Description: Not only is K' taking care of children, he attracts the attention of a somewhat morose Frei who's desperately in need of distraction. Miraculously, there's no loss of life!
It's like Frei went overnight from being written by the staff of the Daily Show to being written by Victor Hugo.
While he would never admit it to anyone, the monk didn't feel right in his own home. He already spends a good deal of his day at the center, but now he's been there almost all day, every day, for the past few days on end. Which wouldn't be a big deal if he were actually doing ANYTHING, but the center's regulars are starting to become concerned. Typically jovial, energetic, and almost always engaged in some fun (if strange) endeavor, the 'new' Frei is an altogether different experience. The perceptive, of course, note that this sudden change in mood very much corresponds to the brief appearance of the tall man in purple a few days back...
Regardless of the reason, however, the man who has become in many ways the YFCC's perky mascot is effectively sitting at the reception desk facing the doors, slumped forward over it. His fingers are splayed and one freckled cheek is pressed against the desktop as Frei stares, blankly, at the door. There's not much for him to do, but worse, there's not much he's interested in doing.
It really is amazing how unfamiliar emotions like doubt, and anxiety, and fear can really change an individual who is so very used to *ignoring* them.
Tuesday evening, verging on the center's 'closing time.' K' feels kinda like Frei looks. He's been here a while, left to pretty much -sink or swim- on his first day. He hadn't even been told of any dress code he was expected to follow, and even if he had he would likely have ignored it. Therefore, as per his preference when not in a fight, he's dressed simply in a fitted black t-shirt and a sleek pair of slightly too-long jeans: the bottoms of which rumple up over scuffed black engineer boots.
He had been prepared to simply... stand guard, as it were. Stick around as a sort of everpresent insurance against the Dukes and Remys of the world. It's certainly what the other administrators, after reviewing Alma's (hastily-made, in their opinion) decision, felt he would be 'best at.' But it seems that fate isn't prepared to let K' off quite so easily as that; much as he might wish it would. While being a glorified German Shepherd -is- in his contract... added to that is an unspoken duty to Help Out In Other Ways. These other ways occasionally involve small children: a knot of which had been dumped on him while he was in the kitchen area, making an already-bad mood horrible enough that he might have just forgotten about raiding the cabinets and eaten the kids if he weren't reasonably certain he would be arrested or fired for doing so.
K' and his unlikely group of followers sail right past Frei's vigil at the front desk, the children struggling at a trot to keep up with the rough young man's impatient, long-legged pace. He certainly doesn't look like somebody to be leading around kids... though, contrary to popular belief, K' isn't without a (morally bankrupt) sort of rough charm, as evidenced by the amiable dialogue between him and his small charges as he forces them (not ungently) into one of the spare rooms leading off from the reception area:
"...so I'm gonna give you this box of cookies, and you're gonna take it in here and -wait- while I make some god d-- ...some coffee."
"But Mister K--"
"...f'n hell. Don't call me 'mister.' --Or uncle."
"--we're not supposed to have sweets this late."
"What? What kinda rule is that? --whatever. Nobody's gonna care if you break a rule now and then."
Perplexed silence.
"...look. Point is. Sit tight here and f'n wait. Yeah? Don't go anywhere else. If I get back and even one of you is gone, I'm gonna f'n torch the lot of you."
"Ummmmm... what does 'eff-en' mean?"
"...you'll find out soon enough. If you don't I'll tell you myself. Now piss off, kids."
"K-niichan is so cool!"
Once the kids are out of earshot: "...niichan? Fuck me." Such language in the YFCC!
Oh dear.
Now on the one hand, Frei is K''s opposite number in this scenario. Everyone expects him to be great with children because of his generally good-natured attitude, and to a certain extent this is indeed true. However, the truth is that he succeeds in dealing with children in much the same way K' appears to: by treating them as short adults with limited vocabularies. It's a surprisingly effective tactic, as long as you have no illusions about children being fresh-faced, innocent and full of sweetness. Frei knows for sure that most child are lying, devious bastards. It's handy knolwedge.
Thus it isn't exactly K''s minor infraction on the language code (10 points from Gryffindor) that actually gets the monk's attention; in fact, it's the man's voice and nothing else. Mind already stuffed full of his own problems, Frei was floating in that semi-wakeful state that the terminally anxious seem to embody: not exactly paying attention, but still semi-respondent to outside stimuli. Thus when the dark-skinned man speaks up, Frei slowly lifts his head from the desk and looks around.
He's herding children into a room. With a cookie bribe.
To cook and eat them, perhaps?!
Rolling over so that he's lying on his back on top of the desk and looking at K' upside down as he dangles over the edge, the monk gives the new face a faint grin, taking solace from his problems in the only way he knows how: stupid commentary. "Wow, we need to teach them about stranger danger," he says non-chalantly. "You don't happen to have a van and a bag of candy outside, do you?"
