Description: A pair of what are supposed to be bitter enemies have a concert date to engage in the most romantic of activities: Discussing terms! Things go well, until they don't.
To say that the last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind would be an understatement.
Initially, the London police had been keen to punish the pyromaniac exhibitionists that had defiled their public park with their hedonistic arson. After all, one of the pair - 'Steve' - had form for other crimes, and the other - 'Roisin' - was presumed Irish. However, when a certain solicitor by the name of Adolphus Pytho arrived at the precinct where the 'lovers' had been held, the tone changed. The lawyer was known for killing cases in their tracks thanks to some combination of expertise and luck, yet he rarely worked with wealthy clients. It seemed that his services had been retained by another member of Roisin's family. Soon, the Darkhearts' lawyer had convinced the officers to release both Steve and Roisin without criminal charges. A warning had been unofficially issued against future antisocial behaviour, of course.
Tonight, a shower and a fresh tank top and pair of leather trousers later, 'Roisin' still shows the signs of having been in a brawl around one eye, though she's cleaned up remarkably well otherwise. It's an entirely different atmosphere at the Clapham Grand from when she and Steve had started their 'lovers' quarrel' at the Coffee, Cake and Kisses Cafe; some hot new band is set to play the venue, it's dimly lit, and there's plenty of a crowd to go unnoticed in, assuming no one sets anything on fire this time.
'Roisin' is loitering near the entrance to the auditorium itself, partially concealed in shadow, twirling a pair of tickets back and forth between three fingers. Steve will have received a message earlier:
'Roisin@TheMidnightChannel: Meet me @ The Clapham Grand 7 PM tonight <3
Steve and a certain You-Know-Who did have terms to discuss, after all. This, it would seem, might be their Versailles.
email@example.com: I will be there.
Even for his serious dislike of the succubus, the brawling brit was thankful for Lyraelle's efforts to save him another criminal charge. Steve had recieved the message earlier in the day, staring at his phone with a bit of a scoff- She was making another date out of it, huh? Mitsuru would kill him- or cry, if she saw this. Likely both, actually. He was doing this for her sake, however. His body was still rather burnt, battered, and bruised, but covered up with a light blue dress shirt. Below that, he was wearing straight black pants. The dress shirt was not tied up all the way, preventing it from looking overly formal.
Steve would have arrived on time, not making 'Roisin' wait. Greeting her with a stern nod as he approaches. "'Roisin'. Good afternoon." He begins, leaning on one leg. "Thank you for getting me out of trouble yesterday.." Steve admits, rubbing the back of his head. "I've been ere' before back in my professional boxing days. They uh, won't have me back on stage though..."
"Tis' quite chilly, innit?"
She may have a black eye (did he even punch her in the eye?) to show for their last encounter, but the warmth with which Roisin greets the boxer is unabated and unabashed. The tattooed redhead slinks up to Steve's side, proffering his choice of the pair of tickets between her fingers as she sidles up shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The way that her elbow is bent clearly insinuates an expectation that the two will enter on each others' arms, though whether the gesture goes acknowledged or not is up to Steve.
"You're welcome~ And I'm sure that I could get you back in the ring around here if you fancy it. Just say the word <3"
The envious green eyes of the Darkheart scion shift down to the partially-undone dress shirt before returning to Steve's face, a mischievous smirk crossing her glossy lips.
"If you need a hand warming up, just let me know, Stevie. After all, I wouldn't want any part of you getting cold before the show's over - feet especially."
The succubus' tone is dripping as ever with heated innuendo - but if Steve Fox was expecting anything else, he must not have a solid recollection of the pairs' previous rendezvous.
"Gah- You don't have to be so.."
He begins, as she grazes against him. Though then realizing the futility of his protests, he halts. "..Nevermind. Lemme take that off of your hands." He says, plucking one of the tickets out of the woman's hands with a precise, punchless jab. He makes sure to keep his gaze at eye-level with the succubus, realizing what her motion seems to ask of him- And he decides to humor her, intertwining his own arm with Roisin's. "I'd rather not owe you any more then I have to.." The boxer comments, dismissing her offer. Then frowning slightly as Lyraelle catches a peek at his torso.
