Description: Experience: Meeting someone again for the first time. Encountered: Previous target of pety theft. Remembered: Wires. Summary: Joining a team is a big committment. The normally distant Ayame finds herself having to learn all about trust, loyalty, and meeting new people without the intent to do wrong by them. Mao Shihong already proved her true nature when the chips were down, but Ayame still has more to learn of Cherise and Suzume.
It's been a week since Ayame received the worst introductory hazing into into Southtown Syndicate known to man. That pretty much sucked. But it did clue the ever thinking, clever teen into a number of matters that she's had to contemplate heavily over the time spent in traction. The girl is back on her feet though, and back to investigating the situation she finds herself in. Life is changing fast. An invitation into a team of quite capable fighting females. Of them, she knows Shihong. The other two are only names so far.
The time is late afternoon. The building is the very structure Shihong calls home. The rising name among the Syndicate dwells in a top floor pent house in the heart of Southtown and for the time being, Ayame has been invited to stay with her. She had gone out to visit Saint. She hadn't seen him since the encounter with the monster of the Syndicate the week prior. She owed him thanks for his interference. It's because of him she still has two eyes. But he owed her an explanation as well - such as why she had become convinced that jumbled amongst scattered images in her mind were memories that belonged to him... not her.
He wasn't home. She pursued some other leads and even retreated to a quiet place in a park to practice with her staff. But as the day gets later, she's decided to return back to Shihong's penthouse. Eyes half lidded out of boredom, the girl trudges into the lobby floor, making her way to the exclusive elevator to the top. She has taken to dressing much like she had in the past, a touch of punk, goth, and bad-girl all blended together. It just feels better than the more conventional attire she had tried out for a while.
The lobby is fancy enough. Fountains on either side, lined with green plants. The doors to the outside world are glass and the columns within are of black, smooth marble. Ayame was very impressed the first time through. Turning toward the elevator, she fishes a credit-card key from the pouch affixed to one of her belts and slides it into the card reader. Her expression is distant, her thoughts elsewhere, as she seems to operate on autopilot for the moment.
The hazing that Cherise recieved when she joined the Southtown Syndicate was one that would echo through the annals of the organization as the most brutal, painful, and horrific one to ever come before it. It was one so vicious and cruel that people stood back and winced, and even the most die-hard of sadists were forced to turn their back.
That is to say: They didn't. What's the point of hurting someone who's openly masochistic?
Oh, but there are other things in life that she likes to do. She likes to go places, visit. She even 'works,' so to speak, playing music and singing songs at the clubs in town with various bands... and that's not to mention the life of a travelling prizefighter! Oh, if only her father could see what she's doing now... probably because he'd be slapping his forehead.
But no. Now? Now, she's in the kitchen with obscenely loud electric guitar filling the majority of the living space. To some ears, it would sound like musical genius, a blessing of strings and refined metal wires. A paradox, even, something as silly as the idea of a "symphonious cacaphony," and all the more appealing to the nineteen year-old assassin. Hands buried in sturdy mitts and standing before an oven, she pulls out one of two trays of madeleines and sets it on the counter, then the second one. With a huge smile plastered across her face, the blue-eyed girl closes it back up and turns off the heat, deciding to wait for a minute to let things cool down before trying to pop them free of their special pan.
The sights, the smells, and most importantly, the -sounds-. Yes, to her? -So- -good-. She even brought a bottle of wine from the family's label. But the most important thing here is where she is:
Inside Shihong Mao's penthouse.
The elevator ride up is uneventful. Ayame's thoughts wander over the people that have done things for her as of late. Saint and Shihong's help was critical. Saint took many savage strikes that were meant for her. And Shihong not only stepped in at the last moment but went so far as to tell Yamazaki to pick on her instead of Ayame the next time he was in the mood to start something. It was a strange experience - having other sstep in to help her out. She hadn't expected people to care quite like that. It made her wonder at her propensity to force everyone into keeping a distance from her with secrecy and a just plain obnoxious attitude. Maybe her approach to dealing with people needed some rethinking.
The door opens into the short hall leading to the penthouse suit. If only she had money, the girl thinks to herself. She'd live it up just like this. A fancy pad atop a tall building. Maybe she should ask Shihong about her exact career path sometime she muses with a grin.
Stepping into the apartment, Ayame draws her hands up to rest behind her neck, exhaling slowly. It's nice to be back to the only place she can consider 'home' right now. She becomes aware rather quickly that another is present. At first she assumes the owner, of course. But a glance around the corner to see who it is who's busy at work in the kitchen reveals it to be someone else entirely.
