➥ shameless stolen from @bakerstreet | TOOK YOU IN MEME | closed to topslug

[nestingdevil]

Two days ago, he came in a storm. The rain fell in sheets, the thunder relentless. It had soaked him right to the bone, though that hadn't really bothered him much. More a mild annoyance; making the fur at his collar flat, the spikes of his hair bristle whenever he gave it a good shake. For a while, he wandered; dipping into carved out alleyways, strolling beneath an underpass or two. But the usual hideouts were null and void. Stripped from him as soon as his face hit paperwork and stamped him for wanted.

Hers was the last ditch effort.

A knock at the door - too early in the am for anyone remotely sane to be out. He had answered with a smarmy grin and a shaded look. Water dripping lines down his face and the droplets caught sirens he oh-so subtly slouched away from. Greed had his fingers half way in the frame, the curved-tip of his boot breathing not an inch from where the door opened and a household began. And with a single question, the deal was done:

"Mind if I come in, lovely?"

Since then, Greed had kept mostly to himself. Mostly being the keyword. Slithering in when he wasn't wanted, making himself at home where he shouldn't. But despite being a rather unhealthy house guest, he did keep to his promise: "Not about to start any trouble," he had said on more than one account. It wasn't an ideal situation: the law on one side and her on the other.

But things being as they were? He wasn't about to complain too much.

Occasionally, there would be food out. Something snatched up by a late-night street vendor that had more sense not to question. Tonight was much the same. A colorful array of God-only-knew-what with half of it already missing. And while there was plenty left, Yako always did have an insatiable sort of appetite.

Thankfully, it was easier to come by should he need to slip out for seconds.

But for now, Greed was stretched out across a sofa in the living room. Feet propped up on the opposing armrest with one hand notched behind his skull. To anyone curious enough to look, it would appear as if he were sleeping: it wasn't the case. The Sin rarely slept - he didn't need to, after all. One of the many perks of him and his.

A cigarette wafted softly from a growing tray. One that had ash dotting the circle. Beyond that, a television buzzed with the recent news: more Soviet activity in the North, the media-fueled propaganda declaring that the time for heroes was nigh. Greed pried an eye open behind his sunglasses as he idly watched the blue screen flicker.

OOC Notes |
➥ Combination prompts include:
2. ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.
5. ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.
12. ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.
13. ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?

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[topslug]

There was a monster in her living room, and Yako had let it in.

Maurtia Falls, some might have said, was no place for a young woman to live alone. And it wasn't, not really, but Yako wasn't just an ordinary young woman, was she? While she kept the tattoo on her wrist that read REGISTERED in bright electric blue, there were mysteries in this world she wasn't going to solve by staying in the relative safety of Heropa, so she'd packed up her bags, bid goodbye to her roommates, and set off.

Her occupation, technically, was self-employed private detective -- work that took her to strange places, at times, and though she'd had a few close calls, she'd never gotten into any real trouble (yet). Still, it kept the bills paid, and even if all she could afford to rent was the one-bedroom apartment that really wasn't made for more than one person to occupy, she found a sort of contentment in it.

She'd been surprised, when the storm washed up the Sin at her door, but he was a friend, after all -- or as close to a friend as Greed would allow any human to be. Yako hadn't asked why he'd come here, though she'd certainly considered it, in between bites of the meals he brought home. Her relationship with the police force of the city was a wary alliance at best, and she'd heard the murmurs down at the station, knew they were looking for someone -- or something. Either way, it was no great detective work to connect it to the monster on her couch, occupying more space than he should.

Greed hadn't said anything about when he'd be leaving, and why his den hadn't been an option. It was probably that way, because it meant she'd be able to answer truthfully if she said she didn't know.

But he was restless, Yako could tell that much. The stillness, the seeming ease, was as much of a deception as his human exterior. Something had driven him to her door, and as considerate of a houseguest as he'd been, she wondered when he'd hit his breaking point, and what he'd do when he did. Even now, watching him on the couch while she devoured the latest of the food he'd brought, she wondered how long he could stand to be in one place before the inertia drove him wild.

Still in her 'working' attire -- the button-down blouse and a skirt that swished gently against her thighs when she walked -- she popped the last of the food into her mouth, discarded the wrappers into the trash, and stepping over towards the TV to turn the volume down a bit.

"Thank you for bringing dinner."

[nestingdevil]

Slowly, his arm unfurled from behind his head and his ankles unlaced themselves. Yako was a product of her choices: a career, a seemingly normal life despite all evidence to the contrary. An existence made to the world's norms. A life that had its complications, but they were easily dismissed under the government's watchful protection.

A luxury that he had denied. And continued to do so.

Greed propped himself up, slithering out of the comfort of the borrowed sofa. She was right, though. The walls did nothing for him, his attentions waned. But the Sin only forced a jagged expression onto his hard-set jaw. Tooth for tooth laced to split his mouth wide open. "Don't mention it lovely," he started. As he set both feet to the floor in a dull muffling of carpet. "-just don't go mistaking it for something it just isn't."

No - the normal life just wasn't suited for him.

But with choices came consequences. Stacked high and not in his favor. Deep in the pit of Maurtia, it all waited. A few bad moves, a few catching glances. And while history hadn't entirely repeated itself, it had been close enough to count.

Greed hunched over, peeling himself away with a slow pivot. His glance chased from behind his sunglasses. Yako was naive to the world. What was really lurking just outside, what the government truly had in store. The Sin touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth and walked the frame of the coffee table.

He had gotten close enough to know. And that was what burned him. Forced him into a situation not of his choosing. Though the second time around, he had learned from his previous mistakes. Made sure those that couldn't come back had taken off before the guns came in blazing.

But that wasn't important here.

Instead, he just watched her. The button-down blouse and skirt slipping and sliding as she finished off her meal and severed the volume to the television set. It still glowed back: the flickering blue light making gray of it all. A comfortable sort of color that stole the shade from his face and drove the rounds of his sunglasses into disjointed flutters of static.

"Don't suppose you've heard anything, hmn?" The Sin birthed on the other side of the coffee table. There was enough space between the two of them to count, but plenty still to swallow up. With the lick of his curved-tip toe, to the polite thuds of his knocking boots. He was a monster, that was for sure. Coiled up and nestled while he waited for the right moment to strike.

Greed touched the edge of his pocket. The standard-issued phone was still there, but the screen had long-since been smashed. The casing cracked and bent. The calloused pad of his finger grazed the misshapen top, following along the edge. A casual gesture as he stole inch after inch of the room between both him and her.

Until he was right there. Looming just on the other side of the television set.