Day: 33
Characters: Subaru Sumeragi [
notafuckingcar] and Shira [
cut_em_open], later joined by Momiji Fujimiya [
justasacrifice]
Summary: "Morality is herd instinct in the individual." ~Nietzsche
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Day, first rec
Status: closed, incomplete
(
...but I've found out the hard way, nothing is what it seems. )
"It's nice to meet you, Shira-san," he said cordially. He would greet anyone in such a fashion,; he was predisposed to do so, for one, and he also felt no inclination to judge the other man.
He thought briefly of what Edgeworth, Reeve and Yuffie had mentioned before, on the intercom. Apparently this man, Shira, had raped a young child in the asylum mere weeks ago. In addition, Subaru could also recall a time--despite his shallow lucidity upon first arriving here--when Orihime had been locked in a similar plight with this man. Orihime had been Subaru's friend...and yet he could not judge Shira for it. Would not.
Subaru was simply in no position to do so.
"I brought this for you, like you'd asked," he informed the other, brandishing the bottle he was holding. "I had to ask a security guard for it, but he parted with it fairly easily."
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Was the kid mocking him?
For a moment, Shira felt like breaking Subaru's jaw; he'd been beaten up here, mutilated a few times, hell, insulted and mocked - but not in this blatant, patronising way. He felt a wave of heat flow through his body, up his spine and into his head, pounding in his brain with unnerving, angry thuds. If that kid was-
But no. Instead of looking up with the cocky smirk Shira had expected from the suicidal, snot-nosed kid he took Subaru for in this moment, the man handed him a bottle - and stayed polite. If this was mockery, then it was one damn unnecessarily elaborate one. And somehow, this didn't seem to make any goddamn sense.
Shira's stare moved from Subaru's face to the bottle, confused rather than angry now. The irritation died down as quickly as it had surged up, and for the moment, he couldn't help feeling disarmed.
"Well, I'll be fucked," he muttered, taking the bottle and examining it. He couldn't read the label, and if he hadn't seen the same signs on his dossier, he wouldn't even be able to tell if they were actually letters or just pictures.
"Good job, kiddo," he had to admit, shrugging off the remains of his drained anger. He opened the bottle and sniffed briefly. "So what's that?"
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He didn't fear death. In fact, he welcomed it.
Face utterly impassive, he watched Shira as the broad man accepted the bottle and gave it a cursory sniff. Subaru had absolutely no experience with alcohol; he'd fed his vices with self-hatred and cigarettes, and never even so much as tasted wine before. Seishirou-san had been the sort of man to really indulge in the finer things; expensive food and drink, flashy cars and beautiful women... Subaru never had much use for any of it.
Regardless, he'd done as Shira asked, because the man had asked him for it, and...he wanted to other to trust him, at least a little. Besides, he didn't feel any sense of fear or doubt around this man at all. Instead, he felt an odd sort of kinship...and an even odder sense of reckless abandon.
"Vodka," he informed the other man simply. "That was what the security guard told me. Hopefully it's to your liking."
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"Vodka, eh," Shira repeated, but the name didn't ring a bell. Maybe some kind of foreign stuff, maybe even something he had had during the first ball with that nurse, Jessica. Finally, he shrugged, leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. With only one arm, the other mutilated through his own work, and, for the danger the weapon he had turned it in posed, tightly strapped to his body, sitting down on the floor required a bit of support like this.
"Never heard o' that stuff." He nodded to the place next to him, signifying Subaru to sit down. Then he tried a small amount of the liquor, swallowed it down, and after a moment, took another.
"Well, ain't too bad."
With that, he passed Subaru the bottle. "Say, kid... What's with yer eyes?"
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Therefore, he joined the other in a matter of moments, observing with his two-tone eyes as Shira sampled the alcohol, appraised it, then passed the bottle to Subaru. It was with some hesitation that the younger man reached out, accepting what was proffered as if reaching out to accept some priceless, fragile gift.
“Thank you,” he murmured, then slowly lifted the bottle. He didn't take a sip quite yet, choosing instead to answer the man's question.
“You mean why they're not the same colour?” he asked with a somewhat lofty expression. “That would be because one of them isn't mine.”
Swiftly-faster than he should have-he tossed back the bottle, tipping a generous amount of its contents into his mouth. Just as quickly, his eyes widened and he began to cough, doubling over, overcome by its strength
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"Whoa there, whoa..." Chuckling raspily, Shira reached out and took the bottle back from Subaru carefully. No need to spill the good stuff.
"Ain't used to that, eh, kiddo?" he asked with a patronising, but at the same time supportive amusement. "Look."
He took another sip, slowly, demonstrating the amount to Subaru clearly. After he had swallowed and put the bottle down to wipe his mouth, he looked back at the younger man. "There, that's how ya do it. Lil' bit at once, first take it in yer mouth, taste it, swallow carefully. Burns yer throat right off, huh? But that's what the good stuff does, man, believe me. Makes ya feel real good in a while. Feels warm, hey?" With a rough, dry laugh, he patted Subaru on the shoulder and then reached down to hand him the bottle again. "Makes yer cheeks flush like some kid who got a good look at a ho's soft parts, heheh!"
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