sirenspull_logs | now all you've got to offer me is a drink of gin

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now all you've got to offer me is a drink of gin

Who: Tonegawa (

12second_orz ) and YOU
When: Friday afternoon- early evening.
Where: A high-class bar in Sector 3, moving to Lion's Gate towards the evening
What: Tonegawa uses his afternoon off to schmooze and make contacts in a classy joint. Feel free to run into him leaving or arriving, too!
Warnings: None

[Sitting at the bar and watching the gentle murmur of activity around him as he nurses his drink, Tonegawa can’t help but feel rather pleased with himself. He works by day, he meets and greets by night. If there’s one thing he can approve of, it’s a routine, and he’s certainly managed one of those here.

Not that making nice to big shots is all he wants to spend the rest of his time here doing- his ideal state of affairs involves far more room to stretch his legs in every sense, for what is power but the ability to do anything and be forgiven for it nonetheless? But even beyond that there’s something about the charade now that sticks in his throat, bitter and resentful, that he’s become more aware of now; his hands tense beneath their leather gloves with each forced laugh, each smile.

Still, he’s damn good at it and he knows it. He’s never wanted for patience in his life, either- swallowing now could earn him the right to spit later, if he’s good enough at it. There’s nouveau riche trash here, yes, but also a few people it’s well worth being sweet to.

Of course, what mood he ends up in by the end of the night depends entirely on which of them he manages to find, and while he might look laid back as he glances around the room he’s busy sizing up faces and suits.]

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[ It's impossible not to conform to that insistent regularity of Tonegawa's routine, as impulsive as she can be. He makes communications sound so simple. He can switch masks from merely cordial to jovial in the blink of an eye, and if she wasn't looking for the cracks in his expression and tone, she would be just as easily convinced.

As custom dictates, Chane waits about ten minutes after he enters the bar to join him; enough time for him to order, settle, catch an eye or a name or two. Long enough to allow her to calm her thoughts and put on, too, a mask of her own. The sting from him knowing certain details hasn't quite faded and that is nothing a professional demeanour can fully conceal.

She gives it eleven before slipping inside, jacketed and carrying her purse (something that draws gazes when she moves amongst the tables to reach the bar; all-black seems only to suit evening occasions, she notes), settling it all on her knees once she reaches a stool one seat down from Tonegawa. And, as usual, she initiates nothing, barely even moving for her notebook in her purse or looking towards the bartender. It isn't part of the job description. ]

[One face Tonegawa might notice from across the way, was non other than the blue haired young Emperor Ukyou. For once, he was not surrounded by his women, slaves of body guards. Of course he has some of his new model Nobuseri drones outside keeping an eye on the place, but he was pretty much alone.

Sitting at a fairly standard table yet drinking the finest of wine. He looked lost in thought, large lavender eyes staring unblinking at the table before him. Ukyou had been keeping a low profile as of late so it really was queer to see him out and about like this.

Would Tonegawa notice him sitting over there?]

[Kaiji only started his shift an hour or so ago but it's shaping up to be a fairly quiet, uneventful evening- boring but, to be honest, preferable to a potential black eye or argument.

Not that people usually give him much trouble anyway. One look at his surly expression and scars- it's usually the fingers that do it- and the troublemakers usually settle down, whether through a grudging respect or simply not wanting to start something.

He leans back against the wall by the door, arms folded and dying for a smoke. The uniform is still uncomfortably stiff despite a few months of wear and tear. He's considering asking for an early break when a familiar figure approaches, entering the lobby with that familiar, confident attitude.

For better or worse, looks like things just picked up.]

[It's a little too early yet for any of the regulars to stop by, but as a general rule it usually works out better that way; it gives the impression of having simply run into someone over having turned up specifically to meet them, a far better image to project to avoid seeming desperate.

A little over ten minutes pass and Laforet, just missing her usual cue, walks in and takes her post just down from him at the bar. One of these days he'll need to talk her into something less striking for the afternoon- a suit in a softer colour, or even a pinstripe to break it up.

Still no one of note has come by, and eventually Tonegawa calls the bartender over and tells him to offer Chane a drink on his tab, along with a note he scrawls down on the back of a receipt: Don't look so serious. Not the easiest of orders to comply with, considering who they're aimed at, but still. Her simply sitting and doing nothing hardly lends itself to the open, sociable atmosphere- besides, why come to a bar if you aren't going to drink anything at all, alcoholic or not?]