K' is surprised to find that he actually doesn't -mind- small children as much as he thought he might. It's something -about- how utterly unlike adults they are. They're sincere, if nothing else. They have pretty much none of the traits which make K' dislike most of his fellow species: disingenuity, hypocrisy... a litany of personal issues they take out on others (speaking of hypocrisy). But kids just aren't complicated enough to merit much of any ill will. Of course, then the brats break the age of eight or nine and start getting uppity, and then they just get annoying.
Nonetheless... he still can't help but be a little gruffly uneasy around them, so he's still kinda glad to see the door shut on them. At least for a little while.
Due to Frei's utter deadness, K' had not in fact paid the man much mind while passing by. Therefore, when his only reward for herding away those kids is hearing a voice behind him make a smart crack, he gets a bit of an unpleasant surprise. Not that this would have been obvious just from looking at him; the boy is unresponsive even at the best of times. Presently, he just slants a look over his shoulder, an amber eye regarding the somewhat undignified posture with a patently unimpressed look.
"If I did--" K' turns on a heel, stalking back the way he came. This brings him closer to Frei, for the moment, but such is a necessary evil to get where he's going. "--I'd be taking them there instead, wouldn't I?" Delivered in a sardonic deadpan, the acerbic reply carried solely by the sheer humorlessness of his tone of voice: and a faint lift of a brow. Kind of suspicious he gets -that- reference, isn't it. Maybe he's been watching the wrong kind of TV. His eyes narrow just a bit, not necessarily in a hostile manner-- but then, K''s every action is a weird mix of aggression and defensiveness, so it's not outside the realm of possibility that his signals might be mixed. "So is making clever commentary your job...?" He keeps walking. He's apparently pretty intent on that caffeine.
Though he lacks the more esoteric and refined abilities of a psion like Alma, as a longtime spiritualist Frei isn't without some degree of sixth sense. His face, when K' turns that oddly-colored eye to him to respond, actually adopts an expression of partially mystified surprise. After all, the fugitive experiment has a certain... aura, and you don't need to be any sort of fighter to sense it. A sort of sense that he is a person who feels his bubble of personal space is limited only by the finite dimensions of the known universe, and even that might be up for debate. A persona that fills the room, and that makes his deadpan response all the more confusing.
Plus, let's face it... if you're into the brooding prettyboy type, he's pretty much right up your alley.
Pushing his hands down toward the floor, Frei turns his languid draping over the desk into a handstand, pushing his feet into the air and giving K' a somewhat strained smile as blood rushes to his head. "If the commentary had to be clever I'd probably be out on the street," Frei admits self-deprecatingly. He holds the handstand for a moment, and then tucks his legs and drops down into a crouch before standing back up, the two long tails of his dark russet-orange headbang fluttering against the small of his back for a moment. "I think I'm just expected to produce commentary and if it's actually clever, I get a holiday bonus."
Upright and not half-asleep, the monk takes a second to give K' a more proper onceover, tilting his head somewhat. The man is tall -- well, everyone is compared to Frei, really -- but so rail thin, a regular beanpole. And almost entirely unfamiliar to him, too. Bringing a hand up, Frei brushes his auburn bangs from his eyes and looks to the side. "Sorry, I suppose this isn't a very good introduction. I've had a lot on my mind. Can we start over?"
It's true that it doesn't really take a psion to detect that there's something a little... strange about the silver-haired young man. Even beyond any spiritual or supernatural oddness detectable by arcane method or fighter's instinct, there's simply a considerable presence to him entirely mundane in its forcefulness. People like Alma simply get a shortcut to glimpse the true heart of what makes K' stand out-- even, sometimes, dominate rooms and draw attention-- even when he's trying not to.
It's just one of many ways in which a person might catch attention. Some people are comics-- some warm and outgoing. Some are just intense.
Those wolflike yellow eyes follow Frei's movements as the young man goes through a series of acrobatics. The kid looks more interested in the ease and strength of motion Frei demonstrates than in what he's actually saying. He half-listens to the joking, sardonic words, the look of him reminiscent of an absent-minded cat flicking an ear and staring without actually paying attention to whatever its daft owner is cooing at it-- and then, quite suddenly, he focuses again when the monk changes tone. K''s pace slows a little beyond Frei's desk, the boy turning his head to regard the other as a start-over is proposed. K' considers this with due graciousness.
"If you feel like following me to the kitchen--" A brief, half-realized smirk, accompanied by a careless lift of a shoulder. "--I could be convinced to reward your persistence." Basically: fine, whatever, I'll play nice and talk, but I'm not putting my coffee on hold for it. Oh, so he's going to be an asshole about it, is he.