Freezing mid-step, the teen lowers her arms, tensing up a little. She hadn't seen anyone else inside the place before now. But the fact that the gray haired girl is busy cooking away suggests that she probably wasn't doing anything terribly untoward. Burglers usually don't stop to make up a batch of madeleines while pilfering domestic goods. "Uh, hello." Ayame blurts out plainly, keeping her distance. "You're not staff, are you?" she queries, one eye narrowing suspiciously.
The cooldown period is one that's most important when it comes time to make these madeleines, and it's one that Cherise takes most seriously-- serious enough as she stands there in the kitchen, back to the entrance, and starts playing air guitar to the solo part that blares over the speakers now. The tips of her fingers drum against the heavy-duty materials in her cargo skirt, and the heels of her boots clomp on the floor here and there as her stance changes every so often.
Truth be told, if Die Hard was on pause in the living room area right now, this would probably be quite similar to one of Cherise's "stay-at-home" days. She appreciates those days so much, as those are usually the times when she stops to check her injuries, lingering or fresh, and make sure that she's doing okay. It means she watches a lot of movies, and hangs out. Gets her music and fighting schedules worked out, or even calls her father.
Then what's she doing here?
Paying more attention to the small cakes as she's carefully popping them out of the pans, the girl who you'd never think a trained killer (ha ha) twists back around when the sounds of a voice very much not that of Shihong's fills the air. Even with the volume of the music blasting from the living room area; the noise wafting back into the kitchen like the smell of the food does into the living room, Cherise brings her arm up to point at Ayame in a dramatic way. "Oh, it is -YOU-!!"
With a smile as wide as ever, she cheerfully trots herself over toward Ayame like a giddy little girl and reaches out with the intent to take her hand. "This is perfect! Destiny! Fate! Karma! Please, please!! Mao will be back later, I think. I decided to stop by and do something!"
In some ways, Cherise Bouchard is still like one small excitable child...
Ayame makes her presence known, coming across neither antagonistic nor particularly friendly. She isn't quick to make new friends, and not even eager to make new aquaintances. Life is complicated enough already. The idea that joining a team meant new people didn't really sink in all that clearly. Of course, either did the idea that joining a team meant Yamazaki was going to try and squeeze her eye out like a grape.
A finger jabs out towrad her as Cherise points with remarkable emphasis, and Ayame's eyes widen, the girl even going so far as to start to take a step back. Is this going to be another one of those 'YOU, I hate you for what you did before and now I'm going to get even!!' YOU's that she's oh so enjoyed profusely as of late? Maybe she should split before she gets attacked. Of note is the complete lack of recognition in those brown eyes of hers as she sets sight on Cherise's face. The French girl is regarded as if a complete stranger.
But Cherise gets there too fast, getting a grip on Ayame's hand. Okay, she's not attacking, the bewildered girl decides, which keeps her from fighting back from the unexpected grip on her hand. "Destiny?" she echoes, "Fate? What are you getting on about? W-who are you? You know Mao?" Ayame stumbles after her but doesn't put up a fight. She pauses in her protesting for a heartbeat then adds: "Something smells really good." As prone to being cranky as she may get, she can't deny that whatever Cheries has been up to has a delectable aroma!
No, no putting up a fight against the likes of Cherise. Moreover, Ayame now has a new friend, whether or not she wants one or even realizes it yet-- it's just how she is, that strange girl. Destiny? She nods. Fate? She nods. "Aaah, you do not remember me? I met you outside of the city when I was still new. You were trying to take my bracelets, see?" She even indicates to her wrists with a light shake of her hands from side to side. "I was ... ..." She stops, glances to the side. "Touristing!!" Maybe not right, but her Japanese isn't perfect yet.
Ah, and she smells the delicious snacks. "Oh, yes. I was making madeleines. They just came out of the oven, you have such good timing!!" And that's when she decides to drag Ayame along, further into the kitchen toward the cooking on the counter. Letting her go, she fetches a plate with a few already popped free and thrusts it out toward the new occupant of Shihong's penthouse apartment with a proud, beaming smile.
"I am Cherise Bouchard! I have been Mao's partner for ages and ages! I am nineteen years old, blood type AB, and my hair color is very much natural!" And then she looks down at the plate, then back at Ayame. "To tell you the truth," she says, changing gears -without skipping a beat-, "I do not use the orange flavor. It tastes so much better with just the vanilla!"
Lead for the kitchen, Ayame spends half the time studying Shihong's penthouse apartment, glancing here and there, almost unable to help but ponder the value of some of the items in sight, a deeply rooted urge to snatch something gnawing at the back of her mind. But that doesn't mean she isn't listening to Cherise as well. "Ah, right, bracelets," she mumbles, glancing at the arm Cherise holds up for her to see, sounding like she isn't really sure. "Right in the middle of your touring, huh?" She purses her lips to the side thoughtfully.
