tampered | Log; ongoing

Log; ongoing

When; July 28th, evening
Rating; G?
Characters; Ishida

monsterepellant
Summary; Coping mechanisms. Everyone has them.
Log;

Ishida had said he wouldn't help. He had told Doumeki quite plainly that it didn't concern him, and he would not help him. At the time, Doumeki had conceded. At that time, he'd let it go. There was always next time, not to mention he didn't really want to push his luck. But then Umi had said that Hikaru had gone. That she'd left. Gone home. And there was a sick feeling in Doumeki's stomach...one he didn't want to think about.

He wasn't really sure how he ended up in front of Ishida's door, with some of the decoration ideas tucked under his arm, but he had, and before he could stop himself, he was lifting his hand to knock.

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Doumeki had a unique reiatsu. That he, from another world, had spiritual pressure at all had been a surprise. In the context of his being from another world, it did make sense that if he were to have it, it would be different.

Even if Uryuu had not already been especially sensitive to the pressures within the City, he would have noticed, his hand pausing in its manipulation of a needle and thread. It did make it easier to handle, these sudden intrusions. This smallest of forewarnings.

It was too late for dinner. Uryuu stood before the knock, and reached the door not long after it. He opened the door, give Doumeki a cursory once-over.

"Good evening. Most people call or in some other way notify the other person before inviting themselves over. What is it?"

"May I come in?"

That was all. It was said without a lot of inflection, more like a simple question. No expectation in it, either.

Though he did think that Doumeki might have said hello or greeted him first, the question in and of itself stood out. Uryuu arched his eyebrows, unable to help quipping,

"If I say no, will you anyway"

"No."

This time, he wouldn't. He didn't think Ishida would really agree to let him in, but it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

Edited 2009-07-29 05:37 (UTC)

Once, Uryuu had known this guy for well over a year. He had lived with him, come to understand him, for all that he was reticent and monosyllabic. It was a time forgotten, and Uryuu no longer had the experience and graduated sensitivity to read Doumeki. But he did believe him when he said no, and this was the stalker who had threatened to pick his locks.

His curiosity, at least, was piqued. Uryuu suppressed a sigh and stepped aside.

"So you must have eaten."

Perhaps a brief moment of surprise flitted across Doumeki's features, but it was easy to miss and gone quickly as he stepped inside, toeing off his shoes. Not that he hadn't planned to sit outside in the hallway if Ishida had refused, but this was a better alternative.

"Yeah, I did."

The doorknob was warming under his hand. Uryuu shut the door behind Doumeki, lingering there a moment longer, the metal heated by his palm, his eyes on Doumeki's back. Even now, a little over four months in the City, he came to him. Uryuu had hardly been welcoming. It was exasperating, it was frustrating, it was completely inexplicable.

Strange, to be known without knowing. Something the Warden had implied, as well, but somehow in a different context. Uryuu dropped his hand, and did not feel awkward, for it was his apartment, and he had no reason to feel it. Really.

"So?"

"So here I am."

Doumeki stepped further inside, spotting Ishida's sewing on the arm of the armchair, and walking towards the couch near it to sit, setting his papers on his lap, reaching up to scratch Kukiko behind the ears as the cat jumped up onto the back of the sofa. He seemed to be settling in for the moment, like he knew exactly where his place should be.

Edited 2009-07-29 06:55 (UTC)

"I noticed," Uryuu retorted, tone more blank than irritated.

Kukiko has welcomed Doumeki too many times for him to feel perturbed by it, and really, why should he? In a fashion, she was more Doumeki's cat than his. She had known him longer, and sometimes, Uryuu rather thought she felt that. (He hardly let himself consciously think such a ridiculous thing, and so these times were usually only vague, emotive impulses).

Returning to his chair, Uryuu took up his sewing, but did not resume with the stitching. Doumeki was the guest, and an unwelcome one. Really.

"The question I wanted answered was, why?"

That was a question Doumeki really did not want to answer. So he did the thing he did best; ignored it.

"Do you think the green or the blue is better?" He opened the page, turning it to show the party decoration to Ishida.

Edited 2009-07-29 07:04 (UTC)

The abruptness of the subject change left Uryuu at a loss for words. Not for long, of course, but for half a minute, as he balked at the audacity of it. No pretenses. No subtlety or tact.

That moment of loss left him catching up to Doumeki's new pace, and he blinked at the page before seeing it. Blinked, then saw, then understood the question. At which point he flinched with the force of his scowl.

"What the-- the party? I told you I wanted nothing to do with it! And isn't she gone?"

Doumeki didn't even flinch at the question, though his lips might've thinned just slightly.

"She might be back." His tone was neutral.

Unfortunately, Uryuu was still too absorbed in his self-righteousness to notice that smallest of reactions.

"I still won't want to help."

A pause. "I'm just asking your opinion." Deadpan.

Perhaps he was over-reacting. But Uryuu doubted it.

"No, you aren't. Or, that's how it starts."

But, already the vitriol was fading from his voice, replaced by nothing but the space it had filled. Already he tired of arguing, tired of even convincing himself that it was not yielding to allow this inch and that one, of pretending it hadn't become a mile and he wasn't sure if he minded.

There was another one in the city. Talking down Kurosaki had been exhausting. Rather than hold his hand to his head or sigh, Uryuu simply pushed up his glasses.

"Blue."

A pause, on Doumeki's end. Not for the first time since leaving his apartment, he felt uncertain. Had he pushed too far this time? Ishida was right, the questions on opinion was how it started, and then Doumeki would ask him further questions as the evening went on. It's how he always did it. But even now, even knowing this, Ishida gave his opinion, so Doumeki pressed onward. Even if he still felt uncertain.

Well, no one said this was going to be easy.

"Alright. Blue, then." And he's retracting the magazine to continue flipping through it, rather expressionless throughout this whole conversation, if you could call it that.

Blue, because Uryuu liked it better than green. Did that girl like green better? He had no idea, and that made this absurd. The fact that Doumeki was not a fool, as far as Uryuu could tell (and it did mystify him that he thought this so clearly, given how annoying and illogical the guy had persisted in being), and it left him unable to make sense of this.

"Unless she better likes green," he noted.

"I think she'll like blue just fine." Partially because it was Hikaru, and as long as they put effort into it, she'd love it. That's just how Hikaru was.

"Maybe a white table cloth will go with that best." Still flipping through the magazine.

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