Despite that feeling of intensity in the air, the monk laughs despite himself. "Alright, you're on." He starts walking along behind as soon as K' makes it clear that he's headed somewhere other than here. In fact, while he won't admit it to himself, Frei has been hanging out near the doors because he half-expects his long lost brother to actually walk through it and start slicing people in half. In fact, if the dark-skinned youth is good at reading people, he can probably SEE the tension in Frei's movements. Even without a 'normal' to compare against, it's clear that something is on his mind.
In fact, Frei is decidedly thankful for the human contact, something to distract him, and perhaps unfortunately for K' this makes him a little bit chatty now that he's actually got someone to focus on. "I suppose the real answer to the question you didn't quite ask is that I do a little bit of everything around here." He scratches his head as he walks, thinking it over. "I suppose it says something about how well-defined my job is that my business card lists my position as 'Martian Overlord'." It's true, too. The problem with volunteer staff.
Having given his little introduction, the monk studies K' as he walks, squinting a little. The man is hard to read; everything about him suggests an indifferent shrugging off of... well, damn near anything. It's a very closed energy, yet there is something smoldering under there. Curious. "I'm guessing you're one of the new hires... it seems like more and more people come in every day, and I'm terrible with names... so if we've actually met before and I'm just forgetting your name like a schmuck, I apologize."
K' resumes walking, effectively turning a shoulder to Frei, the moment the monk takes him up on that. Eventually, he thinks to himself bleakly, he'll come to regret this. Perhaps sooner rather than later, given the rate at which Frei can talk. From the privacy afforded him by essentially having his back turned on the monk, K' lets his eyes skate upwards in a brief roll as he's forced to endure being the focus of Frei's relieved catharsis. Martian Overlord, indeed.
He can't really tell that anything's bothering Frei, though. It's not just because he isn't looking at the monk. K' simply isn't familiar enough with other -people- to be able to discern what indicators are connected to which moods. With time he might acquire this skill-- maybe. But then, it still won't be empathetic or intuitive-- it'll just be a result of K' clinically learning to read what twitches correspond to what emotion. He's a quick learner, if nothing else.
Besides, to K', some degree of tension in one's movements is simply normal.
"Hnnn." That's about the extent of his opinion on Frei's ill-defined duties. At the implied inquiry as to his name, however, he seems to... pause an instant. His pace doesn't alter, and he doesn't actually show much in his expression... but there's a moment in which he fails to respond for just a little bit too long. "We haven't met." K', without looking to the side, simply slants a sidelong gaze over at the monk. "So you're not forgetting anything. If you gotta call me anything, call me K. It's short for--" K' abruptly cracks a brief flicker of a smirk, even as his glance cuts away. The expression is shockingly humorless: almost cutting. What's it short for, K'? Krizalid? Kyo? Your real name, whatever it was? The boy rolls a shoulder in a shrug, the bitter expression vanishing as quickly as it came with a huffed breath of scorn. "...eh. It's short for something." Maybe it's something embarrassing. Don't push it, Frei.
And with that mystery aired, K' swings right on into the deserted kitchen, finding to his disgruntlement that the coffee makers have been cleaned out and put away already and he'll have to do his own caffeinating manually. It's what he gets for drinking that stuff so late at night. "So...? Fair's fair," K' prompts, even as he pokes half-interestedly about for a kettle. Normally he wouldn't prompt a continuation of conversation, but he kind of feels he should get -something- for having to do anything as inconvenient as answer a simple question.
Suddenly, it becomes abundantly clear to Frei why Alma, of all people, would have an interest in this individual. There is a certain... Jiro-like quality to K', in his estimation so far. Standoffish, curt... but there is, somewhere under there, a current of something akin to sentimentality. Besides, Frei's not exactly someone who stands on ceremony either. He can't help but laugh at his new coworker's determination to keep words to a minimum. "Haha, you really are something. My name is Frei, and it's not really short for anything. Frei Renard." Unbidden, the monk suddenly wonders if Alma mentioned him at all, or if there was some sort of new employee orientation. Did they get a little colored folder full of handouts and a free YFCC t-shirt? They should do that.
For the briefest of moment's, the monk's head turns away as he really does run down that possibility in his head, filing it away for future reference.
Hopping up on the counter, Frei puts his hands in his lap and lets his feet swing for a second before crossing them. His posture and his youthful appearance make it difficult to tell just how old he is; bodily he suggests late teens to early twenties, while his mannerisms put him somewhere around 12 years old. Still, there is a way that his green-eyed gazes tracks K''s movements that suggests that this is, if not an act, then merely some fluffy surface layer, the tip of the proverbial iceberg. His energy, in contrast to his current companion's, is open and direct, maybe too much so.
