If I Had Just Killed You in the First Place!

[Kawamura]

â??So this is it, then?â? The small man stared out the window, mismatched eyes taking in everything. The glass was polarized so the three men sitting in the back of the limo couldnâ??t be seen, yet had no problem looking out. The speaker was the smallest of them all, thin, with a pretty face and delicate wrists. Ageless, he was. He was probably past thirty, but that feminine face made him look so much younger, so much more fragile. The illusion served him well. Hopefully it would today.

One man bowed his head as he spoke, his Japanese much more polite. â??Yes, Older Brother,â? he said. Gangs like these pretended they were family. It worked best, even though ambitious ones like him knew it was a lie. Contrary to the rumors, Imasuke had been born in a normal family (not a test tube, he lacked the markers for that), and he certainly wouldn't imagine slitting his grandfatherâ??s throat. These men, easily, and he would should they prove useless. He smiled thinly, a womanâ??s smile his own superior said, and turned back to watch the park they were pulling up to.

It was a nice place, really. However, it was much too open, too hard to secure. Not somewhere he would actually like to conduct a deal, but that was the point. They had let slip information to the authorities. Their own men would make it worse, earning them much needed â?¦ Well, not sympathy, sympathy didn't exist in this line of work, but reasons to enlist smaller â??Familiesâ??. The police here were trying to crack down on them, the group they were bargaining with were hated. This ploy would kill two birds with one carefully placed stone. Outside of giving them an advantage in recruitment, it would put them on the defensive, to think they police had a mole in their organization feeding them information about this and other things. His own family, the Ishikawa, would continue to give the police good leads, good data to fan the fear. The Ishikawa were good at fear. Imasuke might hate his own 'Older Brother' and his 'Father' past him, but he could recognize good work when he saw it. If nothing else, they were good at spreading fear, and he'd take those lessons in mind when he gained control.

Imasuke was, of course, the first to step out. The day was grey, with hints of rain on the breeze. No, not breeze, much too windy to be called that. His thin tie whipped up, his previously (artfully) mussed hair got in his eyes. Bloody hell. Nice place, but too cold and too windy. Imasuke doubted heâ??d cut an intimidating figure all wet, so he prayed to any deity or bodhisattva that was listening that it wouldnâ??t rain. At least the men he was with looked big and scary. The lithe man reached back for the suitcase that held the money (not that it would be needed), then straightened, smoothing down his suitâ??s jacket and subtly checking his holster. A little further on he could hear the doors opening the slamming as men escorted two hostages with them.

--------------------------

Oh wasn't it a wonderful thing, that he'd been sent out like this. Russel was not an outstanding member. He had not done anything amazing, he was not a person you could count on, and he wasn't related to any of the top members. So why had he been sent out? Well, he'd been lucky enough to show up that day. This was a full time job, managing stolen money, shooting people, creating an underground world of chaos. But Russel rarely showed up for it. Perhaps that was why he'd been stuck in this position, toting around this little shithead. Maybe the boss saw it as some kind of punishment.

And honestly it was a punishment.

Russel was a good shot. Probably one of the best they had. But under pressure he was horrible, and fucked up. That was why he had been out for a while. He'd gotten shot in the thigh, and that bugger took quite a while to heal up. He was wearing a dark suit, probably black from the looks of it, or a dark blue. Under it he had on a dress shirt, minus the tie. His pants matched the jacket, and he stood beside a male that was considerably shorter than him. This male next to him was the idiot his boss had sent out to collect the money and the hostages. Little shit. Hadn't stopped talking to Russel the whole car ride.

He was not tall, Russel, but he was not short either. There was a rather nice illusion to his suit and form that made him look taller than he actually was. The suit was tighter, and he was quite slim. Of course he was lean, muscular. But not on the broad shouldered side. He'd never really liked the way those men walked. His hair was a sandy color, and it blew wildly in his face. It was not long, but not short either. Just like his figure. The longest it probably fell was to just below his ear, and it was layered so it stuck up in awkward places. There was a faint amount of hair on the edges of his jaw, close to his ear, and a bit in little patches on his chin. Hey. He hadn't expected this. And he wasn't even the one doing business today. Who said he needed to look professional to see that everything went properly.

This little shit between he and his partner didn't seem to want to stop talking even now as they walked from the car. Russel rolled two vibrant green eyes, so green they looked quite unnatural. There were four of them altogether. Two holding the hostages, the short male in the middle, who was sent to do the talking, and Russel. Russel really seemed to stand out among them all. Honestly, he could probably talk much better than this wise ass could. The male next to him was probably in his mid thirties. Almost forty. Russel was twenty-seven. He glanced forward, spotting the other men in front of them. Oh god he hoped this went smoothly. He didn't want two months of recuperation again. Nor did he really want to die.

-----------------------

Imasuke stepped forward, holding his hands out. Cultural differences and all. White people tended to want to shake hands. â??Thank you so much for coming here today,â? he said, a wide smile curling his lips. Pretty, but itâ??d be better if the expression actually crinkled the skin of his eyes. As it was, the smile was empty, fake. Oh, he could pull off a proper smile, but everyone knew this â??Familyâ?? was an enemy of the Ishikawa. Itâ??d be too much to suddenly be best chums, itâ??d put them on edge.

The man he was dealing with was short, with a face that would blend easily into a crowd. Imasuke didnâ??t recognize him, and he filed away the affront; he was one of the best negotiators (publicly, privately, he had much better uses), and they sent some random lackey. His smile widened as the short, stubby man stepped forward as well, taking his hands. â??May this be good for both our families, yes?â? His English was tinged with an affected accent, part of the â??harmlessâ?? façade, and he rested his hand on the otherâ??s forearm, taking in the other men. Three older faces and one young one, with lambent green eyes. His grandfather had once collected sea glass, and he could remember one of the polished pieces being that same colour, and after staring at scores of brown and black eyes, these were a pleasure. A shame heâ??d be dead soon. He nodded politely to each, then turned back to say something to his men in Japanese.

â??Bring the hostages forward.â? He imagined at least one of the four of the rival family would have a translating piece in, so he didnâ??t risk any last minute detail-checking. This plan would work, or it would not, and there was nothing that could be done now about it. The slim man turned back, pushing hair out of his face. He kept his eyes, one coffee brown, the other black, on the little chubby one, though he wanted to see Green Eyesâ?? gaze before he died (a real shame, yes). â??Forgive us. You must see, weâ??re nervous. If your, ah, how do you call, your Senior had not requested such an open area, we would not have thought to come to a place like this.â? Imasuke turned his wrist over, checking his watch casually. â??Well, then. Itâ??s twelve now.â? Two minutes, he thought, setting his internal clock. â??Shall we conduct business so we can be off to lunch?â?

