[Log] Kisuke Urahara, Shuuhei Hisagi, Dante Sparda
Title: Just a Bar Job
Characters: Shuuhei Hisagi (
ratherbe4gotten), Kisuke Urahara (
lcpdragonslayer ), Dante Sparda (
gogochan)
Timeline: April 14, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Shuuhei attempts to go double-undercover by applying for a job at the Black Cat Lounge. Kisuke knows appearances and manner can be deceiving, and calls in a favor from Dante.
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Shuuhei spotted the Black Cat Lounge as soon as he turned onto 7th avenue. It wasn’t the first time he had been past the club, but he hadn’t had the chance to get a look inside before today. The distinctive outlines of the bold cats that covered the black, boarded windows caught the weak February sun as he approach the building, making the sign that hung above door pretty much defunct.
The club was open, if virtually deserted so early in the day. The tattooed brunet nodded to the doorman as he passed, sauntering into the bar as if he had every right to be there, which, technically, he did. His shoulder blades itched as he pushed down the discomfort of walking into the unknown, not that anyone would have been able to tell from his causal demeanour.
Usually Shuuhei made a point of knowing as much as possible about a place before he walked in, particularly if it was a place that belonged to someone with the sort of reputation Kisuke Urahara had. Unfortunately that reputation was precisely the reason he had to go in virtually blind. The kind of people who knew Urahara well enough to know what went on behinds the scenes at the Black Cat, weren’t the type to talk. Ulquiorra had handed him a sheet of paper with some vague information, when he had given him the orders that had sent him on this information gathering mission, but it wasn’t like being discovered as one of the Concavo family’s soldati was the only thing he had to worry about.
He glanced around the club, trying to find a balance between casual curiosity and taking too much of an interest. Urahara was bound to have people looking out for anyone with an unhealthy level of curiosity. The dark panelling and dim lighting made it hard to make out more than general outline of the far side of the room and stage. Shuuhei had to admit the place probably had a pretty classy feel at night, with a band playing and the bar full, but right now it echoed with the emptiness.
Taking one last look across the club he headed for the lone member of staff he had spotted. Leaning on the polished wooded bar he waited until he caught the broad’s attention.
“Hey, doll, I’m here to see Mr. Urahara about the bar job.”
The broad looked him over for a moment, her eyes lingering on the scars that ran down his cheek, before she disappeared out behind the bar somewhere. With any luck she had gone to find her boss.
At this time of the day, Black Cat Lounge was relatively empty. The lunch crowd had came and gone, and the patrons downstairs were few and far between - mostly people at the nearby theatres having a late lunch, or early dinner. There was a group of people upstairs as well, to his knowledge, and a couple of people playing pool undisturbed. He liked the place at this time of the day - no more or less than when it was bustling at night. There were not many people, and while that meant that the money flow was a little slower, it did also mean that the place was more peaceful.
He walked through the Black Cat Lounge, occasionally stopping to pick up a cigarette butt from the floor. He sighed - people these days. What were the ashtrays on the table for? Decoration? With most of the interior made of wood, one day one of these insufferable people would set the place on fire - and that would be the day.
He smiled and nodded at his dayshift bartender, briefly reminded that he was supposed to be meeting a potential bartender sometime today. She smiled and nodded back whilst wiping a glass dry, replacing it back onto the shelf. Throwing the cigarette butts away, he stepped in behind the bar counter and leaned his cane against the counter gently. He washed his hands in the sink before picking up a dishcloth, reaching over to the glass she was about to pick up, coincidentally grazing past her hand as he did so. He earned a little blush and a small smile, to which he smirked at a little before drying the glass.
“You don’t need to, Kisuke. I can do this myself…”
“Nonsense~ You’ll be drying glasses until midnight at this pace.”
She flicked the tea towel at him, an annoyed look on her face. “You tryin’ to say I’m slow?”
“Nooo, of course not~ I’m just saying it’ll be faster with two people.”
Before too long, all the dry mugs, wine, cocktail, cognac and champagne glasses went back into their shelves. He leaned back against the counter and made light talk with her, with the occasional outburst of laughter and her threatening to punch him.
“Alright dear. I’m going upstairs for a little while.”
She nodded and gave him room to move, and he gave her a wink and smiled as he picked up his cane, making his way back around, whistling as he headed for and up the stairs. With the walls and floor soundproofed, he had to occasionally check in to make sure that things were going relatively smoothly.
He was invited to join in, but the invitation did not get too far before he was graced with Tatsuki’s presence again. Somehow he had managed to hear what she said through the hullabaloo, and he nodded and politely declined joining in the table before making his way out, down the stairs with Tatsuki following behind him.
He greeted the visitor with the warmest of smiles, slowing to a stop about a metre away from him. He extended his free hand.
“Shuuhei Hisagi, I presume? It’s a pleasure~”
Shuuhei watched the blond man walking towards him with a small amount of surprise. He was sure it had to be Kisuke, but for all the rumours he had heard the man wasn’t what he had expected. The newcomer was already smiling before he reached Shuuhei, and despite his better judgment he felt himself relax slightly.
The club owner was well known for being an excellent host, if something of an odd ball. Putting people at easy was part of the man’s job, but whatever the other man’s demeanour, he wasn’t about to forget that Kisuke Urahara was a smart, and potentially dangerous, rival of Mr. Sousuke. The blond’s congenial manner wasn’t enough to explain the dough he was raking in, or the level of his clientele either. It was that discrepancy he was there to investigate, on the Borgata’s behalf. It was what he had been trained to be able to do as a special assignments cop, but those skills weren’t something he had ever expected to be using for the benefit of the mafia family he was meant to be working to bring down.
He nodded, reaching out and shaking the other man’s hand. “Mr Urahara,” he greeted, before glancing over at the bar and letting the hint of a smirk find his lips. “I hear you are looking for a good bartender.”
He stood back and let the other man take in his appearance, his dark threads and tattooed skin. It was the kind of thing that could make or break a situation like this, but if Kisuke let him get behind the bar, he knew the gig would be as good as his. Shuuhei was a fast learner--he had to be--and he made a point of being more than good at whatever he took on.
He followed Shuuhei's gaze to the bar. A good bartender? Yes - yes he was, among other things... His gaze returned to Shuuhei, and he smiled. He was not one to judge people simply by their appearance, having seen countless faces and come across a myriad of personalities in his line of work. Although, Shuuhei did look rather unique. He appeared to be a bright, handsome young man - certainly had the look to suit the job he was looking for - although they would need to talk to get to know each other better.
His smile turned into somewhat of a grin. "No need to be so formal - just call me Kisuke. 'Mr. Urahara' makes me feel old, or important, and I'm afraid I'm neither of those~"
He cast his gaze over his shoulder and examined the surroundings. Not many diners - a table had left in the span of him returning, leaving the Lounge a little more deserted.