He is an enigma. Maybe.
"Well, I don't know about my *general* usefulness, but if you let me know what you're trying to find in here I can probably point you at it." There's a pause, and somewhat unexpectedly his eyelids drop somewhat as Kataki's words from the other day ring in his ears: 'But then... you've always been a bit of a disappointment'. But he knows where the food is, so perhaps he can rise above that to help the new guy. "Maybe not much else, but."
There's certainly some considerable emotion being bottled under that cold, abrupt exterior. Typically, it's just a perpetual frustration, a sort of smoldering anger into which a lot of history has gone. A focused, direct intensity and passion, one that Whip had been able to detect when they met-- and which had, in some way, unsettled her, more stable and mellow as she was in comparison. That latent force of personality is why, though he doesn't talk much, he typically still gets his point across-- and the way he looks up at Frei now, as the monk hops up on the counter and states his name, he's clearly emoting two things.
One-- he wasn't told about any Freis. Two-- he can't believe he's tolerating the company of one. Still, Maxima had told him to behave. And he's trying. God knows he is trying. It's taking every last nerve of his, but he is.
K' bristles involuntarily at the laughter, good-natured and largely benign as it is. Cats don't like being laughed at, regardless of the reason-- K' isn't much different. A mild shrug essayed at Frei's offer of help, K' stubbornly keeps looking a few moments longer-- he's not much for accepting aid-- until he finally emerges with a kettle. And promptly starts to fill it. "Well. -I'm- told you have problems with certain kinds of people coming in," he replies coldly over the sound of running water, unknowingly touching on just the thing that's worrying Frei at the moment. "And it's not my task to do anything but take care of them." There may or may not be a hidden meaning to that. He is -not for babysitting-, don't try to foist kids off on him.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, K'. Interesting, incidentally, how he talks as if he wouldn't have any difficulty in -accomplishing- this task. Add arrogance to the list of traits for this guy.
Perhaps if he knew what an inadvertent smack to the face K''s perfectly inocuous comment was, he might take some pleasure in the discomfort it causes Frei. Hell, given the monk's open book expression, he might be able to tell anyway; the eyes once again become hooded, the head hung, the vibrancy subdued. Yeah, now and then the YFCC gets some visitors who don't seem to think too highly of it. Why, just the other day one came in and beat the living hell out of Frei, destroyed property, and was generally a complete and total nuisance.
A nuisance the monk couldn't do anything about, in fact. It's a funny thing, how doubt works; it's never a cause, always a catalyst. It takes the things that you're already concerned about and magnifies them to epic proportions. And all of the questions that have been asked here have been constantly needling Frei's growing doubts. Why are you here? What are you accomplishing? What possible use are you?
He can't even help K' get his coffee.
Eventually, the redhead simply nods. Focus on the facts. See the now and not yesterday or tomorrow. Every part of that deep, deep philosophical training he spent so much of his life mastering is scattered in his troubled mind, but he's pulling it together. Somehow. "You're right. Some people do want our proverbial lunch money. And I... we... haven't had the best luck turning them away."
Out of the corner of his eye, K' notices the effect his words have on Frei. He certainly hadn't intended (at this particular moment) to make the monk feel like crap-- that 'you' being a generalized indication of the center as a whole rather than anything personal-- and in fact can't really tell why on earth what he'd said would cause this change in demeanor. He considers a moment, which is far longer than he usually spends thinking about anything of this nature, and concludes that Frei must just be upset at how people keep attacking the YFCC. It's an entirely reasonable conclusion.
"Well." K' sets the kettle by the stove, the sound of metal hitting metal punctuating his words. "We'll see how they handle me," he finishes grimly, though there's a streak almost of -anticipation- in his voice: a fierce, feral sort of undertone. That said, K' sleepily aims a gloved hand towards the dial of the gas range, somewhat awkwardly giving it a twist to turn on the gas. He waits expectantly a few moments. No spark. His eyes half-lid.
"Either this crap's broken or it's one of those manuals," he grumbles. He doesn't look dismayed, though, or all that deterred; he doesn't even move to start looking for a lighter. Instead, his right hand still fiddling with the dial, he simply sticks his left hand-- unprotected save for a fingerless black glove-- straight up against the burner. And snaps. The motion is practiced, mostly because this is how he has to light the stove at home as well. Everything is broken in that apartment.
The small, obedient crimson flame that results is certain to raise eyebrows by its very permanence and similarity to true fire. And somewhere, generations of Kusanagi spin in impotent fury in their graves at this casual, irreverent use of their god-given power.
That crashing sound you just heard was Frei falling off the counter.
