#dvilhunter

"Tha' obvious?"

Tomoko's voice has evened out at the prospect of a smoke, taking the lighter, she flicks it open and ignites her cigarette, taking a deep drag, before exhaling through her nose. Best to come out and ask then. She's got the cash to pay him, and maybe it's best to go in with backup. After all, being called upon by some of the residents of Kabukicho to deal with an encroaching warband of yokai is her idea of a good time and fight.

"Was hopin' ya could back me up on somethin'. I ain't really a sanctioned hunter or anythin', just enjoy a good scrap. Still though, I ain't stupid enough t'take on a warband by m'lonesome. I got th'cash t'pay ya in advance."

Watched as he took the offered sweetroll, a genuine soft smile on her maw. Ears flicker up a little as he spoke, tail slowly swishing behind her. Zeza's tail curled slightly at the compliment, and a gentle giggle leaves her. Clearly amused. ❝Tony or Anthony? Strange names. But my name is Zeza Moon-Stalker! I hail far away. Odd rift I followed in. I was... Curious.❞ She smiled shyly, then began to examine him closer with a little head tilt and a small sniff his way. ❝You smell... Different. Do you hail from Tamerial as well, Anthony?❞

The fae nurse couldn't help but raise a brow at his remark. It was always hard to tell when the famous devil hunter was being serious or not. But she's learned to just go with the flow, it was much easier that way and saved her from many headaches. "Usually if a guy wants to chat up a gal he usually knocks on the door and asks if she's free for a date, not bust through her walls.... Well, at least maybe not in the way you do it." She snorts at her own dirty humor before she goes to start picking up the items that fell.

@dvilhunter x

“Well, darling.” Astaria’s tenor smouldered just shy above the restaurant’s ambient music. “When men like you are around, it’s normally for a spot of chaos with those of us who are different… and not the fun kind either.” While speaking, Astaria reached for a labelless bottle and crimson ribbonned richly into the nearest empty wine glass in a way fine reds never quite behaved. Then, she slid it over the table, doubtlessly inviting him for a drink.

As the man might have already figured, that wasn’t wine.

“Tell me, do mortals usually ask their food for permission before they dig in?”

Cradling her own drink by the glass’ bowl, Astaria turned it in a patient circle, always keeping the essence in motion. It swirled deliciously, in these slow, hypnotic circles. Because a few neglected seconds were enough for the blood inside to turn, betray her.

She couldn’t have that.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that—I’m joking.”

Still, she gave him nothing. Nothing about whose veins were emptied into that wine bottle, or about her usual hunting routine. To those with a less trained eye, Astaria was nothing but a stranger in possession of this rare, aphrodisiac beauty.

❝ HEY, OLD MAN! ❞

Yeah, she's talking to him. The geezer with long white hair, plodding around in the thunder red leather trench coat, with TWO v e r y gorgeous ladies tucked away at his waist like, what, Neva wasn't supposed to notice them?

And even if she couldn't notice those ladies, the smell of them, the weight of their shadows (and lights?), the TASTE of ... brimstone(?) clinging to their muzzles? Well, she could certainly notice @dvilhunter.

❝ Where y'going with all that firepower? ❞

And just what was this hoodie-clad, cigarette-burnt, lightly unwashed vagrant(?) going to have to do to get an invite to go with him?

@dvilhunter says / " so much for laying low. "

the comment earns him a pointed elbow to the ribs, " ⸺shut up. " she hisses and in the same moment, yanks him back down behind the row of CRATES they're crouched behind. there's the telltale click of the safety coming off a gun and coupé's eyebrows draw together in a furrow as she analyzes their juxtapose position. they've yet to be detected, but whomever had suspected someone ( two someone's ) were somewhere they weren't meant to be patrols the desk they'd just been rummaging through from front to end.

the papers are mussed, DISTURBED. but not so much in a way that was telling in what information they were after. that honor belongs to the blinking monitor in front of the rolling chair⸺ there's a rapidly filling progress bar on the forefront of the screen that the goon is beginning to approach and will no doubt notice. THEY'RE ABOUT TO BE FOUND OUT.

" i'll secure the laptop from gunfire, " she tells him in a deliberately low tone, unsheathing one of the blades behind her shoulder, " you'll have to take him out before he alerts the rest of them we're here. "