Description: The name of this log may be slightly misleading.
There are a lot of things K' isn't used to yet, coming out of the relatively sheltered environment of NESTS. Things like-- for example-- anything vaguely related to existence in the real world. Dealing with the indifferent, unruly, and erratic hordes of people that populate the world is at once cynically amusing and patently infuriating, after a lifetime of dispassionate and relatively predictable scientists. Trying to handle finances and puzzle through appropriate social reactions (not that he -bothers- with the latter concern much) is near-impossible. It's not surprising things should turn out this way: K' has essentially gone from being one of the most sheltered nineteen year-olds on the planet to being twenty and Living On His Own.
You don't want to know what happened the first time he had to shave his own face.
The errant young man is on his own now, dressed a bit more nondescriptly (Maxima insisted). Jeans, a black t-shirt, a black leather jacket-- K' wasn't parting with the leather entirely-- and of course... the everpresent shades. Not much to be done about the silver hair, though; not that K' particularly cares if he's getting a couple funny stares. He's too busy staring down a stand of lettuce through those aforementioned shades, staring quite belligerently, as if glaring at it could somehow reveal which head is the best to pick.
Yes, it's K''s turn to do some shopping. And he's not pleased about it, judging by the slouch and the way the set of his expression is visible-- hard and annoyed-- even with shades blocking half of it.
Condemned to the likes of a grocery store in order to restock his fridge, Ash Crimson enters this scene with the usual flourish: He leans heavily on the bar of his cart, slouched due to his height, and somehow still manages to move those hips as he walks in a way that men shouldn't. It earns him a lot of stares too, let me tell you. Probably even more than the shock of K''s silver hair, or his own white mop. Sighing in a manner that is most forlorn, turning down the aisle to the produce section, pulling a list out from his pocket, he'd give anything to be out in the sunshine, soaking it up in a lawn chair out on the balcony of Shen's apartment... But the Frenchman would also prefer not to starve. Some evils in life are sadly necessary.
"Laitue croquante, tomates, pommes vertes, champignon..." His freckled nose wrinkles along the bridge at the last one, while Ash squints at the rest of the required items in silence. He stops only to direct a quick glance around the section itself, and then it's followed off by a bored ticking things off with a long, black fingernail. "Mon dieu, I hate mushrooms... Better get started." And with his arms soon far outstretched in front of him, the lean fighter looking positively ridiculous, he nearly winds up steering the cart right into the corner of crate holding red apples trying to make his way to the first item: Lettuce. Except there's someone already in front of it! And his flamewielder sense is tingling.
Whether it's the strange feeling he gets from this teenager thrust into the midst of the real world, or just because of K''s sketchy behaviour, he feels compelled to talk to this person. Because Ash'll talk to just about anyone if they seem interesting enough, and K' certainly has caught his attention. Dropping an elbow on the bar rest, he cups his chin and comments, with a broad, friendly smile, "I don't think you can win a staring contest against a head of lettuce, mon ami. It doesn't have eyes." Ohoho, he's so funny, except not, "Usually the best way to choose one is to actually pick them up." If he would stop to reflect back on the past, the Frenchman could probably recall a time when he too was in a similar position, but since taking turns grocery shopping with Shenwoo would equal complete CHAOS and possibly the apocalypse, he picked up on the swing of things fast. Ash is now a veteran... THE KING OF--god, this is sad.
The instant K' hears a voice behind him, presumably directed at him, his back visibly tenses up: winding like a spring. It pulls in defensively, almost as if Ash's words had physically struck it. And most importantly... it remains turned.
K' isn't terribly interested in making random conversation with strangers. Especially not with somebody that sounds like Ash. He remains standing there, blatantly turning his back towards Ash, for a few moments longer: and only when it becomes painfully clear Ash won't just go away if he wishes real hard for it... K' glances over his shoulder. And immediately wishes he hadn't.
Above those sleek shades, K''s silver eyebrows arch: and then they pull down, attacking one another at some point just beneath the smooth black curve of his sunglasses. The expression is not amused, and it takes its sweet rude time in appraising the Frenchman.
