You are a very kind man, Mister Mello. I would very much appreciate your company and assistance if it is not very much trouble.” Scuttling in the general direction of the checkout counter a few steps ahead of the older man, Near couldn’t help but feel a little proud at his quick apprehension of a social situation, even if it meant he was still latching onto others for help. A mixed bag, this Mello was, but the sweet outweighed the bitter; for the first time in a very long time, Near smiled genuinely. 

“You seem a valuable friend to me, Mello. I find you pleasant to be around, to say the very least.”

(Source: near-by)

vectordirection:

“…You obviously have never gotten out much. This place looks nothing like a bathroom,” the albino replied flatly.

He did not consider Near ill-mannered, just…uneducated about living. He imagined the boy a spoiled rich kid whose parents- or whoever had been in charge of him- had doted on him and cared excessively for his physical needs. Perhaps it had been love. Perhaps Near had been valuable. Accelerator did not know, nor did he particularly care.

“Why do you sit so close to the toys?” Accelerator asked, not bothering to be tactful or anything of that nature.

He did, however, keep a question to himself. The other albino’s age puzzled him. Since he owned his own house, he had to be older than himself- which was 15. Accelerator did not have enough money…nor was legally old enough- to live on his own, even though he would be quite capable of doing so if he could earn the money and proper age. But Near obviously did have the money…and was presumably old enough…even though based on his appearance and behavior he was a bit younger than himself.

Instead of answering, Near promptly showed Accelerator with his actions; after climbing into the booth, he pulled himself over the back of the seat, legs in the air as he sorted through the bin of toys. Finally selecting a satisfactory space ship, he lowered himself onto his bottom, curling his left leg toward his chest subconsciously. 

“When I was a boy, I collected space ships alone,” he murmured, zooming the toy through the air in a blank fascination. “As I grew and became more financially able, I took a liking to intricate forts and hand-crafting my own dolls. I don’t have a preference, really,” he said, a quiet smile whispering around his lips as the ship came in for a landing before him.  ”But I still really do enjoy such things, you know.”  

One hand still around the toy, almost protectively, he reached around the back of the booth, pulling out a shiny red car. “Please, have one,” Near insisted, placing it on the table in front of Accelerator. “I like cars nearly as much as toy guns, coming in the rear of intricate buildings of dice, coming in rear of puzzles. They’re so much fun, would you not agree?” Sliding his space ship into his lap, Near reached for a menu, opening it as if it were an alien device. Holding the foldable selection timidly and awkwardly between his pointer and thumb, he muttered something about not recognizing any of the dishes. Glancing up at Accelerator, Near remarked, unashamed, “May I have a child’s menu?”

vectordirection:

“Near it is, then,” Accelerator replied, showing little emotion.

“Look, there’s a restaurant. Come on, let’s go…”

He led the small boy to a mediocre looking diner. It wouldn’t be the best meal they’d ever eaten, but he doubted it’d be the worst, either.

“Here is good,” he said, making sure the small boy was behind him.

As he was led into the shabby place, Near was immediately off-put by the brightly lit dining area and shining, pristine tile beneath his feet, checking forest green and white across the room. “It’s like a bathroom,” he blurted without any slight constrict of moral restraint. Manners weren’t exactly his forte.

“This is fascinating. Why would someone like to eat in an establishment so like the place where they use the restroom?” he blabbed, his eyes catching momentarily on the flickering blue neon sign above the little bar. Almost immediately he was drawn to a booth facing the window revealing the bitter cold street and, more importantly, directly before a small bin with toys presumably for fussy children.

Old habits die hard. 

“Accelerator,” Near murmured, tugging quietly at his sleeve. He motioned toward the booth of his choice and scuttling toward it in haste. “Over here, if you would.”