----------------------

Russel didn't like the middle man the second he saw him. He wasn't even sure what it was, but something about the other really bothered him. Later on, that would prove to be quite true. Maybe it was the fake smile, or maybe it was the feminine air he had about him. It reminded him of women, and women were so damn careless. He'd pretty much given up on them a while ago. Not because he didn't like them. They were well enough. They just bitched and moaned like it was nobodies fucking business.

Then again too much friendliness was bad as well. This male in front of him though... He was smiling. Not too friendly. But the kind Russel had seen girls give him when all they really wanted was a good boning. This was not the way he wanted somebody of an opposing gang smiling at him. Definitely not.

The short fat man stepped forward and shook Imasuke's hand. Russel didn't pay much attention to this, his eyes were still focused on the man. He noticed the other take a little attention to him, and Russel didn't avert his eyes from the shorter man. He could give less a fuck about Japanese culture, or about what were the right code of conduct or manners for the situation. This male would just have to fucking deal.

Russel wouldn't have made a very good negotiator. He got angry far too quickly, and got nervous almost just as quickly. As stated before, he was a great shot. He could shoot a gun almost like no other, but if he got nervous his hand got shaky, and there that went and got all screwed up.

Perhaps Russel was a little under-appreciating of other cultures and customs. Hell, he was under-appreciating of just about everything that didn't go along with what he liked. What a stubborn bastard. The fat man nodded his head and nodded backwards to the two men who were holding Imasuke's own hostages and beckoned them forward. All the while Russel kept his eyes on Imasuke.

-------------------------

That fat face smiled widely. He was a ruddy man, with bright eyes. â??Of course. And let me say, this is a pleasure for us.â? At least he was polite, Imasuke thought, that thin, mysterious smile on his lips. Better than Green Eyes, who kept staring at him (and probably not for a good reason). One minute, twenty-five seconds. Green Eyes wouldnâ??t look away, and the small Japanese man met his gaze calmly for a moment, then looked away to the others. Maybe he was a designer kid, but most people didnâ??t give up children they paid good money for to a gang. Not that low, at least, not to be hired muscle. A few of the higher ups had heirs that had been genetically designed at birth, everything down to the hair thickness, but that was as much a sign of wealth as their trophy wives who paid surrogate mothers to birth pretty babies.

â??Perhaps they have not be so in the past, but may our families both prosper from our dealings henceforth.â? Fifty-five seconds. The hostages were exchanged, both pairs surly. Imasuke kept that same polite smile on his lips. Green Eyes was still looking, and it annoyed him. Heâ??d aim for right between those eyes when he killed him to make himself feel better. â??And let thisâ??â??

â??Cops!â? One of his own men shouted, pulling Imasuke back into a bear hug. Now he could hear the bullet, felt the shock as it hit his bodyguard. One of hostages went down, gurgling. Imasuke reached under his arm for his holster, taking careful aim as smoke started to fill the area. There was screaming, too, civilians caught in the middle of a nasty confrontation. The smoke was necessary, acrid as it was, but the negotiator had put lenses in his eyes today to guard against it. Wouldn't help the lack of visibility, though. One shot, and he took down the chubby man, hearing the scream if not the thud as he slumped down. One of the cops (one of their own, he recognized that nose) shot the second hostage, but there were more of the Feds there then their own men. And theyâ??d been early. Damn it. He squinted, nose and throat burning as he took aim and fired at Green Eyes. His second bodyguard took that moment to grab him, making his hand jerk. Too low! Didnâ??t matter. The cops would get the rest, having instituted a â??shoot first, ask laterâ?? policy with the gangs.

----------------------

Russel was pretty much disgusted by the men that he'd been sent out with. He knew none of them, except one of the men who was holding a hostage. And even then, he knew him only by name. That's what being out for a while did to your reputation and your knowledge. He'd been out shooting just in the morning, and some shit ass kids thought they could come in and outshow him. How idiotic. What were they, twenty-one, twenty-two? They'd quickly be picked off. He'd seen it all before.

The origins of Russel might have actually made Imasuke laugh. Not because other's could easily find it funny, but the other's interest in his eyes would make it quite humorous. He -was- actually a designer baby. One that had been requested by height, hair color, fitness, and... Eye color. One of the higher ups of this very gang had requested his birth. Specialized in the most complex of ways. He'd been conceived, and all was well. But after birth, it came to everybody's attention. The color of his eyes. Funny, that wealthy people could be so picky as to throw a child away simply because of the color of their eyes. It was also quite funny that somebody would request a dark brown, instead of the vibrant green blue that inhibited his irises. The male had been a rebel from the start, even from conception.

Honestly, it made sense. The boss that had requested the child was going to raise him as his own. And anything that made you stick out in a gang, such as green eyes was not considered a good thing by any means. He didn't want his child being able to be picked out by an assassin so easily as that. So Russel had been tossed aside, a reject test tube baby. His surrogate mother had chosen to keep him, instead of throwing him away with some idle civilians.

And when he was old enough to, he joined the very gang that had rejected him. His mind of course, had not wandered to these depths while they stood there. He was still concerned about what this bi-eye colored male had in mind for this.

Only a few seconds later he figured it out with the shout. His eyes searched around wildly, and when he realized there was a slow smoke filling the area, he growled and his green eyes went back to trying to drill a hole through Imasuke's head. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as he reached down to pull out his hand gun, only to be met with Imasuke's gun aimed at his head. He was quite far from the other, but if shot at from this distance, a shot to the head would be deadly. Perhaps it was a good thing then that it hit him on the side of his torso. Just on the edge between his bulletproof vest and his skin. Russel felt the bullet pierce his skin, but it didn't exit. Fuck. It wasn't even that deep either.

But a more animalistic instinct took over and he fell to the ground. A groan was murmured from his lips, and he felt a cold sweat build up on the back of his neck. This was it, huh? He was going to die now. Not from this puny wound to his side, but from being trampled, or being shot at while still on the ground. Cowards. Hell, he was one too. How long had it taken him to even think about pulling out his gun?! Mentally, Russel cursed himself. Maybe he deserved this. He wasn't good at doing this under pressure. He wasn't good at anything.

Except perhaps defying everything he stood up against, including fate.

And that was exactly what he did when one of the Ishikawa grabbed him up and pulled him towards the van, practically tossing him behind it. For a second, Russel wasn't sure what he should do, so he just sat there staring forward. He could have very easily run away, but something kept him from that. Perhaps the pure surprise at the fact he'd been pulled out of harms way by one of his own enemies was what kept him frozen there.

---------------------------

Imasuke ducked into the limo, his surviving bodyguard pulling his head down, covering him with his body and keeping him below glass level. â??Ike!â? he shouted. Go!, though that was unnecessary. The driver was experienced. As soon as the shooting had started, he had the car ready, cigarette gripped between his crooked teeth. Even now, he had his foot on the gas, the limo squealing as the wheels tried for traction, found it, and they were gone.

