tampered | (no subject)

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Location: Cain's place and elsewhere

(no subject)

When; August 10, Night
Rating; Definitely NC-17.
Characters; Greed

misterblackbird
Summary; The good Earl decides to take Greed up on his offer of a night out.
Log;

After a quick smoothing out of his uniform and a discrete hygiene check, Greed cleared his throat and knocked on the door to Cain's living space. For a moment, he considered checking his face for stubble. Then he realized that his facial hair never actually grew.

He was holding a small, packaged cheesecake in his left hand, for a gift. Granted, he didn't know EXACTLY what Cain liked, but hey, who turned down cheesecake? It was heaven, in pastry form.

"Yo, Cain, you ready?" he called out through the door, "It's me. Greed."

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Should he bother with the jacket? It was warm, yes, but in terms of appearance. Jacket, yes; hat, no.

Riff wasn't around; with any luck he'd be able to sneak out unnoticed, unquestioned. Though, all the same, he wasn't entirely sure about this, not after what had happened just a few days ago with Cirucci. At least he'd got his strength back. Perhaps this was safer that that. He couldn't tell. Call this an adventure.

Sushi. Wasn't that that raw fish business the Japanese ate?

He pulled at his tie.

And there was the knock and the call.

"Yes, just a moment," he called back, opening the door. Strange to meet someone named for a deadly sin.

Maybe not.

He called up a smile. "Mr. Greed. Pleasure to see you."

Greed whistled cheerfully and returned the smile.

"Sup, pal? Ya' look pretty damned nice, as usual," he said, honestly, "Glad you wanted to come out with me like this."

He peeked insided the doorway to see the inside of the dwelling, taking note of the unfamiliar surroundings.

"I see you've made this place your own."

"Ah, Thank you. Well, I already confessed I was curious--"

He found himself sliding out of the way as Greed peered around him. "--perhaps not unlike yourself?"

"I've certainly tried to make it my own," Cain replied, looking over his shoulder and into the room. Perhaps his borrowed room in the Opera House dormitories was a little shabby, having been meant for some aspiring musician, some ballet student as it was. So he'd tried to fill it up again with things to make it seem like some small corner of home, like his own house had been: a Persian rug, a brass lamp, a proper desk (albeit with the Network contraption there, rather than proper paper and letters), an armchair in the corner with a teacup perched on one of the arms. And a preponderance of books.

"It's not ideal," he admitted, "but it serves."

He spied the box in Greed's hand. "What's that you're carrying? You're welcome to set it down, you know," he said, off-hand.

"I'm naturally inquisitive. In a way, I'm guess I'm greedy for knowledge, too. But only if I see a practical use for what I can learn," he said, entering deeper into the room and setting down the package on a nearby table, "I have lots of interests besides my obvious ones."

He dropped to all fours, inspecting the fine persian rug and analyzing the patterns.

"This is intricate work. WThey had rugs in Xing like this, when I visited that country. Not quite the same style, though. Must be worth a pretty penny."

He rose as quickly as he fell, showing Cain the contents of the box.

"Cheesecake for ya'! It's good stuff, very rich!"

"That's an interesting perspective to have on the world. And a 'practical use', you say? As in, 'can it be made to benefit oneself', perhaps?" He smiled again, hoping for a hit.

He was a bit bewildered by Greed, his quick movements and casual speech, the way he'd crouch on the carpet one moment and spring up the next. Almost animal-like. It was interesting, strange in some ways.

He peered into the box opened before him as Greed bounced back to his feet. "Ah, so it is. Thank you. It looks quite good." He laughed lightly, "I'll have to share it with Merry or I'll never hear the end of it."

He paused; he felt, well, left-footed about this whole ordeal. Even his usual manners seemed absent. All the same, appearance. So, he ought to make a show of it.

"Can I offer you a drink or something, or are you eager for us to leave?"

"I'm cool with whatever. If ya' have things to take care of before we leave, I'm okay with it. Otherwise, we can leave now."

He leaned against a nearby wall and inspected one of the pictures hanging there.

"And as to your earlier guess, yeah. That's typically what people mean when they say 'practical use.' They usually think of themselves, not benefiting mankind or somethin' like that. My kind have very sharp minds, most of us at least. For memorizin' people, places, things we need to remember for what we did and do. We have tomes of alchemical knowledge in our heads."

His attention suddenly changed, as if remembering something important.

"Ah, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed kneeling in front of Cain and grasping his hand to kiss the top of it, "It's an absolute pleasure to go out with ya', tonight."

Sharp-minded, but he said he almost forgot this? Perhaps he was distracted by the rug, Cain mused.