"Shall we talk over there?" he asked, shifting his gaze back to Shuuhei briefly as he used his cane to point at the corner with two red upholstered settees and small round table. "It's more dormy, and then you can tell me anything you like~"
Shuuhei watched a grin slowly form on the blond’s mouth, something almost mischievous sparkling in the man’s eyes. Kisuke it was then, but the man was either overly modest, or acting that way, if he was going to insist that he wasn’t important, at least within the circles he moved in. He didn’t believe that the club owner could really be oblivious to the interest his rivals would have taken in his apparent success. He ran his eyes over the blond. No Kisuke wasn’t old, not that the fact his potential new employer was easy on the eyes mattered just now, all he wanted to think about was getting the job.
He followed Kisuke’s gaze across the room to the quiet corner of the club. He would have been happier if Kisuke had wanted to barber with him behind the bar. There was something about the man’s gaze that was kind of unnerving. He didn’t want to leave himself behind the eight ball, which meant he would have been happier answering the club owner’s questions where he could have had something else to distract his attention, but it looked like he was out of luck.
“Sure why not,” he said, nodding lightly.
Heading towards the comfy looking sofas, he waited for Kisuke to take a seat before he sat down opposite, resting his forearms on his knees. “So, what do you want to know?”
Kisuke settled into his seat, adjusting a little before resting his cane against the armrest, folding his hands in his lap. Shuuhei was most intriguing - he returned the gaze with a smile.
They sat there in silence and he studied Shuuhei carefully for a little while - his features, his expression, his posture - before his soft gaze returned to meet Shuuhei's eyes. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about yourself?" he asked, an almost cheeky grin spreading across his face.
Shuuhei resisted the urge to shift under Kisuke’s gaze as he felt himself weighed and measured. Despite the man’s relaxed smile there was no hiding from the intelligence that glinted in those green eyes. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the club owner had picked up on some of his tension, but then this was an interview for a job that he very much needed to get, if not for the usual reasons.
The gig was just the opportunity he had been looking for to get himself noticed by someone higher up in the Family. He wasn’t about to kid himself, Ulquiorra had picked him for the task as much because he was as expendable as he was capable, but the suits at the NYPD were getting impatient for him to start proving he was worth the time and effort that had gone into placing him within the Concavo organisation. If he couldn’t get in with the capo he didn’t have a chance in hell of digging up the sort of evidence his real bosses were pushing him to find-somewhere along the line the risks had stopped being optional.
“About myself?” he asked, his grin tugging the scars that ran down his right cheek. “There’s not much to tell, what you see is what you get.” He sat back, his eyes fixing Kisuke’s. “I’m just a guy looking for a job. You’ve seen my credentials, you know I can do the job, and you’re welcome to check my references.” Everything he said was true, not that he expected a man like Kisuke to rely on past employers for information if he wasn’t happy with what Shuuhei said.
He took a breath, knowing that what he said next would make or break this opportunity. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your establishment Mr. Urahara, a lot of interesting things. If you’re looking for someone to make sure your more important guests have a good time, leaving them free to enjoy the facilities, then I suggest you give me a chance to prove myself.”
‘What you see is what you get,’ huh? That did not quite explain how Shuuhei managed to source information about parts of his lounge that not every ‘guy looking for a job’ could get. He was mildly surprised, though at the same time amused, and would have liked to hear about exactly what Shuuhei had heard about this establishment. All this talk about ‘more important guests having a good time’ and ‘enjoying the facilities’ - it was all very interesting and... thought-inducing.
“You are a very resourceful young man, Shuuhei,” he said, his smile only showing the interest, the amusement, and nothing more. “Not many people outside of my ‘more important guests’ hear about the ‘good times’ and ‘facilities’ - or live long enough to talk about it. Clearly, there is much I don’t see that is still left to be getting.” He was keen to know exactly where Shuuhei had sourced his information, but he was probably not going to get the kind of answer he sought after if he were to ask. Besides - he supposed the fun was in trying to figure it out.
“So, presumably your quest for a bar job is the one that caters to people who are not just here for the dining and the music,” he said, smiling. The way Shuuhei said it indicated that he wanted the bartending job upstairs.
“You must know, then, that I have concerns when it comes to giving you that kind of job.” It wasn’t a job that he would give away to just any Tom, Dick or Harry. “This establishment and its ‘facilities’ have been here for quite a few years, and it has been an eventful time, trying to balance between delicate trust and higher revenue. While I won’t deny that I could use a helping hand, these positions are usually reserved for people I have known for a long time, people I can trust - and incidentally people I can easily get rid of if, heaven forbid, something untoward was to happen.”
"As you can probably see, I haven’t known you for a very long time, I don’t yet trust you, and, incidentally, I don’t know how easy it is for me to get rid of you if, heaven forbid, something happens.” And, despite all this, the look on Shuuhei’s face was indicative that he still wanted the job. Well he supposed he would have to... do some check-ups and make an effort to get to know the young man a little better. He could easily turn the man away now, but it would not change the fact that Shuuhei knew what went on behind drawn curtains. Besides, he might turn out to become an asset to the establishment. It was a gamble, really, but he wasn’t ready to pull out just yet.
“My biggest concern for now is the ‘New York Police Department’ section of your Curriculum Vitae. It said that you have left the force, but the fact that you have worked there before suggests to me... shall we say... a conflict of interest?”
Shuuhei finally gave up the battle to remain still under that knowing gaze. Anyone who didn’t react to that sort of interest, apparently amused or not, would have been suspicious anyway, but he didn’t back down, dark eyes remaining locked on the club owner’s as he mentioned ‘living long enough to talk’. He shifted back on the red sofa, reassured by the press of his .38 in its holster against his ankle. Not that he thought Kisuke would try anything here, the man had been around too long to pull something like that in his own club.
He let the slight smirk on his face answer Kisuke’s question about a job in the club’s more prestigious, if less well know bar upstairs, his gaze still not dropping even at Kisuke mention of getting rid of people in a way that suggested some of the man’s former employees never had any need for their final paycheque. If this had been an undercover job for the NYPD he might have gone in somewhat more softly. If he’d had months, rather than a few weeks, to start coming up with the answers Ulquiorra had sent him in to look for, he might have been happy to spend a while working downstairs and winning the man’s confidence, but as it was he had to hope Kisuke would take his apparent openness at face value.
Finally the subject he had been waiting for came up. There had been no point in trying to hide his ‘former’ employers. A job with ‘NY's finest’ had a habit of finding its way to the surface, and there were too many people from his past who could crawl out of the woodwork and catch him out in that lie to take the chance. He had his cover to fall back on anyway. It had only gotten easier to voice the words that had once been lies concocted to get him a foothold in Concavo’s tight knit Family.
“What can I say? Get sold out enough times by the men who are meant to be your colleagues, your superiors even, and you start to wonder if maybe they had the right idea.” Leaning forward, he let his eyes flick to the floor before meeting Kisuke’s eyes again. “There’s no conflict of interest here, Kisuke, but I’m sure a man like you has the resources to find out just what terms in which I left that particular job. Everyone is entitled to make one mistake in their youth aren’t they? I was just luckier than some and got out in one piece.”
He laughed a little at Shuuhei's response. It was not so much as a conflict of interests as he was concerned that the fact that 'left the NYPD' suggested that, in the worst case scenario, he was still in it and that it had been a cover used to enter his club and gather evidence for his illegal dealings.