While it's true that the *persistence* of K''s flame might raise eyebrows, the ephemeral nature of chi energy that mimicks the elements is actually something most people overlook. After all, to most, elemental chi powers are so good an analog that distinguishing between the two in the middle of the venue where they most appear -- a street fight -- is practically impossible anyway. It looks like flame, it burns things like flame, so it probably IS flame, as far as most people are concerned.
Frei's not most people, though. He's highly attuned to the flow of chi energy, simply because he learned how to harness it well and truly before he knew how to throw anything so prosaic as a punch, if you don't count 14 years of instruction in swordsmanship that he'd sooner forget at this point. It's not K''s boasting, nor his wrestling with the technology of the gas range that gets him. It's that flame. That tiny little flame that, to the monk's wondering eyes, came from nowhere. There's maybe one in a million people who could spot the difference right away, and he had to use his power in front of one of them.
Needless to say Frei doesn't take the surprise well.
Wincing in pain, he picks himself up off the ground and smooths out his pant legs, grumbling in pain. That hurt, but the shock was pretty intense... and if K' thought Frei was chatty before, he's just planted C4 on the Hoover Dam and then detonated it. "It's... that's..." the monk says, pointing. Polite AND articulate! A good combo.
Frei, in his plunge off the counter, almost gets -K'- to startle. And that is an accomplishment in and of itself. The boy flinches visibly, turning abruptly towards the monk, and rather than do anything normal like ask if the guy's okay... he just stares at Frei as if demanding an explanation why the man had to go and do something so shocking as that. K''s nerves are already worn thin enough as it is without this sort of nonsense.
But beyond that, there is a tenseness in his stance, a sort of stiff-legged wariness reminiscent of an animal on the edge of either attack or flight. He thinks the likelihood of Frei being someone sent after him is very low, but he is prepared to defend himself if necessary. It's not like NESTS agents really have to be sane or dour like him, after all. Just look at Krizalid.
Indeed, the number of people who could spot the difference between elemental chi flame and this is very low. It's why K' doesn't really suspect the real reason for Frei's shock. He doesn't expect the man to chalk that fire up to anything but a simple exercise of chi ability. Guarded and wary, K' watches Frei unblinkingly with those unnatural yellowy eyes... and presently, just as articulately as Frei, he asks, "...what?"
There's a lot of potential reasons for the situation he's in floating around in Frei's head. After all, he's had a long enough association with Alma to know that the young fighting model's powers are something... other than chi. Not that the monk himself feels they are all that different; Frei sees guiding chi as an exercise in emotions, and Alma has almost certainly described his Psycho Power in the same way, even if he hasn't used that somewhat loaded term. So he's not a fool; he knows that there are more things in heaven and earth than can be imagined.
As he thinks about all this, Frei is all but motionless a few steps away from K', having regained his footing and mostly recovered from his shock, moving past the initial surprise and now into curiosity. Alma can't duplicate flame, after all; his 'soulfire' bears a vague similarity, but Frei himself is much closer than Alma to being able to reproduce 'true' fire. So could K' be a real life Drew-Barrymore-in-'Firestarter'? That's stupid. People controlling the elements is a long-lost dream, a fairy tale. Chi is as close as humanity gets.
Right?
At a loss for words, and noting K''s sudden wariness, the monk takes a step back, but keeps his eyes on the other man's hand, bringing a hand to his mouth. Maybe it was his imagination. How to find out? Well. "...do that again," he says, forgetting in his haste to use words like 'please'.
K' shies backwards noticeably as Frei comes in closer, only relaxing-- slightly-- when the man remembers himself and steps back. Warily, distrustfully, he regards Frei with a searching sort of look, as if wondering what sort of ulterior motive the monk might have for his curiosity other than... well. Mere curiosity. Still tensed, eyes slightly narrowed, he waits out Frei's bout of numb silence. His reward for his patience?
An injunction to do it again.
K''s hands coil noticeably, long fingers clawing. The right moves only with a complaint of metal from the heavy glove about it. "Why...?" The look in his eyes is deeply suspicious. A glimmer of heat shimmers the air about his right hand, suggesting fire-- but actual flame does not yet appear. "Does it seem unusual to you?" Playing dumb, are we, K'.
In the meantime, that original bit of fire still burns. Somewhat damningly. Chi fire would have extinguished long ago.
Once is an anomaly. Twice is a coincidence. But Frei's fairly sure that the pattern-making third would be exactly the same. Empiricism wins again, apparently. He really did observe what he thought he observed.
Huh.
Later, when he reflects on this moment, the monk will almost certainly realize he was glad of it. ANYTHING to distract him from what was on his mind is welcome at this point. But perhaps more interestingly... the monk's own studies into chi -- what could arguably be called his 'real profession' -- have, to put it bluntly, stalled. He's not finding anything new, just... reiterations of the old. There's no growth, just stagnation. Nothing to judge against, nothing new to find.
