GOLDEN EXCELLENCE

Murder He Wrote...? [Closed @ Jhin]

The pressure had let up ever so slightly, but there was a somewhat uncomfortable attention now fixated on Nero. Not that he didn’t like a certain level of attention from potential partners, but what was problematic was the nature and intent behind this Jhin’s focus. Narrow, binding, almost… predatory. As if any moment he would pounce and do something that the broker wasn’t sure he’d entirely enjoy.

A little smile, tinged at the edges with an artificial giddiness brought on by the booze in his systems. “I see, then that’s alright then~” Words upturned with the traces of a euphoria that was quickly fading the more that Nero observed the minute movements and behaviour of his companion. Listening to Jhin’s complaints, the broker shook his head as his fingers twitched, idly wondering if having a little more was ill-advised. “Not to my knowledge. There are law enforcement professionals of a nature here, although they’re zombified so whether they’d be very effective in a chase remains to be seen.”

Realising something, Nero can’t help but say it. “I suppose you could call me one of the people supposed to deal with these things. Drafted into it, as it were, since in another life I’m an information broker. When things are need to know, I know your need and have information to give. It’s a much more difficult job here, though, where I’m far less well connected.”

A thoughtful hum slips past his lips, drawn out, accompanied by his free hand rubbing at his jaw. How much further could he push this? Just how out of it was his companion? What would he remember in the morning? Jhin lets his head weigh over to one side, still keeping his stare on Nero as if completely enraptured by the man. “... Zombified?” For a second, there’s genuine confusion in his voice-- as if he’s never even heard of such a thing.

Still. He pushes his thoughts away from it, deeming it nonsense for now-- perhaps it was some curse or some other fantastical thing along those lines, that ruined their efficiency in a chase. Not that such a thing would matter. He simply would not be the first on the scene, nor did he intend to let anyone discover him in the middle of a performance. What a nightmare. “My. And yet you’ll share it so generously with me?” A quick change of subject sets his mind at ease, calms his fidgeting, stops him from oh so slightly digging his fingers into tan flesh.

“I thank you kindly.” He would’ve bowed, had the situation allowed him to, but alas. He settles for something less innocent, a slow drag of his fingers down along Nero’s wrist, to him palm. “For telling me this, despite your business. It can’t be good to simply share everything like this, can it?”

artmastered

Caravaggio, Narcissus, 1597-99, oil on canvas, 110 x 92 cm, Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica, Rome. Source

It took a while for scholars to agree that the painter of this piece was Caravaggio; and even now, the attribution is still disputed by some. Narcissus, with its simple yet balanced composition, is one of just seven mythological works by the artist believed to have survived - according to John Varriano - though the painting still lacks any real narrative.

#ART;

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BioShock Cohen’s Masterpiece

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Murder He Wrote...? [Closed @ Jhin]

Part of Nero’s bleary mind knew he was saying the name incorrectly. When it had come from the other’s mouth it had sounded like a song, a gust of desert wind smoothly flowing. When he’d said it it sounded like a brick, or more accurately like the exhaustive amount of alcohol he’d just consumed. Heavy and dull. He’d have to try and amend that, when his tongue was its usual quicksilver and not so stupid as it was proving tonight.

Hand stuck, gently reassured by Jhin, Nero’s mind was waging war with itself. On the other hand, this one certainly had to have some level of interest if he was keeping grip for so long, and it was a rather interesting reaction he’d displayed. On the other hand, his word and his sturdy grip didn’t match in the slightest. If he was not so eager why would he try to remain so close? Was it better to pull away, or stay in place? He allows himself a small smile, a tiny masquerade as his mind searches for a potential way out. “Forgive me, the alcohol has made me far bolder than I usually am. It’s simply hard to find company quite so… shall I say, engaged in the conversation as I am?”

There is an odd tremor of excitement in the other’s voice, but for now Nero doesn’t think very hard on it. After all, if the man has questions, he has answers. “Not long at all: only a scant couple of weeks, really. As for this place itself… it has existed as long as the denizens of that room where I presume we all signed our contract willed it.” He refuses to answer why he came to this place: it’s a rather personal matter, after all, and right now he’s not nearly close enough to anyone to divulge the nature of his wish. “In terms of defence there have been other demons contracted here… but as far as I am aware yes, we Persona-users are the last stronghold against the darkness.” If their strength as a team managed to hold.

“Oh, no need for any forgiving. You weren’t wrong-” He was. But Jhin had an act to keep up. “- after all. Just... A bit hasty.” Slowly, so very slowly, his grip on Nero’s wrist relaxed, growing loose enough that he’d easily be able to pull away from the artist if he so wanted to. The closeness was... worrying, in a way. It made Jhin so very aware of the tiniest twitch of muscles in his face, how his smile had twitched into something strange, a predatory edge to it for the few moments he’d lost control.