In which case, the entire department might be aware of this and his calling the NYPD to do some checking up would bear no fruit.
He might have to resort to some... other method of digging; something that would require a little more work that calling up a few people over the phone. No matter - he would make the calls anyway, and get the person who he knew would be perfect for the job to do a little bit of a background check, and correlate it with what Shuuhei had said and what his CV said.
"Oh, you have such high expectations of my capabilities, Shuuhei. My resources are limited - I'm afraid your ideas about this humble scatter owner have been a little skewed." He smiled innocently, revealing nothing of the multiple trains of thought running through his mind.
"I think everyone is entitled to make mistakes, yes. However, as you know, some mistakes have more severe repercussions than others. I do feel fortunate for you, having come out in one piece, but you must also understand the tightrope I am walking in my position. In this line, everything has to be seamless. One mistake on my end... and everything could come to an end. I do believe neither of us would want that now, would we~?"
He looked at Shuuhei with pupils dancing in the dim light and a light smile. "I presume you are free for the rest of the day? I would like for you to do a little bit at the bar here tonight... and as for the job you seek, I will inform you of my decision within the next few days."
Shuuhei knew he had given it his best shot, he wasn’t the sort of actor that was going to end up on Broadway, but then most bit part players weren’t going to live or die on their next performance. He kept his gaze on Kisuke, refusing to let his eyes hunt out the exits, despite the tensions that crept along his shoulders. He had memorized as much as he could of the joint’s layout while he had waited for Kisuke to appear, but it was more out of habit than the belief he would have to make quick exit. Whether or not Kisuke believed his story, he wasn’t likely to let on to Shuuhei now. Even if he got the gig he knew the club owner would be looking over his shoulder for the next few weeks.
He might have laughed at Kisuke’s apparent modesty, if it wouldn’t have brought up a dozen more questions that he didn’t want to answer. As it was he let a smile form on his lips, playing along with the other man’s game. He was sure that most of the clubs patrons had no idea about the more illicit side of their host’s business, but even before he had gone undercover he had heard rumours about the oddball blond.
The smile all but disappeared as Kisuke continued to talk. He didn’t understand why the man was being so unguarded about his conversation topics. Kisuke had pretty much confirmed his true line of business, a risky move considering that the club owner couldn’t have known if Shuuhei’s knowledge ran much deeper than small time rumours.
At least some of his questions were answered when Kisuke asked him if he could stay for a while. It had crossed his mind that the man might want to see him at work before he offered him the job, but he had half expected to be invited to return the next day. Rather than dispel suspicions about his contacts, the blond had just reaffirmed to Shuuhei how well connected he probably was. Ice ran down his spine and his fingers itched to wrap around the hilt of his knife, that was, as always, tucked against the small if his back.
If his cover didn’t hold, he was well and truly fucked. If he was lucky, Kisuke would have him knocked off, plain and simple. If he was unlucky and the blond found out about his mafia connections as well, he would probably hand him back to the Family, for a price. And if that happened, Shuuhei knew he would be best off looking for the fastest way to take his own life. As a traitor, he might even end up on the wrong end Gin Ichimaru’s blade. Or gun.
His stomach lurched, the memory of some of the files he had reviewed before he had gone undercover swimming to the top of his mind. He swallowed the feeling down and glanced over at the bar. “Why not.” It wasn’t like he could do anything about it right now. He just had to hope that his story would hold up to scrutiny one more time; it would almost be ironic if his cover was finally blown by one of the Concavo family’s rivals. “I wouldn’t expect you to take me on without seeing what I have to offer.”
If Shuuhei really had something to hide, he was pretty confident that no one would leak his information. Either that, or he was setting himself up for a bigger, more painful fall.
No matter. He would find out soon enough.
"That's good," he said, and he slowly got to his feet. He stretched a little, tilting his head left and right. He reached over for his cane and sighed somewhat contentedly. "Why don't you..." He looked over to the bar. Just two customers; and both had been served. Tatsuki was free for now. She probably wouldn't mind doing him a favour, even if it meant he was going to be whipped by a tea towel later.
"The bartending lady over there," he said, motioning to her with a tilt of his head. "Why don't you go over and say hello? She'll be happy to give you a chat and show you around, if you would like. I'm going to have to make a private phone call - but I will be with you when I return."
He gave Shuuhei a small, courteous bow, and excused himself, making it over to his office.
He closed the door behind him, taking a seat in the black, leather chair. He rested his hands on top of his cane, and his chin against his hands, appearing to be pouting as he thought. Shuuhei Hisagi, Shuuhei Hisagi... He didn't mind gambling, but the stakes in this game were...very high...
A long sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes momentarily. If there was nothing to hide; great, but that still didn't answer how he knew about what else went on in Black Cat. If he had something to hide, and he found out, what would he do? Say no and then get him bumped off? And then, of course, if there was something to hide, but it was hidden flawlessly...
The club owner eyed his telephone thoughtfully for a few moments, and after sitting in silence for three minutes, he reached over for the phone. He dialled a number he knew off by heart - a number amongst many numbers - and reclined back into his seat, holding the phone against his ear.
He drummed his fingers on the table idly. Chances were, Dante was fast asleep, and would take his time getting to the phone.
If Kisuke'd been betting on it, he would have walked away with just half. Dante was fast asleep. Fast asleep at his desk; his feet propped up on the worn wooden surface, arms folded tightly over his bare chest. Which meant that the phone was only a good kick away. 'Course, it took five or six rings just to get the bounty hunter to stir. Then it took a few more rings for him to decide whether or not to answer the damn contraption. (He'd been having a really nice dream...)
Had Trish been there, she probably would have scooped it up by the third or fourth ring, but she was off workin' some case...or somethin'. Honestly, Dante couldn't remember where she'd gotten to this time. He just hoped she made it back sooner rather than later. Sure, she got on his last nerve sometimes with the way she was always badgering him to clean the place up and all, but, truth be told, it did get kind of lonely hangin' around the office without her.
By the tenth ring, the angel-eyed hell-raiser realized that whoever was callin' meant business. And business meant money. Hopefully. Well, at any rate, as much Dante was tempted to slink back to sleep, he needed some cold, hard cash more than he needed that hot n' heavy dream.
With the practiced THUMP of a thick black work boot, the old fashioned rotary scooted forward on the desk, ear piece flipping off the handle, so that it twirled twice in the air and landed neatly in the P.I.'s outstretched hand.
"Too easy~" Dante thought, as he slowly brought the telephone to his ear. A sleepy grin stole over his face, making him appear far more sweet and innocent than he truly was.
"Devil May Cry..."
Just when he thought his hand was growing tired of holding the phone up, the dial tone ended and a lazy drawl that was Dante, who had probably just been woken up by the ringing telephone, answered on the other end.
“Oooh~ You are there. Just when I thought I was going to have to wait another two hours until you decided to pick up the phone.”
A small smile spread across Kisuke's face. He was still lying in his chair rather lazily, and he turned his head to glance at the clock on the wall before fixating his gaze on the dartboard.
