drear | OPEN SEASON 2.

I do.

[the smile from earlier's gone by now, and Chrollo pulls on his jacket before continuing.]

What held you up earlier? I nearly told everyone you got sick and we'd have to regroup.

[ hisoka watches the shoulders of the jacket slide over chrollo's shoulders. excellent cut. could look better on the ground. ]

Other pursuits, I'm afraid. ♦ I lost track of time.

[these "other pursuits"...whatever they were, Chrollo can't imagine they're more important than showing up for his job, and the suddenly revealed chill in his voice could freeze blood. the irritation he's been nursing for a while flares up and shows itself in his eyes.]

Don't do it again. Next time, I might find it worthwhile to replace you.

[as much as it would pain him to lose that particular, striking look, his threats can't appear to be idle ones. that he hadn't called in someone else to do the shoot was gracious enough. but Chrollo's lying about all of that. Hisoka hasn't been replaced yet, even if his actions would have gotten him dropped long ago. and that he carries off Chrollo's work without complaining about it...there's something to be said for it.]

Edited 2016-03-11 07:21 (UTC)

[ hisoka only smiles a little wider. he holds the rose between two fingers, index and middle, and steps closer. ]

You could never.

[ he's still taller than chrollo, even not back in his heels. but he makes an effort not to loom, standing just far away enough that chrollo can look at him without craning his neck. ]

I'm valuable to you, as you are to me. ♥ [ hisoka extends the rose to him, again, to his lips. ]

Would you really like to know, Mr. Lucilfer, what I was doing?

[this time he's not so quick to take the flower, letting it rest there. the break in his neutrality is smoothed over, always ever fleeting when it comes through. not that he didn't feel it still - it just wouldn't do any favors to leave it visible.

Mr. Lucilfer. so he's being serious.]

I would.

[even if it's absolute nonsense, he wants the facts.]

[ hisoka doesn't let go of the rose this time, keeping his hold on the stem. ]

Well... [ he turns the rose, spinning the stem between his fingers so that the petals brush against his lips. ] ...I have another occupation, you see. A job and a pastime. ♦

Is it too much to ask you what this job and pastime is?

[reaching up, he holds the rose still, not taking it but not allowing Hisoka to spin it anymore. maybe, if he lets go, Chrollo will take it again. (he will.)]

[ hisoka stops trying to spin the rose, but doesn't let go. ]

You may ask, of course. ♦ And I'll tell you.

[ only after a long pause, though. ]

Do you know how it feels to end a person?

[careful though his expression is, this close, Hisoka can see the way tension starts in Chrollo. the way his eyes slightly narrow, the hardness in his posture, the press of his lips together-

before he turns away, letting go of the rose, shoving his hands in his pockets and striding away to leave.]

If you're trying to tell me your other job is being some kind of murderer, I don't buy it. Call me later if you want to tell me the truth.

[he needs time to calm down, anyway. time to reassure himself that old fears were baseless, that there was no possible way. that everything was left behind to rot and was nothing more than old bones now. his entire image was built on secrets. ones only he held the key to. paranoia had never seized him in the past, and he doesn't intend on letting it do so now.

home. that's where he'll be able to relax.]

[ "some kind of murderer"—oh, he's hurt. ♥ but hisoka lets chrollo leave without comment, only smiling and crushing the rose in one fist, thorned stem and all.

later that night, standing on the rooftop of the building he's currently living in, hisoka calls chrollo. it's not so late that it's improper to call, but it's getting there. ]

[he picks up without looking at the screen, distracted by the book in his hands instead but knowing it might be something important. the photographer, maybe, or Machi with some news.]

It's me.

[ hisoka doesn't identify himself, just begins speaking. ]

Were you upset with me when you left? ♠

[damn. he should have checked who it was. now he has to fully pay attention to what's being said.]

If I was upset with you, Hisoka, you'd know it.

[unsettled, yes, but not upset.]

[ hisoka hums, a sort of 'of course' noise, before continuing. looking out over the city, he wonders if chrollo is nearby, if chrollo lived in a place like this when he killed for the first time... (he wonders if chrollo enjoyed it.) ]

I didn't lie. ♦

[all the details, even the verbal admission - Hisoka hadn't earned it from him yet. there's still enough space to feign innocence, no real confirmation that he knew, and he sets the book aside, turning down the page to mark his space.]

