Description: A month prior, the two had engaged on an epic day long adventure of theft, conning, violence, and lying. This encounter promises to be quite different.
Normally when Ayame is out on the streets around the rough part of town, she's staking out her turf by roughing up the locals, tracking down fronts for the Syndicate or smaller time crime rings in order to rob from them after a nice dropoff... Sometimes she'd waylay random strangers who wandered into her 'neighborhood' if they seemed to have anything of value... In general, she'd be up to no good.
Today is different. Gone are her street punkish red and black plaids, chains, loose tie around the neck... countless sheaths and pockets... instead she just looks like she's trying to fit in with the school environment of Gedo, but just doing a somewhat awful job of it. Dressed like she'd fit in better at some more generic high school, like Taiyo High, she's clad in a somewhat traditional looking white and blue school girl uniform. That would look fine if she was trying to infiltrate Pacific, Seijyun, or anywhere else BESIDES Gedo, but as is, the girl standing at the gates of the roughest school in town, her arms wrapped around a brown satchel, looks nothing like anyone that would actually attend there.
Wavering, she sways on her feet, as if debating stepping foot on the campus, passing through the chain link gate that marks where Gedo street ends and Gedo High begins. "Hn," Ayame muses, releasing one arm from hugging the satchel in front of her to bring her hand up and scratch thoughtfully at her cheek. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she mumbles.
Normally if you found Roland meandering around these harsh neighborhoods, he was attempting to swindle people in some manner, those who would not turn him into the cops and likely lacked the fighting capabilities to get justice; dangerous, but not with fast feet and a sharp mind. Unlike a certain rival miscreant, this has not changed in the slightest. Somewhere there are some loud, angry yells; it's a few blocks away, so might not bring too much attention on the streets of Gedo. A few minutes later, there's an ominous creak from a tall wooden fence opposite the school, sealing off an alley entrance. Managing to get one booted foot over, silently cursing his weight, Roland then crashes over, breaking off a foot of one wood pane and landing with a frightful sound. He's utterly sprawled out, one hand clenching wrinkled bills in a death grip. Slowly he leans up into a sitting position, adjusting his hat and trying to rise; ear cocked, but hearing no pursuit this far. "Well, I'll be, I got away for once..." he grumbles to himself, wobbling a moment before starting to count his ill-gotten goods, utterly oblivious to any other presence.
Taking a deep breath, Ayame lowers her hand, closes her eyes and starts to take a step forward, intending to venture into the campus only to freeze, foot coming right back down from where it lifted off. Turning slowly in the direction of the shouts, eyes widening slightly. A glance up and down the street has her looking like she's more likely to just bolt than stick around before she has company.
Thus it is that she crosses the street, slipping the strap of the leather satchel over one shoulder, glancing behind her at the school with a faint frown. Her route brings her next to the fense that suddenly has someone scrambling over it. There's no grace to the effort, the grunts and groans of a man trying to do something he doesn't seem particularly apt at, only to land sprawled across the ground at Ayame's feet.
The uniform-clad girl blinks, but makes no move as he struggles to right himself, glancing at the handful of bills with what almost seems trepidation. Realizing that he's righted himself into a seated position, the strawberry blonde standing right to his side starts to take a couple of steps backward, stepping lightly as if she doesn't even want him to notice he has company.
A slight tension is apparent in Roland, before he glances over his shoulder; the moment he sees Ayame, he leaps nearly a foot and twists to face her, stumbling back while stuffing the money within his overcoat with an almost scowling expression. "Hey, you didn't help a lick!!" he offers, like a cornered dog who'll fight to the death for a scrap of food. Yet something seems peculiar; his brow furrows, but there is no concern there, instead an overt wariness. After all, he knows how well she is at both scheming and acting. Nothing like fast-talking into a restaurant with intent to ditch to find out more about a girl. "...What's with the outfit?" he asks suddenly, looking it over with an unhidden interest she might not particularly care for. "You going to rob Gedo? Shouldn't you be working Pacific over, at least? Or could you not afford an appropriate outfit for it?"