“Now, before you come up with some excuse to hang up on me, I’m not chasing you today. I’m going to need a favour. It should be nothing too difficult, but it is a favour that I’m willing to wipe off half your very long tab for.”
He rubbed at his chin idly, his gaze briefly growing distant. He reached over for the cane and twirled it idly in his free hand.
“Does that sound like a feasible proposition?”
That got Dante's attention. He sat up a bit straighter, his grin widening as soon as he recognized the lilting voice on the other end. Too bad Kisuke wasn't offering a paying gig. 'Course, to be fair, Dante owed the club owner a few bushels of cabbage by now, which he'd have to work off one way or another. The cocky dick really couldn't complain. Kisuke was more lenient than most of the Bo's he was indebted to, and knocking off half his bar tab for one job was the best offer he'd had all week.
The best non-sexual offer, that is.
Anyway… Interesting that the cagey blond hadn't used the word "job" or "work" or "gig." He'd said "favour." A "favour" for Kisuke Urahara?
Hell yeah!
Bar tab or no, the Black Cat Lounge's crafty owner was exactly the type of guy the hard-up P.I. needed on his side. Anybody who knew anything about the New York underground knew that Kisuke knew a little something about everybody and everything. Not that the sly bastard would ever admit it... At any rate, it behooved Dante to stay in Kisuke's good graces.
"Sure does," he replied to the club owner with a light chuckle. "Dante Sparda, at your service. Just let me grab something to write with, 'k? Then you can dish out the juicy details of this...favour."
Unlike his fastidious brother, the younger Sparda twin was chronically unorganized. On the top of his desk was the usual hodge-podge of case files and paperwork, notes and newspaper clippings, empty beer bottles, bills, several trashy magazines (well thumbed, but only a bit sticky), and something that vaguely resembled half a doughnut. Or perhaps it was a bagel... At this point, it hardly mattered. What did matter was that Dante couldn't find the pen he'd been using just hours before. It should have been right there, nestled within the motley mess of papers. But, it wasn’t. Nor was it on the floor around his desk. Dammit.
Hmm… Maybe, just maybe, the smart-aleck slob had actually put the pen away; dropping it into one of the desk’s drawers for safe-keeping.
“Sooo, about this favour…” Dante said as he rummaged through the old desk’s deep and dusty drawers. “’Nothin’ too difficult,’ eh? Fine…as long as it ain’t too easy, either. Work is work, but I’d hate for this favour of yours to feel, ya’ know, boring.”
The grin on his face widened as soon as Dante had agreed to do the job for him. Asking nicely and making a generous offer had paid off, after all. Sure, Dante owed him a big sum of money - but Kisuke had excess in terms of capital; a surplus that was growing at a pace that he could easily cover this… ‘loss’. Weighing up the risks and benefits, it was obvious that it was better to part with this small sum of money and sort out his concerns and issues now than suffer the repercussions of carelessness and betrayal later.
He held the phone in place between his ear and shoulder as he reached out to his desk, picking up the deck of cards sitting there. Opening the box, he pulled out the relatively new pack and began shuffling it idly with one hand while waiting for Dante to look for his… writing instrument.
When Dante started speaking again, he picked the phone up with his free hand, transferring it over to the other ear. “Boring? Oh, well, it does depend on what you end up finding out…” he said, watching the deck of cards in his other hand get split in half and pushed back together again.
“I need you to do a background check on a ‘Shuuhei Hisagi’,” he said, assuming Dante had found a pen and some paper - or whatever it was the P.I. was going to write with/on - making sure to intonate every syllable of the prospective bartender’s name, given that the chances of Dante knowing a seemingly obscure, more-or-less everyday young man such as Shuuhei were very slim.
“He wants the bartending job upstairs, and although I’m mainly interested in his NYPD background and whether he really left the force, it wouldn’t hurt to know as much as I can about him before I make my decision, like the kinds of people he likes to spend time with, the kinds of places he frequents, anything out of the ordinary… past criminal convictions, or affiliations of any sort… and the like.”
He set the deck of cards face down on the table before spreading it in a perfect arch. He lifted the card on the end up and flipped it over, creating a domino effect, each card flipping the adjacent one over until the card at the other end flipped open.
“Need me to spell that name out for you?”
"The bartending gig 'upstairs,' huh?" Dante mumbled, eyebrows knitting together as he withdrew a strange looking cylinder from the depths of his desk drawer. Oh, it was a tube of lipstick. Red lipstick; his favorite color. Maybe it belonged to Trish, or perhaps it had been left behind by one of the many lucky ladies that Dante loved with all his might for one night--and one night only. Regardless, he figured it would work in a pinch, in lieu of a pen.
The investigator grabbed the nearest piece of clean paper; a telephone bill from Ma Bell. "Shuuhei Hisa-- What a minute... I know him! Shuuhei Hisagi's the one applying for the job 'upstairs'? Ha!" Dante sat back in his chair, toes wiggling in his boots. Interesting. Very interesting.
A cheeky smile spread across his fair face. "Hot damn, Kisuke, I can vouch for that Bo right now. Helluva guy, that Shuuhei." The P.I. blew a few stubborn strands of snowy hair from his eyes. "With Shuu, whatcha see is whatcha get. Not that I ever got any from him, though heaven knows I tried..."
"Yeah," Dante said, warming to one his all-time favorite topics: sex. "If there's one thing that ain't right about Shuuhei, it's that he never went to bed with me." The compulsively horny bounty hunter toyed with the tube of lipstick, highly amused at how the pointed stick of carmine make-up appeared to be so phallic--especially considering it was intended for a lady's lips. Kinky~
"Not that I hold it against him, or anything," he continued, eyes dancing with glee at the way he could give the lipstick 'an erection' by simply twisting the base. "I just feel bad for the guy, ya' know? Could've been the best night of his life." Dante gave a sigh and shook his head, more for Shuuhei's sake than his own. "Anyway... Yeah, I do remember hearing somethin' a while back about him leaving the force. I'll do the background check and all, n' see what he's been up to since then. Shouldn't take me long; no more than a couple of days."
The youngest Sparda gave a one shouldered shrug, not that Kisuke could see it through the phone. "Unless you need that information A.S.A.P."
Kisuke made a soft, surprised noise that probably did not carry over through the phone. Dante knew Shuuhei? Could even vouch for him without having done any prior research? It must mean that Dante was either on very good terms with Shuuhei, or… alright, he really did not need to know about Dante’s sexual escapades. Every time his mouth moved to try and cut the P.I. off, Dante started speaking again, and he just clamped his mouth shut and laughed a bit instead.
“That’s nice, Dante…” he said, in reference to all the talk about trying to sleep with Shuuhei. Kisuke also realized that he would not be able to look at Shuuhei the same way ever again, but pushed that trivial thought away for the moment.
“A couple of days is fine,” Kisuke added. He would have been more polite and asked Dante to take his time, except he knew that if he did, Dante might postpone it to, well, never. “Do feel free to come by when you’re done.”