"Funny." The young man's voice, when he finally deigns to reply, is dryer than a martini. "Real witty. Look, I appreciate the hint..." K''s left hand lifts. One careless fingertip paws down a corner of the shades, and a brief glint of dark red eyes peek sardonically out at Ash over the pulled-down glasses. The clone is making an obvious show of getting a better look at Ash: presumably solely for the purpose of providing a reason for the unimpressed snort that he emits a few seconds later. "But I didn't ask for it."
Offputting, but not -too- rude. At least, not in K''s estimation, which in normal society is, sadly, usually completely off.
Yet, is Ash really the epitome of 'normal society'?
When K' makes a point of keeping his back turned, Ash waits as patiently as he is able, though he can't resist humming softly to himself, picking a bit of dust from his white, zip-up trainer top. The worst thing to come of this is only that the young teen will walk away without saying a word, which leaves the Frenchman with really nothing to lose by hanging around. But it would seem that fate is somewhat in his favour too, for the freckle-faced, effeminate man is granted /some/ acknowledgement eventually, and he clearly seems completely unperturbed as he's appraised. In fact, despite how crude those mannerisms are, rude and rough around the edges, there's no falter in that jovial, easy-going expression, nor does anything dark pass through his clear blue eyes.
One who lives with the likes of the Shanghai-born 'God of Battle' would never survive without a tough skin, after all. Ash also has far better reign on his emotions than most, and frankly doesn't care enough to expend the effort that it would take to get offended. "You don't strike me as the type who would, mon petite homme." He remarks smartly, and drumming those slender fingers with their finely manicured nails against a pale cheek, "But at least I didn't offer to help. I imagine you would've appreciated that less." Okay, so he can be a little catty. If only because he's not going to completely sit back and relax without giving a little back.
The bubbleflamer crosses one thin leg over the other - somehow, despite wearing skin-tight flared jeans - while standing at ease, the right corner of his mouth twisting up further than the other. It's not a smirk, but the expression is crooked, and he then goes as far to close those blue, blue eyes and chuckle softly. Catching a long strand of white hair between two fingers, he twists the strand around those digits absent-mindedly. "Je m'appelle Ash Crimson, c'est un plaisir... Even if it's not returned." The strange, quirky Frenchman introduces himself suddenly, clearly not knowing the appropriateness of time and place... But if not now, then when? This 'conversation' would be over had he nothing else to add, and his interest in this individual persists... Though why make any mention of it? Run away, K'!
Eventually, it seems K' has had enough of looking at the strange creature that is Ash Crimson. He smartly tips his sunglasses back up with a practiced ease, those eyes veiling away again and leaving K's face a mask of seeming impassivity. But his lips, set in a hard and stoic line, betray his true mood: one of fraying patience.
He leans back slightly as Ash refuses to go away, and in fact proceeds to settle himself quite comfortably. One hand strays uneasily to brace on a hip. Eventually instinct wins out over pride, and he retreats a step to give himself room to settle in a more defensive stance. Like a porcupine curling up, K' hunches into a coiled attitude that reeks of distrust and long years of hating and fearing physical contact.
He's got no rejoinder to Ash's comeback. It's true, after all: he -would- have been even more displeased if Ash had immediately muscled in and started picking things out for him. And he's not too keen on doing anything that might prolong the conversation. It's a good thing he doesn't understand French, for that matter, or he'd have had things to say about what Ash is calling him.
His attitude remains deeply unimpressed throughout Ash's introduction, though at the least he appears to listen to it. There is another brief silence after Ash's words, in which K' stares levelly at the Frenchman... and then, K' finally shifts. He moves as if to push past Ash, shaking his head lightly like an irritated big cat finally stirred to move. "...Okay. I'm outta the mood now. If I ever was in it at all. I'm doing this later. Yeah, nice to meet you, et cetera... I'm leaving." His gaze cuts back to Ash, slanted over a shoulder. The mockery in it stark and ugly, but... not necessarily directed outwards at Ash. "Wouldn't wanna waste your -time-..."
It seems 'running away' is certainly K''s intention.