â??Damn. The suitcase,â? the thin man growled, sitting up and straightening his suit once they were a few kilometers away. They had dropped the suitcase. That had been Sasakiâ??s job, but the big brute had gone and got himself killed. That would come out of flesh, it would, the missing money, but Imasuke would dance and plead till his superior sent him away with a lighter punishment. After all, the job had gone off well, they had got their two men back and this would be the perfect spark on the short fuse the gangs had around here. Two years of drought had lead to high prices for water and food rations and the Ishikawa had their hands all in the necessities black market. Fighting would just make things better.

â??Some hoboâ??s going to jizz in his pants finding that suitcase, eh, older brother?â? Imasuke glared at the driver looking back at him in the rearview window. Boring, brown eyes. Not like Green Eyes, who was probably dead by now. Was dead by now. No probably about it. He sighed, punching the button that raised another polarized window between the driver and the back. The man was cocky. He knew, after all, the skill involved in being a good driver, knew he was safe.

The ride back was uneventful. Quiet, too, save for the small screen in the back. Public news, but no matter how tight the Gov kept the bad news, it always managed to leak. Imasuke watched, hunched over the screen and taking in every bit of filtered information. Wait. Six bodies? There should have been seven. Had his men pulled away the body of their fallen brother? Before he had even finished that thought, his phone rang. Imasuke flipped it open, pressing the slim medal device against his ear, motioning to the bodyguard to turn down the volume. â??Hello?â?

â??Murakami.â? Shit. That was Nakata, the second in his territory. And something in his voice told Imasuke something was wrong. â??Our older brother will want to see you when you get here.â? Shit. Shit, fuck, shit. Imasuke answered in the affirmative, thoughtless. Nakataâ??s words were clipped, careful. Something was wrong. He sat back, flipping the phone shut with an irritated click. Thirty year old gang members didnâ??t sulk, but what he did on the remainder of the way back was something very much like it.

Nakataâ??s man was waiting for him when the limo pulled up to the Ishikawaâ??s main house. Imasuke wasnâ??t quite sure what his superiorâ??s real family name was; territory bosses took the surname of the family to add to the illusion. The house was beautiful, with a well-tended garden that took enough water to keep a family hydrated for a month every day. One of Ishikawaâ??s many maids took his suit jacket and shoes, giving him a pair of slippers for walking in the place, and led him to the center room. He never got used to the opulence. Hell, it he was even walking on real wood, no imitation being able to creak just like that. The maid knelt down in front of a finely painted sliding door, kimono sleeves brushing the ground as she slid open the door carefully then pressed her head to the floor. Damn. Ishikawa was already entertaiâ??

That was Kim, an uppity and ambitious Korean. He had one of the men from earlier who had been in charge of the hostages there andâ?¦ damn! Green eyes! A roughed up and unbandaged Green Eyes, but the white kid none the less. Imasuke almost didnâ??t have time to school his face into a bland expression before he dropped to his knees in front of Ishikawa, head pressed to the ground.

â??Ah. Murakami. Brother Kim here was just explaining his good fortune at saving what we hope could be a useful member.â? Imasuke didnâ??t look up. He knew Ishikawaâ??s rough, angular face. Knew Kimâ??s look of triumph, too, having showed up his peer. Damn him. â??It seems that this one might fetch a bit of a price. A thrown off son and all. One would think this only happened in stories.â? He chuckled, a deep rumble in his throat. â??You may sit up, Murakami.â?

------------------------

A grin curled up on Russel's face when he saw that suitcase sitting there so abandoned. If anything made his day, that did. Not even that he was saved. He watched as the man with the strange smile drove away. He'd known. He'd known before it happened, and he'd done nothing. Not that he regretted it because of his fallen comrades. More so because it would be a pain to explain this. That, and he had a fucking bullet under his skin. Not deep, but it was still there.

But before he could relish in this accomplishment, he was snatched up by the collar. This male grinned at him, then hit him on the side of the head, a pressure point. That was all that he had remembered. He'd been shoved into a van and driven off. When they'd arrived at the residence, Russel had just been coming to. He was swearing and cursing up a storm, until he realized he was surrounded completely by people who could kill him in a second.

Russel had his hands tied behind his back, and he looked in an unshapely state. There was blood on his shirt, from where the bullet had pierced, and a few scrapes on his face. Those were probably from the rough housing. His hands were tied behind his back, and he was sitting 'comfortably' on the ground.

He snickered when he saw Iwasuke bowing to Ishikawa. This male that had been in charge just a while ago was now bowing, almost before him. There was an obvious grin on his face, even though this situation was not in his favor at all. But he found it at his liberty to speak then. "Price? Haha. Like anybody would pay anything for me. They don't give a shit. Why do you think they tossed me off in the first place?" This was probably not something to say to somebody who was holding you captive. In most cases, hearing something like that would cause the captor to take the captive out back and shoot him.

 

[Kawamura]

Ishikawa laughed. â??Youâ??d be surprised how much a human like you is worth, even if your family doesnâ??t want you.â? Unlike Imasuke, Ishikawa was in formal, old clothes. Probably real fabric, too, not synthetics, the whore. And meters of it, to puff up his own small frame. Imasuke sat up, hands on his knees and eyes down to a respectful level. â??We haveâ?¦ connections with certain doctors that would give a good price for you.â? That made him stiffen. Imasuke liked doctors, liked to pretend that they didnâ??t get involved in things like organ harvesting.

â??Older brother.â? While he couldn't see Ishikawa, he could hear the man shift in all those layers, turning towards him just a little. â??If we suddenly sell such high quality organs, we will draw suspicions. And DNA testing will--â?

â??Older brother.â? That shit, Kim, actually interrupted him. More fabric whispering, and Imasuke glanced. Kim was looking up, near eye level. â??If we go through our associatesâ??â??

â??Itâ??s not worth it. A deception like this found out will bring out every gang in the sector on us.â? The young man looked up, not to the eyes, but high enough to see a thin, wry smile on Ishikawaâ??s thick lips. Oh, god. Oh, bloody hell. Imasuke swallowed, fighting the urge to drop his head again. He knew that smile, had learned to fear it. Ishikawa, for all his posturing and old-fashioned clothing, was a predator. And Imasuke and Kim were both two dogs fighting for beta position in his eyes.

â??I suppose, then, weâ??ll have to keep ourâ?¦ guest. Murakami. You failed to kill him, you will watch him. Closely. You two are dismissed. Kim, you may stay here.â? Imasuke bowed, face expressionless as he stood, reaching for Green Eyeâ??s collar. Ishikawa had turned to Kim fully now, patently ignoring the other two men. So itâ??d be like this, would it? He managed to swallow down his anger, putting it away for a later time.

â??Come,â? he whispered, voice level. â??I will show you where you will stay.â?

 

[mrow]

Russel hadn't thought about that. Hell, Russel didn't really think before he talked. He didn't think before he shot either. But for some reason he always stayed out of trouble. Until now of course. Death would have been a welcome escape for him, seeing as he didn't have much to live off of except... Well nothing. Nothing was what fueled him. He was intent on proving 'nothing' wrong. There had to be something and he knew that by dying he would not be immediately enlightened, nor by sitting back and waiting for it would he find any answers.