Well, he -is- pretty ripped.
Steve begins walking with her, toward the entrance ignoring the blatant comment that she made. His piercing blue eyes do look away as a faint redness shows on his cheeks. Stay strong Steve, stay strong. "Tis' a nice place. Ave' you been here before?"
"...'Me?'" Roisin proposes a finish to Steve's unspoken thought with a grin. She doesn't push her luck - or his luck, for that matter - any further when he concedes the ground of entering arm-in-arm, instead settling for a nebulous familiarity that allows any onlookers to draw their own conclusions. Roisin isn't a celebrity; if it were Lyraelle herself accompanying the boxing bad boy, one might expect a mention in the next day's e-tabloids. As is, the greeter doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow at the pair's approach.
There is, after all, only one thing on the man's mind...
...And that's the Arsenal match that's being Tivo'd back at home right now.
Roisin dutifully presents her ticket for scanning, while saying aside to Steve, "Don't worry about owing me, Stevie. Getting you a gig would be business, and I always have a way of getting mine when it comes to business."
She shakes her head when he asks the question about the venue.
"First time~ I hardly ever get a chance to relax and see a show when I'm in London. Taking over the world takes a lot of uptime, after all." She winks. "You always seem like you could do with some R and R when we see each other, Stevie. I hope you're not finding things too stressful. At least you can relax and enjoy things tonight, hmm?"
"..Sure." Steve mumbles as a response, as they walk. Some folks look at him with a recognition, but he doesn't look back. Instead opting to follow Lyraelle in flashing his ticket to the man.
"Hrm. I will keep it in mind.." Truth be told, he is curious. He'd like to get back into the game, if he could. "I've had a lot to worry about as of late- And I in turn can't say that I can really relax tonight either. Gotta keep sharp around ya, I do." He explains, shrugging his bold shoulders.
They walk past the greeter and into the hall, many more visitors filling up the crimson-decorated space. Many on the standing are in the front, others in the seating on the outer rim and balconies. "Where do ya want to go? I'd prefer seating, better talking that way, yeah?"
"Well, that's down to you and your sense of trust, Stevie. I promise not to pull any tricks on you while we're on a date," the scarlet-haired gal tells Steve, before gently nudging the boxer toward the stairs. "We've got seats up there, see?" The spot that Lyraelle indicates looks fairly secluded, though it has a clear view of the stage; it's actually probably an expensive pair of tickets. "We should have plenty of privacy. Shouting your verbal contracts over the band isn't really my style, after all. Lyraelle's, maybe, but not mine." Roisin winks again as she makes the unsettling distinction between the two identities.
"I hope that you've had enough time to think about your side of our little arrangement."
"I getcha, I'll do my best to trust you."
Steve says, as he nods and follows Lyraelle toward the stairs. "Should've expected that much. You do seem like the gal that always wants the best spot." The boxer snickers, though he raises his brow when Lyraelle makes the distinction. "Oh yeah? Huh. Then what is Roisin's style?" Steve questions, as they walk ever-closer to their relatively more isolated seats. His expression turns more serious as the topic arises- It's the important one they came here to discuss.
"Yeah, that's right. I'm quite certain of my request, and I trust that you feel the same way."
Steve's pledge to try and trust her causes Roisin's lips to curve upward at the corners. "Seems like blowing off all that steam has been good for clearing the air," she comments as she eases into her chair with a squeak of leather. "I don't even feel a little bit like a leper right now. Then again, you were a sweetheart when we first met, until all the... awkwardness started." The disguised demonette's eyes linger on Steve's to assess his reaction.
"I'm still figuring out what Roisin's style is. So far, I've figured out that she likes to be a little more mysterious than Lyraelle does. I'm thinking she should have a Queen's English accent, too. A little in-joke between me and her," Roisin remarks as her eyes drift toward the stage, which remains empty for the moment as the show has yet to start. When she speaks again, it's with the accent she mentioned: a posh, 'proper' accent. It doesn't seem especially practiced, but she seems to have a worrying knack for slipping into pretense. "I think she's also secretly a bit of an exhibitionist. Perhaps it runs in the family. Or perhaps it's merely..."