As Roland reacts with a sudden surge in activity, Ayame raises her hands, palms forward, "H-hey, you stole that money, didn't- Ah, I mean, I don't care what you did, just don't-" she cuts herself off as he talks about her not helping in the slightest, shoving the money away into his coat. Taking another step backward, she looks ready to write him off as a crazy man. Like the bum on the street you hope doesn't bother you if you avoid enough eye contact.
He asks what's with the getup and the brown eyed teen blinks, glancing at herself as if thinking maybe there's an unsightly stain or something else amiss, but nothing seems wrong. Looking back toward the scruffy rogue, she opens her mouth as if to ask him what in the world he means, when he goes on to mention schools and robbing and basically making not a whole lot of sense. At first.
Her expression shifts gradually from nervously startled to suddenly annoyed, lowering her hands to her sides and turning a shoulder toward Roland, "What's it to you? I don't see how it matters," Ayame states at last, turning the rest of the way around, waving over her shoulder, "Good bye, crazy man, enjoy your money!"
"They gave me this money! Not my fault afterwards they regretted it... hoped they wouldn't open the box before I had fully gotten away." A wistful sigh, eyes appearing distant as he goes over what went wrong. Too eager to leave, he thinks. Should of been more casual about the extrication when money and goods left hands. Although he returns his attention back towards Ayame, looking faintly bewildered and almost insulted; a rather large amount of familiarity is there, she'd likely note. Ahhh, at the last part, it's assuredly Ayame. That special flavor of annoyed he so delights in inflicting. "Hey, if you're pulling something, I want in!!" He approaches rather swiftly, trying to cut himself around and block her in a rather brazenly overt way, of a person who's not afraid of touching if necessary. He seems liable to try and start shaking her shoulders at any moment. "Is this about dinner last month? I thought you'd find it cute!! Don't hold a grudge, c'mon!!" He tries to throw his most dashing smile, but tinged with no small amount of greed.
She seems content to wave him off and leave quickly but Roland proves to be persistant, cutting around in front of the girl to cut off her progress along the sidewalk. She stops short, even shirking back a step as he gets close enough to reach out and grab her if he decides to. For a moment she looks completely caught off guard, eyes widened as if even a little bit afraid, "N-no, I'm not up to anything, I was just going to-" she glances over toward the campus toward the side, "I mean, it doesn't matter, I-"
He brings up that fateful dinner and the girl's attention snaps back to him, eyes narrowed just a little as she scrutinizes Roland, studying him from head to toe. Her expression is difficult to read. An irritated look has replaced the frightened visage from a split moment ago, but there's something else as well; something best described as being a bit aghast. "It isn't about that dinner," she finally replies, her words coming a bit slowly with a certain deliberateness behind them.
"I'm busy. I don't have time for this," she continues, turning completely around to face the other way, tensing up, hands gripping the bag slung over her shoulder more tightly. "Maybe another time." she mutters as she starts to try and stomp off in the opposite way down the sidewalk.
Suddenly Roland is leaning forward, peering in a very suspicious manner at Ayame. He doesn't truly know her well; at least, not enough to make any particular claims on whether she is truly acting weird. It's off, but that's only by the standards on which he knows her, something that means little when so many are kept at arm's length. Mostly, he's questioning why she'd be acting in such a bizarre manner. Embarrassed? Maybe, but he can't figure why when they are alone! Was she doing something? Going to do something? Done doing something? "You didn't start prostituting did you? I mean, that's lower then I thought you'd go..." is suddenly mulled, stroking his chin with a quite admonishing expression. Although then he tenses up, letting out a snort and throwing his arms up as Ayame walks away. "Fine, like I care! I was even gonna ask you to get a cup of coffee and exchange war stories, but you'd rather be bitter!! Thought better of you!" He's making no attempt to follow her, glaring but contemplative as he'd turn to leave of his own accord.
When he speaks up again, Ayame freezes mid-step, shoulders hunching a little, fingers clenching white-knuckle tight around her shoulder strap as she suddenly whips back around to face Roland, cheeks a little bit red, "Look. First of all, no, I'm not prostituting. That's ridiculous." She takes a step back toward him, "Second of all, I can't believe I even knew- /kn-know/ someone like you."