“Oh, and thank you~” he said. Had to be polite, yes?
Characters: Shuuhei Hisagi (
ratherbe4gotten), Kisuke Urahara (
lcpdragonslayer ), Dante Sparda (
gogochan)
Timeline: April 14, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Shuuhei attempts to go double-undercover by applying for a job at the Black Cat Lounge. Kisuke knows appearances and manner can be deceiving, and calls in a favor from Dante.
---------------------
Shuuhei spotted the Black Cat Lounge as soon as he turned onto 7th avenue. It wasn’t the first time he had been past the club, but he hadn’t had the chance to get a look inside before today. The distinctive outlines of the bold cats that covered the black, boarded windows caught the weak February sun as he approach the building, making the sign that hung above door pretty much defunct.
The club was open, if virtually deserted so early in the day. The tattooed brunet nodded to the doorman as he passed, sauntering into the bar as if he had every right to be there, which, technically, he did. His shoulder blades itched as he pushed down the discomfort of walking into the unknown, not that anyone would have been able to tell from his causal demeanour.
Usually Shuuhei made a point of knowing as much as possible about a place before he walked in, particularly if it was a place that belonged to someone with the sort of reputation Kisuke Urahara had. Unfortunately that reputation was precisely the reason he had to go in virtually blind. The kind of people who knew Urahara well enough to know what went on behinds the scenes at the Black Cat, weren’t the type to talk. Ulquiorra had handed him a sheet of paper with some vague information, when he had given him the orders that had sent him on this information gathering mission, but it wasn’t like being discovered as one of the Concavo family’s soldati was the only thing he had to worry about.
He glanced around the club, trying to find a balance between casual curiosity and taking too much of an interest. Urahara was bound to have people looking out for anyone with an unhealthy level of curiosity. The dark panelling and dim lighting made it hard to make out more than general outline of the far side of the room and stage. Shuuhei had to admit the place probably had a pretty classy feel at night, with a band playing and the bar full, but right now it echoed with the emptiness.
Taking one last look across the club he headed for the lone member of staff he had spotted. Leaning on the polished wooded bar he waited until he caught the broad’s attention.
“Hey, doll, I’m here to see Mr. Urahara about the bar job.”
The broad looked him over for a moment, her eyes lingering on the scars that ran down his cheek, before she disappeared out behind the bar somewhere. With any luck she had gone to find her boss.
At this time of the day, Black Cat Lounge was relatively empty. The lunch crowd had came and gone, and the patrons downstairs were few and far between - mostly people at the nearby theatres having a late lunch, or early dinner. There was a group of people upstairs as well, to his knowledge, and a couple of people playing pool undisturbed. He liked the place at this time of the day - no more or less than when it was bustling at night. There were not many people, and while that meant that the money flow was a little slower, it did also mean that the place was more peaceful.
He walked through the Black Cat Lounge, occasionally stopping to pick up a cigarette butt from the floor. He sighed - people these days. What were the ashtrays on the table for? Decoration? With most of the interior made of wood, one day one of these insufferable people would set the place on fire - and that would be the day.
He smiled and nodded at his dayshift bartender, briefly reminded that he was supposed to be meeting a potential bartender sometime today. She smiled and nodded back whilst wiping a glass dry, replacing it back onto the shelf. Throwing the cigarette butts away, he stepped in behind the bar counter and leaned his cane against the counter gently. He washed his hands in the sink before picking up a dishcloth, reaching over to the glass she was about to pick up, coincidentally grazing past her hand as he did so. He earned a little blush and a small smile, to which he smirked at a little before drying the glass.
“You don’t need to, Kisuke. I can do this myself…”
“Nonsense~ You’ll be drying glasses until midnight at this pace.”
She flicked the tea towel at him, an annoyed look on her face. “You tryin’ to say I’m slow?”
“Nooo, of course not~ I’m just saying it’ll be faster with two people.”
Before too long, all the dry mugs, wine, cocktail, cognac and champagne glasses went back into their shelves. He leaned back against the counter and made light talk with her, with the occasional outburst of laughter and her threatening to punch him.
“Alright dear. I’m going upstairs for a little while.”
She nodded and gave him room to move, and he gave her a wink and smiled as he picked up his cane, making his way back around, whistling as he headed for and up the stairs. With the walls and floor soundproofed, he had to occasionally check in to make sure that things were going relatively smoothly.
He was invited to join in, but the invitation did not get too far before he was graced with Tatsuki’s presence again. Somehow he had managed to hear what she said through the hullabaloo, and he nodded and politely declined joining in the table before making his way out, down the stairs with Tatsuki following behind him.
He greeted the visitor with the warmest of smiles, slowing to a stop about a metre away from him. He extended his free hand.
“Shuuhei Hisagi, I presume? It’s a pleasure~”
Shuuhei watched the blond man walking towards him with a small amount of surprise. He was sure it had to be Kisuke, but for all the rumours he had heard the man wasn’t what he had expected. The newcomer was already smiling before he reached Shuuhei, and despite his better judgment he felt himself relax slightly.
The club owner was well known for being an excellent host, if something of an odd ball. Putting people at easy was part of the man’s job, but whatever the other man’s demeanour, he wasn’t about to forget that Kisuke Urahara was a smart, and potentially dangerous, rival of Mr. Sousuke. The blond’s congenial manner wasn’t enough to explain the dough he was raking in, or the level of his clientele either. It was that discrepancy he was there to investigate, on the Borgata’s behalf. It was what he had been trained to be able to do as a special assignments cop, but those skills weren’t something he had ever expected to be using for the benefit of the mafia family he was meant to be working to bring down.
He nodded, reaching out and shaking the other man’s hand. “Mr Urahara,” he greeted, before glancing over at the bar and letting the hint of a smirk find his lips. “I hear you are looking for a good bartender.”
He stood back and let the other man take in his appearance, his dark threads and tattooed skin. It was the kind of thing that could make or break a situation like this, but if Kisuke let him get behind the bar, he knew the gig would be as good as his. Shuuhei was a fast learner--he had to be--and he made a point of being more than good at whatever he took on.
He followed Shuuhei's gaze to the bar. A good bartender? Yes - yes he was, among other things... His gaze returned to Shuuhei, and he smiled. He was not one to judge people simply by their appearance, having seen countless faces and come across a myriad of personalities in his line of work. Although, Shuuhei did look rather unique. He appeared to be a bright, handsome young man - certainly had the look to suit the job he was looking for - although they would need to talk to get to know each other better.
His smile turned into somewhat of a grin. "No need to be so formal - just call me Kisuke. 'Mr. Urahara' makes me feel old, or important, and I'm afraid I'm neither of those~"
He cast his gaze over his shoulder and examined the surroundings. Not many diners - a table had left in the span of him returning, leaving the Lounge a little more deserted.
