Characters: Durer, Vegas, and Guard A's mother. (Jaykay, Jaykay.)
Status: Open. Action or prose is fine, follow your heart.
Summary: Durer has been minding his own business for the most part around town, making sure he really was Dean Butler-less, and not just having an extended dream. He's finally decided it's safe enough to pick up some victims
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Comments 59
The blond man who had made the bizarre sound attracted Faize's eyes, and he offered the stranger a smile from his space a few feet away.
"Are you alright, Sir?"
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He'd learned enough from Dean Butler to know that you could catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and as much as he hated to admit it, the man had suceeded in ways Durer had failed. Not that he wasn't going to use the approach this time, of course. The longer the wait, the better the reward.
"You aren't lost, are you?"
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"I'm not. The city isn't large enough for me to become lost, I'm afraid." He chuckled, then looked up at the stranger again. "It's rare to see someone walking these streets so happy."
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"I've been here a long time. Perhaps I've simply adapted." Or perhaps I'm thinking about how breakable you look. Naturally, as he thought of the little ending quip another small chuckle left him. Oh, he did seem happy, didn't he? He was.
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For all the bravado, pretense, and weather-warn expressions he's seen just within the short time of his recent arrive.
This man was actually, truly, comfortable here.
Comfortable in this wretched phantasmagoric reality.
Why?
His eye narrowed for a brief moment as a slightly unnerving feeling was that this strange human reminded him way too much of 'them.' Disgusting vile men that spilled their filthy blood against his cheeks.
Recollecting his thoughts quickly, Mukuro pushed the shadows back, and a innocent yet collected smile formed itself upon his features as he approached man. "Hello." He gave a polite nod.
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"Hello." A response returned just as politely, though he was already sizing him up. This had the potential to be fun if he played his cards correctly. Oh, yes. Had he been dealt a good enough hand?
"Are you new here?"
He assumed it was likely, but it wouldn't hurt the conversation one bit to ask anyway. He needed time to strike, after all.
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"I've been here a rather long time, I suppose."
Keep the smile on, because it was the best way to catch someone off-guard. He was certain of it, thanks to Dean Butler's irritating performance when he was still around.
"I could assist you if you'd like."
He'd do more than that, too.
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There was nothing pleasant in his merry voice, nor did the smile reached his eyes. As the uniformed man walked through the doors and drew nearer to him, the nation turned to glower at him. "Stop laughing." It was starting to grate on his nerves.
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"You seem in a bad mood. Something troubling you?"
It wasn't s if Durer quite cared, really. But to each thier own method.
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"You laugh too much." He replied bitingly, gritting through his teeth. Belarus wouldn't have bothered with this man at all, but Durer had definitely caused his bad mood.
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"You think so? Perhaps you don't laugh enough."
Words that held undertones of cruelty, because when Durer wasn't pretending to be kind it was incredibly obvious the sort of man he was. The best sort of man to exist in this city, surely.
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"What do you have to be so happy about?" The tall man in black spoke from a nearby bench, legs crossed as he leisurely inspected one of his swords. Interestingly, he hadn't appeared there until after Durer had already passed said bench.
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"Perhaps I'm having a good day."
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"A good day..." He repeated, finding himself unable to take these words at face value, but refrained from calling Durer out on them. "You must have been here quite long for any day here to be good."
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"I've been here long enough to know better than to make assumptions. And you?"
He left it open on purpose. Best to let this stranger give him something to go on before he forced him into his bed. Ah, a wall would do fine too, wouldn't it. There was so much more pain that way.
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