tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; Sunday evening.
Rating; PG-13, teenage boys using teenage language.
Characters;

wocky_kitaki
Summary; Wocky arrives to the City. By falling on Machi's head. And Machi thought he was having a bad day before.
Log;

Machi just doen't want to go home yet. Not that it's really home. Klavier's apartment had started to feel a little bit better, the couch a little more comfortable under his frame. Now it's a new place to sleep, supposedly less dangerous while Klavier's apartment's being investigated. Mr. Edgeworth is a nice man with a nice piano, but Machi doesn't want to stay with him. Sick of being uprooted again. His worry for Klavier eclipses everything, but the older man isn't getting any better.

Hands in pockets, he wanders the streets, coming to a stop at the center of the city. Watching the carousel, trying to see if there's some difference here tonight, something to explain these weird, awful occurrences. The ticking seems particularly loud.

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Well, he certainly isn't on a hospital bed anymore. Wocky is ... falling.

At first he thinks maybe he's fallen off the hospital bed after his surgery, but then the fall takes too long and he doesn't have any bandages on and he is in fact still only in his skivvies and where the hell is he and --

He finally lands - atop someone. He can't help the rather undignified yelp as he does so, rolling off of whoever it was quickly. For some reason he's not hurt like he thought he'd be after falling so long. He stays on the ground, though he sits up and looks around wildly, elaborate hair all out of place.

"What th'hell's the meaning of this, man?!" If nothing else, he's confused as shit, and hasn't taken the time to even see who it was he landed on. "Someone think it's fuckin' funny to kidnap a Kitaki out the hospital and throw 'em out a damn plane or somethin'?!" Well, it made some sort of sense.

Someone falls on him. Hard. Machi's a slip of a young man and he goes sprawling, scrapes his elbow. Gathers knees up, staring with eyes wide and defensive. His sunglasses were knocked clean off.

"What... I don't know, you fall on me!" Tears are in Machi's eyes. Klavier's dying and he's stuck in the city and he scraped his elbow and now some punk is yelling at him. Frankly, Machi's feeling a little overloaded.

"I wasn't yellin' at you, I was yellin' in general, damn! You was on the damn ground, how could y'have put me in a plane?!" He scowls, finally turning enough to look at the person he landed on - and stopping dead, scowl fading.

"H-Hey, I didn't mean t'yell, sorry for fallin' on y'like that, I, uh." He's not so great with words but he tries - and damn if he doesn't feel like shit for causing tears. "Don't cry girl, don't cry - y'hurt? 'm sorry."

Machi's too disoriented to try and concentrate on about half of the words that come out of Wocky's mouth. He doesn't speak Hip Hop very well. He just sniffles and sort of points to his elbow. "It not bad. Just sting."

He sniffles anyway, mostly because once you start, it's hard to stop crying.

He nods a little, finally drawing himself to his feet. "'m sorry anyway. Didn't mean t'fall on ya like that." He manages a smile - despite his own confusion and disorientation and fuck, the worry - wasn't he supposed to be in surgery right now? - and extends a hand to help her up.

Pretty little thing like that crying because of him, damn.

"Is okay." Machi takes his hand and stands, stretching. He's bruised at worst. Anyway, he had clothes - diaphanous, inconvenient clothes, but still clothes - to block his fall. This guy here has nothing. Except Blue Badger boxers.

At least it's summer?

"You... oh dear. You not on Earth anymore, sorry."

Machi has a hard enough time understanding it, let alone explaining it.

His smile broadens a little, until the explanation. He pauses, trying to process the information.

"How th'hell are we not on earth? That don't make no damn sense."

He seems though now to remember something important - his lack of clothing. He stops still again, slight flush rising before he stamps it down, looking down at himself. "Uh, I was about to go int'surgery, y'see."

How embarrassing. Out in his skivvies in public - in front of a pretty lady, no less. Damn.

"No. It not make sense. Sorry. We in... place, that is not Earth. It is
separate place. A dimension alternate." Machi hugs himself, trying to think of how to explain it better, and he just comes up plain short for the English. Well, obviously two things are needed, and obviously both are not here by the carousel. "You need clothes. And guide. You come?"

He nods - trying to take it all in. It's weird and far fetched - maybe he'll wake up later and it'll all be a dream, but he figures he can play along for now. "Yeah, that sounds real good."

The clothes, at least - he doesn't know what this guide thing is for, but he's sure he'll find out soon enough.

Machi takes Wocky's hand by the wrist firmly. He gets the feeling that Wocky might wander away otherwise. "You stay with me. You no touch anything. Promise?"

His fingers are slender and delicate, but they're also not to be reckoned with. He starts to tug Wocky towards the apartment building where Klavier and Mr. Edgeworth live. With everything shut down due to the epidemic, there's not much else he can do than take him back to where he's staying.

And hope Mr. Edgeworth has some clothes that aren't magenta.

"Hey girl, I ain't goin' nowhere far, y'got me?" Like he's about to complain! He lets himself get tugged along, looking rather pleased with himself. He can even have some pretty cool dreams while knocked out for surgery - he'll have to thank the good doctor when he wakes up. He does look around at their surroundings as they walk though.

Machi wonders why he keeps saying 'hey girl' but he's pretty sure it's just a Hip Hop colloquialism. "I got you," he says with a nod, squeezing his wrist for assurance. He remembers how frightened he was when he first came to the City.

Still a bit frightened, actually.

He uses the key to get into Edgeworth's apartment, calls around for the older man but he's not home. Probably investigating. Machi seats Wocky on the couch. "You stay. I find you clothes."

"Good, good." He's not really frightened - why be frightened of a dream, right? But either way, it's kind of reassuring to have someone that at least knows something.

He feels kind of like a puppy when he settles on the couch, scratching the back of his neck - but other than that he stays still. "Aight."