Her hands come off the strap of the bag over her shoulder as she begins to wave them at him, "You're just some no good, dirty, scoundrel, and while I know I haven't been the perfect little angel, I can't imagine how you thought we'd have anything going for us beyond some dinner that I think I still owe you one for what you pulled there." She brings her hand up, pointing her finger his way, "Just who do you think you are? Actually, more importantly, just who do you think /I/ am?"
She lowers her hand to rest at her hip after taking a moment to adjust the heavy bag over her shoulder, releasing a big, exaggerated sigh. "Ah, nevermind, it doesn't matter," she states, turning to the side, but not going any further, glancing toward Roland out of the corner of her eyes, "I- I mean if you'd like to... you know," she nods her head to the side, looking back toward Roland slowly, "Go grab some coffee together, I guess I'm not /that/ busy..."
Alright, if this is an act it's just too weird. Unless weirding him out is some new scheme to make him go away. He certainly can't have her win a battle!! If they... are having... a battle... Oh well, if he wanted to harass someone simple, he'd go find Katelynn. Complexity is intriguing. It's like a complex watch. That someone stole. The subtle hints of being unsure are noted, and realistic, but painting a picture almost too wild to consider. "Well, you know me already. I'm a no good dirty scoundrel. And *you*..." A finger points in her direction, nigh accusingly. "...Are my only peer in that regard." He nods his head solemnly, crossing his arms before his chest. He was still moving to escape, if walking slowly backwards instead, but stops at the last. "..." He walks up to her, ducking down, bobbing left and right, looking at her from every angle as if this might somehow help. "You..." He'd lean forward, trying to grasp her cheeks and pull them firmly apart. "You *DO* remember me, right...?" It seems her show of apparently genuine compassion at the end totally blew it. She's not Ayame.
She doesn't flinch as he accuses her of being not unlike him with regards to being someone who could be considered up to no good at any given instant, maintaining a neutral, if somewhat more gentle expression that lasts all the way up until he gets close to her again and starts bobbing and weaving around like a curious kid, "What in the world do you think you're-" she starts to snap, her tone immediately irritated again.
But the grab at her cheeks shuts her up, her face stretched a little as Roland pulls. Arms flailing, she isn't quick to strike back, but she does eventually, both hands coming up to slam against his chest and push him off, stumbling back a couple of steps herself. Her hands come up to rub her cheeks, looking embarrassed and shocked.
His question is answered with a returned glare, hands lowering from her cheeks, the girl looking trapped by the inquiry with the way she simply stands there staring back. Slowly she gathers her composure, standing up straight, breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly. Closing her eyes, she lifts her chin a little, and declares, without wavering, "Of course I do. Don't be ridiculous."
He's rather solid, and is more jostled then harmed as he takes a step backwards. He gasps, looking to be first shock then outright amused. "You didn't try to kill me. My god! The hell is going on with you?!" He bursts out into a short and far too cheerful laugh, pointing his finger at her. "It's true!! You were acting weird, but I thought the acting was so bad..." He walks left and right a few meters, seeming to reflect on the encounter anew. "But it was bad since you kept breaking character... Since you aren't pretending to be confused... That must be it..." Of course she's still denying it, and he does give her some benefit of the doubt. But he's got an expectant expression. "What did we do after dinner?" he asks, just a hint of innuendo lacing the tone, drawing his tongue across his lips with a waggle of brows.
"If that's what you want, I'll be more than happy to!" she snaps as he points out she didn't try to kill him. But it's the pacing that has her looking less certain all of the sudden. She'd managed to fool everyone else she's wandered into that seemed to know all about her while she knew little about them. Picking apart their words, grabbing at details they let slip, she was usually able to present a convincing front, finding the average person easy enough to twist around her finger.
This guy, whatever his name was, was annoyingly different from the rest. How well DID she know him before? That question seems to be at the core of his inquiry as he asks a very specific detail from her. Turning her side toward Roland, Ayame folds her arms, one arm resting over her leather satchel. "Nothing I want to talk about /now/!" she asserts, stubborn even in likely defeat.