So he fought. This to him was just one more of those battles. A battle against his own depressive and underachiever tendencies.

His green eyes snapped up to look at Ishikawa however when there was mention of organ harvesting. Doctors. Oh he hated doctors. So. Damn. Much. Russel had fared well on his own his entire life without a doctor, and the few that he had actually been to had been quite corrupt. So even mentioning anything like that really set him off. Deep down Russel was a coward. For now though he could pretend otherwise.

Surprisingly Russel did not keep his eyes in contact with Ishikawa. They wandered around the room, but he was still listening intently. Mayhaps it was just the knock to the head still wearing off? Now, this Kim dick, he could deal with him. Russel wasn't even sure why. He should have had more of a tiff with Kim, for knocking him out and all, but Imasuke had been the one that had started all of this. Just a simple glance from the other had set him off, and he knew that he was trouble. Even now, as Imasuke sat there so subordinately, Russel felt resentment and hate. Imasuke had been the catalyst for all of this, after all. Imasuke was first person that he could connect with the situation. And Russel wouldn't forget that.

Either that, or this Kim seemed like the idiotic subordinate type that he could possibly manipulate. And he was being stuck with Imasuke, the fucking negotiator. There was no loop hole through this.

A growl left his throat as Imasuke pulled on his shirt, but surprisingly Russel didn't let out much more noise. He followed silently, keeping his eyes focused sharply on Imasuke's head. And when they were out of earshot... "Oh, you thought you'd get me, didn't you, ya' bastard?" It was another growl, but through a grin. "Right between the fucking eyes. I saw that look you gave me! It's too bad... You're stuck with me now." Honestly, Russel probably should have been sucking up to this male, seeing as he could possibly get the bullet out. But common sense and Russel? Didn't mix.

 

[Kawamura]

Imasuke took the quiet time to seethe, ignoring the maids and other guests in the house. Lucky for him, he was high enough on the pecking order that the lack of manners wasnâ??t going to get him in trouble. Out of earshot, unfortunately, was still in the house, and the slim man ignored his charge until they were out of the building.

In front of the limo, to be exact, where his large bodyguard was still waiting for him. He turned on his heel, a quick, fluid movement. Green Eyes was taller than him, though most men were, but Imasuke was used to that. He reached up, damning the lack of the tie, his thing hands clasping the manâ??s collar. A quick yank, hoping for surprise to make his job easier. â??I am stuck with you, yes, but for the time, I own you.â? His face was still expressionless as he spoke in clear, accentless English. â??You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will bother me.â? Imasuke might not be big and muscular, but his bodyguard was. And the man that watched out for the little negotiator at home also was big and muscular. He had learned that early on: you couldnâ??t compensate for brains, but you could for brawn.

He released him with a controlled movement and slid into the car. This oneâ?¦ What was his name? Tanaka or something, he didnâ??t remember, but he was polite at least. Knew when to open doors so Imasuke didnâ??t have to (anti-climatic, it would have been). He scooted over, crossing his legs as the large man followed him in, half man-handling Green Eyes into the car as Imasuke wiggled out of his suit jacket. His holster was obvious, so he felt no need to point it out. â??I canâ??t kill you, but I will make your life miserable if you donâ??t follow my simple rules.â?

 

[mrow]

Russel felt like spitting in Imasuke's eye. His anger of course was quite misplaced, but there wasn't much he could do now. Something like this.... This anger and rage, could not be simply brushed aside, or funneled elsewhere. Imasuke was the one who had done most, if not all, of this. He was hoping for a simple response at least, and the lack of response he got made him even angrier than before. Russel was an inconsiderate, unpredictable, bi-polar, attention whore.

If his complex and rather confusing ways could even be simplified to that level. It seemed that he couldn't get any angrier by the time they were outside, and Imasuke grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt. Russel would have had a little outburst and probably snarled in the man's face, but that last statement just killed him. "I own you." He burst out into a fit of giggles, turning his head away from Imasuke in some false ways of covering this up. The last couple of lines he didn't even pick up, but obviously he didn't have to. Such simple, idiotic rules. So what was he going to do? Sit on his ass? They probably should have sold him off, or just killed him right then and there, because he'd be a hell of a lot more trouble alive.

He was so distracted by this that he didn't even realize that Imasuke had climbed into the car. And he was being pulled into it. That was his wakeup call. That bastard made him hit his head! "Heyheyhey!" It was a growl, and he roughly pulled himself away from the body guard in the car. He was probably about the same height, but not hardly quite as buff. "Shit..." Russel would have rubbed the back of his head had he been able to. His eyes moved back to Imasuke, as if that small action had been caused by him directly.

"I'm sure you will... You seem like the kind of person that would ruin people's lives purposefully. Is that why you missed? Or is old age taking hold of your aim?" Of course, Russel had seen what happened. Imasuke had missed by accident. His body guard had knocked his arm, and gave Russel this damn stinging side. As for the age comment. Imasuke didn't look old. In fact probably far from it. This was just several of Russel's strategically placed sarcastic and demeaning comments. His mind was trying to make up for the fact that he was not physically in control of the situation, so he was taking control verbally.

Or trying to.

 

[Kawamura]

The negotiator ignored the sound, of course. He had little concern for what brain damage would do to Green Eyesâ?? cognitive powers, after all. Not that he expected much along those lines. The white boy (he was a boy, wasnâ??t he?) puffed himself up with noise like Ishikawa and his clothes, but this one was even less of a concern. Ishikawa, at least, had a head on his shoulders. This one just had a pretty face.

Ah, but he hadnâ??t got this far by underestimating others, had he? To start to do such now would be a failure similar to the ones Ishikawa made concerning himself, and Imasuke refused to repeat his â??older brotherâ??s mistakes. The slender man sat back against expensive (faux) leather seats, the very image of poise and serenity.

Green Eyes was blustering again, and his quip made Imasukeâ??s lips curl into that same polite smile that never reached his eyes. â??Full of sound and furry, eh?â? he remarked in the sort of tone one might use when talking about the lovely artificial weather. Always artificial, of course. The natural patterns tended to be much more extreme. â??I imagine Iâ??ve been working before you were alive, child,â? he remarked calmly. â??And it is certainly rude to talk this way to your betters.â? The thin man sighed, propping his elbow up on the door and leaning his head into his hand. â??I suppose, though, they donâ??t teach manners to cast offs. At least youâ??re easy on the eyes,â? he added, sinking down further in his chair. â??Watch him for me, Iâ??m going to take a nap.â? That last bit was in Japanese, though his meaning should have been clear to Green Eyes as he settled in and closed his eyes. â??Look,â?? he said non-verbally. â??Iâ??m so not afraid of you, Iâ??ll sleep with you in the car.â??

