Who: Mello, Cloud and Nagi. Where: Nagi's place. When: New years. Summary: Mello is gonna crash Nagi's place, and decided to drag Cloud along. Rating: PG-13? Other: No go away.
To be entirely honest, Nagi had largely forgotten about Mello's threat-promise to drop by on New Year's with drinks -- mostly because there were so many other things that he had to worry about, but also partly because he was hoping the other would forget, as well. And so he'd spent the greater part of the day in peaceful solitude -- moving around too much was still a strain to his body -- indulging in the traditions to herald in the New Year. Cleaning, mostly, and burning incense at the tiny shrine in the corner of his apartment, for his wife. And it was only after the sun had set and the sharp rap came at his door that he remembered Mello's forced invitation. Which, really, was much too late to do anything.
A long moment of hesitation, unsure of what exactly to do -- should he fake sick? not answer? no, the lights were on, it was probably obvious that he was in -- before he eventually called towards the door, with a certain amount of uneasy tension tinging his words. "Ah -- yes, coming."
And he was painfully conscious of the way that the empty lower half of his left sleeve rustled with each movement. Trying his best to hide it, he opened the door, and found himself looking at a sight that caught him terribly off-guard. For one thing, Mello wasn't alone, and for another, Mello himself seemed in rather terrible condition. And then he realized he was staring. "Ah --" Pushing the door open wider, he gave a hesitant nod in towards the apartment, still trying to keep his amputated arm at least partway hidden. "-- please come in?"
"Stop pulling me," Cloud hissed at Mello half-heartedly. It wasn't by his own will that he was dragged into this tiny social event -- it was Mello whining piteously, threatening. It was Mello worrying aloud that he might fall on the ice and all, did Cloud want that to happen? It was Mello being a cruel, manipulative bastard.
So he stood, looking as half-hearted and weary as he felt, behind the blond as the door opened and a messy-haired, fussed-appearing man looked out at him. An artificial voice, strange. Cloud nodded hesitantly at him, then looked at Mello more than a little desperately. Save me from a social situation.
Mello wrapped an arm around Cloud’s neck in a languidly fashion, tugging at him roughly before the door was open, his mouth graced a violent smirk; playing a game of rough-house with the other until the door opened. When it did, blue hues went straight to Nagi’s amputated arm, and he gave off a snort, releasing the other blonde’s neck and staggered inwards to the apartment.
"Tch, Nagi, you know I’m going to have a talk with you later on." Mello muttered under his breath. He wasn’t disappointed that Nagi got his damn arm shot off or whatever the hell happened to him, he was just being mildly curious and he set down the bag of bottles on the nearest surface. His gloved hands took a hold of the edge of the table and he turned around.
"Cloud, this is Nagi. Nagi, this guy is Cloud." Lips twitched and a dry humorless laughter left his mouth.
Stepping aside politely to let the other two in, Nagi cast a cautious glance out into the apartment corridor -- just to make sure that no one else was around -- before closing the door and stepping back in. Unable to hide the slightest flinch at the muttered words. No doubt it would be about his new -- lack of a limb, a matter that he was hardly eager to talk about.
Still, what was done was done, and he'd have to handle that matter when the time came. Walking back towards the living room where Mello had laid claim to the table -- the crowd of bottles looking oddly out of place in the neat room -- he still had a slight limp to his step. (Bullet wounds didn't heal that fast.) Tried to hide it, though, as he stood a short distance away, looking unsure of what exactly to do.
Eventually, though, he turned towards Cloud with a weak sort of smile, extending his hand. "Um -- as he said. A pleasure to meet you?"
Cloud unwrapped the leather-cased arm from around his neck swiftly, throwing it off him with some mild irritation in his blue eyes. "Why do you do that?," he hissed quietly at Mello as he shook snow off of him before entering the man's house. Physical contact wasn't something he was -- comfortable, with, and Mello didn't see fit to acknowledge that fact at all. It put him always on edge.
He didn't take a second glance at Nagi's missing arm, not minding much about it in the least. Scars and injury weren't nice conversation topics (--and besides, he wouldn't enjoy questions about the neat line through his abdomen or the disturbing, artificial glow to his eyes) the blond knew that much. So, instead,he followed Mello with more than a little obvious discomfort, not quite sure what to do with himself in this man's neat, quiet home.
"Nice to meet you, too...," Cloud replied quietly as he shook the man's hand (awkwardly, always as awkward as a young boy).
This was just about as interesting as elephants fucking. His lips coiled upwards into a smirk and he scoffed slightly to himself, letting out deep un-matching chuckles as he hoisted himself up on the table. A few leather-gloved fingers went into the paper bag and he opened up a beer bottle that emitted a soft hiss and took a large swig at the bitter liquid, his gaze still following the others.