"Shall we talk over there?" he asked, shifting his gaze back to Shuuhei briefly as he used his cane to point at the corner with two red upholstered settees and small round table. "It's more dormy, and then you can tell me anything you like~"
Shuuhei watched a grin slowly form on the blond’s mouth, something almost mischievous sparkling in the man’s eyes. Kisuke it was then, but the man was either overly modest, or acting that way, if he was going to insist that he wasn’t important, at least within the circles he moved in. He didn’t believe that the club owner could really be oblivious to the interest his rivals would have taken in his apparent success. He ran his eyes over the blond. No Kisuke wasn’t old, not that the fact his potential new employer was easy on the eyes mattered just now, all he wanted to think about was getting the job.
He followed Kisuke’s gaze across the room to the quiet corner of the club. He would have been happier if Kisuke had wanted to barber with him behind the bar. There was something about the man’s gaze that was kind of unnerving. He didn’t want to leave himself behind the eight ball, which meant he would have been happier answering the club owner’s questions where he could have had something else to distract his attention, but it looked like he was out of luck.
“Sure why not,” he said, nodding lightly.
Heading towards the comfy looking sofas, he waited for Kisuke to take a seat before he sat down opposite, resting his forearms on his knees. “So, what do you want to know?”
Kisuke settled into his seat, adjusting a little before resting his cane against the armrest, folding his hands in his lap. Shuuhei was most intriguing - he returned the gaze with a smile.
They sat there in silence and he studied Shuuhei carefully for a little while - his features, his expression, his posture - before his soft gaze returned to meet Shuuhei's eyes. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about yourself?" he asked, an almost cheeky grin spreading across his face.
Shuuhei resisted the urge to shift under Kisuke’s gaze as he felt himself weighed and measured. Despite the man’s relaxed smile there was no hiding from the intelligence that glinted in those green eyes. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the club owner had picked up on some of his tension, but then this was an interview for a job that he very much needed to get, if not for the usual reasons.
The gig was just the opportunity he had been looking for to get himself noticed by someone higher up in the Family. He wasn’t about to kid himself, Ulquiorra had picked him for the task as much because he was as expendable as he was capable, but the suits at the NYPD were getting impatient for him to start proving he was worth the time and effort that had gone into placing him within the Concavo organisation. If he couldn’t get in with the capo he didn’t have a chance in hell of digging up the sort of evidence his real bosses were pushing him to find-somewhere along the line the risks had stopped being optional.
“About myself?” he asked, his grin tugging the scars that ran down his right cheek. “There’s not much to tell, what you see is what you get.” He sat back, his eyes fixing Kisuke’s. “I’m just a guy looking for a job. You’ve seen my credentials, you know I can do the job, and you’re welcome to check my references.” Everything he said was true, not that he expected a man like Kisuke to rely on past employers for information if he wasn’t happy with what Shuuhei said.
He took a breath, knowing that what he said next would make or break this opportunity. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your establishment Mr. Urahara, a lot of interesting things. If you’re looking for someone to make sure your more important guests have a good time, leaving them free to enjoy the facilities, then I suggest you give me a chance to prove myself.”
‘What you see is what you get,’ huh? That did not quite explain how Shuuhei managed to source information about parts of his lounge that not every ‘guy looking for a job’ could get. He was mildly surprised, though at the same time amused, and would have liked to hear about exactly what Shuuhei had heard about this establishment. All this talk about ‘more important guests having a good time’ and ‘enjoying the facilities’ - it was all very interesting and... thought-inducing.
“You are a very resourceful young man, Shuuhei,” he said, his smile only showing the interest, the amusement, and nothing more. “Not many people outside of my ‘more important guests’ hear about the ‘good times’ and ‘facilities’ - or live long enough to talk about it. Clearly, there is much I don’t see that is still left to be getting.” He was keen to know exactly where Shuuhei had sourced his information, but he was probably not going to get the kind of answer he sought after if he were to ask. Besides - he supposed the fun was in trying to figure it out.
“So, presumably your quest for a bar job is the one that caters to people who are not just here for the dining and the music,” he said, smiling. The way Shuuhei said it indicated that he wanted the bartending job upstairs.
“You must know, then, that I have concerns when it comes to giving you that kind of job.” It wasn’t a job that he would give away to just any Tom, Dick or Harry. “This establishment and its ‘facilities’ have been here for quite a few years, and it has been an eventful time, trying to balance between delicate trust and higher revenue. While I won’t deny that I could use a helping hand, these positions are usually reserved for people I have known for a long time, people I can trust - and incidentally people I can easily get rid of if, heaven forbid, something untoward was to happen.”
"As you can probably see, I haven’t known you for a very long time, I don’t yet trust you, and, incidentally, I don’t know how easy it is for me to get rid of you if, heaven forbid, something happens.” And, despite all this, the look on Shuuhei’s face was indicative that he still wanted the job. Well he supposed he would have to... do some check-ups and make an effort to get to know the young man a little better. He could easily turn the man away now, but it would not change the fact that Shuuhei knew what went on behind drawn curtains. Besides, he might turn out to become an asset to the establishment. It was a gamble, really, but he wasn’t ready to pull out just yet.
“My biggest concern for now is the ‘New York Police Department’ section of your Curriculum Vitae. It said that you have left the force, but the fact that you have worked there before suggests to me... shall we say... a conflict of interest?”
Shuuhei finally gave up the battle to remain still under that knowing gaze. Anyone who didn’t react to that sort of interest, apparently amused or not, would have been suspicious anyway, but he didn’t back down, dark eyes remaining locked on the club owner’s as he mentioned ‘living long enough to talk’. He shifted back on the red sofa, reassured by the press of his .38 in its holster against his ankle. Not that he thought Kisuke would try anything here, the man had been around too long to pull something like that in his own club.
He let the slight smirk on his face answer Kisuke’s question about a job in the club’s more prestigious, if less well know bar upstairs, his gaze still not dropping even at Kisuke mention of getting rid of people in a way that suggested some of the man’s former employees never had any need for their final paycheque. If this had been an undercover job for the NYPD he might have gone in somewhat more softly. If he’d had months, rather than a few weeks, to start coming up with the answers Ulquiorra had sent him in to look for, he might have been happy to spend a while working downstairs and winning the man’s confidence, but as it was he had to hope Kisuke would take his apparent openness at face value.
Finally the subject he had been waiting for came up. There had been no point in trying to hide his ‘former’ employers. A job with ‘NY's finest’ had a habit of finding its way to the surface, and there were too many people from his past who could crawl out of the woodwork and catch him out in that lie to take the chance. He had his cover to fall back on anyway. It had only gotten easier to voice the words that had once been lies concocted to get him a foothold in Concavo’s tight knit Family.
“What can I say? Get sold out enough times by the men who are meant to be your colleagues, your superiors even, and you start to wonder if maybe they had the right idea.” Leaning forward, he let his eyes flick to the floor before meeting Kisuke’s eyes again. “There’s no conflict of interest here, Kisuke, but I’m sure a man like you has the resources to find out just what terms in which I left that particular job. Everyone is entitled to make one mistake in their youth aren’t they? I was just luckier than some and got out in one piece.”
He laughed a little at Shuuhei's response. It was not so much as a conflict of interests as he was concerned that the fact that 'left the NYPD' suggested that, in the worst case scenario, he was still in it and that it had been a cover used to enter his club and gather evidence for his illegal dealings.