As if he’d been the one drinking.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t worried. Nero’s drunkenness was a strange comfort, one that made him a bit more lenient with staying true to his role-- as unacceptable as such a thing usually was, something nagged at the back of his head as if to remind him that it mattered little at the moment. When he had his true passion within arm’s reach, so to speak; when it’d been so long since his last performance. “I should hope there aren’t any troublemakers, then. It can’t be easy to keep an eye on both those shadows and any...” A pause. “... would-be criminals. I’d have hoped there was... someone to deal with those things. They, ah, tend to put one on edge.”

Murder He Wrote...? [Closed @ Jhin]

At those words, Nero swallowed slightly. They barely knew each other and here the other was, making his intended activity for the evening extraordinarily clear. The deliberate, daring tone was enough to get one’s heart racing, especially after an evening of alcohol. The broker settled back into his seat, quite unused to being the pursued party.

“None at all, really. You’ve been a model citizen.” There it is again, those watching eyes of the other. Sympathetic and listening, but Nero couldn’t shake off the sound of that laughter. Empty, and strange. And if he was here for a one-night stand why was he playing so coy one second then daringly seductive the next? Was this some kind of game to him? If so, the broker would play along. Alcohol had loosened his inhibitions, but he had never been one to back down from a challenge.

“Jhin…” There was a strangeness to the name, something foreign and unique. Certainly not a name Nero had heard before. He took the offered hand, oddly rough along the fingers but with palms soft to the touch. How strange… what profession did this imply? It took a few seconds before Nero noticed he’d held the offered hand far too long, internally cursing himself for forgetting something so simple. “In any case, if you are not here to chat or drink, is there any use to us not simply beating around the bush?” Too overtly forward, too daring, but Nero wanted to see how the other would react.

Wrong. The way Nero’s tongue curled around the syllables of his name sounded wrong, just the tiniest bit off. But it was enough for him to tense up, fingernails digging into his cheek, forming crescent indents; as his eyes twitched into something akin to distaste for but a moment. Still. He let it slide, let his expression ease back into something more palatable and let his fingers rearrange themselves to cover the marks as naturally as possible. Calm yourself, Jhin, no need to give oneself away over names.

“Beating around the bush?” His fingers sought themselves further up, curling around Nero’s wrist the moment the man began to pull back. Locking him in place. Oh, this was bad. The more his drunkenness showed itself, the more daring Jhin became, oh-so-gently urging him closer. “I think you’ve misunderstood-” His laugh was little more than a humored huff. “Sorry, I- Ah, I shouldn’t laugh. I may have come off as a bit more eager than I was in actuality.”

Jhin’s grip stayed locked around Nero’s wrist, a surprising strength behind it for one who looked so... slight. “There’s still more I want to know about this place. How long has it been here- how long have you been here? Why?” He wanted-- no, needed to know more. He had to know more about this hellishly cold place. “Are we really the only line of defense against anything and everything?” ... Oh, he sounded just a bit too excited there.

Murder He Wrote...? [Closed @ Jhin]

Nero couldn’t help the study, really: it came part and parcel with his nature. It’s why Nero was so good at what he did. A good info broker was well-connected, but a great one needed to be able to sift the diamonds from the coal, and here was a particularly nice diamond for the potential taking. Still, sometimes it was good not to be so obvious in his intent, so for the moment Nero concentrated on the drink before him in small, steady sips.

Still, one had to grin. “Don’t feel too obliged to stay here on my behalf, or we might be up the whole night talking, and as a new arrival you might want to get some rest.” Although Togami HAD said to look after all of the new arrivals, and the handsome man before him qualified. Besides, Nero was definitely interested, whether the other could provide information or something a little bit more… physical.

The smile on his face faded quite a bit at the question. “No, no, drinking this recklessly alone in this bar was begging for someone to ask that.” Pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, Nero sighed as he took another sip. “This place is infuriating, truly. They’ve kept us on edge for weeks now with this godforsaken contract and the promise that we’ll save the world and other such bullshit, and here we are twiddling our thumbs waiting for these creatures to come out of the woodwork for us to slay.” Another large swig. “It’s all a man can do to stay relatively sane here, having to play babysitter and watchman to everyone that comes and goes. But forgive me, you’re not here to hear me go on and rant all evening. Let’s talk about more pleasant things, like meaningless idle niceties and then onto something more interesting. I’m Nero, future owner of the Velvet Lounge. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Oh. Maybe... I was hoping that all that staying up wouldn’t be just for talking.” The words came out slow, deliberate, just a tad strange; his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the last syllable, head craned to the side just so, the meaning of his words inescapable. “Sorry.” He wasn’t.

