Description: When a loudly-dressed detective bumps into a conservatively-dressed bouncer, it is not a leap of logic for one to make one horrible mistake, right into another. But if Daniel Jack is good at one thing, it is to leap right over logic, and jam a thumb right up its- well, fortunately, where the hot-blooded detective was doing terrible things to logic, King has the suave sense of reason to not only talk him down, but give him exactly what he wants: free booze. Also answers.
Grey.
Everything is grey.
It's one of those inevitabilities that comes with winter. A brilliant December bleeds into a chilly January. After that? A dismal February. East or West, France or Japan, it never fails to be the case.
She's dressed for the occasion, a long, dark coat to compliment an equally dark suit, her focus switching from the windows she passes, to the people she shares the sidewalks with, hands plunged into her pockets to ward off the worst of the chill. Expression calm - save the personable smile she offers those few who are out walking the grimy streets - she does her best to remain as unrecognizable as the rest of them.
Just a window shopper. Really. Nothing more.
Grey was the worst time of the year.
The bitter thoughts of the season wore with the man coming down the same sidewalk, if in the other direction. The weather called for thick clothing, and there was nothing that a wool suit couldn't handle. Clad in a bright orange three piece suit, the dark-skinned man struts along, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a watch chain, whirring the small gold timepiece with a dull hum. With a black pork pie hat upon his head, befeathered as fitting for a man of his class, his eyes were intensely staring into space before those rose-tinted frames. The grey was the worst time of year. Everything died in the winter.
And yet the crab grass still lived.
Daniel was a detective. He made a career of investigating things. And yet, with the Sword of Todoh, he was lost. Kasumi had yet to find the other sacred treasures of Todoh. And as the cold consumes all plant life, it was clear that the crab grass was enduring, even thriving. It was a mystery of groundskeeping that he couldn't solve. And it ate at his soul. So lost in his inner musings on the crab grass and destiny, that the salwart private eye doesn't notice the woman meeting towards his direction. A small run in, a small bump into the woman. And with only the most casual of glances, Daniel responds with a curt grunt.
"Excuse me, sir."
She'd wave it off if, even the mix-up in gender, "Don't worry about it," said in a tone deep enough to remain ambiguous, "I wasn't--" ... if not for the stark color that catches her eye.
Her trade is subtlety outside of the ring, most of the time, ferreting out little details from the usual clientele in order to win tips-- but here? Subtlety flies straight out the window. What with the overcast sky, the otherwise dull attitude of those passing by, she can't help but be brought to a sudden halt by the glaring contrast of color.
A pause, then-- an almost apologetic half-smile. "I wasn't paying attention," she amends, after that brief pause. "Wish more people wore suits like that at this time of year," added a bit wryly.
Daniel had yet to consider this person to not be a man.
Daniel Jack breaks from his introspection to focus on the 'man' he ran into. The comment on the suit doesn't escape him. "Thank you kindly, I feel the same way. I keep telling myself that these suits will be coming back in fashion. Nothing makes a man swagger than a suit worth walking out in." The detective catches the watch, and inspects the time, before returning it into his pocket. "Name's Daniel Jack, Private Eye. It's a pleasure to meet you..." The detective hold out his hand for a hand shake, but his eyes narrow from behind those glasses.
"Hang on a moment."
The detective inspects, casting a gaze over King. A tall man, definately. Blonde, and very pretty. Almost too pretty. The smile hide something. And as he gives another once over on his body, it hits him. The person had a very feminine build. As Daniel Jack analyzes the stranger, that last clue immediately rings him in. A feminine build. The gruff, vaguely androgynous voice. The hints of a developed upper body, potentially well suited for nursing children. There was only one conclusion what this person was. And with the hand extended, he all but reveals exactly what he thinks.
"Haven't I seen you near the Kyokugen Dojo at some point?"
The analysis isn't lost on her, and it's hardly anything new. All told, it only makes her smile widen in a show of clear amusement, even before he asks his question, brows arching as if to offer a silent prompt.
"Probably," she says, the smile remaining, gloved hand taking the detective's for a firm shake. "I'll give you three guesses on the name, but I'm pretty sure you can figure it out on your own." Withdrawing her hand, she places it back in her pocket, and says, "Pleasure to meet you, though. Hope the style catches on."
"Now hold up there, sir!"
Daniel Jack rumbles, as King turns her back on him. With steady footwork, he rotates around, the shaking hand now back in the pocket. With his posture slack, he isn't quite able to to see eye to eye with the stranger. But the detective straightens his back as he cuts off King, an intense energy held in his eyes. And there, he confronts her.
"Maybe you weren't listening to my name, sir."
The detective sizes up King again, before growling with a tough, steady swagger. "I'm Daniel Jack, ace detective, and the chosen of the Todoh-Ryuu Dojo! As a master of Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu, I'm a rival of your school, of Ryo, of Robert, and especially Yuri!" A fiery passion boils from the tense from of the well-dressed man. Drawing a hand from his pocket, he tightens it into a fist. "But I haven't heard too much from my rivals. So I gotta ask you." And looking straight into King's eyes, he speaks with salt and grit freely. The grass." The detective pauses for a beat.
