[ It's a little chilly in here what with all the vents, prime art preservation temperature, yadda yadda, but would that be enough to reason away the shiver that gets out of him? Maybe, maybe not. ]
Kicks for kicks, then. I like it! I like you.
You don't have to tell me to keep getting better either--I won't stop doing my best just because there's a chance you'll be the one hot on my tail, hm? If you can't catch me fair and square then that takes out all the fun~
[ Gregor will get a good view at that wide, toothy grin before the butt's carelessly discarded and the mask is back up and secure. Now that he knows there's a lot less on the line this time around he can allow himself to enjoy it as much as he wants. ]
[And with that said and done, they proceed to beat the tar out of each other, with Greg positioning himself very sexily on the floor, sprawled on his back and winking at Akira before he slips out.
no, wait, first he grabs Akira's discarded butt, and then sprawls out. No point leaving evidence behind, and there's only cameras at the door to monitor who comes and goes, so doorway or vent, Akira's easy breezy. Never mind that Gregor gets his pay docked for a month straight, and reduced hours besides; totally worth it, for just the thought of more intense nights on the job and more kids getting a better start in life, a chance at beating the system.
Is it too much to hope that his next guarding gig might bring him close to the handsome thief again? Absolutely, but they don't just throw Zwei fixers around for pittances; that's money, that is, and money gets the best protection a chunk of mushroom could ever want.
Not just any mushroom, mind. And only a chunk, harvested from an infected employee, nurtured, cared for, and completely mundane bar its colouration. But it's still something that could inspire frenzy, could get quite a pretty penny, and so, here the Zwei are. Here Gregor is, lighting a cigarette, watching the walls with intensity. As if Faust hadn't given him a barebones lecture beforehand, warned him that he'd be booted out of the Association altogether if he let another threat slip away.]
[ It's both a blessing and a shame that Zwei is here tonight. A shame because this is one of those targets he'd really like to take his time with, to sit, admire, observe, learn everything about it that he can before the inevitable handoff so he isn't left wondering with that curious itch that always takes months to start fading. But no, no, with security like this he needs to get in and out as quickly as he can, just get his hands on the thing and bolt.
And yet, there's also the chance that handsome stranger will be here. Another curious opportunity that, were he a wiser man, he would ignore and just do what he came here to. He's had a number of successful jobs for lower stakes prizes since that night but this would be a big score, would no doubt pay him enough to let him take his time planning the next big score, and then maybe he could hope Zwei is there too along with his oh so intriguing swordsman to chase him down...
Ugh. A lot of maybes, hopes, and if's. Whatever happens tonight happens, he can daydream about dashing lawmen when he's not already crouched in a hallway shaded by night straining to hear the slightest sound of footsteps.
Unlike the museum this place hadn't been open to the public beforehand, so he had no chance to come in and touch everything he could to learn both the layout and security's positioning. He thinks he's starting to get a hang of how Zwei likes to spread themselves out, though, so it's time to test that theory by doing a few things the old fashioned way.
A ball bearing, small enough to be otherwise inconspicuous but heavy enough to make a noise, is getting carefully tossed around the nearby corner. The plan is, of course, to let any guards within earshot come investigate while he slips by and heads down where they had come from.
not coming. Approaching, certainly, but only a little; as much as he's intrigued by Akira, if this is just some schmuck trying the oldest trick in the book, then there's no point in wasting the job he's busted ass and lost an arm for.
Instead, Gregor yanks a golden button off his overcoat and flicks it in the direction the ball bearing came from, waiting patiently. It'll either scare off anyone without the stomach for actually being caught, or at least make shit more interesting. And while he waits those few seconds for his gesture to be registered, he's just going to light up and clear his throat. Just waiting, keen and sharp.]
[ Cheeky. Smart, respectable, but still cheeky. Now he knows for sure a guard is posted there, and this guard knows for sure someone is here, so there's little point in playing the waiting game hoping they'll think it was all just their imagination and go back to idling by the corner.
Trying to peek somewhere even newer than the museum is a risky move, one he'd been avoiding thus far. But maybe a quick look, low to the ground, just to see if he can get a better idea of exactly what kind of person he's dealing with--a real bruiser, someone built more for speed, that sort of thing. Might be worth it. A gloved hand slides carefully along the wall next to him and he lets his eyes slide shut, concentrating on finding a spot within his reach...
...And his eyes snap right back open when he feels something else very, very interesting.
Gregor will wait a few moments undisturbed in his watchful silence, when all of the sudden a strange feeling itches at his flesh and bone palm. Itch, itch, like something's moving across it, and then pulling open.