Not, of course, that he would sleep, but he slowed his breathing to give a rather convincing image of it. He probably could have slept, or whatever it was he did that he called sleep, he thought in self-deprecating amusement. Imasuke tended to doze, but he rarely slept deeply or for any long period of time. Came with the territory, and all. He certainly hadnâ??t been alone in a building for three years.

 

[mrow]

Russel couldn't stop the constant words spewing from his mouth, even if he wanted to. He was pent up with rage that this little... Bitch had control of the situation, and had actually -gotten- him into this situation. Perhaps death would have been an easier way. But no, of course Russel was always forced to take the difficult way out. It was a normal thing. He was used to it by now, but each little surprise put him a little more on the edge.

And any assumptions that he was less than intelligent were pure... Well, they were about fifty percent fiction and fifty percent truth. Russel was smart. He was just quite choosy about what he was smart about. Just like he was choosy about when he used his skills, or choosy about anything else. Being rejected like he had been had set up something in his mind that couldn't be unraveled. Russel had at least some control over his fate, and that was his act to choose.

"Child?" Russel snarked, shaking his head. Imasuke didn't look much older than him at all. "Betters?" He seemed full of repetitive questions. "Haha. I would not assume what you don't know..." But that last comment made him growl. He shifted angrily in the back of the limo and glared hatefully at Imasuke. Russel seemed full of rage.

But the second that Imasuke laid back his eyes went calm, and he glanced casually around the car. Perhaps it was a front, his anger. And perhaps not. Russel was one who was good at feigning emotions, but he was also somebody who would and could lose control over them easily. He let out a little agrivated sigh and stretched out his arms, before he relaxed against the seat himself, his eyes never left Imasuke however.

 

[Kawamura]

Imasuke fought the urge to fidget. He wasnâ??t a still man by nature but, unlike Green Eyes, he had control, and if he did not want to move, he wouldn't. Since his body couldnâ??t move (and damn it all, he was getting a pain in his back from a slightly uncomfortable position), his mind did. Imasuke had never had access to mental enhancers: the drugs that rotted away the mind as quickly as they jumped up the ability, or tutors for the kids of the rich and famous, who often inherited their mommy and daddyâ??s large (and often illegal) estates and needed any advantage they could get their pampered fingers on. But he did well with what he had, and his grandfather had instilled a good love of the academic and intelligent. Though, the man would have a heart attack if he knew what imasuke used them for.

Had Green Eyes received such training, or others? Heâ??d been tailored, but towards what? Perhaps heâ??d be of more use than chopped up and sold for his meat. Imasuke needed allies, and unlike Ishikawa, he did not waste. Like that story Lao Tzu told, he thought as his body guard leaned over, touching his shoulder briefly to alert them that they were close to home. How do I know itâ??s good fortune or bad? Imasuke sat up, stretching. He was fit, quick. Could he take Green Eyes on in a fight? Probably not. Heâ??d keep a tranq on him at all times, preferring not to use drugs until he had to. No use damaging whatever it was that Green Eyes had. Mismatched eyes settled on his â??guestâ?? as he fought the momentary sickness from being unable to focus on the passing scenery.

â??You will call me â??Murakamiâ?? or â??sirâ??, it is your choice.â? He obviously enjoyed that word, choice, the irony in it, his voice betraying only the slightest coloring of amusement. Tanaka, or whatever his name was (many of Imasukeâ??s body guards did not last that terribly long, and he felt this was partially due to Ishikawa) was the first out when the limo rolled to a stop in a fairly affluent neighborhood. The houses here were small, but private, something Imasuke was unused to but relished in. â??Is there something I should call you?â?

 

[mrow]

Russel's control was posed in the form of choices. Having control over something like staying still... Well that was a choice. So he could choose to do it or not. At the moment, he was quite still, in fact, probably the stillest that Imasuke had ever seen him. He knew that this man was already trying to work out just how he'd deal with Russel. If Russel kept boucing his personality and actions around, Imasuke wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly how he was. The male was acting in strange ways, and Imasuke was no doubt picking that up. Either that, or he assumed that Russel was some hyperactive angry moron who had been stuck in this situation. If he had been such a moron, he wouldn't have been taught just all the things he knew.

But most things he remembered were common sense. Practical tools. Intellectual ideas and thoughts were of nearly no use to him, as well as moral things that had been shoved down his throat. He knew how to reload a gun in under five seconds, and how to jump start a car without the use of another. Imasuke was the type, he was assuming, that had some kind of psychological aspect to him. He was probably analyzing Russel right now. Russel wasn't great at that type of thing, but he knew how other's went about it. He'd gone through too many psychiatrists to not know.

"Ha! Like I can say that fucking Jap name." Russel snickered, shaking his head. "I guess it'll just have to be sir." The last word was slurred with a mocking tone. "My name is Russel. If you were smart, you would have asked your boss. I'm sure he knew it."

 

[Kawamura]

Imasuke ignored the insult, let it slip past him, noted, but not offended by. After all, he had the power, didnâ??t he? This was just as symptom. â??My older brother,â? he said pleasantly as his bodyguard opened the door, â??might have known your order number. I donâ??t think he would have cared for you name.â? The older man broke eye contact for just a moment, checking the muscleâ??s face. Ah, a subtle nod. No bugs that he could find, so hopefully Green Eyes would remain secret. Imasuke slid along the seat, unfolding himself outside of the sleek limo and simultaneously pulling on his jacket to hide the holster again. This neighborhood was rather suburban, and he had no desire to frighten outsiders. Pale, clever hands smoothed the lines of his jacket quickly, leaving the man just as presentable as he had been for the negotiation-trap. He didnâ??t even turn as Takata/Tanaka/whoever helped Russel out of the limo.

There were no gardens here, water being too expensive most of the time for anyone other than mob bosses, CEOs and politicians (but werenâ??t they all the same?) able to waste the money on a yard or too many flowers. There were a fair number of trees, old, pre-war things and a few new ones, that added to the general feeling of peace the place had. Now if only Imasuke wasnâ??t forced to bring his business home with him as it were. While Imasuke might not look back, he certainly listened. One did not forsake too much information for looks, after all. â??Youâ??re lucky Kim didnâ??t get you,â? he remarked as they walked up the short path to the door, again without turning back. â??Youâ??re certainly much too old for his tastes, but he does like hosting rather â?¦ well attended parties.â? It was meant as a threat, that heâ??d let Kim borrow Russel for something like that. Not that he could. Imasuke might be a murdering sycophant, but he had limits. Children and rape were two of them.

Russel just didnâ??t have to know about the morals.

The main room was small without the feeling of being cramped and decorated tastefully with neutral colors and expensive furniture that looked like the sort one didnâ??t actually use, only took pictures of for adverts. Imasuke didnâ??t really: his bedroom was the only lived-in room in the house, and he certainly didnâ??t leave the door open to that. He didnâ??t even hesitate as he slipped out of his shoes and up into the house. â??Are you hungry?â? he asked politely, disinterested as the bodyguard headed out to the small yard in the back. Close by, but not obviously so.