"How is the grass?"
There's a lengthy pause, then, an almost blank look as she takes in what she's told, saying nothing of the question. Her lips purse not long after that, in a desperate bid to keep from laughing. Thankfully, she succeeds.
"You, ah--" Ehem. "I think you've got me mixed up with someone else," she says mildly.
Given where she is, her old employers are the last people she wants to tip her hand to, no matter how 'out in the open' she happens to be. Granted, the man's pretty outspoken about who he is, but that doesn't mean a damn thing when you're used to dealing with cartels. It could easily just be another curveball.
To that end, she says, "I've got a bar near here, though. If you feel like brightening up the mood in there, you'd be welcome."
"A bar?"
The detective can't help but chew his lower lip a bit. A bar now. That would be something to fight the grey. He could feel it now; warm insides, great seats, a cute girl who probably is a secret agent or an assassin, getting a few whiskey shots down while listening to some of the classics. A nice western-style bar, like they had out in Metro City. Not the weird hybrids they had around here. That man made a strong offer.
But this man had his principles.
"I don't think I got you mixed up with anything, sir." The detective replies haltingly, every word riddling him with pain as he denies himself a nice bar to relax in. "Kyokugen has been giving the whole town problems with grass. That same grass that's been spreading around the city, ruining lives. I've been working hard to stop that grass. Now they've been happy to cooperate in the past;" The detective seems to get taller, as his body gets more rigid and tense. "But I haven't heard a damn thing from Kyokugen about it. I'm starting to wonder if they are taking the grass seriously anymore. And frankly, when one of it's students starts by bragging about how they 'fit in' with the Kyokugen, and immediately back track on it, it makes me suspicious. -Damn- suspicious." The detective cracks his neck, as his eyes narrow.
"Maybe you better start telling me the truth, -sir-"
She gives no tells, no hand-tips, no nothing. Only offers him another smile, mild, calm, and says, "Only grass I know about is the kind they sell around high schools," with a note of that same, wry amusement. She sobers, then, to add, "And I never lied," the more playful tone laid to rest. "I'm just not a big fan of being interrogated out in broad daylight."
Canting her head, she watches him for a time, taking in the expression, the demeanor... For as overblown as it is, there's nothing saying it's not meant to throw her off-guard entirely. If she has anything to thank good ol' Mr. Big for, it's that little lesson.
"Tell you what," she says, then, "swing by the place when you've got some extra time," hand reaching into her pocket to fetch a small, embossed card, the name 'Illusion' written at the top. "Flash this and you'll get a round on the house." Her brows arch. "We might even have some time to talk."
R
Temptation.
Daniel Jack had principles. He had character. He had standards. While the nature of Good and Evil were considered often subjective, Daniel found himself more in the lot of the good than evil. He wanted to learn what this stranger was up to. He wanted to learn why Kyokugen was hiding itself from him. And he was ready to fight a stranger on the street over it.
But then King offers free booze.
It was like a hammer was smashed across that stoic glower. Sweeping the cracks away, there was that look of greed, and thirst. His eyes go big, and try as he might, he can't help but look like a kid that just won a lottery. "On the hou- on the house?" He repeats, as he takes the card. He coughs, clearing his throat, and the look of wonderment is buried under that stoic glower. "Alright, scuzzy. That's a 'date.' But you better keep your word."
"Or you are gonna feel the full Todoh-Ryuu might."
She adopts that same, casual smile again when he accepts, returning her hand to her pocket, even as the rather odd-- promise? threat?-- is placed. "How about a round of pool, instead?" she says, well aware even from just her peripheral vision that the two of them are making for quite the scene, if only thanks to the posturing between them. "Every solid gets you an answer. Stripes? You answer to me. Deal?"
The detective mulls this offer.
He doesn't worry about the bystanders. Daniel has long given up the status of bystander. He stands out, that's his deal. So as he stands out, ignoring the scene he has made, he works with that idea. It sits with him. He cooks it, boils it, samples it. After preparing that mental dish, he finally dines on it. A round of pool, instead of a fight. "I'll take that, scuzzy." He responds. "I'll come over tomorrow. You gonna be there?"
"Always am," she says, with little hesitation, affording him a more genuine smile, at that. "I own the place." Beat. "Oh... By the way?" That smile widens, an almost cheshire grin that brings out the more feminine qualities in her appearance. It's shot to hell with the addendum of, "Call me King."
With that, she turns to keep walking down the street-- pausing only to offer, "Or expect a bad nickname the next time I see you," over her shoulder.
A grin, and-- "See you later, Sunshine."
Log created on 01:54:56 01/19/2014 by Daniel, and last modified on 22:47:48 01/19/2014.