One Night In Paris

[zenigatcha]

[ Port Alexandre III after dark.

The memories run deeper than the river does. ]

Zenigata Koichi returns to the bar with little fanfare. There's no kicking in the door, there's no chaotic scene -- indeed, it's a view of a Paris street after dark, street lights creating pools of light over the concrete and asphalt behind him. A patrol car is pulling away behind him, vanishing from sight as the door closes behind him.

Zenigata smells of smoke and rivers, Paris on the Seine after dark. He looks tired and rumpled, and in what might seem uncharacteristic of him to those who met him boisterous and hungry mid-case, he's calmer, quieter, more subdued.

Bellying up to the bar, he lays his hat and coat over it, blocking of one of the seats next to him for all intents and purposes, and then orders whiskey straight, no ice, and a plate of crispy gyoza. It's been that kind of night where one retreats into a bottle of good whiskey and a comfort food.

So Zenigata, half-deaf and full of shadowy thoughts, stares into the window bursting with color as the universe dies in slow motion, and feels just a little bit old. 

Comments

[sunbaked_baker]

Most folks would say that Sunshine isn't old enough to feel even a little bit old.

But most folks who know Sunshine know her by daylight.

When Rae steps quietly into the bar sometime later, she is expecting her bedroom, where she had intended to grab as much sleep as she could manage in the paltry few hours before she had to get up for work at four. Her pajamas are a faded pink - worn soft and comfortable by many washings, gentle against thoroughly-scrubbed skin where fresh bruises are already blooming.

Milliways is unexpected, but not unwelcome. She can get some real rest here and not have to worry how soon four a.m. already is. Maybe find something to help her sleep be more peaceful, so she can heal herself in the morning.

"Hey you," she greets the quiet Interpol agent at the bar, conjuring up a tired smile as she takes a nearby bar stool.

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata doesn't hear her over the ringing in his ears, but he sees the body taking up space next to him and turns to see Sunshine in her... pajamas. His eyebrows lift toward his tight flattop, before he just gives a lazy, lopsided grin.

"Late night for both of us, huh?" he says, and then gestures to his ears before he takes a notepad and pen from his coat and passes her. "Major tinnitus. Rifle on my shoulder. Probably can't hear you. Told it'll pass eventually."

He's trying to cover all the bases, so she doesn't have to waste time on questions that he can answer right off.

[sunbaked_baker]

Even when very tired - possibly even more when she's very tired - Sunshine has an expressive face. Nearly everything she thinks shows up on her face, which is one of the reasons why she is terrible at lying.

For example, as she reads his note, her expression of tired, faintly wry, late-night solidarity changes into a grimace of sympathy, which clears into some relief to know it'll likely pass, followed by a question accompanied by a raised-eyebrow look and gesture towards him with the notepad that says just as clearly: "What in the world were you doing with a rifle on your shoulder?"

[zenigatcha]

It's easiest to read the notepad, as opposed to her lips, so Zenigata does that over the other. He can sort of hear her, but the notes definitely make it clearer.

"I was acting as a stand so Jigen's shot would be steady. Was the only thing that was going to take out the helicopter firing on us, and since we were chained together..." He shrugged once, like being chained to a man who needed to fire a sure shot is totally a normal thing in his day to day.

[sunbaked_baker]

Were she less skilled - naturally or unnaturally - at reading folks, she might suspect he was joking. He's definitely not. Rae shakes her head. "Shiva wept."

She turns to the bar with a faint flicker of ache in the movement, requesting a tumbler of her own and the bottle of whatever whiskey it is that Zenigata is having. She moves to open the bottle and lift it with a bit more care that one who is not yet thirty should have to move, and the knuckles on the hand that offers to pour Zenigata a top-up on his glass are scraped raw, purpling gently in places.

[zenigatcha]

Moving his tumbler to accept, he lets her pour, before he extends his hands for the bottle himself, offering to pour for her. One never pours for themselves where he comes from, it's rude.

Once they're both settled with glasses full of warm, amber liquor that's smooth as silk and an aftertaste of honey and caramel, he nudges the plate of gyoza between them.

"You look like you had a rough time of it," he said. "The oven bite you?" He knows very well that no oven in the world did that.

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine smiles slightly, letting him pour for her. The offer of gyoza is appreciated as well, though she doesn't know that she is up for food, at the moment. It is always a few hours after dawn when she can bring herself to think of breakfast again, after a bad night.

"It tried," she writes on the notepad, a dry look on her face. Rae is well aware that the largest of her scars is left clear by her pajama top, looking for all the world like something fell teeth-first down her arm at some time in the past. "But nobody got bitten, and it won't try again."

It wasn't a good night. It never is, when diplomacy fails, but she can be thankful that they hadn't had any hostages.

[zenigatcha]

"Can I ask what happened?" Zenigata asks with a bluntness brought on by his second glass of whiskey and weariness. Hes gestures to her hand, and then the collarbone -- there's a web of scar tissue there. He doesn't know how to react to it, but it's triggering something in his brain right now.

He just knows she's endured hardship, and his urge to alleviate someone else's pain to ignore his own has slid into the driver's seat of his mind.

[sunbaked_baker]

She tries to hide it by taking a drink of her whiskey, but Zenigata will have seen the kind of expressions that cross Sunshine's face before. It's the face of someone trying to determine how much to tell - or how much not to tell - a cop.

Because that is a situation familiar to Sunshine, as well.
A friend who is a cop is still a cop.
A cop who is a friend is still a cop.
Eventually they revert to type and start lecturing you about withholding information.