"..." Roland seems to be at something of a loss, but outside obvious thought there's nothing to pinpoint what's going through his mind. What she said confirms that she's a liar. Obviously, the Ayame he knew would not stab at the dark so confidently unless sure of the answer, as there's no value in manipulation with it. So she must think his hint true. He cannot wrap his mind around any potential method this can drop his guard to make himself malleable to one of her twisted perversions by letting him think otherwise... He's still walking around like a stray dog, steepling his fingers and slowly drumming them together. "Hmm, hmm." Once more he comes to a stop before her, and offers a broad grin. "Well, I'll stop hounding you..." Reaching to catch her by the hip and yank her closer, with an open and unabashed intimacy one only sees around those quite familiar. "I've not seen you in awhile, baby. Can't blame me if I think you are actin' funny." Almost cooed in her direction, before a regal gesture is thrown along the street. To her, it would seem he's given up the stubborn inquisition and fell for her scheme. Sadly, she might not realize it's a quite purposeful thing... "Now let's get some coffee!"
As he seems to concede, Ayame relaxes a little, unfolding her arms, letting down her guard and turning back to face Roland. She smiles easily then, feeling confident in perceived victory. It seems she wins again. Another person to milk for information then ditch, just like the others before him. But as he continues speaking, leaving the girl to continue trying to figure out just WHAT was going on between them before her accident robbed her of everything. Was she really this desperate?
He catches her by the hip as she seems unprepared for the move, and in the next moment is drawn in closer. The girl doesn't put up a fight, finding herself wanting to keep up appearances if it means finding out more about herself... however uncomfortable it may be in the meantime. "S-sorry, I-" she stammers as he explains his suspicion, "I just have a lot on my mind. Nothing to worry about." she exhales, letting him hold her close.
He gestures along the street and she nods, shifting her satchel slightly, "Yeah, let's go," she continues, even going so far as to fold her arm over his, like she supposes she needs to do if what he's intimating at is really the case... and maybe... just maybe it is. She DID have a rough life before, she had concluded. Perhaps he's just a part of it.
A lot on her mind. Really. Well, he's just as curious about what happened to the hapless Ayame as she is to find out his own knowledge on her life. He's content and talkative, but would merely yammer on irresistibly, shirking off even impolite attempts to interdict. No questions of meaning would be answered, at the very least. Leading her to a small and dingy coffee shop, that seems to have housed liquor in a rather recent life. Dirty tables, a long bar, and many machines that seem capable of spouting out any manner of caffeinated beverages. Not until they order and sit down beside the window would he acquiesce control of the conversation. "So." He stirs cream into a triple shot mocha with extra chocolate, so smothered in whipped cream on the top it's a leaning tower of piza. "What've you been up to?" He would seem distantly curious, but sharply perceptive, lifting the cardboard cup to his lips for a gentle sip. ...When it drops down, a fair white dallop is upon the end of his nose, Roland apparently unaware.
She finds the way he keeps dodging her questions annoying. It's not like she can't tell he's doing it on purpose. She just doesn't know /why/. She's not too obvious with her questions, either, skirting around issues, trying to poke at things from different directions and angles, hoping to catch him off guard, make him slip something, but to no avail. He's simply her match in such matters, especially when she's at a disadvantage.
Settling in opposite him in the run down coffee shop, the brown eyed teen ends up ordering a hot chocolate with mint and whip cream, craddling the cup in front of her at the table. "Up to?" he asks, and she leans back in her chair a little, not touching the drink quite yet. "Well, as it so happens," she continues, making eye contact with him, deciding that the only way she's going to get anywhere is to give up something herself. "... I was in some kind of accident a few weeks back..."
She picks the cup up at last, swirling it a few times in her hand before finally testing the temperature with a minimalist sip. "So I've been just recovering for sometime now. I haven't been up to a whole lot of anything." She watches him as she shares a mixture of vague truths, as far as /she/ knows, trying to see what sort of reaction it provokes. "I was thinking though... since we haven't seen each other in a while, it'd be nice to go somewhere we'd been before - just for old time's sake," she continues, taking a second sip of the simmering drink. It vexes her that she hasn't even figured out his name yet. But maybe if she can get him to drag her somewhere familiar, that will help...