For once, Lyraelle leaves a thought unfinished, before waving her fingers dismissively, abandoning the accent.
"That's the problem with having multiple characters. You have to make sure you keep things distinct, or you just end up playing yourself every time. I should do a playlist for Roisin; I bet that would help. It definitely did with Miss Sakamoto. I mostly listened to Final Fantasy themes."
She flicks her hair back, running her fingertips through it as she puts her boots up against the railing in front of them.
"Sometimes I feel like nobody appreciates the amount of effort I go to. Like a duck, right? Graceful above the surface, kicking and kicking below."
Finally, she returns to the main course of the evening's discourse: "I know what my request is, too. Of course, I think yours is the more obvious and likely less flexible one, so I'll let you go first, and adjust the value of mine to match your exact terms."
Steve's reaction? That of frustration. "Eugh, that first meeting was rough. I wanted to get the bloody hell outta there... but you kept poking and prodding, and Mitsuru couldn't contain herself.." The boxer begins to reminisce. "And that caused both me and her to suffer immensely... And then you decided to make it even worse for the girl.." At this point, he had sat down next to Lyraelle.
"But, nevermind. We've talked about this exhaustively. It was a terrible first impression, and I will do my best to put it behind us." He then listens to Lyraelle explain her.. habit of creating alter ego's. "Roisin seems rather interesting. How many 'characters' do you think you've made?" He asks innocuously. "People might not appericiate the effort because they feel decieved or tricked, I know I didn't. We wouldn't consider the personality, only the costume.."
With a hand on his chin, he states his thoughts on the matter.
Yet they got slightly sidetracked, and he looks Roisin in the eyes as she asks the question. "You're likely correct. My request is simple. Mitsuru- Don't torment her again." The brit stares into those green eyes. "Stop making your plans to get your revenge. If you truly are so obsessed with the girl, you can start with apologizing to her. Or just leave her alone, either is fine." Steve's serious grimace turns into the slightest smirk. "Of course, Mitsuru likely isn't ready to forgive you, even. She's trying to change, trying to trust people again, and trying to get better as a person. I just can't let you throw a wrench in that again..." With that last statement, he looks really downtrodden and pulls his eyes away..
"I still don't think it's fair to say that I made things /worse/ for Mitsuru-chan," Lyraelle argues from behind Roisin's mask, apparently not content to let the matter of their history lie entirely. "I would argue that I took what was an unavoidably poopy situation for Mitsuru-chan and made it /better/... for me. All I did was show her how the things she wanted really were."
She does accept the change in subject to her characters, though - turning toward Steve a little and propping her head up with her elbow against the back of her seat as she focuses her eyes on him so that they can discuss her favourite subject: herselves.
"Oh, it would be telling if I gave away how many versions I have on the go. I'd need something really juicy to hang over your head to be comfortable with that one. Blackmail is key to trust in my relationships." She presses her front teeth into her glossy lower lip for a moment before the desire to share overwhelms her sense of self-preservation. "Let's just say I can't count them on one hand, but I can count them on two. If we're only counting the ones I've made up backstories for and everything. Technically, I could throw on probably a dozen other faces, but I haven't had a reason to so far. I'm still not comfortable playing guys, but I made the effort for that one time with Mitsuru-chan."
Looking slightly smug, Lyraelle (in Roisin's body) rests back against her chair, her arm still propped behind her scarlet tresses. She listens, and as she does, the smugness fades to a half-smirk.
"I figured that's what you were thinking, although I'm honestly surprised you're making an allowance for me to apologize to her, even."
She takes in a deep breath through her nostrils over a pensive three seconds or so, then slaps both hands against her thighs.
"If it makes you feel better, I'll do it, Stevie. I can cancel our nemesis status and give her an apology face-to-face, with you there to chaperone, of course."
