Title: Poker Face
Summary: Himiko finds Akabane's lost glove, and frankly, she's not surprised. (Slash, sotto voce.)
Villain: Kuroudo Akabane
Theme: #19 a lost glove
Rated: Deliciously wicked
Disclaimer: Get Backers is copyright (Studio DEEN.) No infringement or disrespect is intended by this non-profit, non-commercial amateur work of fan fiction, which is not published for profit or material gain. The author and the posters have no intent to infringe any intellectual property rights held by the owners of existing copyrights in Get Backers or its derivative works.
Himiko finds Akabane's lost glove, and frankly, she's not surprised. (Slash, sotto voce.)
He cut himself opening a chilled juice bottle.
The bottle-opener heaved upwards and the cap with its vicious serrated edges skimmed the back of his hand, slashing open a thin line of blood and then clattering to the pavement. Akabane studied it interestedly for a moment, sucked at the cut to stem the blood, and downed the grape juice in a single movement.
Maguruma, busy making love to his beer, hardly noticed. Himiko was trying to keep her head clear and the WC far away by boycotting a drink, so she said sharply: "Hey, Jackal, where's your glove?"
"Mm?" If unfermented grape juice has the dormant properties of an alcoholic hallucinogenic, Akabane had the power to bring it to the surface. His violet eyes were a little glazed, his tongue tasting his bloodstained lips with a little more pleasure than what could usually be called normal. "Oh, the gloves … I ripped one and lost the other."
He didn't even bat an eyelash.
Neither did Himiko; she wasn't dumb enough to buy such a lame one. She just nodded in her the self-same terse attitude she usually took to him, and added irrelevantly, "I saw Kagami the other day."
If she had expected his eyes to light up like a flickering candle that blazes bright, she would have been disappointed. Bored distaste flitted across Dr. Jackal's mouth, but the hand gently curling at his side as of to catch hold of something, belied his expression.
"Oh?" Calculated disinterest. "Pretty boy and his diamonds are a bit too much of a pain in the rear nowadays. But I thought he was your…" Sly curve of the blood-reddened lips. "Special one."
"You did?" Perfect, innocent surprise. Himiko's face (if viewed by a blind man) could have been mistaken for surprised. "Oh. Oh, you're barking up the wrong tree. He's not my type. Not by a long shot. Have you seen his dress sense?"
Maguruma, who was following the conversation with mild interest, lifted an eyebrow archly. Himiko went on blithely: "Why, just that day, I saw him wandering about with just one glove. Wouldn't even tell me what the hell he thought he was doing with it?"
A minor explosion as a bottle of premium whisky crashed into the pavement. Himiko, mock-perturbedl; Akabane, sympathetic. Maguruma: very green in the face.
—- finis -—