Until K' hands it to him in a little gift-wrapped box.
Still, there is a quiet awe on Frei's face, his normal energy subdued even in his excitement. He puts a hand to his chest, palm down, and looks at K' out of the corner of his eye. His tone and bearing don't suggest accusation; if anything, they're indicative of his being quite impressed. "It's real. Not..." And here, Frei raises his own hand in a somewhat parody of K''s gesture. Scarlet fire does suddenly leap around his hand, on command, but it is in the end merely chi; a mimickry, a copy... flawless in its perfection, doomed to a momentary existence. "Not that. It's the real thing."
Were Frei to even suggest that he 'study' K', even in the most benign and harmless sense of the word, the reaction would doubtless be -extremely violent-. K' was studied, experimented on, pulled apart so that this fire could be put -into- him. He'll be damned if he ever gets put in the position of being the subject of anyone's studies again. He doesn't remember that much when it comes to the processes and experiments that made him what he is, but he remembers enough-- and the memories are fresh enough-- that the thought of letting himself be so scrutinized is just not something he is capable of handling quite yet. If ever.
He watches Frei carefully, eventually composing himself enough to realize that the look on the man's face pretty much excludes him from being a pursuer of some sort-- or really, any sort of immediate threat to his freedom or safety. And centimeter by centimeter, he relaxes from his high-strung caution. And turns a shoulder towards Frei again, defensively pulling inwards as he is wont to do when nervous. His gaze slants over said shoulder unreadably at Frei's animated explanation.
"It's real," he eventually affirms, sounding-- in that instant-- far more tired and burdened than a kid of his age should be, "and before you ask, I couldn't tell you why or how." He looks at his own gloved hand-- a brief spasm of bitterness crossing his face as a bit of fire bursts in an evanescent coil about his fingers. He shuts his hand on the flame. "Mostly because I don't know. Partially because I wouldn't say even if I did." He's certainly heard the stories from his time in NESTS-- how the Kusanagi were given this fire as a gift from the gods-- but to say that kind of thing aloud? Is asking quite a lot. Not to mention revealing... too much. At this stage, it would be unwise.
The mercurial shifts in behavior, and stance, and even 'sense' aren't lost on Frei, who very carefully cultivates a facade of idiocy so that his occasional incisively accurate observations have all the more impact. And truth be told, he feels a bit of solidarity with K''s clear discomfort with being different from the norm. Realizing that something that makes you stand out is beyond your control, and forever so... can be discomforting, after all.
Still...
Taking a deep breath, Frei suddenly smiles beatifically, spreading his hands in front of him, palms upward. "You've heard the saying 'the net of heaven is vast; its meshes are wide, yet nothing slips through'?" The monk seems to consider that for a moment, then clears his throat. "Maybe not. It basically means that while there are plenty of things we don't understand, they're all a part of the world." There's a moment again, of silence, before Frei clears his throat. "I guess I just felt compelled to say that. I don't know why, it just felt relevant."
Stepping back, he hops himself up on the counter and turns his gaze to K' again... the open, guileless expression back on his face. "Well, anyhow I think it's neat. Ah, chi is my specialty, if you didn't know... I guess you could call me a chi scholar. I'm sorry if the sudden attention made you uncomfortable."
"And there are those who try understanding those things, even when they shouldn't." The abrupt statement is, as are many statements K' makes, able to be taken-- and potentially intended-- in multiple ways. In this instance... who knows? It could be a warning for Frei to back off. It could be commentary on NESTS's habit of messing with forces and people they should really just leave alone. It could be a gripe against any number of media sharks that have chased him around to try to decipher or boil him down to a readily-publishable persona. K' has a talent for bitching about multiple things in a single breath.
Whatever it is... it's certainly unusual, from a person of K''s nature. One wouldn't think someone as direct, guileless, and careless of insult as he is wouldn't even care enough to couch his opinions in so many oblique words. And in many ways, he doesn't care. Most of the time he's painfully blunt, sure. But there are also times he's able to display a shocking cunning in phrasing things. When the only authority figures in your life have been ones capable of-- and not -averse- to-- putting you down at whim with a mere injection, you learn to be a little passive-aggressive about things.
K' considers Frei a long time, his expression unreadable: the direct regard of his yellow eyes colder than a teenager's gaze has any right to be. A chi scholar, huh. Perhaps... someone that could help him learn to control his own deadly fire? The thought is evanescent, but nonetheless it is there. K' is quick to dismiss it for the immediate moment-- he has no reason to trust anyone at this center quite yet, and less reason to trust -himself- to be stable enough even to -attempt- to wield the fire gloveless.
Still. It doesn't mean it's not something to keep in mind. Of course, the best instructor would have been a true Kusanagi, as their fire isn't really -chi-: but there are so few of those left, and he has to wonder if they would even receive him-- a blot on their sacred birthright.