[As colourful as the Port is, it would still be difficult to miss Ukyou on the other side of the room, even without his characteristic entourage. From his seat at the bar Tonegawa eyes the younger man curiously- he seems deflated somehow, albeit in a way he can't entirely place at a glance.

There's no better time to ask than the present, whatever the case, and so he gets up and heads over to Ukyou's table, inclining his head politely and putting on a welcoming smile.]

It's a surprise to see you here, Ukyou. How have you been?

[Tonegawa knew when he chose Lion's Gate that there was a chance he would run into some unwanted company.

This is precisely why he never gambles.

Seeing the man slumped against the wall, stiff and uncomfortable and with his hair in a ponytail of all things, he has to feel sorry for Creed. Making Itou Kaiji presentable... there's a fool's challenge if he ever saw one, and whatever Fairy Godfather-esque magic he might have attempted simply hasn't paid off. He's no fucking Cinderella, that's for certain. Perhaps that surlier attitude works on the younger generation of troublemakers, but not him.

Maybe it's that obvious discomfort that makes bolsters Tonegawa's spirits a little as he heads in: it's obvious who's in the driving seat now. He smiles a shit-eating smile at Kaiji, daring him to react, and holds out his overcoat.]

Would you?

[Even before he opens his mouth, Kaiji knows exactly why Tonegawa came here and steels himself for the first blow. But it's the smugness, the barely disguised contempt, the sheer gall of what he says that completely catches him off guard.]

[with great self-control] You don't waste any time, do you, sir?

[He bears his teeth in an expression somewhere between a grimace, a growl and a desperate grin.

Alright, alright, calm down. Don't let him get to you.]

I don't deal with that kind of thing- you should take it to the cloakroom.

[Blinking as his attention was caught, Ukyou looked up, smiling gently at the familiar face.]

Well if it isn't my dear friend Tone-sama, greeting. Would you care to?

[Motioning to the seat beside him and picking up the bottle of wine that was sat before him on the table.]

Its funny you should ask how I am, I appear to have had an almost mishap lately.

[A fake, yet not at all over the top laugh was offered as he told this.]

[ Heading back out to door duty after a break. His once neatly pressed shirt and slacks showing some evidence of a tussle. Nothing violent, this time: just an oversized patron who managed to drink past the point of retaining his powers of locomotion. Getting him out and into a nightcab really ought to have been a two-man job. This was turning out not to be the most glamorous career he'd ever had.

Claire fidgets with the creased (okay, bent is a more accurate description) flap of his collar as he walks, keeping an eye out for familiar figures and potential distractions as well as for troublemakers. ]

[ The clink of the wineglass upon the wooden bar matches with the sound of her heels catching on the stool, settling her weight. She looks up from where her fingers were playing with the zip of her purse, the folded note first catching her eye, then the drink before her. Colourful. Sweet-looking. Her complete opposite.

Studying the scrawl on the slip of paper, her expression becomes more severe for a second-- the cocktail doesn't lend itself to easy drinking. It's as though he means to soften her by this. After a sip she sets it down, relaxing her look, at least, an eyebrow quirked at the paper. Only then does she take out her NV, delicately tear out a page from the back and neatly write on the (sturdier, better quality) paper; a slicing fold, a scribbled instruction to the bartender to pass it to the gentleman who bought the drink ends her brief activity.

I don't.

As though to prove it, she makes another attempt with the glass, battling with the syrupy sweetness and the fruit slices that cluster at the surface. It doesn't taste any better the second time. ]

[Oh, he likes that 'sir', even if it's clearly sarcastic. Along with the obvious frustration on Kaiji's face he's got more than enough reason to linger here a little longer.

He smiles airily, as though he can't see that the man is all but growling at him- a mutt through and through.]

I don't see why you can't. I thought you'd jump at the chance to put off doing any real work.

['Tone-sama'...? For a moment he wonders if Ukyou might be a little tipsy- then he reminds himself of just who he's speaking to and brushes it aside, even if the man's little flourish reminds him rather gratingly of Kazuya.]

Gladly. [He takes the seat, gesturing for the waiter to bring another glass as he turns his expression to something more appropriately sympathetic.] I'm sorry to hear that. What happened, if you don't mind my asking?

