drear | OPEN SEASON 2.

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.]

[ it's not a bad place, certainly, but hisoka judges very little anyway. he turns to chrollo, head tilted. ]

It's nice. [ he walks across the floor towards chrollo, pausing a foot or two away. ]

You won't have a drink?

It'd be rude of me to have one without offering it to my guest first.

[plus, Hisoka's reaction would tell him if it was altered or not. not that he thinks the man would kill him - not yet, anyway - but to prevent suspicion over the larger matter at hand, he'll indulge in some over smaller ones.]

[ ah, of course, of course. the wine doesn't have anything in it, but hisoka lets chrollo have his caution. ]

Then I'll take a glass, of course.

[ assuming that chrollo is offering, that is. ]

[his answer is nothing but a light smile before Chrollo goes to open the bottle, busying his hands with that task. with his back to Hisoka, he can speak again.]

So, what I'm meant to believe is that you were late today because you were out...what, killing someone?

[it's easier to say it when he's not looking at him, when the wine's pouring into the glasses, and then to hand one to Hisoka. Chrollo's keeping it to himself that he rarely drinks wine, but when he turns back around, his eyes are locked on Hisoka's.]

[ "killing someone"—how awfully inelegant. but true, as it is. hisoka takes the glass and sips it carefully. ]

Yes. Busy, I'm afraid. ♦

[ he gestures with his own glass at chrollo's. ]

It's good. Try it.

[at Hisoka's request, he does take one sip. just having it, not touching it wasn't going to fly, he sees. whether it tastes good or not, he doesn't know - but he'll assume it's fine, if Hisoka's deigning to drink it.

taking his glass, he moves to sit on the couch, looking up to see if Hisoka will follow suit.]

And how are you so sure I won't just call the police or something like that? Because you trust me?

[because he could. he very well could. he would never in ten years, even if Hisoka had shown up covered in blood with that same maddening smile on.]

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