Should he investigate, he'll find a familiar red eye set in his skin, beaming right up at him. ]
[Oh, it is so, so fucking ridiculous, the way his heart skips a beat when he sees that vibrant red once more. A risky rendezvous, if one can even call it that, and yet Gregor's still grinning like an idiot, mechanical thumb rubbing at the skin right below the bottom eyelid.]
Ha. You owe me, bucko.
[His name and more besides, probably, but the name'll do. That can come later, after the game; already Gregor's mind is whirling about ways to start that won't completely render the pilfererrrrrr useless, but will get across his response, his chase beginning. Not jamming the cherry of his smoke into the eye, that's too much. The chase ends if the quarry's dead or rendered grievously injured.
Hm.
Depending on how sharp the senses shared between eye and origin are, Akira might feel something stinging in his eyes, but in the sort of way that hurts good, saliva in a scratch. A blunt sting, all over the surface of the eye, gently rough and wet for just a few seconds. And then Gregor's boots start echoing down the hallway, closer, clomp clomp clomp.]
[ Maybe just as ridiculous as the giggle he lets escape when he hears those boots approaching, jolted further into attention by that oh so intriguing stinging sensation. So eager, so excited, all thoughts of his original prize pushed firmly into the backburner as he's faced with the promise of a chase.
Out of the shadows darts an arm, all in black just as before, snatching up the discarded button before retreating back into the darkness with a soft tp-tp-tp headed in the opposite direction. ]
Before he really takes off, he gives one last cursory look behind him, in case Faust's there with that placid disapproval on her face. Nope, coast's clear. Fuck it. Fuck it, life is too short and he deserves a challenge. Gregor lets out a soft little chuff, before turning the corner very normally and politely and
proceeding to break into a sprint, even if his sight's a little hindered by all that shade for a man in black garb to hide within. He's even making a pointed effort to keep his weight in the balls of his feet and the toes of his boots, to try and keep his own sound down just to hear any Akira sounds.]
[ Thankfully backtracking, while not productive in getting where he should be, is productive enough in choosing routes to best keep this game to the two of them. This place isn't quite as large as the museum but it makes up for it in twists and turns in the comparatively narrow hallways, a mixture of rooms with doors that may or may not have already been open beforehand, filing cabinets, quietly humming vending machines, we may just deadass be imagining something like the stanley parable office don't worry about it.
One such vending machine sits in the middle of the first fork in the path that's been chosen, barring any of the doors Greg's already passed. Left goes down a hallway more cluttered with possible things to hide behind while the right is a cleaner, straighter shot forward. Straining to listen, there's no telltale sounds of shifting, stepping, or giggling here to go by.
He could go down an endless spiral of trying to predict what Akira would think his course of action would be when choosing his path, but he won't. Although the straighter path would be the smarter path for any other thief willing to end this quick, and perhaps for a thief who wanted to really challenge themselves alone, it simply isn't fun, is it?
The fun part is the clutter. The options, the sheer number of cover that he can destroy in search of his quarry. Like a simple little filing cabinet, which he skewers with the zweihander and lifts off the ground, as if he's checking for Akira within or behind it. Is. Is he really going to do this all the way down the hallway?
Yes he is. Though he's careful to aim that huge fucking sword away from anywhere his prey could actually hide, at least away from his vitals at worst.] Come out come out, wherever you are. I gotta get that name of yours, fella.
[ None of these poor office supplies stand a chance. There's no sign of his prey anywhere, though, even as he's getting close to the end of this particular hallway. Where on earth could that slippery little bugger have gone...?
Gregor might have an idea if he can feel long fingers sneaking into the pocket keeping his lighter from behind. ]
[Honestly, grabbing him almost anywhere else would've landed a much longer reaction time. The lighter, however? His precious, nigh-empty lighter? Oh no. Ohhhh no. Even if he has to drop his zweihander in order to grab the wrist hopefully attached to the hand those long fingers are sprouting from, Gregor will.
And he'll yank it forward and around, in an effort to come face to face with Akira, at least for a few seconds.]
[ Thank goodness the fingers, hand, wrist, arm, everything is indeed attached and able to be whirled around, a moment of visible shock quickly giving way to a pleased smile as the thief doesn't make any moves to escape from that grip just yet. ]
[ How very trusting. He doesn't intend to break that trust, at least not intentionally, because surely that would mean an end to any possible games in the future. He just can't help but notice, so incredibly charmed. ]
All you wanted was my name, isn't that right?