 

[mrow]

Russel never really understood the reason that they were so intent on calling each other by family names. They weren't even related. But perhaps it was some part of him that hated Imasuke, for even being able to call somebody that. Russel had no brothers or sisters. At least that he knew of. He hardly knew his father, and his mother... Well she was probably chosen out of thousands of women. He'd been the kind of child that was left unattended for precarious amounts of time, and it was a miracle that he'd even survived.

"Ah. Lovely place you have here..." He remarded sarcastically as he stepped out of the limo. Surprisingly the male was quiet until they stepped up to the door, and that comment about Kim was stated. Oh no no no. "I'm not even old-" But he didn't want to continue his sentence. The statement made a grimace curl up on his face. Disgusting... He couldn't put anything past Imasuke until the other's actions and intentions were made clear.

Russel didn't bother taking off his shoes. He had no reason to, and it certainly hadn't been taught to him by anybody. So he stepped through the house behind Imasuke, glancing around. He'd take careful note of everything. "No." He replied, his green eyes creeping up the walls curiously. It probably would have been best if he did eat, but the stinging in his side was... SHIT! A growl left his lips as he raised his arms up, looking at the wound. "Can you fucking fix this?"

 

[Kawamura]

He wasnâ??t expecting an answer. Japanese had a word for those sort of questions, the required parts of speech that helped social situations move along. Wasnâ??t â??lubricationâ??, but for all intents and purposes worked like it. Not that Imasuke had sex often, another downside to life in such a competitive atmosphere, but he certainly remembered lube. He had expected a snarky remark or none at all, not, hell, vulnerability. Imasuke turned on his heel instinctually, damning the part of him his grandfather had trained to respond to sounds of pain.

Fuck. Kim hadnâ??t done a thing about Greeâ??Russelâ??s wounds. Damn fool. If Ishikawa wanted to sell him off for organs, infection would do no one good, and the damned fool (Ishikawa was one as well) would probably take it out of his hide. Imasuke rolled his eyes. â??Strip,â? he commanded. â??Iâ??ll go get supplies.â? At least these skills his grandfather taught him werenâ??t being misused. And maybe things like helping the wound he created would even out his karma, awful as it must be by now. Not that he really believed that superstitious nonsense, he would tell himself, but it couldnâ??t harm, right?

Imasuke returned, hands full of the obnoxiously pink plastic box that served as his first aid kit. It even had an overly stylized bunny on the front where the latch was. â??Sit down on the floor,â? he said to a hopefully half nude Russel. â??I donâ??t want blood on my furniture.

 

[mrow]

And Russel wasn't expecting any food, even if he had answered. Eh, maybe Imasuke might have been willing to give him some food, but Russel was not very hungry. Especially with his -fucking- side throbbing like it was! Honestly, what kind of idiots wouldn't have at least given him a quick look over. Russel felt that maybe he was just being used as a sort of pawn to keep Imasuke in place. At least it seemed like it. He hadn't been attended to or anything. In fact, Ishikawa and Kim seemed more intent on grinding Imasuke down. Russel almost felt bad for the bastard.

Almost.

Russel blinked, shaking his head. Strip? Haha! The male actually laughed out loud, a true laugh, not like the sarcastic ones that he'd let out before. Imasuke sounded so serious and commanding. He looked so... Well he wasn't extremely small. But Russel was pretty damn sure he could beat him in a fist fight. The male did as he was told, pulling off his shirt as Imasuke left the room. Russel had a nice chest. It wasn't extremely bulgy, but the outlines of his muscles were obvious on the skin. Otherwise it was rather flat, probably like Imasuke's.

Again Russel truly laughed for the second time. It was the first aid kit with the bunny on it that did it. "Ah..." He nodded. The wound wasn't deep. He could have probably pulled the bullet out himself. But it had bled quite a bit. The male leaned over with a groan, lowering himself to the ground. "Yes Sir." Again, the title didn't hold any respect to it, more mocking than anything.

 

[Kawamura]

Imasuke would have been proud to hear the first guess. And pleased, too. He was being worn down, this was not the first time Ishikawa had taken a minor mistake and rubbed his â??younger brotherâ??â??s nose in it. It would not be the last. The second observation, well, that wouldnâ??t be as pleasing. Russel might be able to take him in a fist fight (assuming Imasuke didnâ??t get to a pressure point first), but his warden had the benefit of about one-hundred-eighty pounds of muscle outside.

Green Eyes, if nothing else, was attractive. Imasuke took a moment to notice this, catalogue it, and put it away for a later time. Well, very few people would pay for an ugly baby, so he really shouldnâ??t have been surprised. A shame the two of them hated each otherâ??s guts. With those exotic green eyes, nice frame, and sandy hair, so different than the usual men Imasuke saw, Russel might have been a good lay. Meh. Probably only interested in women as many men in this testosterone-filled business were (Heâ??d found that one out the hard way, hadnâ??t he?). Not that it mattered. Russel, he thought as he kneeled down behind the mocking prisoner, hated his guts, and Imasuke hadnâ??t got this far offering knives to his enemies and then showing them his back.

Or backside, as the case may be.

â??Superficial,â? Imasuke said, placing a completely non-sexual hand next to bruised and angry skin. He tutted, pushing just the slightest to move Russel so he could see better. The man, for all his nasty behavior, was surprisingly gentle. â??They didnâ??t even remove the bullet. This will sting some, but stay as still as you can.â? â??Thisâ?? was a pair of tweezers, rubbed with alcohol, that he used to dig out the bullet. â??Youâ??re lucky. It didnâ??t shatter,â? he said evenly as he worked, trying to keep Russelâ??s focus off what he was doing. â??Mm. Would have been even easier if you had died, but this will heal quickly.â?

 

[mrow]

Russel may have been himself and focused on choice, but one thing that was a problem of his was his tendency to judge people and situations. When you were around somebody so much, you began seeing their tendencies. He may have thought himself bad at analyzing people, but Russel wasn't puzzled with some of the strangest justifications of actions. He wasn't intent on beating Imasuke up anytime soon, simply because he knew that Imasuke wouldn't beat on him.

The other seemed quite logical. Maybe even anally so. And oh. If he knew the way that Imasuke's mind was going, he would have actually been quite flattered, if not a little freaked out. He sat there patiently, not even bothering to fidget. His eyes noticed Imasuke's again, a dark color so different from his own. That thought quickly flicked away as his brain wandered off to his apartment. And then to his cell phone. And -then- to the many girls numbers that were in it. Russel was attractive, and people picked up on that. Males, females. When you went to the shittier part of town it was more than often the former. Not that Russel minded gays. Hell, he'd even woken up next to a man a few drunken nights.