K' turns away from Frei with a mildly dismissive shrug, putting his back to the other as he snuffs the fire: a moody slant to his shoulders. He's out of the mood and tired now, tired from thought of this burden he didn't want, and it's not the kind of weariness he can-- or wants to-- make go away. "I got used to that a while ago," is his short reply, when Frei apologizes for the sudden attention. He's quiet a little longer, his gloved hand resting alongside the silenced burner. Then, without bothering to look over his shoulder at Frei: "Are you done...?"
There's a moment while Frei considers K''s first statement, giving the dark-skinned man a long, appraising look once again. He's called himself morally ambiguous before. Certainly his way of expressing himself backs it up; his discussion with Hotaru, for example, where his casual admission that he didn't understand why someone would die for a cause that, in the process, shocked and appalled the young girl's strong moral center. From Frei's standpoint, from the point of view of multiple religions and sects and philosophies, one thing is as good as another. You take the good, you take the bad, and there you have... the facts of life.
But...
"You know, I make a habit of decrying that life has anything like a 'certainty'. But everybody's got one or two things they claim is absolutely true," the monk says in a low voice, meeting K''s gaze. It's not that he's not intimidated -- K' IS intimidating, in his own way -- nor anxious. It's more that he accepts the consequences of whatever comes after unflinchingly. If he soars, or if he falls... he did it by facing the situation point-blank. Funny that he can do it with this near-total stranger, but not the blood relative who was here a scant few days previous. "And the thing I claim is that understanding is always better than ignorance." He gives a little shrug, a self-deprecating and humble gesture. "That's my feeling."
Sliding off the counter, Frei pauses for a moment, then rubs the back of his head with one hand, looking sheepish. *Now* he doesn't look right at K', though the words that come out of his mouth are far less weighty, this time. "Boy, you really don't like to talk. I can see why Alma has you working with kids," he says, sounding either amused or impressed, possibly both. "You work with people you have to talk to, but not really 'say' anything to," he adds by way of explanation. "Our Alma's a clever boy. A little too clever, sometimes."
It's always easier to do things-- say things-- to perfect strangers. It's the people you know and care about that are harder. Not that K' knows or cares about enough people to be aware of this fact... a lonely existence which he isn't keen on changing anytime soon. He's not under any illusion he can do what he has to do alone. He isn't stupid enough to think other people haven't got anything to offer. But neither is he under the illusion that the people he -uses- to get where he needs to be mean a damn thing to him.
Perhaps that's part of what's so intimidating about him, other than his intensity and unpredictability of mood. That callous coldness-- a quality which thrives in him despite all the fire he bears. Some of it's visible in the way he simply stares hard at Frei in the wake of that declaration of feeling: unreadable and silent.
Presently, that look lets up. Kind of like a sniper finally taking his sights off a target. "You think what you like," is his low response to Frei's convictions, his tone of voice almost... faintly amused. Lightly mocking. He pairs a turning of his back with an indifferent lift of his shoulder, right hand settling on the countertop after it smothers the fire out. "But I don't advocate ignorance. I advocate not being a fool."
But as to Frei's assessment of Alma's intentions for K'? That appears to touch on his temper, if only slightly. The heavily-gloved hand winds slowly shut into a fist with a creak of metal and the faint, stifled sound of knuckles cracking. That tension persists a few moments, as if K' is literally trying to keep hold on his patience. When it finally relaxes, K' exhales a breath, the sound roughened and edged slightly with a growl, and then slants an eye over his shoulder at Frei. "He hasn't got me working with kids," he insists grimly.
That response draws a faint smile from Frei. It might seem arrogant, from the outside, though he doesn't mean it as such. Of course, Frei has no real idea what the hell K''s actual job is, but perhaps he saw more of the dark-skinned young man's travails with the children upstairs (who have doubtless devoured that entire box of cookies and, perhaps, one another in a grisly display of survival of the fittest) than K' originally thought. "As you like," is his only real response, verbally speaking, at first.
For a moment Frei says nothing, even shutting his eyes. He's trying to think, and when the monk actually spends time doing it, it's a visible and actually somewhat dramatic process. The eyes close, the posture shifts, there's even the occasional "hmmmmm" from the back of the throat. Thinking long and hard is probably one of the only things Frei's good at, and trying to determine some way to... well, 'crack' isn't the right word, he considers, but certainly 'smooth over' K''s gruff dismissals. Suddenly he's reminded of a girl with a singular physical appearance, a Seijyun student... few words, an excellent fighter. He only saw her give an emotional response to anything the once, and that was when Frei himself was about to punch Krizalid clear in the face.
Funny how life works.