[Well, well. Tonegawa doesn't know why he expected Claire to look anything less than scruffy- not as scruffy as Kaiji, of course, but that's a given- but clearly he needs to drop Creed a quiet word about the general appearance of his bouncers.

If Chane doesn't like him talking to her fiance- too bad. He's too curious a man to speak to for him to pass this up.]

Claire Stanfield. [He offers the man a cigarette and a smile.] I didn't know you were working tonight.

[Chane's response raises a few eyebrows of its own. 'I don't'? Not intentionally, perhaps, but there's no denying that Chane brings an air of carefully cultivated disinterest with her wherever she goes- fine for work, but hardly appropriate for a setting with pretensions to informality (though everyone here knows how much of a joke that is).

Glancing towards her again she at least appears to be making the effort to seem less uncomfortable, though the drink doesn't seem to have gone down particularly well- it's not a favourite of his, admittedly, but it got the point across rather well. He's still got a little more work to do, and it isn't long before he's sending along another, shorter note: 'Smile, then.'

He waits a few moments while she reads, knowing that she's almost certainly watching him out of the corner of her eye, before giving her a pointedly cool smile and tipping his glass to her.]

[ Somewhat unfortunately she happens to glance along the bar at the moment he catches her eye; and that, with the absurd suggestion-- or command-- on the note nearly makes her wish she could summon such a smile on demand, a contemptuous one.

But, no. She wouldn't, not even to spite him. Although her gaze is sharp, it betrays her brief moment of reconciling these impulses, softens, and ends as she draws the attention of the bartender back to her. One of what that man is drinking, she asks, and on his bill.

Her next message reads simply, Thank you for the drink. She doesn't wait for the next glass to arrive before sending it, even though receiving it puts her more at ease, with a thin black straw as though the creator intended to make it a little more ladylike. Not obeying the order to change her expression. Exploiting his tab. She's a model employee tonight. ]

[Why yes, Ukyou was a little intoxicated, but then again it wasn't unlike the young Emperor to lavish on the compliments airs and graces when he felt like it, now was it? Besides... Tonegawa, even though he was as crooked as they came, he had proven himself to be reliable and even as far as to say trust worthy, qualities that were hard to find in a place such as this port.]

Well you see~

[An over dramatic sigh and the flick of a gloved wrist.]

It appears some rather important information about myself and my little project slipped over the network last month. How I've managed to avoid the attention of the authorities is a complete mystery, I was approached by--

[He stopped, smiled and flirted casually with the waitress when she returned with the extra glass. Turning back to the topic once she had left.]

Where was I? Ah yes~ I was approached by a member of the police after they witness a little... Hmm, shall we say experiment of mine.

[ From a couple of metres behind Tonegawa, half-immersed in the throng of tall, dark-suited businessmen he had left to talk to him, she flashes Claire a look. The sheer strength of the apprehension in her eyes at this collision of worlds is unintentional, when, at this bar, the mood and the drink in her hand had managed to soften her defensive approach to him, to everyone.

Amongst the crowd Chane cannot hear what her boss is saying to him, nor does she actively listen to the conversation before her; studying the small crinkles in the joints of Tonegawa's suit, her gaze lowers, but does not leave the two completely. ]

[ Raising a hand to wave his fingers at Chane over her boss' shoulder. It could just about pass as declining the cigarette, if she's supposed to be incognito. ] Thanks, I don't.

[ Well, this is his first time seeing Tonegawa in the flesh. Chane had mentioned this possibility earlier - perhaps it was meant to be a warning, judging by that look. It's not a surprise to him that she apparently didn't give the same warning to Tonegawa, so he doesn't comment on it. Directly. ] I'd heard you might be swingin' by. How's your evening going? Everythin' copacetic?

[Tonegawa's expression remains fixed, though he nods an acknowledgement to the waitress and sets about pouring himself half a glass of wine. Separately it's generally fine, but mixing wine with his usual fair never works out well for him.]

How unfortunate for you. [How careless.] I've had something similar happen to me in the past. The public in general seem to forget fairly quickly here, at least, which addresses half of your problem. [Unless your name is Haruhi, of course.] What about this police officer? Obviously, they didn't have anything to arrest you on.

[One more for him. Tonegawa shakes the cigarette out deftly and lifts it between his lips, lighting up- he's had to go for longer between smokes thanks to this fucking country's laws on smoking in public, and he's not going to pass up on opportunity now.]

