三 [video]
[Ken's stopped for serious time. He's lying back in bed, in the room he and Youji are sharing--the other man's nowhere to be seen--idly scratching Ratty's ears. The little purple Pokemon is bruxing happily at the attention.]...so, I was thinking
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Once he has the bottle in his hands, he shrugs, opens it, and drains half. It hits hard, and he's glad he's already leaning back. Ken merits a wry smile, before he sets the bottle aside. The alcohol hitting his brain feels amazing, like the part that's responsible for thinking and reasoning and remembering and making sense of this insanity has stepped aside to take a smoke break. Which would also really hit the spot, but. Youji might be willing to poke a sleeping tiger, but he drew the line at lighting its tail on fire.]
I think I can believe you now. [Gestures to the bottle with a smirk, before his face grows more serious.] Now if only you'd stop beating around the bush. Ken. Whatever it is you don't want to say, say it. I won't think any less of you. Not even sure that's possible. As it stands, I'm wondering what the issue is. If all you were afraid to say is "I'm sorry I can't tell you how many girls you bed from week to week," it's fine. I can't even tell me how many girls I bed from week to week. Not even the Mayans had numbers that high.
[Joking aside, Ken... he's beginning to worry. He's listening; you just haven't said anything crushing. Insane, yes, and unbelievable... but people lose touch. And people move on. That's a fact of life, and in Weiss' case, Youji isn't sure the day will ever come soon enough. Not having Ken's experience of the weeks and months after the mission with Nichol and Powell, all he can say is that Ken is a friend he doesn't want to let down. He doesn't think drifting apart counts as that, however, and until he knows more, he won't.]
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I'm not getting into how many girls you had, 'cause I really wasn't paying attention. I had other things to occupy my time rather than keep track of your conquests.
[Mainly picking fights with seriously stupid odds in seedy alleys and trying to keep you from drinking yourself into a stupor and then overdosing on the narcotic of the week.]
It's bloody hard for me to talk about, okay?
[He snatches the bottle off the counter, downing a mouthful of whiskey himself. He normally doesn't drink, doesn't like the taste or the way it messes with his senses. He's started to indulge more in later years, but still generally steers clear of the hard stuff.]
'm only saying it 'cause I don't want you t'have to deal with it without knowing what you're in for. And you probably shouldn't make any decisions about how you're gonna think of me right now.
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I'll make whatever decisions I damn well please, about you or anyone.
[He says this with lazy confidence, even as he pushes him self to stand. Crosses the room to where Ken is, and Ken, you've forced his hand. The teasing hasn't helped at all, so now he's been forced to resort to understanding. He makes sure Ken sees him, standing straight. Youji's not even slouching; since he can't lord his age over Ken any longer, his height will have to suffice.
Once that has been made clear, he leans companionably on his friend's shoulder. Ken makes for a good armrest.]
If you were an idiot, I'd stand here and offer up platitudes like 'it only gets harder the longer you wait' and 'a problem shared is a problem halved.'
[Pause for that. Then:]
Fortunately, for both our sakes, you're just reckless and hotheaded. The two conditions share many symptoms, but I've always been confident in my diagnosis. Determined as you have been to change my mind on occasion.
[Okay, so some teasing crept in there. Youji can't help it.]
So you do or you say whatever you're going to do or say. You're an Englishman, Aya's an Englishman, Omi's a bureaucrat, you're also an ex-con, I wouldn't be surprised if Aya was, too, and I can only conclude you went to prison for something besides murder. I don't even want to count up how many death sentences you're eligible for; if it was legit, the only way they would have let you out was through a noose.
[Youji's noticed how quiet Ken's been on his ultimate fate. He has concrete pictures for Ken, Aya, and Omi: they're still in the same old salt mines, just under a different banner or from another wing. All he's said about Youji himself is 'you lived' and 'we lost touch.' He thinks about Ken's enthusiasm, even joy, when they first spoke in Johto. 'We lost touch' could explain that perfectly well, but Youji's background is in investigations, where the surface gives only the most paltry glimpse of the fathoms below. Combined with Ken saying he should be prepared for the future, Youji can only dread.]
Not saying I wouldn't mind a cheat sheet, or some reassurance that everything will be okay--even though I'll call you a liar to your face if you do say that. Whatever it is, talking about it can't be as hard as living through it.
[Which is a lie and Youji knows it. Still. This is his last attempt; after this, he's just going to poke around the kitchen, setting the table and pretending to look busy in order to encourage Ken to make dinner.
He gives Ken's hair a quick tousle, because it used to annoy him and because it reinforces the fact that, while Ken may have experienced more years, Youji was born first. He sighs, then, and looks forlornly at the whiskey bottle.]
You can have the rest of that, by the way.
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[He rolls his eyes as Youji leans on him, still being an annoying ass I see, Kudou? He just quietly listens with a half-annoyed, half-thoughtful expression on his face.]
I went to prison 'cause I asked Omi if he could pull some strings to put me in. They didn't even know my name, much less what I did.
[Lopsided grin. That always had kind of amused him.]
I need you to know this, anyway. Just in case something happens. Long story short and stupidly simple, I went crazy. I could barely control myself, and I only did 'cause I knew you guys would have to put me down otherwise.
[Yes, he intentionally used that phrasing: like a dog.]
Even so, it got to the point where I really didn't give a shit. I wanted to fight, to kill, so I fought. I asked Aya to tell me who to kill, at one point. Just wind me up and point me in the right direction, and I'd have painted Tokyo red. If I snap again, you're gonna have to talk me down.
[He doesn't envy you that. Ken shrugs--he's done now, in case you want to ask any questions--and makes a face at the offer. Thanks, but no thanks...]
No thank you, it tastes like jet fuel. How can you even stand that shit is beyond me.
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[Youji laughs mirthlessly. Remains leaning on Ken, because standing on his own power is just too much after that staggering a confession. So close on the heels of actually hearing an order to assassinate Ken and Omi, faked or not, and now Ken is telling him there's a very real chance he may have to stop him from going on a minor massacre. Talk him down, he says. Because you listen to me even when you are sane... unless the intended implication was that he'd be more likely to listen to Youji after he lost his mind, which was too clever a stealth insult for Youji to award him credit for. Hopeless, wishful thinking it was.]
You know that it isn't going to work out like that.
[Youji can't promise it will work out at all; it was a disturbingly short time before he arrived in Johto that he was reminded of Ken's prowess as an assassin. Reminded that Ken was perfectly capable of murdering him in less time than it took for him to turn around. Only an athlete's perfect control of his body, a trained killer's mastery of his weapon, had saved Youji's life.
And what a weapon it was. While Youji would never call death by oxygen deprivation a relaxing thing to watch, it was usually clean. Blood and other vital organs generally remained in the body. Ligature marks and the pallor of death were Youji's only really calling cards, and he left each kill where it lay. No telling what blood and gore Ken would track in after a given mission. It made a terrible kind of sense to Youji. Eventually, you'd have to start enjoying it; why else would you do something so horrific?]
Tell me, first of all, why I should believe you'll listen to reason if you're gone like that. It might be safer for me to just take the clothesline to your neck and handle things that way.
[He sighs, tiredly. There aren't words for how much he'd hate doing that, but it seems... wrong, somehow, to be able to do it to Asuka and not Ken. He does think he could... he'd hate it, but he could.]
All of this being hypothetical... be a lot easier on all of us if you just keep track of your marbles, hm? Did it just get to be too much for you?
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