Appearing resolved and calm, she turns her face to Steve again, tilting her head against the seat as her green eyes lock with his blue ones. "As long as you're willing to meet my demands in return, of course... o/~"
The Englishman humors the Succubus's narcissism. Being mostly silent in his listening apart from the occasional nod. He does interject once to raise a brow and comments sarcastically. "Blast, you have a messed up sense of how relationships work, 'My Lady'." He's shaking his head for a little while as Lyraelle continues. "That's still quite a few different persona's.."
"Well, yes. I suppose that I'm not the most surprising person you'll meet. I am glad that you've accepted my side of the terms. I might want to speak with the girl beforehand.. If things do get out of control when we speak to her I'll deal with it. No biting back, y'hear?" But with that, Lyraelle begins to lead into her own demand, and Steve nods. "Please, do tell. I am likely to agree to most things for this sake, I'll have to hear it first though."
"Oh, of course. I can behave myself. Even if Mitsuru-chan starts barking like a kitten with an identity crisis again," Roisin coos as she lounges sidelong in her chair, the size and arrangement of the seats allowing enough privacy to give a sense of intimacy to the conversation. The show still has yet to get underway, and a backdrop of top forty hits plays at reduced volume over the speakers, just loud enough to make eavesdropping difficult from any sort of distance.
A smile curls the corners of Lyraelle's lips as Steve makes his claim, sitting up a little and leaning closer. "Most things, hmm? See, you shouldn't tease me like that, Stevie. I might get ideas, and try and push my luck even further than I already intend to..."
Her left hand comes down to rest on the armrest between them, though it stops short of actual contact with the boxer as her startlingly green eyes seem to burn ever closer - though not literally so, this time.
"See, I've been expecting you to try and undersell the value of what you want from me. Or try and appeal to my 'good side.' Hmmm. I might need a sec to think..."
Her eyes shift off up toward the rafters as her lips press together and her head tilts in thought.
A moment later she looks back at Steve.
"Actually, nah. I'll just go with my plan."
She sits up a little so that she can lean closer, both elbows now on the armrest as she brings her face right up near Steve's ear. Then, in a low tone, she whispers, "I want you to write a love letter to me."
The boxer nods. "Splendid." Steve shifts, still a little stiff in his chair. Not exactly as relaxed as the lounging succubus.
With Lyraelle's next comment, he turns his head. "Me? Teasing you? Now there's something I didn't intend nor expected to ever happen.." The words have a slight playfulness to them. "..Though I do not wish to know what's going through your head right now. Take your time to think about it, though.."
The broad-shouldered brit chuckles, relaxing slightly in his seating. "Suppose I have a few surprises up my sleeves, yeah?" Seemingly, he did not have to wait long for her decision. And as she leaned closer, Steve leaned away slightly- Though still close enough to here.
And when the cat is out of the bag, a brief pause falls.
And then Steve laughs, heartily. For a few seconds, in fact. "Oh yeah? That's pushing your luck, is it?" Still chuckling, he says in a joyful tone. "Y'know, I had honestly expected something worse. This is kinda tame in comparison to some of the things that popped into my head.."
He leans on the armrest as he cups his hand around his face, almost looking more relaxed. "Gonna keep those to myself though, I don't intend to give you any ideas. You're grand, you know that? All that build-up.." He shakes his head, smiling broadly "Yeah, that's no problem. I'll write you that letter. Any other conditions, ifs, ands, or buts?"
Uh oh Steve, you should be careful about giving her an inch.
When Steve starts to laugh at her demand, Roisin sits back in her own chair, suddenly looking a bit stroppy as she folds her arms beneath her bosom and blushes faintly. "Oh, I'm sure that I've gone through all the same ideas that have been popping in your head, Stevie, but contrary to what you might think of me, I /do/ have standards. And even keeping things family-friendly, I could have come up with some real mean ones. Like - well, maybe I'll just keep my ideas to myself, too."
Those green eyes of hers look vaguely hurt as what appears to be a crack in the Demon Queen's ego starts to show through.
"Anyway, I don't want you to take my demand lightly! I want you to be as sincere as you can possibly be about it. I want it to be something that I can believe. It's just for me to have. Like a souvenir."
