If you have to make friends, make friends with psychos.
WHO: Takaya Sakaki and Katurian Katurian
WHERE: OUT IN PUBLIC.
WHEN: Pre-Tuesday March 23rd. Sometime around there.
WARNINGS: enemies arch-nemeses rivals Takaya and Katurian being around one another.
SUMMARY: An awkward but nonthreatening meet-up between two not-buddies. It will be a fun day.
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatever it turns into.
( At least you know for sure whether or not they'll stab you in the back. )
WHERE: OUT IN PUBLIC.
WHEN: Pre-Tuesday March 23rd. Sometime around there.
WARNINGS: enemies arch-nemeses rivals Takaya and Katurian being around one another.
SUMMARY: An awkward but nonthreatening meet-up between two not-buddies. It will be a fun day.
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatever it turns into.
( At least you know for sure whether or not they'll stab you in the back. )
The bruise on his forehead was still a yellowish-brown, but he had been back at work for the last five days. There was something comforting about the routine, even if that routine involved staring death in the face. Hospice beat mopping up cow entrails in the slaughterhouse back home, at least.
On the way back from the man's house, Katurian picked up a sandwich to take home with him. He scrutinized the bread, wrinkling his nose, but it seemed good enough, and wasn't he living beyond his years anyway? He popped off the edge of the roll and stuck it in his mouth before dropping the rest of the sandwich back in the bag. There was a homeless man on the sidewalk that he thought of ignoring, but something about him caught in Katurian's peripheral vision. He recognized him.
Takaya.
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There wasn't enough in him to say something witty or sarcastic, not right now. So he just closed his eyes and rested the back of his skull against the brick wall behind him.
"What a curious meeting."
His voice didn't hold the tenor of liveliness it usually did - was flatter with exhaustion, and though his stare was as impersonal and cold as ever, there wasn't as much malice in it as usual.
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"You survived the undead," he said. He was frightened of Takaya, but the other man's exhaustion lulled him into a sense of security, somewhat. His voice trembled only slightly.
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"You did as well. It seems, however, that you have come out of it a bit less...worn than I have."
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He felt the bruise on his forehead, not a little self-consciously.
"Mm," he said. "Well, I did have somewhere to go home to. Not very fond of the MAC, were you?"
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"Wanted men most often avoid buildings controlled by the state."
He deadpanned it, still blissfully unaware of Katurian's intimate knowledge of a history he halfway didn't remember himself. "The streets are more familiar a home to me than the MAC."
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"I'd also think," he said, "that wanted men would avoid being seen in public."
Was he threatening Takaya? He wasn't sure. The other man's nonchalance bothered him, especially since he himself could feel every one of his hairs raise as Takaya got up off the ground. Fear and anger and even more fear. Katurian wasn't very good at dealing with murderers.
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"I'm...far too tired to care at the moment, and my previous accommodations within the City are full of men who would wish to see me dead...or worse. I believe one of them mentioned something about admiring the color of my eyes - and promising to take them as souvenirs, once he was done with me." He gave a dismissive noise in his throat. "If the authorities come for me, I will simply kill them." He cocked his head, still smiling wearily. "I would have assumed you knew by this point in time, Katurian Katurian."
He was perfectly aware of Katurian's authoritative advantage over him, and briefly considered murdering him to keep him quiet. But keep what quiet? That he saw Takaya in this part of the city, when he could drift off long before they would find him? No, murder was too much effort - right now it was too much to bother with.
"What will you do, Katurian?" He queried casually. "My specialties are murder and disappearing into thin air. I am no ghost, but I am close."
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What would he do?
"We're both ghosts," he said. The use of the word 'both' was deliberate, although it was toxic on his tongue. Carefully, he dug through the plastic bag he had with him and removed the sandwich he bought just minutes earlier. Without fanfare, comment, or smile, he tossed it to at Takaya.
Pity was what he hated. Pity was what he'd get.
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"I am very tangible." The last person to call him a ghost had been dead not a half minute later, but he wasn't to that point yet. He was experienced in senseless murders, but this wasn't the Dark Hour, and being reckless would be certain suicide. So he would settle for disdain. "Is this some attempt at benevolence? You have said it before; if it were up to your decision, Katurian Katurian, I would be dead."
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"Except it's not my decision." He spread his arms as though casting off all responsibility, letting them fall again a moment later because he felt too vulnerable otherwise, especially in Takaya's presence. He swallowed. "You're staying here until the Porter finds it necessary for you to walk with the dead again. So to speak. What's stopping me from being civil in the mean time?"
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"Common sense." In an effort to intimidate Katurian, to gain control of this situation again and to redeem this small slight upon him, Takaya nonchalantly placed his hand on the handle of his revolver. He wouldn't fire, but he would intimidate. If he could, if Katurian wasn't aware of his slight hesitance, in any case. "Morality. The fact that you loathe me and all that I stand for. Or perhaps naivety. Stupidity. Whatever prompts a man to pity a killer; a man that would take his life with no hesitance."
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He tried to act like he hadn't seen it.
"So what if I lack common sense," he said. "So what if I'm naive. You come out better for it, don't you?" He smiled wryly. "Unless that's the problem."
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