He seems to be contentfully nursing his own, not paying as rapt attention as she might care; it takes a few seconds for him to meet her gaze, having been watching a dog that was rummaging in an alley across the street. "Nngh?" Hopefully this means he heard the beginning, but at least he is thereafter. "Did you hit your head?" he teases in regards to the accident, but the tone is quite joking. "What happened? I didn't hear about it on the news, so it wasn't in a fight, was it?" Not that he much bothers to look into current events, but it's a safe enough bluff in his mind. Stirring the remnants of cream within until it's mixed up, he begins drinking at his cup again. "Wow, where've you been?" he grumbles when she wonders about familiar things. "You wanna go to the restaurant again?" From the laughing tone, this is a bad idea. "The dumpster I was squeezed against you in has fond memories. Or maybe the abandoned house. The back of that car? Nah, it probably got moved by now." It seems the pair's relationship has been fleeting and random, lingering nowhere in particular and going where the wind took them. Although he's still rather curious, there's something near a distant concern underlining his expression. This is so rare, he has difficulty fully concealing it.
"A little," Ayame replies with a weak grin as he asks if she hit her head, "Nothing /that/ bad. It wasn't a fight," she continues, sipping further. "Well, not, like, one of those ones you get into on purpose." she adds, blinking slowly, watching him over the simmering cup in her hands. "Ambushed, beat up bad, been staying at some church. I guess some priest guy, or cleric, or whatever, found him, and that's pretty much all there is to it. I probably had it coming... I guess."
He brings up places they've been. The restaurant sounds like a bad idea from the way he laughs. Must've been some kind of, ah, incident there, she muses. A dumpster? Ayame's eyes widen a little at that, only to have her cheeks flush red as he mentions some car. "Y-yes, well, no, none of those places..." she mutters, lowering her eyes to the cup and focusing on it instead. "Nevermind," she adds, lifting her hand from her lap to wave it.
At no point has she unshouldered the satchel she's had all along, chosing to just shift it onto her lap once she sat down, one strap still draped over her shoulder. "What have YOU been up to?"
"...So someone ambushed you?" Roland wonders, peering towards Ayame with that suspicion once more. There's certainly something up with him, bu that is so normal in his case it doesn't stand out, or at least lead to any useful contemplation on his motivations. "I'd buy it. You're not exactly the kind to make friends. Accomplices, at best." He sips at his drink, snorting into the cup at the obvious blush, which causes him to wrinkle his nose and rub at it fiercely with the back of his hand. For her to be nervous about such things is just as blatantly suspicious as her being a decent human being. "Also, it's odd you want to see something for old time's sake when we've only met three times. And only one partially consenting." Realizing what that could be misconstrued as, he ... doesn't clarify. That wouldn't be any fun at all. Leaning back, he tips his hat away with a finger, looking rather arrogant as he stares at Ayame with a sort of self-righteous confidence that many people would rather enjoy slapping him for wearing. "Well, if I thought I'd actually be able to get my hand up your skirt, I might play along more. But I can tell you're still just a tease. The main difference..." He swishes his cup, conspiratorial. "Is you're now a bad actor. Yep." He sips, allowing the indirect accusation to sink in for some moments. "So what's with this? If it's a scam, you know better then to try it on me. Mostly since I'm broke, and don't care."
The longer she's with him, the more she begins to realize she doesn't have a prayer of fooling him. Only half the guesses she makes seem to be remotely believable and she's not even sure if he's bought any of them either. As he asks about her being interested in visiting some place they'd been before, she falls quiet, expression tight lipped, brown eyes fixed on him squarely. She swallows as he talks about the few times they had met before, realizing that she misread the type of association she had with this stranger.
Leaning back in her chair, the girl plants her hands on the table, palms flat, as if getting ready to get up and slip off without any further word. He makes a comment about her skirt and she pauses, mouth curling into a frown, eyes narrowing just slightly as she leans back forward. "Yeah?" she asks back when he calls out her ineffective job at trying to convince him of anything at all, her tone challenging. But she relaxes a little, sinking slightly in her seat, "Yeah." she repeats, but this time the defiance is gone, replaced with a certain tone of defeat.
He asks her point blank what her deal is and the strawberry blond looks to the side, bringing her arm up to rest her elbow against the table and prop her head up by the chin. A breath is taken, a long, annoyed sigh released, eyes shifting back to the scruffy looking Roland across from her. "See," she begins, lowering her hand from her chin and sitting up straight again, "I..."