Mr. Edgeworth is taller than Wocky, but Machi's so tiny that the clothes Klavier helped him buy would be a worse fit. Knowing that Mr. Edgeworth is fussy about his clothes, Machi tries to pick something that won't be missed and is easily laundered. He settles on a set of pajamas - that pinky color that seems pervade every aspect of Mr. Edgeworth's life.

"Here. These are for you. I will buy you something new for you when things not so dangerous, okay?" He placed the silk pajamas on Wocky's lap.

He nods a little - not really seeing the point of hiding or anything to put them on since he's been running around in his underwear anyway. He doesn't mind the pink, it reminds him of his jacket.

So he just puts the pajamas on, sitting back down with a little sheepish grin. "Thanks. Y'don' have to buy me anything, 'm sure I can manage to get somethin' myself. Don't worry 'bout it." He pauses though, arching an eyebrow so high it disappears into his hair. "What's dangerous, now?"

"We are not knowing this, just yet." Machi sits, stands, fidgets, goes to the kitchen, starts a pot of coffee, returns.

He's not very good with new people. Even though this guy has a funny face and doesn't worry him for some reason.

"People getting sick. Very sick. My friend, Klavier, he go all still. Like dying. Can't move, maybe poisoned. We are not knowing why. So dangerous. Should stay indoors."

He fidgets for another moment, glancing over to Wocky now and then. "The guide! You need this. Just a moment." He walks over to Edgeworth's piano, where his sheet music and other things sit, and fishes out the printout Klavier made him the night he arrived.

"This explain things. Sort of."

"Poison, huh... Sounds like a bad thing if y'ever heard about one. Don't worry your pretty head though girl, Wocky Kitaki'll protect ya!"

He pauses though, head turning to stare. "Klavier? Like, glimmery prosecutorman Klavier?" That was his name, right? Something like that. The guide distracts him though and he nods as he takes it into his hands, going over it.

He's not the best reader in the world, but he tries - picking through it, mostly.

"Prosecutor Gavin, yes." Again, Machi notes that Wocky's calling him girl, and he wonders at that. Hip Hop people sure are strange. "He my friend. He put me in jail, though." Machi frowns. "But he help me... he save me from murder sentencing."

Typically Machi wouldn't dream of saying any of this, but Wocky seems alright. He has good taste in underwear. He knows Klavier.

"Same here, kinda'." He frowns though, keeping his gaze trained on the papers. "Ended up throwin' my girl in the clink in the end instead, though. Shit... I felt like a damn tool, y'know? Couldn't even protect her right or get thrown in instead of her like a good man. Damn."

His dark expression fades just as quick as it came, however. He grins, looking over the guide at Machi. "So in other words, this place is full of lots of weird shit?"

Machi nods, remembering his own experiences. "Mr. Yoostis defend me... Klavier prosecuting. Together, they find the truth I am not telling." He cocks his head, regarding Wocky's uncharacteristic melancholy. He doesn't say what he's thinking: If Mr. Gavin and Mr. Justice found her guilty, then Wocky's girl was certainly a murderer.

"Very weird shit," Machi agrees with a nod.

He sets the guide aside, nodding. "It's good then they found you not guilty, y'know? Prison time's a rite o' passage 'n all, but that's just for us gangstas." Anyway, that's not the kind of talk to be putting out in front of a lady.

The weird shit he guesses he could get used to. He pauses, thinking - then cants his head a little. "How long've you been here?"

"They still find me guilty," Machi says after a moment of mulling over the correct words. "I smuggle dangerous thing into this world. Help... someone I care for, to smuggle. I not American, so sentencing difficult, but if they send me home, I will be killed." Machi looked over the apartment gloomily, realizing he'd left his sunglasses were they fell off his face in the square.

"I here two weeks. Don't like it so far."

He nods as he listens to the story - more intently than he'd normally listen to someone's story, but this is different. "Good they didn't send y'home, then." And he means it - a sincere thing as he smiles a little.

"Maybe it'll get better! Y'can't give up, 'cause nothin' can stay bad all the time." It isn't so much a personal belief as something to try and get the other to smile - or at least not to look so sad. If this is his damn dream, the pretty ladies better damn well at least be happy in it, Jesus.

"Yes. Very good thing." Of course, there were many reasons. Machi's age as much as anything else granted him sanctuary. Being left to his own defenses would've been too cruel - even to a nation that pressed him with charges he was coerced into.

"Maybe," Machi agrees grudgingly. He was spacing out again, staring intently and expressionlessly at nothing. He turns to look at Wocky now. "You nice boy. Try hard. What is your name?"

He brightens a little at the mention of names, smiling bright and pointing to himself with a thumb. "Name's Wocky Kitaki of th'great Kitaki family!"

'Course, in crazy bizarro-land he couldn't expect people to know who they were, but if he knew prosecutorman and had been defended by that attorney he had to have been around LA, right?

Machi hasn't heard of the Kitakis, or paid much attention to such things, but he smiles just the same and offers a slender hand. "Nice to meet you, Wocky Kitaki of the Great Kitaki Family. I Machi. Machi Tobaye. It is nice to meet your acquaintance." Some phrases he speaks better and more clearly than others, they tend to be the basic ones harangued in language books.

That smile makes him grin again and he takes the hand and shakes it. "It's nice t'meet ya too, Machi." He pauses, thoughtful. "Y'name sounds Japanese? Well, the first part 't least."

He probably only notices because of his last name, but that's beside the point.

Machi shakes his hand lightly and withdraws.

"I look Japanese?" He tilts his head, gold strands of hair sweeping across porcelain pale cheeks. He's about as white as a person can get. "I not. I born Republic of Borginia. Live most my life. Kitaki is Japanese, though?"

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