Even if he was masking his own tendencies, Russel really was rather careless. Moral issues like that didn't bother him. He wasn't worried about things like religion and all that bullshit. But then again he didn't put people with beliefs down. In fact, he respected them. It took commitment to believe something that you couldn't completely prove.

Russel frowned and furrowed his brows when the other placed that hand on his stomach. It was gentle. "Nhh... He seemed fine for the moment, but when the thing was finally pulled out of his side Russel growled. "Fuck..." He turned to glare at Imasuke. "Yes, would have been easier for you if I had died," he spat, rolling his eyes. "Too bad you have to deal with me. I plan on making your life a living hell."

 

[Kawamura]

â??Iâ??ve baby-sat before,â? Imasuke responded coolly, dropping the bullet onto a latex glove that served as his tray. A bloody shame. Russel was warm under his fingers, the sort of warmth one only could find from blood, muscle, and skin that was surprisingly pleasurable. Not that surprising, he told himself, keeping the train of thought mostly academic to avoid any telling evidence of arousal. Humans, like many other animals, evolved to enjoy each other. Might be difficult to carry on the species if no one liked to touch. Or everyone was like him, getting a mental stiffy from rather mundane work. It had been too long.

He reached for a clean, thick cloth and folded it deftly. â??Turn back. Donâ??t watch me, it makes it worse for you.â? Imasuke lowered his mismatched eyes, focusing on his work. He kept that cloth right below the wound as he cleaned it. â??As I said, I doubt you could make my life any more difficult than the powers above,â? he remarked, pushing the cloth against the tear in the skin once he was finished. â??Iâ??m applying pressure to help stop the bleeding. As I said, it wasnâ??t that bad, but sometimes the most minor of wounds bleed the worst.â?

If he kept his other hand, now free from cleaning, on Russelâ??s stomach for no reason save the fact that he had conveniently â??forgotâ?? it was there, that hardly mattered, did it? â??Iâ??m surprised youâ??re not doing sex work. Itâ??s a lot easier than being shot at.â? He shrugged thin shoulders only slightly, economic in his movements as always. â??It seems you had no great love of your former job. And the pay is probably better.â? Health benefits, too. Imasuke had thought it the biggest joke that the best job one could get around his neighborhood (his old one, not his one) was working the streets. Even with a degree or two.

 

[mrow]

Russel obviously wasn't pleased by this comment. In fact, he was quite annoyed by it. The male shifted slightly, which was obviously not a very good idea with the other's hand so close to his wound. He was sexual when he could be, when the timing was convenient. In fact, he really liked sex, which would explain why he had all those girls numbers in his phone. And he was open to trying new things, which would explain why he'd woken up with men before.

He continued to watch for a few minutes before he realized it indeed did make it worse. The male glanced away quickly when Imasuke started cleaning the wound, and let out a growl. At least the wound was fresh. His chances of infection were quite small, especially since he was being cleaned up right then. That was all fine and dandy, until Imasuke pressed on the cloth. The pressure hurt. REALLY. A grunt slipped past his lips and he glanced away, clenching his fists. He could feel blood soaking the towel. Crap.

Oh, what a lovely thing to say when you had two hands, one directly, on another person's body. Russel shifted only slightly, before he realized that Imasuke still had a hand on him holding that towel there. He narrowed his eyes, and shook his head a little. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" It was obvious. Russel had seen it from the start. A sly smirk curled up on his lips then, and his expression changed. "Really now? Hmm." He went silent for a few seconds. "I assume you would say that, seeing how intently you were looking at me."

 

[Kawamura]

Well, now that hand on the otherâ??s stomach had a legitimate reason for being there, if only to keep his patient still. He was trying his best, being aware himself of how painful these sorts of wounds and tending them could be. That hand jerked at the question, though. Not the one pressing the now-bloody cloth to Russelâ??s injury, of course, the other one that had been resting on just as warm, unbroken skin.

What Russel said next, though, surprised him. He had noticed? Imasuke stiffened, quiet for a beat as he ran through their interactions. Yes, he had been obvious. Of course, at first, Imasuke hadnâ??t expected Russel to live through the day, so there had been no point in not displaying interest to a man he had marked for death. And now, bringing up that sex work bitâ?¦ Good god, no wonder the blonde had picked up on it. A brain dead ogre would have. But the smirk, the smirk was only cruel (as if he had room to talk). It made Russelâ??s face even more attractive, even with the awkward side-view he had from his position. The Japanese man pressed the cloth just a little harder in revenge. Only a bit, and really, it was for Green Eyeâ??s own good.

He pulled away, reaching for a bandage and an anti-septic cream. â??Itâ??s not surprising youâ??re attractive. I donâ??t think anyone would pay good money for a baby and make them ugly as sin,â? he said, echoing his previous thoughts. Imasuke touched Russel as clinically as possible as he slathered the injured area with the tacky, clear cream and started wrapping a clean cotton-synth bandage around the nicely muscled torso. â??Lift your arms, please,â? he commanded blandly.

 

[mrow]

Russel was not stupid. Things took time to register sometimes, but that could only be the end result of loud blasts of guns in his ears and perhaps some horrid beatings he'd received in the past. It took just a few miliseconds slower for things to register in his brain. But this registered right on time. That smirk only increased, and the male narrowed his eyes almost seductively.

"Mmhmm." He nodded his head and rolled his eyes. "It's kinda cute, you know..." But he was cut off by the shot up his left side, and a growl left his lips. "SHIT!" Russel bit his bottom lip with another growl, and narrowed his eyes in anger at Imasuke. He waited a few minutes to see that the other wouldn't do it again before he spoke. "As I was saying... How you're so uptight. You must have not been laid in a good long while, hmm?"

Russel watched with little intrigue. He'd seen wounds bandaged before, this was nothing new. "Does that make me any less hot?" Oh, it was horrible how he was treating Imasuke, he knew. But most of these things he didn't mean. Or he did but he wouldn't act on them. It was just another way to bother the other. He lifted his arm and watched the other bandage him up.

 

[Kawamura]

â??Of course I havenâ??t.â? If Russel had hoped to fluster the other man, he was out of luck. Imasuke could deal with Kim and his sick-fuck tendencies without batting an eye, he could easily deal with a little teasing without blushing. That stiffening (not where he would have liked, mind you) was all Green Eyes would get out of his taunting. â??Some of us are a little more in demand than a grunt. And with more enemies, too. I assure you, though, my personality is just as poor when Iâ??m having sex on a regular basis.â? That was true, though blue balls never improved any oneâ??s mood. But, the last time he had been having sex on a regular basis? Jesus. He didnâ??t even want to count back.

He was finished wrapping the length of synthetic material around Russelâ??s torso before he answered that last bit. â??No, it doesnâ??t,â? he said, tucking the end into the folds with a skill that spoke of practice. Hours and hours of it, just like the rest of his motions. â??However, I doubt theyâ??d select for a homosexual and Iâ??m not into forcing people.â? That wasnâ??t completely true. A bit of consensual forcing was a whole different matter. â??As I said, youâ??re lucky youâ??re not with Kim. He doesnâ??t generally like men sexually, but he does get off on humiliating them.â?

