| botongju |

  “One would have to be pretty … imaginative to conjure such an image out of thin air,” Kore replies lightheartedly as her amused gaze tracks the progress of the two … interesting characters as they make haste for parts unknown. “But since this is Las Vegas and all, having a parade sprung on us all of a sudden isn’t that far-fetched of an idea.” 

  Definitely not any stranger than what the city itself has to offer.

   “IMAGINATION’S NOT THE ISSUE HERE,” he told her, biting back a sardonic chuckle as his gaze shifted to where she stood, calmly but analytically taking her measure. Human ... or not? “I DON’T KNOW. MAYBE ... BUT ON THE BUSINESS SIDE OF THINGS, IT SEEMS MORE LIKE A SHODDY MOVE ON THEIR PART — BAD FOR BUSINESS AND ALL THAT.”

How he wished things were different. In another time - another place - Junsu would have happily greeted him with a smile, ushering him through the door before he’d even opened his mouth to ask if he could come in. But the humans had gone out of their way to destroy the intimate , close bond he’d once shared with his precious charge, the torture they’d inflicted upon Junsu as cruel and as evil as it came. They’d wanted to test just how far an ailuran was willing to go in order to save his human, and Ki-Woong … He’d been prepared to throw his life away for the boy. But Junsu had had no idea what was truly going on, finally seeing the tiguri for the animal he was. So his reaction to his unexpected arrival … Well, it was expected. But that didn’t make it any less harder to swallow. “Oh, just admiring the view,” he answered after a while, flashing a small, fleeting smile. “Is that against human law now?” They had so many laws that keeping up with them all proved impossible.

“Why don’t you come and get them yourself?” He cocked an eyebrow, jingling the keys for added effect. Sure, he could have easily handed them over, but then it would prove as yet another barrier blocking his pathway to Junsu - and he had far too many to crash through as it was. “What? Afraid I bite? Don’t worry, J. I’ve had all my rabies shots.”

      WHAT would it take to drive the cat away for good? He should’ve gotten the message by now. He should’ve figured out by now that he wasn’t welcomed here. If he’d truly wanted Ki-Woong around, Junsu would have deliberately left him with a way to contact him. But he hadn’t. “THE VIEW,” he repeated, arching his brow in skepticism as he decided then to tackle the problem of key retrieval head-on, struggling to find the best solution among the many godawful ones. “I DIDN’T REALIZE LONG, DREARY HALLS WERE YOUR KRYPTONITE. I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW OVERWHELMING LAS VEGAS MUST’VE BEEN FOR YOU.” It was nonsense, and Ki-Woong undoubtedly knew that. But that obviously didn’t stop him from stirring the pot of ridiculousness with his farcical replies.

“It’s Vegas, hon,” the blonde replied, watching the costumed people walk by with a grin. “I’m sure there’s a party or something happening with a ridiculous dress code. Of course, the only way to find out is to ask them. Would you?”

    “SOOOOOO ... WHAT YOU’RE SAYING IS IT’S VEGAS’S DOING,” he replied, boyish grin in full view. One of the many hazards of moving to such a ... colorful city, he supposed. 

“Oh, you’re not,” she replied amiably, gazing after the two … interesting characters sauntering along the opposite side of the street. “And the sad thing is, I’m not even that surprised - this kind of thing seems to be quite common in Las Vegas.” She’d moved there soon after graduating from the University of Colorado, landing her first job, and the first thing she’d realized about her new home was that it held a plethora of interesting characters, desensitizing her to the strangest of situations. “Not that I know,” Jaclyn added, chewing her lip in thought. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. I haven’t had time to watch the local news channel lately.”

     “HOW CAN YOU NOT BE SURPRISED?” Junsu remarked curiously even if you saw a similar sight often, it was only natural to let surprise dictate your actions. Or maybe that was just him. “I COULD LIVE IN A CLOWN MOBILE AFTER RUNNING AWAY TO THE CIRCUS AND STILL BE SURPRISED WHEN I SEE A WHOLE GANG OF CLOWNS PILE OUT OF A TINY CAR.” If truth be told, he’d rather live on the streets than in a clown car — could you imagine how crowded it’d get after awhile? No thank you  — but it was as good an example as any.

He’d found him.

