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.
no subject
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."