;A;
DS LOGS
(I will never finish these.)
III. blowhard
Once inside the Varia mansion, Dino was instructed to wait in the main dining area by an aggravated Squalo, so he sat himself on one of the elegant chairs and concentrated on not noticing the small blonde prince who was watching him. The show would have been slightly less obvious if Bel had not relocated a cardboard box, cut out a big hole, moved it into the middle of the hall, and sat inside. With great effort, the Bucking Horse kept the edges of his mouth from twitching. So this was how the maniacal Bel acted in familiar territory?
Finally, after staring at the box staring back for ten whole minutes, Dino cleared his throat ever so softly. The prince experienced the sudden revelation of being noticed, and threw off his disguise. The box arched through the air, past the open doors, and into one of the large bathrooms where it bounced off of Lussuria’s head when he had been zipping up his pants. Ignoring the scream of agony that resonated throughout the mansion, Bel ran up to Dino. “The prince has a visitor!” he announced, throwing his hands into the air.
“Er-”
Too late. The little blond took a hold of Dino’s arms with an alarmingly strong grip and dragged the speechless Cavallone boss away from his seat. The older man could only stumble to keep up with Bel’s excited pace.
“The prince will show you around his castle, pretty subject” Bel claimed, grinning like the happy little lunatic that he was
The first stop was the great bathroom, where Dino had to shut his eyes in fear that they would bleed-it was not due to the sight of Lussuria’s foaming face, but of the flamboyant man’s other face, so to speak. Bel, who was equally disgusted, pointed out his favorite soap dispenser, and then moved on as quickly as possible. The next stop was the enormous kitchen, where Bel pushed ahead before the five startled cooks to the state-of-the-art knife sharpener. He explained with great glee how it could sharpen up to thirty butcher knives and ten paring knives simultaneously, all while peeling fifteen potatoes. It was certainly Bel’s favorite instrument, when the cooks, who were retired assassins, weren’t attempting to murder him for using killing knives on kitchen equipment. The third stop was the garden, where, unknown to Dino, Bel had just gotten into an argument with Xanxus. All Dino saw was a small hamster cage harboring a coon tail.
“That’s where Xanxus grows his hair,” the little blonde explained with a great big huff. “That idiot.”
The forth stop was the most surprising of all. Bel dragged Dino into his room and tossed a cow-shaped soap-dispenser into Dino’s arms.
“Squalo got it for me from Italy,” the little prince claimed proudly.
The Cavallone boss blinked. He was unsure of how to proceed.
“It looks like milk,” Bel continued, as if his companion hadn’t entered a tortuous state of bafflement. “Squalo says that it’s by the Miss Milky brand by Pupa. It smells like white chocolate, actually. I ate his Miss Milky shower cream so he got me my own.”
Dino gaped. “You a-a-a-ate?”
The prince shrugged. “It didn’t taste like white chocolate at all. My stomach hurt afterward so I haven’t tasted this one yet.”
Before the Cavallone boss could reiterate his concern for Bel’s safety, Squalo kicked down the prince’s bedroom door and screeched, “What the hell are you doing here?!”
IV. bleak season
Dino quickly realized that the way that Varia operated was by dragging each other back and forth throughout the mansion, for as he was being dragged to where ever Squalo was stomping too, he saw a tired Levi dragging an unconscious Lussuria somewhere. The blonde shut his eyes again for obvious reasons until he could not hear Levi’s feet anymore.
To his surprise, their destination had been Squalo’s bedroom and the shark had obviously just gotten back from Italy. Boxes bursting with clothes and products laid in one corner but the rest of the room was relatively Spartan. A gleam of sunlight caught Dino’s eyes. Closing the door so that he could view the rest of the area, he found a long narrow glass cabinet of swords and …
“… tapes?” the blond murmured.
“What do you want?” Squalo began in his typical friendly manner. He sat down on the only chair unoccupied by crates.
Dino’s eyes caught site of another object, this one, less malicious. Before the shark could even react, the Bucking Horse was over to his right with his hand in one of the Pupa crates. Bemused, Squalo watched a huge smile break over Dino’s face as he picked up the cow-shaped Miss Milky cleanser that Bel had boasted about earlier.
“You gave this to Bel,” the blonde exclaimed.
An eyebrow rose. “Yes. And there are about ten fucking more of those things in there under the peanuts. What about them?”
Obviously suicidal, Dino explained, “You’re a lot more caring than you let on.”
Squalo snarled, “Are you here to fight?”
However, the threat flew over the blonde’s head as Dino dabbed a little cleanser (“HEY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”) on his hand and sniffed it. “White Chocolate still. Why did you get him all the same or is this the only kind they had?”
