hitsuzen

Ugh. Whatever. “Do you know where this hotel is located?” He has a picture and a name, but the address below has been unfortunately smudged by a splotch of coffee. The flight attendant had been apologetic enough, but that wasn’t certainly going to fix this up.

His green eyes wander over to the windows of the bar. It’s black outside, save for the beads of rain that cling to the glass’s surface.

Then she waves her hand for another drink leans over to nudge the other man in the ribs.

He suspects that she knows the same as he takes another long drag on his cigarette.

And while she might draw some sort of perverse pleasure from smacking his buttons, she appreciates the conversation all the same.

"That’s… not the first time I’ve heard that," he admits. Alternatively, this woman is exceptionally good at teasing others. Perhaps it is a combination of both.

"Child?" Ginoza mutters, trying his hardest to sound like he isn’t being strangled.

Now, he’s almost certain she’s pressing him just to get a reaction. It doesn’t make him any less embarrassed, but he manages to steel his nerves to add, "Now you’re just enjoying yourself at my expense."

"Have fun! Live a little." Yuko traces shapes in the air before her with the end of her kiseru. "No one else will do that for you, you know." She places the pipe in her mouth, inhaling the aromatic smoke and winking at her companion.

He’s taking longer drags on his cigarette, averting his eyes from Yuko’s enthusiastic expression.

"I… have no interest in that business, nor did I come here for matchmaking advice."

But when Yuko speaks again, he’s glad that those words never left his lips. Wise words from a wise but mischievous woman. Ginoza physically reels away from Yuko, wishing that it was the alcohol that was talking to him instead.

"A cute one like you, though ..." The woman exhales smoke into the air, leaving the sentence to hang for a few moments before returning to it, "It's too bad, hm?"

It’s his turn to raise a brow when she pulls out her kiseru (he averts his eyes as she reaches for it). A part of him wonders if she knew he was a smoker.

"Oh?" She blinks in slight surprise, deciding to answer his question first. "Well, yes. A good life is one of the few things one cannot wish for." There is only so much others can do for oneself, isn't there?

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a single cigarette and lighting it silently.

"Hardly strangers?" he repeats, as if experimenting with that notion, after taking a long drag on his cigarette. But it’s true, and he knows it; it’s inevitable that they end up bumping into each other a second time around unless —

Ah, best not to get too ahead of himself.

How curious.

But the woman doesn't comment and instead grins. "I don't mind in the slightest, dear!"

He practiced this, tried to memorize every detail he could see or find. He wasn’t supposed to make himself into an utter embarrassment on his first step in Rome. He just can’t. 

He stares right back at her.

"And we're hardly strangers, darling." She stretches languidly, yawning. "All meetings are important, be they large or small -- and we've introduced ourselves, haven't we?"

"Ginjo," he says, as if testing the name out. He knows it’s an alias, but that’s beside the point, before nodding to the exit of the bar. Outside, rain drums on the sidewalk; he figures it’s enough of an answer to her question.

"And, as a matter of fact, it does." Yuko smiles at him again, leaning forward on the counter so she'd be looking less at the top of his head and more at his glasses-less face.