Frowning again, she seems to waffle on saying anything at all. It's bothersome that he's one of the few people that hasn't reacted to her with accusations of trying to rob him, kill him, or wrong his whole family, or any of the other various reactions she's gotten. Why couldn't she get that kind of reaction from someone with actual money and means? "I don't remember anything at all from before I got attacked. I don't even know your name," she finally admits glumly, going back to propping her chin with her palm as she averts her face off to the side.
"I've been getting by a little bit 'cause of that cleric that found me, but I've been trying to figure out everything from... well... before," she continues, lifting her other hand from resting over her satchel to wave it around absently.
"Did the attacker hit you with a book of cliches?" Roland asks, seeming to be more then willing to find bemusement in her situation. The smile that follows is not particularly apologetic, but he does sigh while removing his hat, beating the hard leather upon the side of his thigh. Fingers run through his hair thereafter, before he carefully replaces it. "Well. My first instinct is to laugh at you and leave, because I'm such a compassionate soul. But you're my rival, partner in crime, and love interest. I can't very well turn my back on all that." He strokes his chin, leaning back on his chair and rocking it in a rather reckless fashion. A moment later, someone slips by too close, brushing his shoulder. Excessive weight is not his friend, right leg spasming up and striking the base of table so hard it bounces his drink off with a splatter of steaming mocha, and he crashes backwards with a yelp. A mere second later he springs up, replacing the chair and thudding back upon it as if nothing happened. "So." He goes right back to leaning, frowning at his cup and nursing the last drops. "You never told me anything useful about yourself. But you were a thief and con artist. A manipulative swindler. And you looked good in a skirt. See?" He digs in his pocket for a camera, clicks through it, and pushes over a rather obvious picture of her scrambling up a wall in a skirt. The angle is quite good. "The last time we met, you were being chased for stealing from a casino. You ran into me, tried to frame me, I tagged along, and you slammed a door in my face." He bristles. "Long story short we got away, I got a cut, then tricked you into going to a restaurant. It was unexpectedly nice, so I felt bad about running out and leaving you with a huge tab after alerting the residents." His head is nodded in an enthusiastic fashion. "Then I saw you today. Ring any bells?"
The girl sitting across from him bristles as he talks of just laughing and leaving, huffing at the quip about cliches. At least he's hearing her out, she supposes, even though she still clearly has reservations letting the man who looks like he's never been up to a good thing for a moment in his life in on the secret she's harbored for a couple weeks now. "Well, it fooled everyone else," she mutters with a wave of her hand with regards to her bad acting.
She sits up straight as he falls right the hell out of his chair, eyebrows raised, mouth open. She doesn't go so far as to ask if he's okay, because he appears somewhat indestructable with the way he rolls back up and plops back down in his chair, not looking flustered in the slightest. He shares what little he knows of the girl and Ayame nods slowly, only to lean forward as he produces a camera from his pocket. "What's this-" she stats to ask.
Eyes narrow at the picture before she glances back up at him, "Yeah, huh. That's the same kind of clothes I had in the Saturday Night Fight videos I found with me in them. I guess," she leans back, rolling her eyes, "I can kick some ass when I want to." She brings her hand up to her chin, eyes fixing on Roland again before she suddenly straightens up the satchel on her lap, flips the leather cover open, and begins to dig into it.
Producing a folder, she plops it down on the table and turns the first page open. It appears to contain a number of pictures, produced from a color printer that was running dry on blue at the time she put it to use. "It didn't click at first," she states, her hand coming down, finger pressing into one picture in particular, "But it IS you. We fought together in one of my matches. Huh." she muses, eying the printed photo for a moment. "That sure was one goofy fight. But we still beat that guy up - Gato Futaba," she continues, musing, rubbing her chin thoughtfully before looking back up. "And that's all you know? Hn."
Her hand reaches out to flip the picture over, skimming the various notes scribbled in pencil on its back. "Oh well." she sighs, leaning back, folding her arms loosely over her chest as she eyes the man directly. "Thanks for, uh, I dunno what exactly. Roland." she finishes with a faint grin.