"You can fight, right? Are you one of Mao's teammates?" She asks casually, studying Cherise closer now without trying to be so obvious about it. The bracelets are studied a second time, one eye narrowing, "Wire." she declares after a moment with triumph as if dredging up the recollection from somewhere deep in her memories.
"I always was known for my perfect timing," she states somewhat sarcastically as Cherise gets dragged the rest of the way into the kitchen before finally being released while Cherise fetches a plate. Rubbing her wrist idly where she had gotten grasped, she watches the other girl thoughtfully - right before the girl tells her everything, answering her question about her association with Shihong, plus her age, blood type, and hair color that Ayame hadn't even started to wonder about. "I-is that so. For years? What have you been partners /in/?" But the girl has jumped to another topic already as if incapable of sticking to a subject. "...you don't say..."
The bracelets, marvels of technological wonder. How did so much wire end up in those accessories, and how are they so responsive to her touch? The subtle gestures, the smooth movements-- and all of it in a matter of moments. Best of all, Ayame notices! She remembers! "Yay! That is right."
Expectantly, she smiles and pushes the tray ahead a little further. "Go on, take one!"
"No, no, I did not say years. I said -ages-. We fight together! ... Well, not on the same team often on the television." Setting the tray down on the counter by this point, should Ayame have partaken of the small cakes or not, Cherise turns back to her and steps all manners of dangerously close, but leaving the playful smile on her face, her stance not aggressive in the least-- in fact, it seems almost passive, more childlike than perhaps someone her age should be. "Do not worry. Mao told me about you. I know that you are living here. That is part of why I decided to come here today!" Then, she leans back a bit, away from the pretend miko and resting a scarred finger on her cheek. "Well, there was also a skirt in the closet... But that is no matter! I had figured if I come here I might also get a chance to meet you." She takes another step back, lining herself up along the counter next to the plate and hopping up and back to sit on it. Her eyes, now, take a more dangerous slant to them.
"I hope you are stronger than the last time? You won that time, but I am hoping that you are more skilled."
The offer to take one of the cakes is made and Ayame reaches up, hesitant at first, as if making sure they've cooled enough to be picked up bare handed. It seems they are, however, and she helps herself to one quickly before the other girl puts down the tray. She does recoil as Cherise steps in closer, no matter how innocent the approach may seem. The girl is clearly skitish, evidence of mild paranoia at the very least, with how she shies away from the proximity.
Ayame nods slowly as Cherise confirms that she knew to expect the strawberry-blonde to be around, a flicker of a smile crossing her lips, a visible shift of relief as the French girl backs off. "Oh? That's nice," Ayame replies politely as Cherise states that's, well, half the reason she's around. Clothes theft seems to be the other reason.
Then the girl settles down, taking a seat on the counter while Ayame chews slowly on the cake. "It's good," she offers as an expression of appreciation after a swallow. But Cherise takes matters in another direction, and the slightly younger teen tenses up a little. "Yeah, guess I did, didn't I." She glanecs to the side, averting her eyes. "Well, I know what I'm doing. What can I say?" she responds with a shrug as if trying to play off the inquiry casually but her posture comes across a bit too guarded to be /that/ casual. "What's it to you?"
It's not 'theft' if you call it 'borrowing,' of course.
But Cherise's happy-go-lucky attitude seems to come to an abrupt end right then and there, as her legs kick back and forth and she lets her weight settle on her arms a bit. Her eyes are a little larger, her eyes a little wider. It's not that she wants to fight or torment Ayame...
"If I learned any one thing from my father," she says, her head listing to the side, "I learned that I must know the quality of the people I work with." One leg lifts just a bit, sliding over the other and heel bobbing a bit. "In this way, I know Mao very well! But I have nothing to know about you, besides that one time. Not here and now, but perhaps soon I shall know your quality better!"
Her hands lift from the counter, shifting to set atop each other on her knee. Strangely, the dangerous air she puts forth is set aside, though her strange presence persists. "But, ah~! I take such pride in my cooking. I had to cook for my father, too, you know. He was so helpless when it came to these things. Perhaps you and Mao could meet him one day. We have a very nice home and a good business." Reaching to the other side, she picks up the bottle of wine and holds it up proudly. "From the first of this year. You should try some if you have dinner with Mao."
Cherise winks. "It is fantastic."