It was still a bit awkward: didn't one kiss a lady's hand? But it let him tower, perhaps even lord over Greed for a moment. And, really, it wasn't the first time it happened in this City. Cain couldn't resist as his mouth pulled itself into his usual haughty smile.

"Thank you. I'm rather flattered you asked."

It was strange to be on this side of the conversation, watching through his eyelashes, but still amusing all the same.

"I've nothing more I need to do. Let's go then."

"Great!" he said, grinning a mouthful of sharp, clean, incredibly white teeth.

He was first out the door, holding it open for his date for the evening. Once they were out, he draped an arm over Cain's shoulders and pulled him a little closer.

"Ha ha! The night is ours, pal! Wait'll ya' see this place," he said as they walked, "I'm pretty proud to have found it."

"Oh?" Cain said, noncommittally.

He wasn't certain about this arm around his shoulder--he gave it a sharp look when it pulled him closer to its owner. But he was less certain about the smile full of sharp teeth, so he didn't resist. Too much.

Perhaps it was the idea of eating raw fish about which he was least certain.

"I'm sure it's excellent, though I've nothing with which to compare it." Cain threw his companion a sly glance. "I'll have to trust your judgement."

"My judgement is almost flawless," he said, matter-of-factedly, "I'm very rarely wrong."

He took spotted the establishment in the distance as they rounded a corner, the familiar wooden dragon above their sign writhing in neon lights.

"Just up ahead of us. I already made reservations for us when we get there."

"Excellent," Cain said, briefly studying the building they stood before.

A different sort of place than he would have tended towards, though not unappealing. The strangeness itself appealed.

An adventure, he reminded himself. He'd become so domestic, so staid, lately: tiresome, like an old man, comfortable in tired old ways. That's what had driven him out so impulsively to meet Cirucci like he did. So a bit of a game, right? Half smiles and glances. A bit of fun. Mutually so, given what he knew so far. So.

"Flawless judgement, flawless memory, more quickness than I could hope to have--we mere mortals have rather little to recommend us in comparison to you and your kind."

"Well, ya' do have some advantages. At least the humans in my world do," he said, reaching the doorway and opening it up.

The maitre'd met them and led them to their seats in a secluded area of the restaurant. The surroundings were fine enough. Fine silk adorned most of the walls and eastern styled lamps hung down around them, accentuating the reds, blacks, and golds that ran all over the building.

"For instance," he continued, passing a menu to Cain, "You guys have souls. We don't. None of our own, at least. When we die, that's it. We just disappear. On top of that, we're sterile. There's nothin' to leave behind to show we even existed, once we're gone."

Cain studied the menu casually.

"That seems a very tenuous sort of existence. I admit, I know of some people who don't believe in souls, though I'm fairly sure I have one myself."

"Absolutely certain" he had a soul was more like it.

"So I suppose that much of me will go on--wherever it might be bound. To exist only for the course of one's life and then to disappear entirely, no indelible marks possible. Hmm. I'm surprised you aren't overcome with despair at your own situation. Or have you come to accept it as a matter of fact?"

He peered over the top of the menu at his companion, raising one eyebrow.

"You do know that I don't understand what three-quarters of this menu says, don't you?"

He honestly hadn't even thought about THAT little bit of information.

"Ah. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess. Lemmee see..."

He chose several items from the menu for them both, marked them down, and set the paper aside for their server. The pretty young woman picked up the menu and quickly went to the back kitchen.

"I got us some good stuff, don't worry. Anyway, as for what ya' said, it's not really that bad. Homunculi don't feel despair. Or fear, for the most part. Love is the same. We don't really suffer the extremes of human emotions. They would weaken us. I mean, I feel affection for my lovers and friends, but not like the oft-talked about "romantic" love humans have. It's just not me."

"I told you I'd never had anything like this before," he said, half-teasing. "And we're going to rely on your flawless judgement again. So far so good with that."

Affection, but no romantic love--he could understand that. He tried not to let his icy thoughts show in his face and in his smile.

"Perhaps that does make it easier. And, really, it must be better to be unencumbered by all the details of 'romantic' love. It gets messy: I've seen it any number of times."

"Eh. The Old Man told us that it was just a biological reaction. Humans are just animals, like everything else...No offense. My kind are just a stronger animal."

Greed broke chopsticks for the both of them, then set them aside and poured some soy sauce. As he did, the server put down two bowls for each of them. One miso soup and one rice, each. Greed gave her a warm thank you and bid her off.

"Speakin' of human behavior," he said, eyes locking on Cain's, "We happen to be very good at interpreting it. So tell me, Cain, am I wrong in feelin' that you're not quite relaxed? It feels like there's some sort of wall, here."