The picture is blinked at, as he seems to cast his mind backwards. Yeah, he remembers that, but he considered it such a forgettable encounter he didn't bother bringing it up. In fact, he didn't immediately consider it. "...You're really researching this pretty thoroughly." Roland offers, his tone shifting to something that doesn't seem really that abrasive or derogatory. His nose wrinkles at something unseen, as if considering the prospect elicits a line of thought that he doesn't particularly care for. "I think you've realized who you were isn't a good person. Does that matter at all? Do you still wanna know? You could move to a new town, and become a new person." He leans forward, steepling his fingers beneath a stubbled chin with a serious expression as foreign as clown makeup. "Not everyone gets a chance like that..." Then... nothing. He makes no joke, or inane gesture, or sudden grin that pops the bubble. What a disturbingly rare moment.
Indeed, the satchel on her lap is full of folders, pictures, notes, theories, and flash drives with video clips of the various public appearances that she was able to locate. Often reacted to with hostility by her opponents, it wasn't hard to surmise that there was so much more to the story behind her interaction with so many angry fighters. The teen nods her head as he comments on her thorough research. "I got an unintentional tip from someone that was furious about something I did in some public match - some attempt at taking her ring or somesuch," the girl waves her hand absently, turning idly through the pictures.
"From there, I found the name I gave everyone for my fights. It isn't real though," She comments, glancing up briefly, offering nothing further before looking back down. "And it was easy to find the other fights I had been in. It's given me some more names, faces, people to talk to..." The girl shrugs slightly, though her tone suggests that the project is very important to her.
As he brings up the nature of her past, Ayame frowns, tensing up, getting defensive. He speaks of the shot at a new life. One free of her past outside of the non-memories she's learned through careful research. "But..." she opens her mouth to protest, only to fall quiet again as he makes an unusually sombering point. "I-..." she starts again, then says nothing.
A nimble hand lifts, flipping the folder closed, the girl leaning back in her seat. "It couldn't have been all bad. There had to be exceptions. Friends I don't remember, a family I can't find... Is it so strange to want to know for sure? No one's rotton through and th rough, are they?" She sounds like she's convincing herself as she speaks, moreso than to her table partner.
The girl looks away, scowling then, arms folded over her pristine white, uniform blouse, looking awfully out of place when one considers her anything but pristine past. "Damnit. Why did you have to complicate things." she mutters, shaking her head.
"Well. I can tell you this. We were two peas in the same pod." Roland mulls, having been quite silent as he considered everything she said up to that point. He continues to wobble slightly in his chair, casting his eyes towards the ceiling. "As far as I could tell, anyway. I'm also a ruffian, who gets into bar fights, double crosses, backstabbing and worse. But... I chose to. I wasn't forced to." He offers a bit of a grin opposite to Ayame then, some spark within his eye, almost mischievous. "You did, also. You didn't tell me why. At least part of it was the adrenaline I could tell. But I know nobody put a gun to your head, and you could've made a comfortable living in the ‘normal' world." He cracks his neck in either direction, seeming to frown slightly. "I know I'd be upset if you never got your memory back! I want to kick your ass someday, damnit." This is... not a joke, it would seem. "So how about this. If you wanna, I'll help you out. If you don't, hey, whatever. But this ain't charity. It's just more fun for me if you manage." He pauses, nodding his head once more. "That, and I'll get one hell of a debt of gratitude..." That time, the familiar nigh foreboding quality lurks beneath a tone far too contemplative...
More about her nature is revealed. The person she was before. Mischievious. Up to no good. Dishonorable, theiving... Maybe she didn't have any good attributes after all, and it would be hard to suggest that any company she had during such a time would be particularly /good/. It sounds like he knows what he's talking about though. She thinks back to that fight she had with the black kid back at the ruined hovel that used to be her home. The rush, the thrill of the fight. The fear at being beat, the uncertainty of the outcome, the high of victory when she defended her forgotten abode. Yeah... she muses, she could see being interested in the adrenaline rush.
"Normal world..." she echos back absently, a thoughtful look on her face. "Sounds boring," she finishes with a trace of a grin. He speaks of wanting to beat her and Ayame leans her head to the side a little, "Is that so." she states rather than asks, "Well, I don't remember a lot yet about all that... I held my own when I got attacked recently, but I was just guessing as I went. Compared to the stunts I've seen myself do in those videos, I've got some more remembering to go." She grins, white teeth showing, "Once I do... maybe you'll have your shot."