Nothing for you to pass on to your boss, besides a little attitude problem from one of your coworkers. [But Kaiji doesn't particularly matter here. He's very aware that Chane's lingering somewhere in the back, but it doesn't particularly bother him if she can hear them at all.] So I take it that means that Laforet-kun gave you the alert? Was that for your benefit or her's?

[Oh, dear. That seem to have hit a nerve- and his wallet, from the looks of things. He was tempting fate there, admittedly, but now that she's thrown down her gauntlet so to speak he can hardly turn it down.

Part of him rather likes the idea of sending drink after gaudy drink, but the most pleasing outcome of that little trick- one blind-drunk employee ready to call first thing the next morning for some arbitrary little errand- seems an unlikely one, considering the woman he's dealing with. Chane is hardly the same sort of person as any of his old boys. While he doesn't doubt her loyalty, she doesn't have the same fierce respect that would hold her back from refusing a drink from him.

For now, he'll play it low key. Another note and a word with the bartender later and Chane finds herself with a little pink umbrella in her glass and another slip of paper: I can do this all night.]

[ A colleague of Tonegawa's asks where he is; in the time it takes for her to reply in writing, coherently, between the gentle flow of guests passing between her back and her boss's, she catches her name spoken aloud. Having already acknowledged Claire's wave, it would draw attention to turn around and look again (not his fault; she knows well enough how discreet he can be when necessary). As it is, her shoulders stiffen, interest piqued. ]

[ If her wide-eyed look didn't have an almost incensed edge to it, perhaps it could even pass off as pleasant surprise. But she doesn't gratify him with more than a second of acknowledgement of this new gift.

Delicately plucking the umbrella from the other glass, measuring the two against one another, she snaps back the flimsy wooden spokes of whichever she deems to be longer until the pink paper has been bent, flattened back and inside-out-- as far as she is concerned, a plain cocktail stick with which to spear the fruit pieces from the pink beverage. It's especially elaborate for her, but serves well as a method of delaying taking these drinks. No matter how sociable he wants her to be, she still has a job that she cannot risk either of them in doing, by any fault or slowness of response of hers.

It does make her consider more clearly, as she directs her restlessness into transferring the fruit from one glass to another, what their relationship is outside of that single professional duty. Whether enjoying herself is something he can demand of her. Smiling. Adapting to those around her.

The one person from whom she would accept those orders would not ask her to smile for his sake. So, then, a loyalty bought by cash cannot demand that of her either. It does, however, prompt a little thought, a little concern-- perhaps that they should be on more equal grounding, if she won't acquiesce to every order. Forfeiting the paper-messaging completely (the bartender looks tired of acting as a free courier service), she takes a wine-soaked piece of apple in her mouth, eyes slipping shut, and connects her mind, the way she has tentatively taught herself to. Her voice speaks for her in his head. It's simple; they've connected before.

I won't accept these. ]

[ Claire laughs through his nose. As much as he’d like to stay on good terms with Tonegawa the man does seem to enjoy trying to push him into saying something Chane will disapprove of... or perhaps he's betting that Claire will snap and call him out on it, forfeiting what rapport they have. Well, if he insists on playing this game of Social Landmine Chicken...

... Claire will just forge a different way through the coversation. He hasn't looked at Chane again but she's in his peripheral vision. ] Whose benefit? You're thinkin' too much into it. Is it really strange that she'd tell me 'bout where she's working? A good relationship's all about communication, ain't it? At least that's the line you hear people here spinning all the time. It's actually a little different to the kinda thing you used to hear back home, but I think I agree with it!

[Oh dear me, is Tonegawa going to get drunk or be ill? Ukyou would find either amusing all the same.]

Say what you really mean why don't you Tone-sama, it was careless and even I know that.

[Taking a huffy sip of his drink, finishing it off and pouring himself another. He actually paused for a moment, he was so used to someone else pouring his drinks, cutting his food and dabbing his lips that he almost forgot he had to do it himself.]

No, you're correct, they have nothing. However... say they should prove themselves to become a problem I can easily have them silenced.

[A devious smile pulled over his lips.]

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now all you've got to offer me is a drink of gin

Sector 3 bar, afternoon

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Lion's Gate | Late evening/Night

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