[ Cautiously, making sure it isn't read as trying anything funny, his fingers try and worm their way between Gregor's. ]
it takes a second, maybe two, but. He allows it eventually, chuffing and looking away to redirect his embarrassment some.]
--anyway, mm. I tried to introduce myself properly, but someone decided they wanted to go and cut me off, so I had to change tack. ...Glad you decided to skip all that this time; didn't really feel like jabbing you where it hurts, again.
[ Oh, the big bad Zwei's embarrassed at a little hand holding? How cute. ]
I didn't know if you were just playing with your food before beating and cuffing it. You understand.
Buuut, you've kept your word so I have no problem keeping mine.
[ His other hand comes up just as cautiously, reaching for the mask as he leans in ever-so-slowly to bring it down and his lips as close to Gregor's ear as the other man will allow. ]
Still am, y'know. But you're doin' the same, with less cuffs, so I don't feel like we're less equal for it, personally.
[Puff puff puff. His eyes dart around in the darkness, looking for other silhouettes (and giving himself a second's grace, still flustered as he is), before he hooks his head against Akira's to murmur against his ear in turn.]
Gregor. Pleasure's all mine, Akira.
Now I've got my pound of flesh, you wanna resume things? If I'm gonna lose my job, I might as well make my last night on the beat fun.
[ Somehow even cuter, despite the confirmation that Gregor does indeed see this as playing with his food. Maybe because of it? He's never met a lawman quite like this, and it's endlessly fascinating him, stoking the excitement swirling in his head and gut for learning more and more in the future-- ]
[ He thought that was only a one time show of mercy, of goodwill, for no hard feelings in the future and the consequences that came with it so long as it was fun. He was always going to do his damndest to avoid capture, sure, but the idea that Gregor is ready and willing to lose something like this just for him... ]
...Say we were to get you back to your post, no witnesses and nothing to connect you to...this. [ A tilt of his head to indicate all the stabbed and strewn about office supplies, still keeping the two of them hooked together. ] And I leave without touching anything.
I don't, it's game over altogether. More fun to let you go and not completely eliminate all chance of gettin' to fuck around on the job like this.
[He sighs softly, mulling over that proposal as if they're not holding hands and as if he's not risking discovery with each second that passes like this.] I'd be bored all night, I guess. And I'll catch a bit of heat for property destruction; it's clear it was done by a sword, and who else would do that but Zwei?
But we ever meet again, it's gonna be the same story. You'd hafta give up the game, or at least vet targets more thoroughly. And I'd be pretty pissed, getting blueballed like this. Just doesn't feel like it's how it should end, does it?
[ Practically nuzzling against Gregor's face turns to letting his head flop into the crook of the man's neck with a frustrated sigh. ]
I don't want it to be the last time we meet like this. I want to get better, to stretch you out even thinner, just like you'd said...can't very well do that if you lose your job or if I keep the training gloves on just because I like you so much, huh?
[Gregor lets it happen, relishes the contact for a second or two, before peeling away with as much dignity as he can possibly muster and finally relinquishing Akira's fingers.]
Is there something I could nab off you now, that wouldn't go leadin' back to you but might look like it does? Or--
[Time to use his fingers to pull out a cigarette, light it up, and hastily offer it. This is worth using lighter fluid on, for sure.] Smoke this. I'll burn the shit outta the filter, and act like it's gonna lead somewhere all the same. Shit, I'll smoke it right after, make sure it's all my spit in there on top of yours.
[is
is that even how it works??? Testing for DNA and shit? He's not really sure, actually.]
[ Unfortunately this Akira isn't a doctor, so he's got about as much of an idea how it works as Gregor does. Which means as far as he's concerned it's a great idea. Eyes widening as it all clicks together and everything.
He quickly takes the offered cig and gets to work, though a thought hits him and there's a moment's pause for an abrupt snrk. ]
One of these days we'll have to properly kiss, you know.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Kicks for kicks, then. I like it! I like you.
You don't have to tell me to keep getting better either--I won't stop doing my best just because there's a chance you'll be the one hot on my tail, hm? If you can't catch me fair and square then that takes out all the fun~
[ Gregor will get a good view at that wide, toothy grin before the butt's carelessly discarded and the mask is back up and secure. Now that he knows there's a lot less on the line this time around he can allow himself to enjoy it as much as he wants. ]
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no, wait, first he grabs Akira's discarded butt, and then sprawls out. No point leaving evidence behind, and there's only cameras at the door to monitor who comes and goes, so doorway or vent, Akira's easy breezy. Never mind that Gregor gets his pay docked for a month straight, and reduced hours besides; totally worth it, for just the thought of more intense nights on the job and more kids getting a better start in life, a chance at beating the system.