That narrow, suspicious gaze eyed the blonde for a few seconds and then finally glanced away. Finally, in a somewhat normal decibel of voice, Squalo explicated, as if there was a rock stuck in his throat, “The idiot kept on eating mine so I decided to get him his own. It should last him until I get back to Italy, unless he goddamn eats it.”
Placing the plastic cow back into the box, Dino finally said the statement which dealt the final card of the moment, “You use this stuff a lot? That’s cute.”
Squalo stood up so fast that his chair rocked over. The shark’s lanky hand grabbed for Dino’s collar and the low growl warned the victim of all the possibilities of too late, fool; but it was too late to notice the Bucking Horse’s fancier footwork, the side-step and swing back of his right foot so that his right arm could harshly grasp around the shark’s wrist and pull the man off balance. Squalo stepped forward too quickly while Dino held the shark’s arm prisoner behind the angry back, and the assassin caught his mistake while serving as bait for the Cavallone boss’s elbow, which encircled his neck in order to force a choking grip. Quickly, he snapped back his free shoulder and, ignoring the pain which jolted from the uneven handling of his captured arm, caught Dino across the cheek; the Cavallone boss skidded back across the floor. Black and blue roses bloomed across Dino’s fair cheek but Squalo was not finished. He first drew his only fist and Dino raised his hands.
“I wasn’t lying before,” the Cavallone boss quietly assured with calm eyes while Squalo took a breath. “If I were looking for a fight, I wouldn’t be looking for you.”
It took a while. It was Squalo’s shoulders first which unfolded like the smoothing out of crinkled paper, and then the little nook at the nape of his neck released like fish from a hook. His back then straightened and the strings along his thighs untangled themselves. His wrists were the last to let go but finally, the upwelling from the bloody network died down into the usual fervor of red rivers. Finally, Squalo demanded, “Talk, trash.”
A slight humorless laugh. “I came to make peace, actually.”
But Squalo (kindly) overlooked the irony. “There was never an issue.”
It began with the pace of Dino’s heart, which gradually sped like a novice; he glanced down at the floor with his hands in his pockets, pushing the fluster which rose to the base of his neck to the floor. It was too difficult and too theoretical and he had never ran it past Romario. The quickening caused the words to catch in his throat and Dino was ready to croak out a nonsensical syllable when randomly, he fell over and banged his skull against the frame of Squalo’s bed.
“WHAT THE HELL,” the assassin roared and then thoughtfully added, “STOP BLEEDING ALL OVER MY CARPET!”
(I will never finish these.)
III. blowhard
Once inside the Varia mansion, Dino was instructed to wait in the main dining area by an aggravated Squalo, so he sat himself on one of the elegant chairs and concentrated on not noticing the small blonde prince who was watching him. The show would have been slightly less obvious if Bel had not relocated a cardboard box, cut out a big hole, moved it into the middle of the hall, and sat inside. With great effort, the Bucking Horse kept the edges of his mouth from twitching. So this was how the maniacal Bel acted in familiar territory?
Finally, after staring at the box staring back for ten whole minutes, Dino cleared his throat ever so softly. The prince experienced the sudden revelation of being noticed, and threw off his disguise. The box arched through the air, past the open doors, and into one of the large bathrooms where it bounced off of Lussuria’s head when he had been zipping up his pants. Ignoring the scream of agony that resonated throughout the mansion, Bel ran up to Dino. “The prince has a visitor!” he announced, throwing his hands into the air.
“Er-”
Too late. The little blond took a hold of Dino’s arms with an alarmingly strong grip and dragged the speechless Cavallone boss away from his seat. The older man could only stumble to keep up with Bel’s excited pace.
“The prince will show you around his castle, pretty subject” Bel claimed, grinning like the happy little lunatic that he was
The first stop was the great bathroom, where Dino had to shut his eyes in fear that they would bleed-it was not due to the sight of Lussuria’s foaming face, but of the flamboyant man’s other face, so to speak. Bel, who was equally disgusted, pointed out his favorite soap dispenser, and then moved on as quickly as possible. The next stop was the enormous kitchen, where Bel pushed ahead before the five startled cooks to the state-of-the-art knife sharpener. He explained with great glee how it could sharpen up to thirty butcher knives and ten paring knives simultaneously, all while peeling fifteen potatoes. It was certainly Bel’s favorite instrument, when the cooks, who were retired assassins, weren’t attempting to murder him for using killing knives on kitchen equipment. The third stop was the garden, where, unknown to Dino, Bel had just gotten into an argument with Xanxus. All Dino saw was a small hamster cage harboring a coon tail.
“That’s where Xanxus grows his hair,” the little blonde explained with a great big huff. “That idiot.”
The forth stop was the most surprising of all. Bel dragged Dino into his room and tossed a cow-shaped soap-dispenser into Dino’s arms.
“Squalo got it for me from Italy,” the little prince claimed proudly.
