Truthfully-- honestly? Naki wasn’t one to sit down and just... chat.

He’s fumbling just a bit, hands always finicky with no means to satisfy antsy urges. Eyes were staring straight ahead, putting forth the effort to keep his attention on Marciano, but he had to admit that it wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable in doing. Gradually, hands would come to join together with thumbs being the only thing that fumbled. Fiddling quite literally, Naki tried to lean back within his chair with lips pulled into a slight frown.

After all, it’s not every day he’s called into another’s office (though, it’s sure seeming like it.) and there’s no reason to be difficult... 

“So uh-- yeah. ‘M here. Now what?”

... yet.

He’s not exactly displeased, but he’s making it clear enough that he has better things to do. Now how true of a statement this was, it was definitely up for debate. Certainly, he’s trying just enough to seem respectful (or as respectful as someone like him could.) towards Jura’s father, but there were simply some things one couldn’t help but let happen. Almost lounging, Naki was swift to fix his position just enough, once more, by crossing one leg over the other.

(that should be good enough, yeah? i dunno what the hell to even say.)

“Jura’s not here, so... I’m guessin’ yer, uh, here, instead?”

Man, this wasn’t going to end well. He felt it in the pit of his stomach.

“I mean, I can jus’ leave if ya don’t need anything. It’s been like, what? Five minutes?”

              The rumour mill tonight is abundant with noise. And then again, Yakkara’s entirety is a district of noise upon noise, and vices in the delightful numbers beyond which Lilium even cares to count. The place is nothing like the quiet, floral resplendence of his home, or the lazy urban world of Badon he has left behind--but he sees there is true value, sometimes, in toeing the lines of more unfamiliar, more unvisited lands. He stands out here, and doesn’t mind a bit that he looks quaintly unfitting for a city of neon lights and loud voices and endless rolls of the dice--it sounds to him like there’s someone else in and amongst the unseen crowds that stands out even more, all of a sudden.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

It’s been... a while since he was straightforward with anyone that wasn’t Junichi. In a way, it has him feeling oddly vulnerable and naked. He wants to wrap his arms around himself, curl himself into a fetal position within his chair, and be alone. Yet, all he does, is remain idle (almost like he’s been frozen in place.) with hands laying flat on desk.

“You asked a question, and I gave you an answer. I wasn’t even trying to be coy this time.”

And it was the truth, but something continually had been prodding and poking at Ren’s insides. He closed his mouth, tasting the weak aftertaste of blood before raising his head. How could he have known how Marciano was looking at him?

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was, rather, a guess that Ren had no shame in speaking.

“I hate when people catch me acting like this, you know,” he began in same low, serious tone with eyes narrowing (or were they squinting? hard to say.) all the while. “I prefer to be a happy idiot, even if it gets me into more trouble-- but I guess we’re doing this, instead.”

It wasn’t a chastising notion but, more-so, a statement.

(i don’t want to i don’t why would you i don’t i hate you why would you do this to mmeeeeEEE!!)

The mayor found it useless to try and lecture other man, knowing that it’d only lead him down a cruel whirlpool of self-destruction and self-desolation.

“Well, let’s talk about it-- the elephant in the room.”

Ever since hearing that, he’s been aching to scratch and scratch at his skin. He’s carelessly plucking, pulling, and picking at the flesh of his fingers as he’s staring down at his paperwork. Again and again, he’s having to sign just a few things (agreements, obligations, affiliations... the like.) but staved off on doing so. It’s something that should’ve plagued him otherwise but, instead, has him wordlessly ignoring.

(thought i was over it. thought i was over it. thought i was over over over over--)

Would it be a bit dramatic to see that he felt numb? Because that’s what he couldn’t help but feel-- as if he’s been trapped.