There was a wall, and it had a name and a voice and a face. But, hush, don't tell that. That's different. This is the game--that won't get itself off the ground, damn it all.

Cain broke his gaze, laughing softly and looking to the table between them.

"You're right, you are good."

Looking up, he returned the steady gaze.

"I haven't any idea what to talk about, really. I hardly know you, so I've no idea what topics to hit or avoid. I might very likely start in for hours about the weather and everybody's health. And nobody wants that--myself least of all. You're all but a stranger to me, though I think I know better about your kind now at least."

"Hm. That's certainly fair enough. I'm an open book, pretty much. Like all the things I just said, I never turn down a chance to hear myself talk. Especially about myself. But I've never told a secret someone made me promise to keep. I don't lie, I keep my word. There really is no kind of topic or situation that makes me uncomfortable, that I can imagine. You involved in some sorta' drama?"

He quickly raised the soup to his lips and began to slurp it down.

"Ya' don't have to keep your guard up around me, anyway."

"I've certainly heard that you don't lie."

Watching carefully, and since there was no spoon to be found, Cain imitated him with the soup, sipping it like he might have sipped tea. His smile was a little easier now.

"Hmm, well, I'm not used to talking about myself--beyond a bit of ballroom small-talk. I'm used to letting rumours do most of the talking ahead of me. I just prove bits of them true as I go."

Interesting soup. Salty, but good.

"'Drama'? It is rather theatrical, what goes on. Enemies in the City, threats of death, illnesses, and the curses mixing it all up together. And if I should let too much about all that slip, you won't tell retell it?"

His voice was brighter now, clearer, though no less serious. "To be perfectly honest, it's difficult to relax, no matter who I'm with."

"If ya' don't want me to repeat anything I hear from ya' then I won't. Simple as that. I can be a good ear," he said, cracking his neck as he added a bit more salt to his soup, the hammered it all down in one go, "As for the part about bein' hard to relax, some people are just like that. I'm willin' to bet you've got some enemies, right? Life-threatenin' kind? If not here, then at least your world, right?"

He began to show off proper chopstick form as he dove into his rice, pinching the sticky food between the sticks and popping it into his mouth.

"You can tell me anything ya' want. If ya' don't wanna' tell me anything, that's fine, too. I believe in personal freedom. A man should be able to do and say what he wants, or not do and say what he doesn't want, within reason."

"No, most of the enemies from my world happen to be here. And they are all of them the 'life-threatening kind.' I think it's another example of the deities and their...marvelous sense of humour. And I may have picked up one or two others here as well. I can't tell you the whole story, but don't repeat anything. Strange how I almost want to tell it."

Strange to have a sort of temporary confidant.

He fumbled with the chopsticks a moment, dropping what little rice he'd managed to catch.

"I wish I could believe in that much freedom, to say and do what I want."

He tried a moment more to eat more than a few grains of rice, to little avail. Quietly, biting his lower lip, he set the chopsticks on the edge of the bowl.

"I also wish I could eat with these things," he said somberly, before breaking into embarrassed laughter.

"...Oh. Gotcha'," he said, finishing off the last of his rice quickly, his nose twitching at the faint scent of their sushi being finished elsewhere.

"So, uh...You want me to kick any of their asses or somethin'? I do that for people I consider my friends, ya' know. I'd go easy on 'em, of course. I don't wanna' crush their little skulls. By the way," he said offhand, "Food's on the way soon. You want a little help on using those? I can teach ya'. Of course, I'll have to slide in over there, beside ya'."

A slow smile spread across his face. "You'd do that? Actually go up against them? I might take you up on that offer sometime--not yet though."

He picked up the chopsticks again.

"As for these things--they don't seem to work. But I'm a bit too hungry to fight with them. So...yes, all right, come teach me how to use them."

"Score!" Greed mentally said to himself, moving around to slide up next to his date. He put an arm around the smaller man and guided his hand to rest on Cain's, helping fix his grip on the chopsticks.

"First of all the grip's wrong. It's like this," he rolled a napkin into a tight ball and put it between the sticks held by his fingers, "Always imagine this roll there, seperating them at this point."

He helped slide the utensils back to the rice and guided the man's slender fingers as they moved the sticks about, finally pinching a good-sized chunk of sticky rice.

"Now, we juuuuuuuust guide it to your mouth. Easy, right?"

He probably had this all planned out, the schemer.

But still, he let his hand be manipulated into the proper hold. "It's not especially comfortable." But, rolled-up napkin and all, it seemed to work. There was even rice coming towards him.

"'Easy'? Perhaps," he said, biting at the rice on the ends of the chopsticks and reaching for another piece.

"Let me try again."

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