You think I'm going to believe that.

[except that, in the pit of his stomach, he knows he does. if it was true for him, why not Hisoka? it would go a way towards explaining that unnatural pull he had.]

[ he does think chrollo is going to believe it. it hadn't been just frustration when chrollo turned away from him earlier. hisoka can feel it. he smiles to himself at the thought—chrollo, beautiful chrollo standing above someone's body, his hands wet with blood. or would he be neater about it? perhaps a little of both.

he takes a moment to calm down before replying. ]

You don't have to. But you already do.

And you know this for fact.

[exhaling slowly, Chrollo walks over to the living room window, phone to his ear.

pity it's so much harder here to make someone disappear. especially someone with a recognizable face. (he could never, would never, it'd be too likely it'd be him that ended up gone, he needed that look, but the impulse is strong even if it's been years.)

this isn't a conversation he wants to have over the phone. this isn't a conversation he wants to have at all, but definitely not over the phone.]

Or is it just one of your predictions?

Edited 2016-03-12 03:05 (UTC)

Don't my predictions always come true? ♥

[ because they're not really predictions, they're statements based on observations careful understanding. and he's good at it. ♦ ]

[this Chrollo knows, and it feels like a needle - or the edge of a playing card - dragged down his skin.]

...Let's say you're telling the truth. Why would you tell me where anyone could overhear?

Who would believe me? Even you say you didn't. ♣

[another silence passes before Chrollo speaks again.]

Hold on.

[the line goes dead, but not a minute after that, there's a text that comes through for Hisoka - an address, actually, and under that one line.]

This isn't a conversation for cell phones.

[ ah. hisoka takes his phone away from his face and looks at the message.

he could, of course, use a burner phone, but why turn down an invitation from chrollo himself? hisoka sends him back a smiley face.

the address isn't that close, but hisoka shows up within half an hour, dressed in a fresh set of clothes (a few shades of blue), and holding a bottle of good wine. ]

[it's a great risk, he knows, inviting a self-confessed killer over, but in his own apartment, he knows where everything is. he knows where he's hidden weapons if need be, he knows how to safely get out of a few of the windows. it's also a psychological advantage - it's his territory, so he won't be the one out of place.

easy to slip back to this line of thinking, he wonders. easy to calculate with the same cold efficiency he might judge and discard fabric with. just in case, he deletes the message and the history of the call from his phone.

Hisoka's let in through the front door, and when Chrollo actually answers the door of his apartment, he's wearing the same neutral expression he'd left with earlier in the day. granted, his style's more casual - t shirt instead of turtleneck, scarf around his forehead less neat and more thrown on - but the air around him is such that the differences might as well not even be there.]

You got here quick...shoes off, if it's not a hassle.

[when he lets Hisoka inside, he'll be the one to shut the door. surprisingly, Chrollo's place isn't some sort of gothic cave - it's warmer, a place that feels more like a home than it might even if things are modern with windows that look towards the city, books idly scattered around - one there, a pair over there. the one peculiarity is that there are no photos. where they might be, a few places in frames, there are small artworks instead. no indication of what might be there either.]

You invited me. I wouldn't make you wait.

[ a joke, of course, and with a sardonic edge, considering hisoka had made chrollo and the rest of his crew wait earlier today.

but he takes his shoes off at the door without a fuss. he offers the wine to chrollo (the cork is sealed with wax), then walks past him to explore the room. ]

[the gift's accepted with a small nod of his head - it's appreciated, even if it hadn't been expected - but Chrollo goes to put it in to the side, retrieving a pair of glasses even if he's making no moves to open it yet.

it's clean, quiet. a place for someone living on their own who was fully accustomed to doing so. modest without being minimal, color drawn in by the covers of the books and the choices in art. by the book closest to the couch is a still warm mug of coffee - what Hisoka'd roused him from with the phone call.]

Not what you expected?

[the question comes when he returns, taking in the odd sight of Hisoka - bright, eye catching Hisoka - in his space.]

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