“Um... let’s see here,” he mumbling to himself, having not taken prior notice to the door cracking open. Teeth nipped and chewed at pen’s barrel, almost having chosen the nib out of carelessness. “This one is for... hm--”

Head’s lowered, paying no mind to any changes in scenery. Even as the door had slid further open, exposing familiar figure of his doctor.

(--have to keep busy. keep fucking busy. gotta keep FUCKING busy.)

“--oh.”

His head remained bowed, Ren’s eyes flickering towards the visitor (jura. it just had to be him. he didn’t want it to be him. for once.) before returning back to his work. Now he’s trying to appear busy, tapping inactive point of pen against paper as he’s resting cheek within palm of other hand.

“Weren’t you just attending to someone?” distant tone for an equally distant disposition was used. “It’s why I didn’t say anything when I walked by.”

Mostly that was a lie. He knew why he hadn’t stopped to speak to Jura. He knew why he stopped for but a moment within the hall, feeling his blood freeze over before reaching a boiling point, and why he kept his head down. He knew very well the reason why he merely walked (even going as far as to avoid brushing shoulders.) by Jura and his “guest”.

“Mm, I think I hate him.”

“Yes, I hate him very much.”

He wants to scratch. Wanted to scratch at that itch– one that only someone like Jura could cause. It’s deep within his skin, deep within the recesses and making him feel wrong. It was an inaccessible urge, something that he wanted to bite into and tear the skin off of. Anything, anything, anything to get RID OF THIS HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE ITCH–

“A man like him… He’s everything people could ever ask for– nice to look at, professional, and so very polite! Good at what he does, too,” a distinct pause with knuckles rapping insistently upon exposed flesh of wrist, “a~aaand I think that’s why I hate him so much. You’d think, well, why would I hate him if he’s so good at what he does? Simple!”

(HE USES ME. USE USE USE USE– IT’S SO CREEPY!!)

“He’s an awful, little man.”

(I WANT TO SCOOP HIS EYEBALLS OUT WITH MY TONGUE.)

“Aah… I think I hate him so much that I actually want him to die!”

Fingers have begun to uncurl, pressing firmly against skin then to push precariously down upon dull blue vein hiding beneath faintly translucent skin.

“He keeps me alive– used to be for a fee. Keyword: used. Not anymore, though, knock on wood! I used to pay him like an idiot. Like a good person’s supposed to do, but… I figured it out. He doesn’t need money. Hell, he probably doesn’t even care. I wish I could ask for a refund, but it, ah, doesn’t work like that, does it? Pity. Pity, pity, pity.”

(I–I-I-I– DID I USE TO BE in love with hiiim??)

“I don’t depend on him, though. I just don’t.”

(am i lying? am i lying? lie lie LIE liAR!! AAH FUCK IT.)

“All those experiments he does? You heard of those, right? He does so many interesting things to people– mainly dead ones from what I’ve seen. He likes doing it. Really likes doing it. I can’t get into it.”

(i’m so good at it that i can’t even tell, so what does it matter?!!)

“…”

He’s scratching.Hard. He’s scratching so hard.

“One day, I wanna ask him if he got off to that shit, but what do you think he’d say?”

Ah, it hurt.

“Nothing, probably. He might ask if that’s what I want like the gross worm he is.”

It hurt so much.

“I hope he finds happiness, though, I guess.”

Fingers reluctantly come to pause, almost having reached an achingly raw point of no return. They twitch. They flinch. They want to keep going, but he’s blunt. He had to be in control. It’s what was important– that he was the one in control!

“It’ll be easier on me when I find out that it backfired on him. His treatment of me. His disgusting little fetishes. Everything about him, I hope it all comes back to him,” he sighed out, shutting his eyes in almost breathless bliss, “because by then I’ll have finally won.”

(but will it ever happen?)

“I’m ki~iiinda lying, though. I want to be the one to hurt him.”

Now he moved to hug himself, hands rubbing up and then roughly down upper arms.

“Hurt him so much that he needs to leave. Hurt him so, so much that it… might… might?”