She turns her head up and sniffs.
"I won't tell you anything else about how to write it. Just make it... a love letter from Steve to Queen Lyraelle. Whatever that looks like."
He nods slowly, chuckling. "Yeah, I don't doubt that. Thanks for having mercy- And please do. None of my thoughts would even fall outside of being family friendly.." He brushes a hand through his golden locks. "You ain't as bad as I thought." He then continues.
"I will do my best, yeah. Sincere.. So no lying. That makes things slightly more complicated.." He contemplates, rubbing his cheek. "But not impossible." He states with confidence. It seems that Steve's feelings about the Succubus might not be entirely negative. "I do assume the letter at least has to be flattering or charming, seeing the type of letter it is.." Steve seems to think out loud, before closing the matter for now. "Alright, I got it. It will find it's way to you." Confirming the fact, he leans back into the seat.
"Then all that's settled for now.. Guess I'll try to enjoy the performance."
One of Lyraelle's eyebrows quirks as she glances aside at Steve skeptically.
"None of your thoughts, huh? I'll chalk it up to you being British," the shapeshifted succubus says, sinking into her seat with a thoughtful look on her face, though what might be going on in the Demon Queen's head is left up to mystery.
She does shoot Steve a look when he makes his remark about sincerity making things more complicated.
"Alright, Steve. I know you probably have some less kind thoughts about me, but I'm sure you can make it work. If I wanted pure, superficial, impersonal flattery I'd just check out my curated social feed."
Her fingers drift toward the shape of a smartphone tucked into a carrier at her hip, perhaps due to some urge to do just that, but eventually she settles both arms along the armrests and rests her head against the back of the chair as three bright letters click on above the stage and music starts to fill the air:
"Let's both do. I hear this band is awesome."
Steve falls silent for a few moments, rethinking. "Eh- Maybe not none of my thoughts.. B-But there weren't a lot!" He sputters to defend himself from his own honest statement, gladly taking the opportunity to switch topics when the Queen keeps talking.
"Oh yeah, I can make it work. I have some ideas.."
The boxer confirms, smiling as he leans on his elbow. "C.Y.S, is it? Sweet. What kinda music do they play?" He inquires, as it seems that Lyraelle has at least heard of them before.
"Careful, Stevie. You know how hungry my ego can be," Roisin remarks in relation to Steve's admission. Something about that seems to light up the shapeshifter's fair features as she stretches out in her seat and lounges, lifting her arms up behind her head. "It's good to know you find me at least a little inspiring..." she says with a suggestive tone before winking.
"These guys? I think it's some kinda alt-metal-funk-pop fusion, or something. They're like, surprisingly edgy for a band fronted by a kid who looks like J-Pop's answer to Bieber. I'm friends with the French chick. She's doing a fashion collab with me; it's coming along pretty well. I could probably introduce you, if you wanted, but I'd have to get changed backstage somewhere; she knows Lyraelle, not Roisin. Although, I guess I could just say I'm Lyraelle's cousin, since that's the story..."
Another chuckle. "I'll try not to feed it too much, Roisin."
Steve's gaze moves to the stage, and sticks there for the current moment. "Don't let it get to your head." The boxer remarks, looking at the trio stepping on-stage. "Huh, I see. That's an apt description of the kid- What's he even doing going on tour so young? Shouldn't he be, like, doing child stuff?" He shakes his head, a slight dissaproval. "Get changed, huh? Y'know, I always kinda assumed you did your shapeshifting with, like, magic rather then costuming. Or is it both?" He questions.
"Nontheless, that could be interesting- Only if that's not a bother for her though."
Roisin's eyelashes flutter a few times.
"Oh, don't worry, Stevie. I'll take your flattery straight to the heart."
She lifts her shoulders slightly at the question regarding the youth that provides the 'C' in the band's name. "I dunno, really. I can't pretend to understand everything in the music scene. I guess it's probably his vocals? I mean, overall, I'd guess that they were aimed at, like... the mid-teen Japanese female demographic, probably."