Is it too much to hope that his next guarding gig might bring him close to the handsome thief again? Absolutely, but they don't just throw Zwei fixers around for pittances; that's money, that is, and money gets the best protection a chunk of mushroom could ever want.
Not just any mushroom, mind. And only a chunk, harvested from an infected employee, nurtured, cared for, and completely mundane bar its colouration. But it's still something that could inspire frenzy, could get quite a pretty penny, and so, here the Zwei are. Here Gregor is, lighting a cigarette, watching the walls with intensity. As if Faust hadn't given him a barebones lecture beforehand, warned him that he'd be booted out of the Association altogether if he let another threat slip away.]
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And yet, there's also the chance that handsome stranger will be here. Another curious opportunity that, were he a wiser man, he would ignore and just do what he came here to. He's had a number of successful jobs for lower stakes prizes since that night but this would be a big score, would no doubt pay him enough to let him take his time planning the next big score, and then maybe he could hope Zwei is there too along with his oh so intriguing swordsman to chase him down...
Ugh. A lot of maybes, hopes, and if's. Whatever happens tonight happens, he can daydream about dashing lawmen when he's not already crouched in a hallway shaded by night straining to hear the slightest sound of footsteps.
Unlike the museum this place hadn't been open to the public beforehand, so he had no chance to come in and touch everything he could to learn both the layout and security's positioning. He thinks he's starting to get a hang of how Zwei likes to spread themselves out, though, so it's time to test that theory by doing a few things the old fashioned way.
A ball bearing, small enough to be otherwise inconspicuous but heavy enough to make a noise, is getting carefully tossed around the nearby corner. The plan is, of course, to let any guards within earshot come investigate while he slips by and heads down where they had come from.
But who all will come...? ]
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or
not coming. Approaching, certainly, but only a little; as much as he's intrigued by Akira, if this is just some schmuck trying the oldest trick in the book, then there's no point in wasting the job he's busted ass and lost an arm for.
Instead, Gregor yanks a golden button off his overcoat and flicks it in the direction the ball bearing came from, waiting patiently. It'll either scare off anyone without the stomach for actually being caught, or at least make shit more interesting. And while he waits those few seconds for his gesture to be registered, he's just going to light up and clear his throat. Just waiting, keen and sharp.]
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Trying to peek somewhere even newer than the museum is a risky move, one he'd been avoiding thus far. But maybe a quick look, low to the ground, just to see if he can get a better idea of exactly what kind of person he's dealing with--a real bruiser, someone built more for speed, that sort of thing. Might be worth it. A gloved hand slides carefully along the wall next to him and he lets his eyes slide shut, concentrating on finding a spot within his reach...
...And his eyes snap right back open when he feels something else very, very interesting.
Gregor will wait a few moments undisturbed in his watchful silence, when all of the sudden a strange feeling itches at his flesh and bone palm. Itch, itch, like something's moving across it, and then pulling open.
Should he investigate, he'll find a familiar red eye set in his skin, beaming right up at him. ]
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Ha. You owe me, bucko.
[His name and more besides, probably, but the name'll do. That can come later, after the game; already Gregor's mind is whirling about ways to start that won't completely render the pilfererrrrrr useless, but will get across his response, his chase beginning. Not jamming the cherry of his smoke into the eye, that's too much. The chase ends if the quarry's dead or rendered grievously injured.
Hm.
Depending on how sharp the senses shared between eye and origin are, Akira might feel something stinging in his eyes, but in the sort of way that hurts good, saliva in a scratch. A blunt sting, all over the surface of the eye, gently rough and wet for just a few seconds. And then Gregor's boots start echoing down the hallway, closer, clomp clomp clomp.]
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Out of the shadows darts an arm, all in black just as before, snatching up the discarded button before retreating back into the darkness with a soft tp-tp-tp headed in the opposite direction. ]
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Before he really takes off, he gives one last cursory look behind him, in case Faust's there with that placid disapproval on her face. Nope, coast's clear. Fuck it. Fuck it, life is too short and he deserves a challenge. Gregor lets out a soft little chuff, before turning the corner very normally and politely and
proceeding to break into a sprint, even if his sight's a little hindered by all that shade for a man in black garb to hide within. He's even making a pointed effort to keep his weight in the balls of his feet and the toes of his boots, to try and keep his own sound down just to hear any Akira sounds.]
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One such vending machine sits in the middle of the first fork in the path that's been chosen, barring any of the doors Greg's already passed. Left goes down a hallway more cluttered with possible things to hide behind while the right is a cleaner, straighter shot forward. Straining to listen, there's no telltale sounds of shifting, stepping, or giggling here to go by.
