baby loves to dance in the dark 'cause when he's lookin' she falls apart → gadeninsui

[bosozokubaby]

There was of course alcohol in her system even before she decided to go home to have a party of one, but at least the half empty bottle of tequila she was wielding in one hand had been almost half-empty when she'd gotten to it. Her shoes were haphazard in the threshold, the pets were put up for the night, and she was sat in (slightly precarious)

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[gadeninsui]

Kichirou was, for once in his life, astonishingly sober. But a well timed text in his inbox had been enough to tell him that was soon to change, and after the few moments it took him to change and take the trek downstairs to one of his few bikes he was on his way after shockingly little time had expired. He knew, vaguely, where he was headed - the address itself wasn't familiar, but the area was, and the fact that he was well accustomed to the streets meant that it wouldn't take him long to find. Forty-five minutes from the time the first text had arrived he was climbing down from his throne, checking to assure that his cigarettes and wallet were still in his pocket as he walked the short distance to the building.

Another five minutes or so and he found himself in front of what was hopefully Aiko's door, knocking a little awkwardly when he was otherwise used to just barging in. His leather jacket was still zipped tight, but otherwise he looked perfectly normal, if a little odd out of a suit, having opted for the increasing unfamiliar comfort of his jeans and boots. He was somewhat surprised not to see any smoke, and though he wondered if that meant he was in the wrong place he figured it best to see for himself, leaning comfortably against the wall to wait.

[bosozokubaby]

Aiko had just taken the damn things out of the oven when the knock came - what timing - and so she turned the oven off, knocked it closed the rest of the way with her hip, then trundled her way toward the door.

She only paused long enough to check through the peephole, coming down from tiptoe to open the door for him. The bottle had gotten lost sometime during the trek to the entryway, but it was probably easy enough to find again. "Hey."

There were hooks by the door where two long, embroidered jackets hung (there were armbands too, but any writing on them was toward the wall). Beneath them were a beat-up aluminum bat and a length of pipe with a makeshift fabric grip on one end. Why she ... had them right next to the door was slightly questionable, but she seemed to be ignoring them for the time being.

She kicked her shoes out of the way for good measure, to clear the path inside.

[gadeninsui]

She may not have mentioned them, but as observation was a skill that came naturally to him, Kichirou was rather quick to notice the array of... decor littered about her genkan. He lofted a brow upon seeing them once he'd stepped inside, in the process of kicking off his shoes - but before he could inquire the smell of cinnamon buns caught his attention. For all of his observance, his attention span was definitely lacking.

"... you actually cooked something? And the place is still standing?"

He moved right past her then, already following his nose, so to speak, toward the kitchen. It couldn't be helped if he was hungry, could it? Hungry and curious to see what manner of monstrosity she'd cooked up, because honestly, he doubted anyone would've seen her for much of a cook.

[bosozokubaby]

"I have a better attention span when I'm drunk." Technically, she ... could have gotten offended, but it was pretty par for the course that things she made turned out terrible. "Plus I cheated a little." On her way back to the kitchen after him, she found her bottle again.

Instead of starting on it again right away, she grabbed a couple plates and a serving utensil that was probably actually for pie. "I debated wearing an apron, but then that would have probably caught on fire so I didn't want to push my luck." Have a cinnamon roll, Kichirou. They looked distressingly palatable, at least.

[gadeninsui]

"If you wore an apron I'd not believe it was you." And that was the honest truth. Despite the doubts he had about whether or not the roll would be poisonous or full of rum - the latter of which didn't sound so bad - he accepted the plate, lifting it to peer at from eye level.

"It actually looks normal," he mused, lowering it once again once he seemed satisfied. "Do I get a fork, though, or are we using our hands?" He could honestly live with either, as long as there was some sort of drink to go with it.

[bosozokubaby]

"I have one. Somewhere. It's pink." It was deadpan, as she leaned over to pull open the drawer that held forks. "I forgot. I lied about my attention span." That was promising. She grabbed two forks anyway and offered one to him before she stabbed her own into the roll.

"Oh. Right." There's another bottle of tequila, from a cabinet near the floor. Glasses were on a small rack on the counter, but we're not going for the classy Olympics here.