After days of searching every nook and cranny of Las Vegas, frequenting places he assumed Junsu would visit at least once, he’d managed to stumble upon his scent, a surprising discovery found amidst too many unfamiliar - and offensive - scents to count. But it was a scent he’d recognize anywhere … and he had. A fact that had incited the cat inhabiting his body, urging him to trace it all the way back to the boy’s home. Patience should have been the name of the game, but it had been too long since he’d last laid eyes on Junsu’s face, and with him already in sight … it was time.

“Looking for these?” He cocked his head, very feline in nature, as he dangled the keys before the boy’s eyes, lips curving in satisfaction at having successfully located his human charge. And if he thought he’d be letting him out of his sight anytime soon, he had another thing coming.

      RECOGNITION ignited almost as soon as the first word left the creature’s lips. Closing his eyes — and ears — to the familiar sound and sight of his childhood friend, Junsu debated feigning ignorance and finding another way into his apartment. But short of breaking down the door — and honestly, he wasn’t even sure he was strong enough to get the job done — or punching through the glass of one of the windows — again with the strength issue — there was no other way inside; not that he could think of, anyway. “WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE?” He muttered, not quite meeting the other male’s eyes as he held his hand out for the keys. Because if he did, there was no telling what expression he’d see on Ki-Woong’s face. Smugness, maybe? 

❛   doubt it.   ❜   his dark gaze TRACKS the banana and whoopee cushion’s progress as they cross the street and steadily make their way toward another intersection.   ❛   unless your power lies in the dream world — because very seldom do two people dream the same, damn thing.   ❜   just because he’s regaled, or disregarded, as a god of war doesn’t mean he’s stupid. he just chooses not to evoke wittiness unless the situation warrants it.   ❛   rather than a parade, i’d say they were heading toward some kind of costume party.   ❜    he SHRUGS, indifferent to the situation. it doesn’t involve him, so why should he care?    

❛   you afraid of losing your mind?   ❜    the way he worded that GIVES off the impression that he is.

    “WHAT POWER?” Junsu was quick to retort, still quite sensitive to the term power and what it could possibly mean for his future. He’d had one of the worse experiences of his life because of something unordinary, and he rather disliked the idea of the unordinary being attracted to Las Vegas ... But he could also understand why they would be, considering the wildness of a city that often catered to the strange and the wicked. “I’M AS ORDINARY AS THEY COME.” How worrisome to think his newfound conversational partner wasn’t, though. “BUT IF I COULD INFLUENCE YOUR DREAMS, I’M PRETTY SURE I COULD COME UP WITH SOMETHING A LOT CLEVERER AND MORE INTERESTING THAN A WALKING BANANA AND WHOOPIE CUSHION.” Anyone over the age of five probably could.

      IT had been an incredibly long day, the minutes seeming to drag on as he stood in line at the DMV in order to not only renew his license but to change his address, something he should have done within days of first arriving in Las Vegas. And now that he was standing in front of the door to his studio apartment, it should have been over and done with. But instead of relaxing after such an exhausting day, he was frantically rummaging through his pockets in search of his lost keys.

— “I am. I am. I really want to know  — no, need to know,” the young manticore gives an earnest nod, determined to convey this need through will power if action alone doesn’t work. “That sounds … like a lot of instructions to follow. Can you show me?” He offers the menu to the other male, expectantly waiting for him to take it.        But then one word suddenly catches his attention, its unfamiliarity bringing a confused frown to his lips. “What’s a bah-chee?” He sounds the unfamiliar word out, frown deepening at his misfire there. 

    HE could tell. The anticipation was practically written all over his face. “ARE YOU A FOOD JUNKIE OR SOMETHING?” As ridiculous as that might sound, food junkie was a thing — maybe not as bad as drug addiction, but it rated up there pretty high as a potential health hazard. “IT’S NOT THAT HARD. JUST ... UGH. HOLD ON.” Taking the menu in hand, Junso retrieved his cell from his back pocket and adeptly punched in the seven-digit number. And when they answered on the second ring — the very restaurant they currently stood in — he uttered without preamble. “YEAH. I’D LIKE ONE ORDER OF PORK BULGOGI AND A SIDE ORDER OF KIMCHI, PLEASE. NAME’S JUNSU. THANKS.” With that, he ended the call and turned to give the other male a small, encouraging smile — tinged with amusement and slight disbelief for the fact that he’d had no idea how to order takeout. “SEE? EASY.”