"I suppose I should leave you alone," the monk says at last, probably to K''s eternal relief. But it's not all he has to say, and he turns to K' with an honest smile, an open and guileless sort of expression. It's the look that on any other human being is entirely false, entirely pretentious... yet somehow, Frei makes it seem genuine, or at least gives it an air of authenticity. "I'm not quite as dense as I look or sound. You don't want me around, you haven't since minute one. But you tried to be polite, and you talked to me at least for a little while. So I'm honored that you went out of your way to do that."
He actually closes his hands together and gives a little bow, even.
It's remarkable how emotionless K' stays even through that show of sincerity. It's almost as if honesty and freedom of emotion are alien concepts to him. It's almost grating, that openness-- mostly because K' himself is such a closed, guarded individual. This is something he doesn't understand-- and accordingly, it takes him a while to even react to those words.
"Tch..." The boy's yellowy eyes simply half-shutter in some weird mix of amusement and disgust. When Frei actually essays a bow, his gaze cuts away. His back turns again, hands shoving into pockets, the young fighter lifting his shoulders in a brief and careless gesture. "Don't bother spinning it to make me look good. You caught me in a good mood," he shrugs, almost belittling in his treatment of this unexpected behavior from Frei. A humorless sort of chuckle: the sound, incongruously, almost threatening. "You should be so lucky as to have that happen every time you run into me."
He's quiet a few moments more, and for that space of time it seems as if he's not got anything else to say. But then, ruminatively-- "...chi specialist." He glances upwards, at the ceiling, it being his turn to be lost in thought. A harsh, amused breath kicks out of him, his head dipping again with a self-deprecating sort of tilt. "Interesting." He might yet have some kind of use for somebody so skilled in control-- that one thing he lacks.
The smile never leaves Frei's face. The length of time it takes K' to get around to saying something, anything... the silence in and of itself speaks volumes. And while he has a greatly reduced sense of boundaries, Frei isn't a complete fool. He's said his peace to K', even if he did it in a roundabout way. Instead, he just nods and addresses the question put to him, and only said question. "That's right. It's why I don't teach as many classes as the others. So few people have the potential to use it that most of the time I'm just teaching meditation techniques. But there's a few people who have the talent, so I give them the help I can." For a second, Frei's thoughts flash to Kentou, and then K' meeting Kentou... and then there is a powerful internal struggle not to burst out laughing.
He'll have to say something to Hotaru. Kentou's too young to die.
Sensing that this is a good time to make his exit, Frei walks to the kitchen door and grabs the handle, yanking it open and then turning around to look at K'. The man is troubled, this much is clear. Troubled, anti-social. But as insane as it sounds to everyone else, he made an effort to talk to the monk, even if it wasn't a fantastically heroic effort. To Frei, that means something. He's patient... it took him a long time to get where he is now, and as Kataki's arrival proves, there's still a long way to go yet too. "Well, let's hope I stay on your good side, then," he says with a smile.
There's a pause as he walks out the door, and all is blissfully silent for a moment. Then, without warning, the monk blusters back in, striding to a cupboard and throwing it open. Rummaging deep inside, he produces... well, a box of Oreos, which he holds up with both hands at K' with a sheepish look. "Enjoy your coffee. I'm going to teach them how to play blackjack." And with that, he's gone.
Did he really mean that?
K' doesn't bother saying goodbyes-- or even really looking at Frei as he walks out the door. The K' the monk leaves behind seems more troubled even than usual, perhaps still unsettled-- and thereby irritated-- by the unusual situation he was just placed in.
In truth, much of the effort being expended to keep the conversation was on Frei's end. The only effort really being expended on K''s end was effort to keep himself from just snapping at the guy in his terse responses. Some of that built-up, impatient temper finally gets a release once Frei leaves, the boy swiping an ungloved hand across his face with a growling sigh and letting it drop back to the countertop with rather more force than necessary. This is gonna be fucking hard. He can't imagine why he let himself be talked into this.
They'd better get some payoff or mileage out of this. One way or another. Should have told him to piss off at the outset, a muted voice in the back of his mind reproves him, and with a roll of his eyes he has to concur. But at the least, he can console himself with the fact that he's gotten the inevitable done with and out of the way. Like ripping a bandaid off fast.
He's almost about to start feeling okay about having gotten this over with-- giving him a legitimate reason to ignore Frei whenever he sees him from now on-- when the guy comes running back in. Somewhat astonished, K' simply stares after him as he bolts in, -talks more-, and then runs out again. And some of those trepidations come flooding back. Eyes half-lidding, K' leans heavily on the counter... and decides to let Frei handle the kids for the time being.
He's not in any condition anymore to put up with those brats.
Log created on 17:57:43 12/05/2007 by Frei, and last modified on 22:28:11 12/06/2007.