Imasuke smiled thinly and patted Russelâ??s side gently, checking his work. â??There. That should do, and the synth will keep the wound breathing. Hopefully, itâ??ll dry up by this evening.â? The slim man started gathering up his supplies, tucking them all back in that horrifically pink box. â??Do I have to find something for you to do, or will you be able to entertain yourself?â?

 

[mrow]

That was no surprise at all. Russel almost felt bad for Imasuke. Hell, he really did feel bad for him. A lack of sex could make just about anybody... Well bitchy. His green eyes flicked over to the other with a slight frown. How could he possibly feel pity for his captor? Maybe because he'd been put in that position before. And Russel had his life revolve mainly around sex for a good long while. Going without it... Well it was like living without a purpose! "Jeeze... That must suck..." He thought about this statement and laughed. "Or rather, a lack of suck."

"Ah, well I was rejected for a reason, yes?" Truth be told, Russel wasn't picky. A lay was a lay, any way you went about it. He felt like he was just teasing the other by saying that though. The male had realized that he was lucky enough to be away from Kim. And really he hoped that he didn't have another encounter with the damn bastard again.

Russel didn't let his eyes leave Imasuke, just as he did the second that they met. "Ah... Well thank you, Sir." He pulled himself up from the floor and stretched, only to groan halfway through it. "Oh, I'm sure I'll be able to entertain myself." With that he plopped down on the couch, letting out a rather content sigh. Almost too content for the situation that he was stuck in. Well, he was already in the fucking lions den, with the damn lion. How could things get worse?

 

[Kawamura]

Ugh. Bad pun. Imasuke rolled his eyes as he finished organizing his home-made first-aid kit. Whatever intelligence he might have thought Russel was selected for he was now seriously doubting. â??Try not to bleed on things,â? the Japanese man said sternly, standing up from his kneeling position with full hands. God, heâ??d have to find Green Eyes clothing, wouldnâ??t he? He refused to have a dirty prisoner, after all.

At least he looked comfortable. Imasuke wasnâ??t naturally given to having strangers in his personal space, something he was sure Ishikawa was very aware of. It set him on edge, having his alone time invaded like this. The bodyguard he could ignore, after all, the man was trained to be invisible when he wasnâ??t needed. But Russel?

Imasuke glanced back as he returned the cheery box to its place in his bathroom. Russel was currently sprawled out on his couch like a doll, probably bleeding onto the cream fabric. Russel stuck out like his first-aid kit but unfortunately Imasuke couldnâ??t just put him away, could he? The slim negotiator made a soft sound of disgust and closed the bathroom door behind him with a little more force than necessary. He couldnâ??t be irritated. He wouldnâ??t waste. Russel might be an asset, and Imasuke needed allies. Hopefully, the blond would be dumb enough to be malleable, but smart enough to be useful. Maybe time alone would help. He slipped into his own room, content that the hired muscle was watching Green Eyes.

 

[mrow]

Russel just seemed to think himself quite hilarious. That of course might have killed the joke, but he didn't care. Imasuke needed to lighten up, and if he continued this maybe the other would come out of his shell... Or tighten himself into it even more. "Ah yes... Because it's totally under my control!" He replied rolling his own eyes at Imasuke. He was perfectly content with laying on that couch. And it was rather funny, because he bet that Imasuke could buy a new damned couch if he wanted. Obviously from the house Russel could tell he wasn't poor.

The blond certainly wasn't intent on leaving Imasuke alone. And he didn't plan on leaving the older male alone any time soon. This was good for Russel. It got him out of his own shell a little. As of late, before all of this, he'd been almost as uptight as Imasuke had been. This was a good thing for him. It would be a good thing for the both of them.

Russel was stretched out nicely on the couch. His top was still naked, exposing half of his chest, the half that wasn't bandaged. He looked up from the couch to watch Imasuke slam the door. "Damn..." His eyes widened a little, but he then shrugged his head. He sat up after a few moments, glancing around the front room again. Russel headed towards the kitchen. Now he really was hungry... Reaching out a hand he opened the fridge, pulling out some indescribable dish before he stuck his fingers in it to eat. Hey. He didn't have time to look for any silverware! Once he finished he tossed the bowl in the sink then went about to randomly opening cabinets. He wanted to know where things were! Especially if he would be stuck here a while. Secretly he wondered if the contents of the cabinets were just as anally arranged as Imasuke was.

 

[Kawamura]

Good god. Imasuke leaned against his bedroom door, taking a moment to collect himself. Heâ??d got himself a bum, plain and simple. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to fight off a headache. Silently, he sent a prayer to whatever spirit or deity listened to murdering mobsters, pushed off the door, then went to go read.

His cabinets were not, by the way, organized. In fact, the more used a drawer or shelf was, the messier. Everything was clean, of course, and there was obviously a method to the madness he called â??organizationâ??. But Russel was on his own in finding things, as Imasuke had shut himself into his (even messier) bedroom and Tanaka was still taking up the majority of Imasukeâ??s small porch out back.

Imasuke, of course, would stay in his room until he was bothered or he wandered out for food. He wasnâ??t used to company, and no matter the personal skills he had with others when he was working, having someone at home was new. Especially as an attractive prisoner. Best leave the boy alone until he needed something; after all, he was supposed to keep him under house-arrest, not entertain him. He hadn't eaten, though, since early that morning, as his stomach reminded noisily him while he tried to draft a letter. Damn. Imasuke tucked his legs under himself on the floor cushion in front of his cluttered desk, trying to ignore the growling. He had hoped, after all, that he'd manage to wait until Green Eyes was asleep before going out again.

 

[mrow]

All of that was Russel's aim. His sole goal during all of that had been to annoy the living shit out of Imasuke. Although when the other left the room, he felt rather lonesome. The male was used to being isolated mentally, but physically was another thing. Knowing there was a living breathing person in the room was a major comfort. Going without such a thing made him feel... Awkward.

Not that Imasuke was choice company. He was still a person. A damn dog would have been better than sitting on the kitchen counter listening to the clock tick. It was funny, how things were so unorganized. Russel assumed that it was how Imasuke really was inside. What a complete mess. He sighed and glanced out the window, then hopped off the counter. He'd been sitting in the kitchen a good while before he decided to head back out into the front room, where he was rather restless once more.

Russel sat up in one of the couches, then let out a growl. He couldn't stand this! It was so silent. He could hear his own fucking breath! In one quick movement he stood up and walked around the house, finding the one room with the closed door. That must have been Imasuke's. Russel didn't even bother knocking. It probably wasn't the smartest of ideas. He glanced around the room. "Hey, you want anything to eat?" What a stupid question...