"What now?" He questioned out loud to himself with a soft sound of amusement in his tone. "You two are just fucking great at conversation." Great conversation starter. The blonde was more use to just throwing drugs and booze and tits around a room and let the other shitheads in the place enjoy themselves.
"Yeah. It’s cute." He added as an afterthought before taking another swig of beer.
Shooting Mello a brief glance that may have meant something like 'please don't make such embarassing jokes', he gave a small sigh, tugging uneasily at the folds of his scarf. Well. Now that they were here, there wasn't much he could do, was there. Looking up, he gave Cloud a small smile, trying to ease the other's obvious awkwardness if even a little. "It's not much, but please make yourself comfortable."
Padding past the table and the quiet stock of liquor (he'd most definitely be having a formidable headache the next morning), he took to rummaging through the cupboards for cups and plates and such -- might as well play host, if this was what it came to. "I must admit I'm a bit surprised, though. I would have thought that you would prefer a flashier place to enjoy yourself, rather than my home." A small laugh, just barely forced, as he emerged, setting down a few old shot glasses on the table. "Surely there isn't a shortage of venues tonight?"
And, of course, handed one of the glasses tentatively to Cloud. -- he did drink, right?
A long moment of hesitation, unsure of what exactly to do -- should he fake sick? not answer? no, the lights were on, it was probably obvious that he was in -- before he eventually called towards the door, with a certain amount of uneasy tension tinging his words. "Ah -- yes, coming."
And he was painfully conscious of the way that the empty lower half of his left sleeve rustled with each movement. Trying his best to hide it, he opened the door, and found himself looking at a sight that caught him terribly off-guard. For one thing, Mello wasn't alone, and for another, Mello himself seemed in rather terrible condition. And then he realized he was staring. "Ah --" Pushing the door open wider, he gave a hesitant nod in towards the apartment, still trying to keep his amputated arm at least partway hidden. "-- please come in?"
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So he stood, looking as half-hearted and weary as he felt, behind the blond as the door opened and a messy-haired, fussed-appearing man looked out at him. An artificial voice, strange. Cloud nodded hesitantly at him, then looked at Mello more than a little desperately. Save me from a social situation.
He looked back at the stranger. "Uh. Hey."
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"Tch, Nagi, you know I’m going to have a talk with you later on." Mello muttered under his breath. He wasn’t disappointed that Nagi got his damn arm shot off or whatever the hell happened to him, he was just being mildly curious and he set down the bag of bottles on the nearest surface. His gloved hands took a hold of the edge of the table and he turned around.
"Cloud, this is Nagi. Nagi, this guy is Cloud." Lips twitched and a dry humorless laughter left his mouth.
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Still, what was done was done, and he'd have to handle that matter when the time came. Walking back towards the living room where Mello had laid claim to the table -- the crowd of bottles looking oddly out of place in the neat room -- he still had a slight limp to his step. (Bullet wounds didn't heal that fast.) Tried to hide it, though, as he stood a short distance away, looking unsure of what exactly to do.
Eventually, though, he turned towards Cloud with a weak sort of smile, extending his hand. "Um -- as he said. A pleasure to meet you?"
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He didn't take a second glance at Nagi's missing arm, not minding much about it in the least. Scars and injury weren't nice conversation topics (--and besides, he wouldn't enjoy questions about the neat line through his abdomen or the disturbing, artificial glow to his eyes) the blond knew that much. So, instead,he followed Mello with more than a little obvious discomfort, not quite sure what to do with himself in this man's neat, quiet home.
"Nice to meet you, too...," Cloud replied quietly as he shook the man's hand (awkwardly, always as awkward as a young boy).
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"What now?" He questioned out loud to himself with a soft sound of amusement in his tone. "You two are just fucking great at conversation." Great conversation starter. The blonde was more use to just throwing drugs and booze and tits around a room and let the other shitheads in the place enjoy themselves.
"Yeah. It’s cute." He added as an afterthought before taking another swig of beer.
Reply
Padding past the table and the quiet stock of liquor (he'd most definitely be having a formidable headache the next morning), he took to rummaging through the cupboards for cups and plates and such -- might as well play host, if this was what it came to. "I must admit I'm a bit surprised, though. I would have thought that you would prefer a flashier place to enjoy yourself, rather than my home." A small laugh, just barely forced, as he emerged, setting down a few old shot glasses on the table. "Surely there isn't a shortage of venues tonight?"
And, of course, handed one of the glasses tentatively to Cloud. -- he did drink, right?
Reply
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