What will our handsome swordsman do...? ]
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He could go down an endless spiral of trying to predict what Akira would think his course of action would be when choosing his path, but he won't. Although the straighter path would be the smarter path for any other thief willing to end this quick, and perhaps for a thief who wanted to really challenge themselves alone, it simply isn't fun, is it?
The fun part is the clutter. The options, the sheer number of cover that he can destroy in search of his quarry. Like a simple little filing cabinet, which he skewers with the zweihander and lifts off the ground, as if he's checking for Akira within or behind it. Is. Is he really going to do this all the way down the hallway?
Yes he is. Though he's careful to aim that huge fucking sword away from anywhere his prey could actually hide, at least away from his vitals at worst.] Come out come out, wherever you are. I gotta get that name of yours, fella.
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Gregor might have an idea if he can feel long fingers sneaking into the pocket keeping his lighter from behind. ]
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And he'll yank it forward and around, in an effort to come face to face with Akira, at least for a few seconds.]
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Well hello there.
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[His grip slackens, enough to be friendly instead of a true restraint, and he winks jauntily.]
Y'know...
I think you owe me. I intend on collecting.
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All you wanted was my name, isn't that right?
[ Cautiously, making sure it isn't read as trying anything funny, his fingers try and worm their way between Gregor's. ]
You never told me yours either.
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[ah
fingers
it takes a second, maybe two, but. He allows it eventually, chuffing and looking away to redirect his embarrassment some.]
--anyway, mm. I tried to introduce myself properly, but someone decided they wanted to go and cut me off, so I had to change tack. ...Glad you decided to skip all that this time; didn't really feel like jabbing you where it hurts, again.
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I didn't know if you were just playing with your food before beating and cuffing it. You understand.
Buuut, you've kept your word so I have no problem keeping mine.
[ His other hand comes up just as cautiously, reaching for the mask as he leans in ever-so-slowly to bring it down and his lips as close to Gregor's ear as the other man will allow. ]
Akira. It's Akira.
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[Puff puff puff. His eyes dart around in the darkness, looking for other silhouettes (and giving himself a second's grace, still flustered as he is), before he hooks his head against Akira's to murmur against his ear in turn.]
Gregor. Pleasure's all mine, Akira.
Now I've got my pound of flesh, you wanna resume things? If I'm gonna lose my job, I might as well make my last night on the beat fun.
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Wait a second, lose your job?
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[At this level, they can't afford consistent failure. One was enough. Two would be Too Much.]
Sure, I could go be a Fixer anywhere else, but I won't be at these sorts of places anymore. One last fling, going out with a bang, all that.
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[ He thought that was only a one time show of mercy, of goodwill, for no hard feelings in the future and the consequences that came with it so long as it was fun. He was always going to do his damndest to avoid capture, sure, but the idea that Gregor is ready and willing to lose something like this just for him... ]
...Say we were to get you back to your post, no witnesses and nothing to connect you to...this. [ A tilt of his head to indicate all the stabbed and strewn about office supplies, still keeping the two of them hooked together. ] And I leave without touching anything.
What would happen then?
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[He sighs softly, mulling over that proposal as if they're not holding hands and as if he's not risking discovery with each second that passes like this.] I'd be bored all night, I guess. And I'll catch a bit of heat for property destruction; it's clear it was done by a sword, and who else would do that but Zwei?
But we ever meet again, it's gonna be the same story. You'd hafta give up the game, or at least vet targets more thoroughly. And I'd be pretty pissed, getting blueballed like this. Just doesn't feel like it's how it should end, does it?
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[ Practically nuzzling against Gregor's face turns to letting his head flop into the crook of the man's neck with a frustrated sigh. ]
I don't want it to be the last time we meet like this. I want to get better, to stretch you out even thinner, just like you'd said...can't very well do that if you lose your job or if I keep the training gloves on just because I like you so much, huh?
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Is there something I could nab off you now, that wouldn't go leadin' back to you but might look like it does? Or--
[Time to use his fingers to pull out a cigarette, light it up, and hastily offer it. This is worth using lighter fluid on, for sure.] Smoke this. I'll burn the shit outta the filter, and act like it's gonna lead somewhere all the same. Shit, I'll smoke it right after, make sure it's all my spit in there on top of yours.
[is
is that even how it works??? Testing for DNA and shit? He's not really sure, actually.]
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He quickly takes the offered cig and gets to work, though a thought hits him and there's a moment's pause for an abrupt snrk. ]
One of these days we'll have to properly kiss, you know.
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