The Cavallone boss blinked. He was unsure of how to proceed.
“It looks like milk,” Bel continued, as if his companion hadn’t entered a tortuous state of bafflement. “Squalo says that it’s by the Miss Milky brand by Pupa. It smells like white chocolate, actually. I ate his Miss Milky shower cream so he got me my own.”
Dino gaped. “You a-a-a-ate?”
The prince shrugged. “It didn’t taste like white chocolate at all. My stomach hurt afterward so I haven’t tasted this one yet.”
Before the Cavallone boss could reiterate his concern for Bel’s safety, Squalo kicked down the prince’s bedroom door and screeched, “What the hell are you doing here?!”
IV. bleak season
Dino quickly realized that the way that Varia operated was by dragging each other back and forth throughout the mansion, for as he was being dragged to where ever Squalo was stomping too, he saw a tired Levi dragging an unconscious Lussuria somewhere. The blonde shut his eyes again for obvious reasons until he could not hear Levi’s feet anymore.
To his surprise, their destination had been Squalo’s bedroom and the shark had obviously just gotten back from Italy. Boxes bursting with clothes and products laid in one corner but the rest of the room was relatively Spartan. A gleam of sunlight caught Dino’s eyes. Closing the door so that he could view the rest of the area, he found a long narrow glass cabinet of swords and …
“… tapes?” the blond murmured.
“What do you want?” Squalo began in his typical friendly manner. He sat down on the only chair unoccupied by crates.
Dino’s eyes caught site of another object, this one, less malicious. Before the shark could even react, the Bucking Horse was over to his right with his hand in one of the Pupa crates. Bemused, Squalo watched a huge smile break over Dino’s face as he picked up the cow-shaped Miss Milky cleanser that Bel had boasted about earlier.
“You gave this to Bel,” the blonde exclaimed.
An eyebrow rose. “Yes. And there are about ten fucking more of those things in there under the peanuts. What about them?”
Obviously suicidal, Dino explained, “You’re a lot more caring than you let on.”
Squalo snarled, “Are you here to fight?”
However, the threat flew over the blonde’s head as Dino dabbed a little cleanser (“HEY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”) on his hand and sniffed it. “White Chocolate still. Why did you get him all the same or is this the only kind they had?”
That narrow, suspicious gaze eyed the blonde for a few seconds and then finally glanced away. Finally, in a somewhat normal decibel of voice, Squalo explicated, as if there was a rock stuck in his throat, “The idiot kept on eating mine so I decided to get him his own. It should last him until I get back to Italy, unless he goddamn eats it.”
Placing the plastic cow back into the box, Dino finally said the statement which dealt the final card of the moment, “You use this stuff a lot? That’s cute.”
Squalo stood up so fast that his chair rocked over. The shark’s lanky hand grabbed for Dino’s collar and the low growl warned the victim of all the possibilities of too late, fool; but it was too late to notice the Bucking Horse’s fancier footwork, the side-step and swing back of his right foot so that his right arm could harshly grasp around the shark’s wrist and pull the man off balance. Squalo stepped forward too quickly while Dino held the shark’s arm prisoner behind the angry back, and the assassin caught his mistake while serving as bait for the Cavallone boss’s elbow, which encircled his neck in order to force a choking grip. Quickly, he snapped back his free shoulder and, ignoring the pain which jolted from the uneven handling of his captured arm, caught Dino across the cheek; the Cavallone boss skidded back across the floor. Black and blue roses bloomed across Dino’s fair cheek but Squalo was not finished. He first drew his only fist and Dino raised his hands.
“I wasn’t lying before,” the Cavallone boss quietly assured with calm eyes while Squalo took a breath. “If I were looking for a fight, I wouldn’t be looking for you.”
It took a while. It was Squalo’s shoulders first which unfolded like the smoothing out of crinkled paper, and then the little nook at the nape of his neck released like fish from a hook. His back then straightened and the strings along his thighs untangled themselves. His wrists were the last to let go but finally, the upwelling from the bloody network died down into the usual fervor of red rivers. Finally, Squalo demanded, “Talk, trash.”
A slight humorless laugh. “I came to make peace, actually.”
But Squalo (kindly) overlooked the irony. “There was never an issue.”
It began with the pace of Dino’s heart, which gradually sped like a novice; he glanced down at the floor with his hands in his pockets, pushing the fluster which rose to the base of his neck to the floor. It was too difficult and too theoretical and he had never ran it past Romario. The quickening caused the words to catch in his throat and Dino was ready to croak out a nonsensical syllable when randomly, he fell over and banged his skull against the frame of Squalo’s bed.
“WHAT THE HELL,” the assassin roared and then thoughtfully added, “STOP BLEEDING ALL OVER MY CARPET!”