#ene01

     Another strike out; he'd make the worse batter in the world look like a golden boy. The women in this city were far too.. dignified. Even in the Belladonna district, the investigator always had rough luck. When he could manage to hit a home run, the chick would be a six or seven at best. After each score, he'd bench himself at a bar and wait around impatiently, on the prowl for another perfect ten to come about. After the ten rejected him, he'd follow after a nine. Thereafter an eight. Each numeral decline mirrored the decrease of his sobriety level. Speech began to slur and explore the octaves he could reach; a pink hue running across his upper cheeks met at the bridge of his nose.

     With his toxicity level on the rise, he could feel the heat of vexation and impatience rise from the acidic trap of his stomach to the roof of his mouth. The contempt in his veins violently coursing from each dirty glance to his surroundings. The snarl at his lip birthed from the sounds of laughter and drunken piano playing. Angered thoughts whirred around in his mind far more quickly than the walls of the bar. He could feel the pressure between his temples growing with no sign of ceasing until his head burst. 

     Downing the remainder of his drink, his chair gave complaints as it's legs scraped across linoleum floors. A slim tip for the sleazy bartender from his yellow jacket served as his goodbye to the tavern. Heavily shoving the metal door, Adachi took a few steps into the underground district and lifted his hood at the hint of droplets from a moody sky. He could only smirk as a hand cradled half of his features, finding it fitting that in a time of self-pity it would rain.

     The mirth ended soon after he began his disgraceful stride, self-sympathy taking all present awareness from his surroundings. Fortune did not come easy, if at all, to the detective; this he was in full understanding of. What he couldn't understand was how his simple tastes couldn't be met by anyone he thought had those qualities. He wanted his ideal woman, craved her. Someone with a friendly smile and a kind laugh. Someone submissive.

             Someone.. like her.

     A figure in all blue elegantly passed through blurred vision. Legs, long and toned. Eyes bright and cheerful. He loved the way her lips moved when she spoke on her phone. The sight of her was almost intoxicating. Thoughts of doing impurities plagued every thought of her while he trailed her like security. She turned the corner and he followed soon after. After all, girls like her shouldn't be out alone at night. Girls like her shouldn't be in a location like this, especially. Girls like her.. girls like her.

     She turned the corner into an alleyway and as he caught up behind her, impulse lead him to take grasp of her wrist.

                                  Look at me...                                            LOOK AT ME.