Jhin’s attention was focused on Nero, and Nero alone, his chin set in his palm as he listened with rapt attention-- the man’s voice was pleasant, if nothing else, but the words rang familiar in his ears. Shadows. Contract. It’d been weeks, hm? He faked a look of sympathy, or perhaps pity, brows raised and half a smile on his mouth as he nodded along. “No, no, I asked. No need to feel like you’re complaining. I do hope you don’t feel like you’d have to play watchman with me, though-- I’d hate to cause you trouble.” Oh, he lays it on thick, as nice and innocent and caring as he could manage.

“Oh, I’m...” What name to give? This Nero certainly didn’t know who he was, what his reputation entailed, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to afford himself some comfort in his role. “... Khada. But, please, call me Jhin.” He extended a hand towards the white-clad man, eyes lingering just a tad too long on his ensemble, something strange in his gaze as if he was trying to repress a thought from being put into words. “And I’d think the pleasure’s all mine.”

ggbits

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Murder He Wrote...? [Closed @ Jhin]

To startle was fine, and the drinking helped disarm others, as if to say Relax, I am one of you, I lower my defenses just as you do. Besides, it was not a mistake Nero was likely to make again. Right now, he was watching the minute details. Even inebriated he did his best to pay attention to the little things as they spoke, although he kept being distracted by errant - that musculature - thoughts flying - that voice - around his head - what a lovely face - like so many flies.

Right now, though, he was focusing on the words. Often, phrasing and tone were an important part about determining what a person was like. For example, what kind of man came to a bar specifically not to get a drink but find some company, when there were all manner of people to run into upstairs? Obviously, someone looking for a very specific type of company. But of course, that in itself brought up the question of the power balance. Inebriation affected decision-making, and this man was choosing not to partake, meaning possibly he wanted to be extremely clear-headed.

Nero’s smile narrowed just a fraction. “Looking as you do, I’m sure you don’t. I’ve not got much going on this evening anyways, so if you take a seat I’ll do my best to entertain you. There’s water and soft drinks behind the counter as well, if you’d like.” Perhaps now was the time to see whether this man was genuine, or whether his story was as hollow as his laugh.

There it was, that awful feeling of being studied, of being judged as the gears turned inside the stranger’s head; a prickling reminder of self-loathing creeping up his neck at the undivided attention. Still. The smile of his lips didn’t falter in the slightest, the outward mask he wore remaining as perfect as always.

“Charmer.” He mumbled, eyes averted in a momentary show of shyness, as put on as the rest of his current personality. “Can’t say no to an offer like that, now can I?” The artist tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes narrowed in mirth as a replacement for that laughter that’d sounded false even to Jhin’s ears. It wasn’t something he couldn’t fix with an excuse of nervousness, with an act of insecurity, little things to lull his temporary companion into a sense of superiority.

He seated himself at the bar, the few steps taken to get there flowing with a practiced ease; long legs crossed at the knee oh-so-elegantly. He hadn’t quite stooped to seduction-- not yet, at least-- but planting the seed and gauging the reaction that such an obvious show garnered couldn’t hurt. Why, perhaps that role would be less dull than the one he’d chosen, as short-lived and inconvenient as the flirtatiousness tended to be on Jhin’s part.

“Drinking alone can’t be that fun. Forgive me for prying, it really isn’t my place, but...” A short pause. “... Did something happen?”

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Murder He Wrote...? [Closed @ Jhin]

@fourthshot

This was probably a terrible idea. That thought was running through Nero’s mind as he took a large sip of his third cocktail of the night. The first had been a martini, in a pretense of class. The second had been a Long Island Iced Tea, to wash away the taste of the first. The third was a Sex on the Beach because frankly it was his favourite and no one was here to judge him anyways.

Part of him knew this was a terrible, terrible idea. The bartender had been glad for a break when Nero said he could mix the damn drinks for himself, so it was just Nero, the components for his cocktails, and the walls. He was taking another sip (more like a swig), when someone walked in and made Nero nearly spill his drink. After all, when one is thoroughly inebriated and has a certain type, and that certain type has walked through the door, it is forgivable to be a little on edge.

Putting the drink down, the broker walked toward the stranger with a smile a little wider than he’d usually wear. “So, what… brings you here?” … Piss. Bloody, bloody hell. What kind of a line was that? What brings you here? It was to DRINK, obviously. “Sorry, you’re here to have a drink and the bartender’s out. I mean… I could mix you something, if you don’t mind. That I mix, not… not that you have a drink.” The broker’s tolerance had become far worse than he remembered. “Anything in particular you had in mind?”