In which case, the entire department might be aware of this and his calling the NYPD to do some checking up would bear no fruit.
He might have to resort to some... other method of digging; something that would require a little more work that calling up a few people over the phone. No matter - he would make the calls anyway, and get the person who he knew would be perfect for the job to do a little bit of a background check, and correlate it with what Shuuhei had said and what his CV said.
"Oh, you have such high expectations of my capabilities, Shuuhei. My resources are limited - I'm afraid your ideas about this humble scatter owner have been a little skewed." He smiled innocently, revealing nothing of the multiple trains of thought running through his mind.
"I think everyone is entitled to make mistakes, yes. However, as you know, some mistakes have more severe repercussions than others. I do feel fortunate for you, having come out in one piece, but you must also understand the tightrope I am walking in my position. In this line, everything has to be seamless. One mistake on my end... and everything could come to an end. I do believe neither of us would want that now, would we~?"
He looked at Shuuhei with pupils dancing in the dim light and a light smile. "I presume you are free for the rest of the day? I would like for you to do a little bit at the bar here tonight... and as for the job you seek, I will inform you of my decision within the next few days."
Shuuhei knew he had given it his best shot, he wasn’t the sort of actor that was going to end up on Broadway, but then most bit part players weren’t going to live or die on their next performance. He kept his gaze on Kisuke, refusing to let his eyes hunt out the exits, despite the tensions that crept along his shoulders. He had memorized as much as he could of the joint’s layout while he had waited for Kisuke to appear, but it was more out of habit than the belief he would have to make quick exit. Whether or not Kisuke believed his story, he wasn’t likely to let on to Shuuhei now. Even if he got the gig he knew the club owner would be looking over his shoulder for the next few weeks.
He might have laughed at Kisuke’s apparent modesty, if it wouldn’t have brought up a dozen more questions that he didn’t want to answer. As it was he let a smile form on his lips, playing along with the other man’s game. He was sure that most of the clubs patrons had no idea about the more illicit side of their host’s business, but even before he had gone undercover he had heard rumours about the oddball blond.
The smile all but disappeared as Kisuke continued to talk. He didn’t understand why the man was being so unguarded about his conversation topics. Kisuke had pretty much confirmed his true line of business, a risky move considering that the club owner couldn’t have known if Shuuhei’s knowledge ran much deeper than small time rumours.
At least some of his questions were answered when Kisuke asked him if he could stay for a while. It had crossed his mind that the man might want to see him at work before he offered him the job, but he had half expected to be invited to return the next day. Rather than dispel suspicions about his contacts, the blond had just reaffirmed to Shuuhei how well connected he probably was. Ice ran down his spine and his fingers itched to wrap around the hilt of his knife, that was, as always, tucked against the small if his back.
If his cover didn’t hold, he was well and truly fucked. If he was lucky, Kisuke would have him knocked off, plain and simple. If he was unlucky and the blond found out about his mafia connections as well, he would probably hand him back to the Family, for a price. And if that happened, Shuuhei knew he would be best off looking for the fastest way to take his own life. As a traitor, he might even end up on the wrong end Gin Ichimaru’s blade. Or gun.
His stomach lurched, the memory of some of the files he had reviewed before he had gone undercover swimming to the top of his mind. He swallowed the feeling down and glanced over at the bar. “Why not.” It wasn’t like he could do anything about it right now. He just had to hope that his story would hold up to scrutiny one more time; it would almost be ironic if his cover was finally blown by one of the Concavo family’s rivals. “I wouldn’t expect you to take me on without seeing what I have to offer.”
If Shuuhei really had something to hide, he was pretty confident that no one would leak his information. Either that, or he was setting himself up for a bigger, more painful fall.
No matter. He would find out soon enough.
"That's good," he said, and he slowly got to his feet. He stretched a little, tilting his head left and right. He reached over for his cane and sighed somewhat contentedly. "Why don't you..." He looked over to the bar. Just two customers; and both had been served. Tatsuki was free for now. She probably wouldn't mind doing him a favour, even if it meant he was going to be whipped by a tea towel later.
"The bartending lady over there," he said, motioning to her with a tilt of his head. "Why don't you go over and say hello? She'll be happy to give you a chat and show you around, if you would like. I'm going to have to make a private phone call - but I will be with you when I return."
He gave Shuuhei a small, courteous bow, and excused himself, making it over to his office.
He closed the door behind him, taking a seat in the black, leather chair. He rested his hands on top of his cane, and his chin against his hands, appearing to be pouting as he thought. Shuuhei Hisagi, Shuuhei Hisagi... He didn't mind gambling, but the stakes in this game were...very high...
A long sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes momentarily. If there was nothing to hide; great, but that still didn't answer how he knew about what else went on in Black Cat. If he had something to hide, and he found out, what would he do? Say no and then get him bumped off? And then, of course, if there was something to hide, but it was hidden flawlessly...
The club owner eyed his telephone thoughtfully for a few moments, and after sitting in silence for three minutes, he reached over for the phone. He dialled a number he knew off by heart - a number amongst many numbers - and reclined back into his seat, holding the phone against his ear.
He drummed his fingers on the table idly. Chances were, Dante was fast asleep, and would take his time getting to the phone.
If Kisuke'd been betting on it, he would have walked away with just half. Dante was fast asleep. Fast asleep at his desk; his feet propped up on the worn wooden surface, arms folded tightly over his bare chest. Which meant that the phone was only a good kick away. 'Course, it took five or six rings just to get the bounty hunter to stir. Then it took a few more rings for him to decide whether or not to answer the damn contraption. (He'd been having a really nice dream...)
Had Trish been there, she probably would have scooped it up by the third or fourth ring, but she was off workin' some case...or somethin'. Honestly, Dante couldn't remember where she'd gotten to this time. He just hoped she made it back sooner rather than later. Sure, she got on his last nerve sometimes with the way she was always badgering him to clean the place up and all, but, truth be told, it did get kind of lonely hangin' around the office without her.
By the tenth ring, the angel-eyed hell-raiser realized that whoever was callin' meant business. And business meant money. Hopefully. Well, at any rate, as much Dante was tempted to slink back to sleep, he needed some cold, hard cash more than he needed that hot n' heavy dream.
With the practiced THUMP of a thick black work boot, the old fashioned rotary scooted forward on the desk, ear piece flipping off the handle, so that it twirled twice in the air and landed neatly in the P.I.'s outstretched hand.
"Too easy~" Dante thought, as he slowly brought the telephone to his ear. A sleepy grin stole over his face, making him appear far more sweet and innocent than he truly was.
"Devil May Cry..."
Just when he thought his hand was growing tired of holding the phone up, the dial tone ended and a lazy drawl that was Dante, who had probably just been woken up by the ringing telephone, answered on the other end.
“Oooh~ You are there. Just when I thought I was going to have to wait another two hours until you decided to pick up the phone.”
A small smile spread across Kisuke's face. He was still lying in his chair rather lazily, and he turned his head to glance at the clock on the wall before fixating his gaze on the dartboard.