Pfft, Ash is not a creature. He's perfectly human; clearly K' hasn't seen many of them or something, which would explain his inability to recognise one. Pursing thin lips together, he does so while digging the tip of the smallest finger into his mouth, almost as if he were chewing the nail... But Ash wouldn't do such a thing, not after all the work it takes to maintain them. Of course, he still otherwise stands with his elbow on the rest, chin in hand, and somehow managing to continue toying with the long locks of white hair at the same time. He's a true multitasking master, and his gaze, as it seems the teen retreats into something that strikes him plainly as defensive and mistrustful, becomes a shrewd, calculating one only briefly.
It doesn't really bother him that his introduction doesn't spark sudden recognition, or really any interest at all, but it's a touch disappointing that he doesn't learn the fellow's own in return. He's not going to give this up, though. Straightening up, crooked smile growing broader still, as the leather-wearing individual can no longer tolerate such prolonged social interaction with a veritable weirdo, when he brushes past Ash, the Frenchman drops the bomb with something louder than a chuckle: An airy, musical laugh that's... kinda creepy, but only if you REALLY think about it. "For someone with the ability to wield fire, you certainly have a strange personality," he pauses thoughtfully, drawing out a moment that might catch the punk's attention, hopefully in a move well-played by the freckle-faced one, as it was meant to be, "We're a touch, ah... Arrogant? Ahaha." Among other things, but that was the first thing that came to mind in regards to similiarities in traits he shares with the likes of Kyo Kusanagi and Iori Yagami, and not apparently with K'. "You're not wasting my time at all... After all, we share a sort of uncommon kinship."
If there's any recognition in the mind of K' upon hearing Ash Crimson's name... he simply hasn't heard enough to give a shit. He's been on the run for a while now, and he's had some other things on his mind. He can't be bothered to remember poncy Frenchmen-- at least, not until they start making trouble. Particularly if it's trouble for him.
K' isn't sure whether this encounter qualifies as real trouble yet, but it's definitely ranking up there in terms of 'annoying.' So he does the logical thing, and leaves. --or at least, he tries to.
In the future, K' would come to look back on this moment with a critical eye. He should have known better than to show a pause: should have waved it off as nothing, hidden any reaction that might have betrayed his stolen fire, and left without a word. But he's caught totally off-guard-- the casual mention of firewielding coming pretty much straight out of left field-- and though it's unwise... he hesitates. And he looks back.
"How the hell--" do you know that. K' bites back those words before they can be said. Now that would be a stupid way to finish the question, though he's already kicking himself enough for letting the first half of the sentence slip at all. "--would somebody like you have anything to do with me?" Disparaging, but the veiled insult is just there to distract from the brief pause right in the middle of the sentence. It's possible, really, that Ash just saw K' in a fight somewhere and thus knows about the Kusanagi fire the boy wields... but K' still wants to know why the hell Ash Crimson would care. Or why he'd talk like he can wield it too...
Mercifully for K', the sunglasses hide much of his surprise: but he's still given away enough by stopping at all. And rest assured he's kicking himself over it.
Aw, isn't that cute? Perhaps the real reason as to why Ash is so strange is that it's simply a joy to see how others react when they're caught off-guard, and regardless of how the sunglasses hide the other man's eyes, everything from his posture to those words betray him. Dropping the shopping list on a packet of pasta, the lean fighter casually turns to face his fellow flamewielder properly, "Saa, who knows..." The Frenchman remarks mysteriously, and those few words serve to ensnare further, to provide as much information as they do none at all. No wonder K' is kicking himself over this, because he played into an intricate trap to start, and now that he has been detained by his own curiosity or whatnot, Ash will leisurely toy with him for as long as his interest holds. He'd quite like to see these flames though, since their existence has been confirmed, that's for certain.