Cameramen and other tech crew members can be seen on the floor as the music starts to build. Roisin leans her head subtly toward Steve, stopping short of the imposition of actually resting her head on his shoulder as she smiles, before blowing a kiss toward a camera that, as it turns out, is looking their way - apparently Lyraelle has some sort of preternatural ability to identify when there's a camera pointed in her direction.
"I might or might not have meant literally changing clothes... but I could show you how it works sometime, if you want. Of course, it'd have to be in private, so it depends on if you're willing to risk being alone in a room with me."
Steve shrugs his broad shoulders. "I guess it just feels weird seeing a kid that young being a big star.." He elaborates. "Just cause, like, doesn't feel like you have time to be a teenager then."
"What are you blowing a- Oh, I see." Following her gaze, he sees the camera. He notices her leaning closer, but decides not to comment on it just yet, moving his attention to her latest flirtations.
"Eeeh, I think... I think I'll pass on that." He hesitated for a moment, a slight blush visible on his cheeks. "And not even because of that risk.. I just don't want to go there." Go where, Steve? Aren't you making too many assumptions? The man scratches the back of his neck
Roisin shrugs her own, more slender shoulders right back as Steve remarks on the disadvantages of being a teen star.
"Eh, I think going through your teens completely unnoticed by literally everybody probably sucks more than having thousands of people screaming your name. I bet even gods would be jealous of that many people worshipping them that hard. Like, have sixty thousand people ever screamed for Jesus at the same time without anyone even telling them to? Has Jesus ever got a billion views on FightTube?"
Lyraelle has never managed to crack that number yet on a single upload; she may be hot, but she's not Gangnam Style hot.
"Some people are just destined for more than a cog in the machine. Most people aren't, but some are. I mean, if they make it big and get rich, he'll have the rest of his life to be a teenager."
The succubus' chest rises as she draws in a deep breath before releasing it as a contented sigh.
"Anyway, that's getting way too 'Circle of Life'-y."
She turns away from the stage to look up at Steve, smirking as she sees that his face is starting to redden for a moment before widening her eyes and batting her lashes innocently. "Don't want to go where, Stevie?" she asks in an angelic tone. "I'd let you pick whereever you want to go, if you'd like it better that way."
The mask of innocence is upheld by the minxy malefactor as she keeps her big green eyes on the boxer's face.
"You can still stand out and be your own person without being world-famous,' y'know?"
Steve said, shaking his head. "I just think you're much worse off being recognized wherever you go, never having a moment to yourself outside of your home- Not everyone is as good as pretending to be someone else then you." The boxer yawned, turning to squint at Lyraelle when she continues her flirtations. "Uh- Blimey, I'm not gonna letcha confuse me, 'Roisin'. You know what I was talking about."
The blush intensified, with the british gent leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not what I'd listen to normally, but I kinda like this band."
"I could, but then everyone would be missing out," Roisin says with a relaxed stretch as she slumps in her seat. In his encounters with Lyraelle, Steve may recall that every move and posture that the succubus makes has a calculated, feline grace, even at rest - aside from when springing into violence. Roisin, on the other hand, seems to hold the same confidence without the tension under the surface of ever-present poseurism. Perhaps it's a case in point.
"It's probably easier for me, true. I can go days without sleep, I can literally fly away if I don't want to talk to someone, and if I want a day off, I can just be a different 'me,' like right now." Roisin gets a glazed, thoughtful look, then admits, "It's still a lot of pressure, though. I mean, a dog sits on your face one time and suddenly it's /weeks/ of damage control." The face she pulls seems to suggest that Roisin regrets even bringing the memory back up.
"Anyway, I'll stop trying to 'confuse' you - in case bringing up Sugargate wasn't enough to clear up any 'confusion' that might have been happening. If you want to talk celebrity sadness, Stevie, here's a thought for you: hanging out like this makes you pretty much my best friend, and you hate my guts."
The self-effacing semi-smirk that Roisin gives is indirect as her eyes settle on the stage.
"They're pretty alright if you can get over the weird factor. I can definitely see what Mitsuru sees in them."