“Now, before you come up with some excuse to hang up on me, I’m not chasing you today. I’m going to need a favour. It should be nothing too difficult, but it is a favour that I’m willing to wipe off half your very long tab for.”
He rubbed at his chin idly, his gaze briefly growing distant. He reached over for the cane and twirled it idly in his free hand.
“Does that sound like a feasible proposition?”
That got Dante's attention. He sat up a bit straighter, his grin widening as soon as he recognized the lilting voice on the other end. Too bad Kisuke wasn't offering a paying gig. 'Course, to be fair, Dante owed the club owner a few bushels of cabbage by now, which he'd have to work off one way or another. The cocky dick really couldn't complain. Kisuke was more lenient than most of the Bo's he was indebted to, and knocking off half his bar tab for one job was the best offer he'd had all week.
The best non-sexual offer, that is.
Anyway… Interesting that the cagey blond hadn't used the word "job" or "work" or "gig." He'd said "favour." A "favour" for Kisuke Urahara?
Hell yeah!
Bar tab or no, the Black Cat Lounge's crafty owner was exactly the type of guy the hard-up P.I. needed on his side. Anybody who knew anything about the New York underground knew that Kisuke knew a little something about everybody and everything. Not that the sly bastard would ever admit it... At any rate, it behooved Dante to stay in Kisuke's good graces.
"Sure does," he replied to the club owner with a light chuckle. "Dante Sparda, at your service. Just let me grab something to write with, 'k? Then you can dish out the juicy details of this...favour."
Unlike his fastidious brother, the younger Sparda twin was chronically unorganized. On the top of his desk was the usual hodge-podge of case files and paperwork, notes and newspaper clippings, empty beer bottles, bills, several trashy magazines (well thumbed, but only a bit sticky), and something that vaguely resembled half a doughnut. Or perhaps it was a bagel... At this point, it hardly mattered. What did matter was that Dante couldn't find the pen he'd been using just hours before. It should have been right there, nestled within the motley mess of papers. But, it wasn’t. Nor was it on the floor around his desk. Dammit.
Hmm… Maybe, just maybe, the smart-aleck slob had actually put the pen away; dropping it into one of the desk’s drawers for safe-keeping.
“Sooo, about this favour…” Dante said as he rummaged through the old desk’s deep and dusty drawers. “’Nothin’ too difficult,’ eh? Fine…as long as it ain’t too easy, either. Work is work, but I’d hate for this favour of yours to feel, ya’ know, boring.”
The grin on his face widened as soon as Dante had agreed to do the job for him. Asking nicely and making a generous offer had paid off, after all. Sure, Dante owed him a big sum of money - but Kisuke had excess in terms of capital; a surplus that was growing at a pace that he could easily cover this… ‘loss’. Weighing up the risks and benefits, it was obvious that it was better to part with this small sum of money and sort out his concerns and issues now than suffer the repercussions of carelessness and betrayal later.
He held the phone in place between his ear and shoulder as he reached out to his desk, picking up the deck of cards sitting there. Opening the box, he pulled out the relatively new pack and began shuffling it idly with one hand while waiting for Dante to look for his… writing instrument.
When Dante started speaking again, he picked the phone up with his free hand, transferring it over to the other ear. “Boring? Oh, well, it does depend on what you end up finding out…” he said, watching the deck of cards in his other hand get split in half and pushed back together again.
“I need you to do a background check on a ‘Shuuhei Hisagi’,” he said, assuming Dante had found a pen and some paper - or whatever it was the P.I. was going to write with/on - making sure to intonate every syllable of the prospective bartender’s name, given that the chances of Dante knowing a seemingly obscure, more-or-less everyday young man such as Shuuhei were very slim.
“He wants the bartending job upstairs, and although I’m mainly interested in his NYPD background and whether he really left the force, it wouldn’t hurt to know as much as I can about him before I make my decision, like the kinds of people he likes to spend time with, the kinds of places he frequents, anything out of the ordinary… past criminal convictions, or affiliations of any sort… and the like.”
He set the deck of cards face down on the table before spreading it in a perfect arch. He lifted the card on the end up and flipped it over, creating a domino effect, each card flipping the adjacent one over until the card at the other end flipped open.
“Need me to spell that name out for you?”
"The bartending gig 'upstairs,' huh?" Dante mumbled, eyebrows knitting together as he withdrew a strange looking cylinder from the depths of his desk drawer. Oh, it was a tube of lipstick. Red lipstick; his favorite color. Maybe it belonged to Trish, or perhaps it had been left behind by one of the many lucky ladies that Dante loved with all his might for one night--and one night only. Regardless, he figured it would work in a pinch, in lieu of a pen.
The investigator grabbed the nearest piece of clean paper; a telephone bill from Ma Bell. "Shuuhei Hisa-- What a minute... I know him! Shuuhei Hisagi's the one applying for the job 'upstairs'? Ha!" Dante sat back in his chair, toes wiggling in his boots. Interesting. Very interesting.
A cheeky smile spread across his fair face. "Hot damn, Kisuke, I can vouch for that Bo right now. Helluva guy, that Shuuhei." The P.I. blew a few stubborn strands of snowy hair from his eyes. "With Shuu, whatcha see is whatcha get. Not that I ever got any from him, though heaven knows I tried..."
"Yeah," Dante said, warming to one his all-time favorite topics: sex. "If there's one thing that ain't right about Shuuhei, it's that he never went to bed with me." The compulsively horny bounty hunter toyed with the tube of lipstick, highly amused at how the pointed stick of carmine make-up appeared to be so phallic--especially considering it was intended for a lady's lips. Kinky~
"Not that I hold it against him, or anything," he continued, eyes dancing with glee at the way he could give the lipstick 'an erection' by simply twisting the base. "I just feel bad for the guy, ya' know? Could've been the best night of his life." Dante gave a sigh and shook his head, more for Shuuhei's sake than his own. "Anyway... Yeah, I do remember hearing somethin' a while back about him leaving the force. I'll do the background check and all, n' see what he's been up to since then. Shouldn't take me long; no more than a couple of days."
The youngest Sparda gave a one shouldered shrug, not that Kisuke could see it through the phone. "Unless you need that information A.S.A.P."
Kisuke made a soft, surprised noise that probably did not carry over through the phone. Dante knew Shuuhei? Could even vouch for him without having done any prior research? It must mean that Dante was either on very good terms with Shuuhei, or… alright, he really did not need to know about Dante’s sexual escapades. Every time his mouth moved to try and cut the P.I. off, Dante started speaking again, and he just clamped his mouth shut and laughed a bit instead.
“That’s nice, Dante…” he said, in reference to all the talk about trying to sleep with Shuuhei. Kisuke also realized that he would not be able to look at Shuuhei the same way ever again, but pushed that trivial thought away for the moment.
“A couple of days is fine,” Kisuke added. He would have been more polite and asked Dante to take his time, except he knew that if he did, Dante might postpone it to, well, never. “Do feel free to come by when you’re done.”
“Oh, and thank you~” he said. Had to be polite, yes?