The closed folder is stuffed back into her satchel, the leather covering snapped closed. "All right, Roland. I could use the help. I need to find out some more about some people though. And some words that've come up." She pulls a notepad out of a side pocket of the satchel and plops ot down, producing a pencil a moment later. Scribbling intently, she jots down several things, then rips the paper free and slides it across. "Seventh Circle. I need to know what that is. I was there, I guess. I need to know about some kid named Aranha. I think he wants to kill me."
Her finger slides down the paper, "Tenma Kiryuu, some fighting teen with a flashy wooden sword. I need to know what his beef is. Whatever happened, he turned on me in a fight. The audio was too faint to pick up the words said though. Well. Most of them." It was hard to miss the shouted insults he hurled her way after all. "Finally," she points to the last name, "Saint. That's the cleric who's been helping me out a little. Gave me a room to stay in, some money for clothes, feeds me now and then... Turns out I fought him in a SNF too, and he's never felt it important to mention that to me. Said he had never seen me before until he found me after the ambush."
The girl leans back, taking her finger off the paper then, brown eyes coming to rest on Roland thoughtfully. "I need help with this stuff... You seem like someone good at looking into things when he wants to be." She pictures Roland falling off his chair from the slightest passing nudge and pauses, as if reconsidering that assessment. "Uh... well, I mean, I know you'll take care of yourself at least." Falling quiet for a moment, she frowns, glancing to the side, brow furrowed. "I don't know how to repay you yet. Maybe if I remember more, I can figure something out."
"So, wait. Let me get this straight." Roland offers, holding up his hand in a halting gesture, raising his brows in obvious curiosity. "Your method of finding out who you are is to find out plain, useless details from people you likely met once and didn't like you, and the extent of such was fighting? ...C'mon, that's stupid." he offers, standing up and brushing back his chair. He goes to the counter and orders new drinks for both, although he seems almost unwilling to part with the crumpled bill. Returning, it's slid over absently, starting to pour in far too many cups of cream. "You need to find out something meaningful about yourself. Something so strongly tied to your sense of being, it will start to awaken linked emotions, people, and places. Then you follow the rabbit." He sure sounds like someone authoritive on the subject, if nothing else. "I can guarantee none of those people count. And obviously, our sultry relationship similarly didn't suffice." The man sulks, snuffling loudly while rubbing the back of his hand against his eye. "Hmm. That makes it harder for me to wonder. You never told me anything important about yourself. Said you were an orphan, but I could tell it was a bad lie." His fingers tap on the table, before pausing when some milky coffee spills out, overflowed with creamer. He sips at it and makes a face. "Eugh, I'll be right back, this tastes terrible." Of course it does!! But he rises and ambles back in the direction of the counter, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Ayame falls quiet as Roland raises his hand, his tone already putting her on guard. "But-" she starts to protest as he decries her current plan as being ridiculous, brown eyes blinking in surprise. He stands up, taking off to order new drinks, and Ayame is left to stew for a moment, resting her cheek in her hand, her elbow against the table.
Focused on him, she doesn't even notice notice that he's overfilling the new drink with way too much cream. "I know that," she replies as he speaks of finding something meaningful. "But I already found where I was living, and that didn't do much to help me. I didn't figure out anything new there." He discounts the people she had listed out and the girl waves her hand toward the paper, "They're all I have! I don't know what else to do. I was just hoping that one of them would lead me to something that would help."
She sits up straight, leaning back slightly, "Just like I was hoping you would." she adds pointedly. What she told him before was a lie, then. Not an orphan. That means there's a family out there somewhere. "Besides," she leans forward, tapping the sheet of paper several times, "Maybe one of them really does count. You don't know. How many of them do you know anyway? I don't have much else to go on. Besides, there's something weird about that Saint guy. I have to-" She cuts herself off as Roland excuses himself, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes as she releases a soft huff of annoyance.
Opening her eyes again, she tightens her hands around the satchel in her lap, where she's stashed every clue she's been able to find so far. Glancing down at the bag thoughtfully, she bites her lip. It's all she has besides the clothes she has on. A collection of memory fragments that she doesn't even remember. "Some start," she mutters, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling idly.
Log created on 23:15:59 08/08/2008 by Ayame, and last modified on 22:43:58 12/31/2008.