"I wonder, though... Why you don't seem to sense it, as well." Tilting his head somewhat to the side, the long locks of hair spill away from the side of his face which they usually conceal. "I suppose it's just different for everyone, ha ha." As it so often does, Ash's tone mingles many different things together; it's a bit condescending, as well as sounding genuinely amused at the 'difference', or perhaps as though he were making an innocent joke of it, but which would someone like K' choose to hear first? "Or perhaps your senses simply aren't as... Refined, hmm?" There's another mysterious smile from the Frenchman at these words, as though there were whole layers of meaning behind them than what they would otherwise suggest. Of course, he COULD just be trying to provoke K', out of his interest to see what the other flamewielder can do...
Behind those veiling shades, K's eyes narrow. He's already angry at being lured into this trap, angry at Ash's coy attitude, and angry at his own faint stirrings of curiosity. Ash's following words just serve to-- so to speak-- fan the flames.
K' is cuttingly silent as Ash talks. He's stopped moving, a total stillness lending an eerieness to his presence. He's not outwardly tense, at the least, though that in truth is a poor indicator of K''s mood; while the boy's typical stance in fighting is a taut and predatory one, he's no less prepared when totally slack-limbed and casual than he is when mantled like a hawk and ready for the pounce.
In this case, he just hasn't decided whether to do anything. Some sense of faint prudence tells him he should hold back, but if Ash goes any farther-- or worse, does anything to actually -frighten- K'... well, all bets are off. He's like an animal in that sense... prone to attack that which startles him.
However, in this case, Ash is provoking more anger than fear. Especially when he hits right upon K''s long-nursed hatred of feeling inferior.
Invisible hackles rise and flare as Ash essentially challenges K''s fire, that veiled taunting hitting a nerve. The boy turns more fully towards the Frenchman, his right shoulder pointed at Ash. "Or maybe..." K''s left hand comes up again, this time fully removing the shades from his eyes. A flick of the wrist neatly snaps the arms shut, the tiny click punctuating the insulting conclusion to his sentence: "I just didn't care enough to pay attention."
The sunglasses are tucked away. K''s bared eyes are hawklike beneath those silver bangs. A pause of a few moments, as K' takes Ash in: and then, he concludes, "Now I have, and I still don't care."
Moving in a fashion that is as effeminate as his appearance, Ash draws those long arms up and towards himself; he laces his slender fingers together, elbows still rested upon the bar of the shopping cart, and cradles his head as though he were about to sleep. But he's wide-awake, and observes the teen who seems frozen in anger or whatnot while standing in that relaxed, languid manner. No, he's hardly anything of a threat currently, waiting like that for a response, and unfortunately K''s terrible attitude, probably much to his dismay, does little to deter the Frenchman's curiosity. But Ash isn't a complete idiot. Even he knows when it's time to back off...
As the attempt to provoke the leather-clad flamewielder into action proves unsuccessful, he's not going to waste any more effort trying. The Frenchman is kinda lazy like that, and there'll always be another opportunity in a place like Southtown. His interest in seeing what power K' could show him will hold... Though that doesn't stop the older of the two from being quick to allow his disappointment to show, since it's also made clear that K' will no longer tolerate even being toyed with. There's a slight protruding of his lower lip in a pout; now what's he going to have to do to find some entertainment? Jerk.
"You know... I was like you, in a way." Ash finally says after another long silence, once K''s sunglasses have been slipped away. He's preparing for departure, but not without the last word, and with his pencil-thin eyebrows slightly raised, that pleasantly quizzical look turns to sharply penetrating. As if he go peel away this rough shell before and reveal everything concealed, but that's not possible... "You're rather good at hiding things." ... Or is it possible? "But you're not good enough to fool me. We're both thieves, you and I, mon ami." And that's it, a vague and mysterious closing. Ash moves like a lazy cat. He wheels his cart around in the aisle, grabbing a head of lettuce along the way. Twisting it around in his hand as he checks the item for abrasions, the lean fighter begins to sashay away... Until he stops, looks back over his shoulder briefly with that smile like he was sharing some sort of private joke, and continues. What the...?
"Ahh~h. What an unfriendly person. Wouldn't even introduce himself." Then, he starts humming to himself, and it's terribly off-key. Back to shopping, it would seem!
Log created on 17:28:02 08/21/2007 by K', and last modified on 23:19:22 09/03/2007.