"Heh, you could look at it like that, sure."
Steve responded with a wry chuckle, his squint letting up and turning into a more friendly expression. "I do suppose that's true. But you feel like that pressure's worth it, yeah?" The boxer, for what it was worth, did seem actively engaged and interested in the conversation.
"Nah, I don't hate you anymore, just-"
But before he could finish his sentence, his smile receded, and he looked at Roisin a little more icy then before. "What's Mitsuru got to do with this, Lyraelle?"
Roisin quirks an eyebrow when Steve asks Lyraelle what Mitsuru has to do with this. In the background, the band have just finished a song.
"Oh, well, CYS are like, her favourite band. Just something I picked up in our time together, that's all," Roisin replies quickly, looking somewhat embarrassed. "That's all! I promise."
Meanwhile, the white-haired guitarist of the band steps up to his microphone, taking hold of it.
"THANK YOU, CLAP HAM GRAND! WE ARE CHRIS-YASHIRO-SHERMIE CYS! I'M YASHIRO, AND THE NEXT SONG IS DEDICATED TO A VERY SPECIAL FAN!"
Yashiro takes a moment to pull out a letter from his jacket pocket and unfold it. Roisin subtly sinks into her seat with her lips pursed, averting her eyes from everything.
Yashiro clears his throat before reading:
"Dear Mister Yashiro, my name is Mitsuru-Chan Tokugawa. C-Y-S is my favourite band. I like to listen to your songs when I ride the short bus to the school I go to for kids who are special like me. I am not allowed to listen to C-Y-S by my parents but they said I am allowed to watch your concert in London England because the doctor said the cancer means I am going to sleep for a long time soon. Please can you say hi to me at the concert if you get this letter because I really love your band so much? Please please pee ess I love you the most Yashiro smiley face."
A teardrop glistening in the corner of Yashiro's eye is visible on the screens as they show a closeup of his face.
"Well, we're gonna do one better, special kid! Everybody, on the count of three, say hi to Mitsuru-chan!"
The entire room counts.
The band breaks into their fusion version of the intro to 'Enter Sandman,' the lead riff played on Shermie's keytar.
"This song is dedicated to Mitsuru-chan! Sleep tight!"
By the time that the lyrics start, Roisin is already on her feet, making her way up the steps toward the exit with her arms wrapped around her midsection and her head hung low to hide her face.
Steve felt relieved for but a moment, when Lyraelle made her initial comment. "I suppose that makes sense.." The boxer wasn't exactly listening to CYS when they began their announcement.r
That was, until Mitsuru's name as said- At which point his focus turned utterly and entirely toward Yashiro. A look of sheer disbelief overtook his previously soft expression. "Crikey.." The disbelief turned to a furrowed brow, as the contents of Mitsuru's supposed 'letter' were made clear. There was -no way- this letter was really from here, especially not with the timing of Lyraelle being in the same room- And the timing of Lyraelle just having mentioned her.
As the shout of his friend's name transitioned into song, he stared toward the disguised succubus's seat, only to find her gone- Though as he stood up and scouted around him, he managed to catch a glimpse of Roisin before she slipped out the door that lead to the hallway. Steve stormed after her, and opened the door aggressively- Expecting to be able to catch the Succubus before she'd slip away.
The sound of the door swinging harshly open causes the retreating red-haired figure to jolt and stop, ears twitching subtly in the dimly lit corridor. The look on Roisin's face when she turns around to meet Steve's flaring anger is akin to that of a young girl who's just been caught misbehaving and knows she's about to get a scolding - all lower lip, chin down and lashes lifted - attempting the bare minimum of eye contact.
"Look, I can explain -"
She's still here- Good. He let the door close behind him, and as Roisin made her attempt at 'explaining', the boxer interjected. "What could there be to explain?! You just wanted to--!"
But, he stopped himself. And took a deep breath, looking down toward the red-carpeted flooring. His fist clenched, trembling with.. Anger, probably. "Fine. Explain. You set this up in advance, didn't you? You must have."