("You know, we ought to put all this in our report and pass it on up the line, and then you'd get a horde of SOF experts down on you like nothing you've ever imagined, Sunshine. And speaking of shackles, you'd probably spend the rest of your life chained to the Goddess of Pain's desk. She'd love you."

"But we don't want to. Because we need you. We need you in the field. Dear frigging gods and angels, do we ever need you in the field.)

She hesitates hard, then writes: "Vampires."

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata reads the note, and then nods. Okay, that's not what he expected, but it's also information he can accept like it's totally normal. If immortal mermaid nuns exist, then the vampiric Lupin clone he met... well, that was...

He's still not sure how that happened, but it happened all the same. He's still not sure if it was actually a clone, a vampire, or a vampire clone, or some weird trick of Lupin, but everything that happened surrounding Mamo and his bizarre island has no real explanation.

"They common where you come from?" he asks.

[amiable_horror]

A couple of seats over a gloomy Ben sits eating a bowl of cereal. As much as he likes waffles, sometimes it's all Klaus eats and he wants a break now and then.

Besides, these are Reese's breakfast cereal; the perfect blend of fake vitamins, and even more fake peanut butter flavor.

He's got his leather jacket laid over the stool to his right and the sleeves of his hoodie pulled up so the Umbrella tattoo is visible if Zenigata happens to look over.

[zenigatcha]

He's seen that on Klaus, yes. He's not sure what to make of it-- but that it matches the other boy's mark... well. He clears his throat, and then says, "I'm sorry, I noticed your tattoo -- do you know Klaus Hargreeves?"

Because if so, do you know how to make that man stop?

Then he remembers himself, and writes a note before he slides it over the short space between them: Tinnitus, can barely hear, sorry, write?

[amiable_horror]

Ben starts at the loud voice talking to him and turns, spilling milk and sugary puffs on Bar. Once the question registers, he closes his eyes in an 'Oh no, now what did my brother do?' expression.

Leaning over to read the note and nods. He's had that before. Just as he turns to ask for a pen, Bar manifests one and a bar towel.

Ben writes back, Yes. He's my brother and I have no control over him. So whatever he did, I'm sorry but it's on him., before sliding the note back to the big guy. Then he sets to cleaning his mess.

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata has no idea of his volume even on the best of days, so he winces when he startles Ben and tries to reign in his voice to a less shocking volume. "Sorry, sorry!"

It goes out the window when he reads the note, and then laughs loudly and with vigor. "Ha! He hasn't done anything beyond look like he's already made trouble. Nothing wrong, I promise!"

[amiable_horror]

That's Klaus alright. He's my brother. I'm Ben. He writes once he's done with the spill.

Ben pats Bar and apologizes for spilling as the bar towels disappear.

[zenigatcha]

"I am Zenigata Koichi," he says, with a big smile and still faulty volume control.

Someone else might question why the kid with the Germanic first name who is very obviously white is brothers with the kid who is very obviously not, but Zenigata has had one child who's Japanese, one who is mixed race, and one who's a pure Frenchman. He knows how mixed families happen, after all.

"Your brother's interesting, but he's done nothing wrong," Zenigata reassures him. "I was curious, why the matching tattoos?"

[undead_radish_seller]

"Is that alcohol?" asks a shy and slightly hesitant voice from beside Zenigata, just beyond the stool where he'd dumped his stuff.

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata sees him more than hears him, and then gestures and speaks in a louder than necessary voice. "I'm sorry! I have-- I have tinnitus."

Then he looks at the man and realizes... this man may not understand what he's talking about. Because that's some serious period clothing. Chinese, he thinks, but he's not certain. Not Japanese, though, he's sure of that.

"Something hurt my ears," he says, gesturing to his head. "I can't hear very well right now!"

[undead_radish_seller]

"Something exploded?"

He can quite understand that; Wei-gongzi's experiments do explode sometimes. Deafening bangs are something that happens.

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata smiles in a big, broad way - friendly, for a huge man with shoulders like stone pillars. Ha ha ha! He's big and harmless. Something that Wen Ning knows about very well, probably.

He nods, hoping he heard him right. "Explosion? Yes, explosion!"

How else will you explain a gun going off next to your ear?

[undead_radish_seller]

"I'm sorry I can no longer -- I have no way to help you," Wen Ning says, dismayed.

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata tilts his head; that's very obviously an apology, he can tell from expression, but he doesn't know quite what for. It's hard to hear, and Wen Ning, bless him, is soft spoken.

"It's okay! It'll come back on it's own, eventually. In time."

[undead_radish_seller]

"Perhaps -- perhaps you should go somewhere really quiet and just sit and breathe until the noise in your ears goes away?" Wen Ning suggests, unable to not try and help in some way.

The man most likely doesn't cultivate his chi, but just going through the motions should be enough here.

[zenigatcha]

Zenigata tilts his head, not entirely understanding. "What did you say?"

Then he pats down his coat and pulls out a pen and paper, putting it on the table. "Bar will translate!"

He doesn't know if Wen Ning is new, but... you know, it's just nice to help people if they need helping. (Much like Wen Ning has too much Dafan Wen, Zenigata is a cop and a dad, who wants to take care of everybody.)

[undead_radish_seller]

GO TO SILENCE AND BREATHE UNTIL NOISE DIES DOWN, Wen Ning writes in bold, concise characters, hoping that the translation makes it clear.