Ayame remains tense, guarded after popping her question, but as Cherise answers, quoting lessons learned from her father, the girl blinks, caught off guard, eyes widening just a little. "Wait, you mean..." She looks to the side, eyes still partially on the French Assassin, "When you talked about being Shihong's partner, you meant as in terms of her team. The one she invited me..." The teen snaps her attention back to Cherise, "So I guess we're teammates." She sounds rather surprised at the realization - more that she didn't figure it out from the get go than anything.
Relaxing a little, she folds her arms in front of her loosely, taking a step back to lean against a corner edge, "Yeah, not here, Mao would have a fit if we messed up her nice home. But some other time? Hm... Only makes sense," the girl states calmly, seemingly more at ease with the other girl now that the prospect of actually being her /ally/ has come up.
She lingers there for a moment, listening to the girl speak of her cooking and then presents a wine bottle and a redish brown eyebrow is arched just a little. "Do you work for the Syndicate too?" she asks bluntly. "Have a nice place like this?" she asks, gesturing to the side with a sweep of her arm as she stands up straight. "I might need to consider a new career path if this is what it nets you..."
"Sure I do! But my place is less fancy. I am comfortable in the more ... um... what is the word... ... Rustic? Quiet, even! But I am so busy in every direction it sometimes makes me very tired out. I do not do much, though. Sometimes I am called and told to go stay here or go stand there, and keep an eye on things. Nothing ever really happens."
The Bouchard-label wine is set to the side, and Cherise allows her slender shoulders to rise and fall in a shrug. "You might see me more in clubs, if you go to them. I play in a few places around the city, when they have live bands and performances and stuff like that."
"But keep yourself ready. I like to find people when they have their guard down when I go to fight with them like I will with you. It is more fun this way!" Beaming smile. "What is it they say in this country...? 'Keep your face washed??' No..." She struggles with it for a few moments, before waving her hand. "Anyway, anyway, Mao and I partnered up first. We also have another friend named Suzume. You should meet her too, she is as cute as a button! And her skills with an edge are fantastic." Hands are rubbed together. "Oh, it is so nice to have more friends in our team!"
Another Syndicate employee. She doesn't seem as bad as that Yamazaki fellow. Maybe she'll have to consider the Syndicate life as a potential career path. The evidence of what it seems to promise lies all around her. Who goes out and gets an honest living with opportunities like /this/ laying around? "Oh?" Ayame asks when Cherise seems to indicate the work she's given isn't all that interesting nor challenging. "Maybe it's time to find a side hobby." the girl replies with a grin.
But Cherise answers to that as she continues on, speaking of playing at clubs. The strawberry-blond tips her head toward the French girl, "Perhaps I will sometime." she answers vaguely, not entirely sure how she feels about clubs and crowds of people right now.
The topic flows easily into the matter of her testing Ayame's mettle and the young bandit's mouth curls into a visible grin.
Keep herself ready? She's ALWAYS ready, her existence a constant state of paranoia and double-checking, planning ahead, and contingency plans. "Yeah? See if you can surprise me then," she states as she takes a step backward, lifting her right hand with an almost dismissive wave to the side as if the chance of that happening seemed highly improbable to her. Another step back is taken, the girl having finished the offered cake.
She turns, as if getting ready to leave again, when she pauses, hand resting against a corner of the kitchen wall, "Suzume, hm? I'll keep an eye out for her." the girl states thoughtfully. "Or is she going to jump out at me from no where like you, hm?" She pats the wall thoughtfully, grins, shrugs her shoulder, sending some of her hair off her shoulder and back down her back, "I'll be ready either way. For now, I think I'm going back out on a walk. Thanks for the snack, Cherise Bouchard..." Teammate, Ayame ponders silently, brown eyes studying the other girl for a moment. Sure, teammates in name, but can she extend her trust to these other girls Mao Shihong knows?
Yet by comparison, Cherise Bouchard plans for nothing. She doesn't look over her shoulder, she doesn't have the contingency plans and contingency plans for the contingency plans-- she lives every moment from the seat of her pants, and somehow she's managed to survive. Natural ability? Skills, trained and honed over years? Odd powers that even she does not comprehend?
Well, whatever.
"Oh no, you will know Suzume! She is not nearly as sneaky as others that we know, but she can still be very surprising. You should be careful, I think! As for the surprise ... well..." Her head lists slightly to the side, her mouth twisting into a massive smile and her eyes wide. "I think I will try sometime. Soon, even."
Lulling her head back, brushing back her silvery hair from away from her face as she regards Ayame one more time, the French girl hops off the counter with a short flare of her skirt and her boots thumping lightly against the floor, hands swinging lightly and loosely in front of her to clap together and fall back to her sides. "Until we meet again, friend~!"
Log created on 21:56:19 09/21/2008 by Ayame, and last modified on 15:53:44 09/28/2008.