Roisin takes a deep breath of her own through her nostrils, meeting Steve's gaze fully as she slouches against the wall. She bites her lip thoughtfully for a moment and lowers her eyes and sighs before looking back.
"Yeah, I did. I set everything up. I knew Mitsuru liked the band, so I got to know Shermie professionally, then I got them booked in here - months ago. I had that letter arranged to be sent from near where Mitsuru lives to the band a week before the show, and I made sure that the gig would be filmed so Mitsuru would probably see it."
Roisin's cheeks flush lightly as her eyes lower - the shapeshifted succubus actually looks somewhat embarrassed at the situation.
"I knew if I came with you here there was a chance it'd look like you were on a date with a sexy badass redhead, and Mitsuru might notice, and it might make her a /little bit/ jealous, but I swear I /totally/ forgot about the letter and I definitely wouldn't have done it now that - you know - you were saying you don't hate me, and stuff..."
A sharp, exhale of frustration- As he turned toward the wall, resting his fist against it. The Brit looked pained, more then anything. "I believe you." He eventually muttered, turning back toward the redhead.
"But, bloody hell- I'm impressed at your ability to ruin the one 'normal' interaction we've had."
Shaking his head, he continued. "For crying out loud, I shouldn't be surprised at the pettiness that went into putting this crap together- But I am. Guess I fell into the trap of trusting you, if only for a few minutes."
His eyes close, and a hand comes to scratch his head. "But damn is it hard to get proper mad when you seem remorseful about it.."
Roisin's eyes turn up hopefully toward Steve's face when he starts to simmer down, her lips frowning slightly when he says that she's ruined their 'normal' interaction. She slips a hand up under her hair to scratch at her neck as he continues, before lowering her eyes again.
"I mean, let's be fair - the whole 'not sleeping' thing means I have way more time on my hands than most people - but I'll admit, it was a little petty for such an ingeniously crafted plan. And coming here with you was kind of my last shot at Mitsuru before the ceasefire kicks in, where I could have claimed I'd had no idea she would've seen it, because maybe having the last laugh is too important to me."
She looks back up at Steve with a vanishingly rare sorrowful expression.
"You keep trusting me and keep forgiving me because you're a good person, Steve. That's what makes you such an easy mark for a bad person like me to take advantage of. I've had that much figured out since we first met. You were defending my honour and you didn't even know me."
She looks as if she's about to put a hand on Steve's shoulder, but hesitates.
"I promise, I'll keep my word about not bothering Mitsuru anymore. You don't have to write that letter, either. I might've used it to make Mitsuru feel bad, or I might've just kept it around to make myself feel better, but neither of us deserves that."
She turns away toward the end of the hall that leads out toward the entrance and exit, thumbs tucking into loops on her leather pants as she looks about to slink away.
"And I'll apologize to her when you're ready. Pay for the tickets and everything, so we can do it in person. Everything else we talked about... it's up to you what you want to take away from all this."
"..Yeah, you're pretty awful, alright."
Steve commented drly, after having taken in her words. "And with someone like yourself, I have no idea if the good things I saw of Lyraelle were real or fake." He should be angry. But his eyes, for the most part, remain downcast, with his hands finding a place deep within his pockets.
Affirming her promise with a firm tone, the Brit sighed, deeply. "At least you're being honest, Lyraelle- It almost makes you likable. But until I know how much your prank will affect the girl's life, I won't know how to feel."
A slight smirk slips between his depressed face. "Guess that should be one of my take-aways here- To be more skeptical." The betrayed boxer paused, but at seeing his 'date' about to leave, made a final remark.
"Have a safe trip home, yeah?"
Roisin pauses as Steve bids his farewell to her, a half-hearted smirk of her own crossing her lips as she looks back over her shoulder at him. "What, in case I get mugged in London? They don't even have guns here, it'd be as scary as a free pizza delivery."
She sticks a thumb up, a candleflame of green hellfire briefly igniting from it as she winks, before adding as she turns and saunters on, "You be safe, too, Stevie. And have a good rest of your night."
Log created on 17:37:21 01/29/2022 by Steve, and last modified on 10:46:21 05/10/2022.