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[ His voice rings out from his bedroom: ] Why would I invite you over if I wasn’t here?
[ Michael sounds amused and the sound of a chair being pushed in, followed by the soft rustling of material, fills the room. He doesn’t step out immediately, running his hands through his hair to try and make himself presentable. This is so awkward, he has never been concerned about things like this before. ]
Did you mean what you said about helping out? I can pay you for your time, of course. It wouldn’t be for free. Name your price, I’ll be paying anyone who wants to be an instructor as well. I want to make sure what the students are taught is done correctly.
[ He steps into view wearing a nice suit of his own and has actually attempted to tame his hair — attempted because it still sticks up on the sides. That is what took him so long, and the fact that it still looks wet. Because it is. His hair tends to fluff up when it dries.
When he emerges, he makes no secret of the fact that he is sizing Greed up. Slow and steady, those bright blue eyes scan him over from his toes to the top of his horns, appreciatively taking in his effort. He knows how he feels about sleeves. ]
You look nice, thank you. The food should be here soon, I took the liberty of ordering a handful of different things. Though I’m sure they will pale in comparison to the spice of Hell. [ Despite the fact that he just put it on, he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair, rolling his sleeves up. Perhaps choosing a white suit when eating notoriously messy food was a bad idea but he tried.
When he hoists them up a little too high, he reveals the scars on his arm. Upon noticing, he rubs at them awkwardly before gesturing to the living room to offer him a seat. They are a blemish, an imperfection, and while he typically appreciates reminders, this one is different. Everything is as immaculate as ever save for his desk, which is nearly piled high with hand written notes and details about the self-defense topic. Everything from hand-to-hand combat to magic, he has left no stone untouched and it shows in his face.
He looks a little tired, with a soft dark hue under both eyes. ]
You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? I would make a second key for you but I think breaking into my room would lose its magic if you couldn’t pick the lock.
[ And he has to keep him coming back somehow. It is a small price to pay for good company. ]
What was all that about my righteousness? I’m really not as rigid as you think I am. When you’re so accustomed to showing one face to people, everything else tends to get left behind. It just took time for me to hit my stride, as they say.
[As soon as he hears Michael's voice, the Sin patiently plucks his sunglasses off his forehead. He uses his thumb to flip them shut, and the ear pieces click together with a tender tck of steel on steel. If Michael is sizing him up, he's all but eating the man alive. His eyes drift across him, running along the cut of his suit and the gold (rich, wealthy gold) accenting the otherwise pure white of it. And sure, his hair may be winning the battle, but something about it - it's so normal, isn't it? Something normal, despite what they are.]
[Greed slips his shades into the collar of his shirt, and the weight of them sags against the center of his chest.] I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't interested. As for a price, well. [He shrugs his shoulders, causing the stiffness of his jacket to crease at his neck.] We can get to that once you've got everything up and running. Just don't expect it to be cheap.
[He's halfway stepping forward when Michael comments on his suit. The back of his heel finds the floor, the point of his toe points sky high. And while he doesn't say anything at first, the rattle at the end of his tail does the talking for him. The spines clack together in a shushing motion; the sound of them as tinkling as a handful of pins, shaking in a jar.]
[Greed pockets his hands, twisting his head away as he slouches over his hips.] Tch. This thing? It was nothing. [It wasn't, but he'd sooner be strung up and crucified a second time than admit it.] Just something I found while I was out. [He finds his pace again and as his boots drag across the floor, the former homunculus slides his eyes to the side.] A handful? Oh ho, that's a first. Call me surprised again, Blue Eyes.
[But as soon as those scars come into view, his attention quickly shifts. His eyes immediately narrow in on them like a shot-true arrow, and that core of his tenses. It isn't the fact that Michael has them. Everyone he's ever met has their own, be them visible or otherwise. But the way he seems to rub at them, to hide them - a snarl tenses on his upper lip. While he won't show his tusks here, he can feel them begging for it. Begging for a chance to tear, to snap, at whatever (whoever) made them in the first place.]
[He shoves his tongue behind his lower lip, coaxing that simmer down, down, down. No, now's not the time. And given how tired Michael looks? He'll save it.]
[Instead, he urges up a grin, turning his focus on the mountain of paperwork neatly strung about his desk. No stone left unturned is right.] Seems like you've been busy. [The Sin wanders over to the desk, picking up a single sheet from a stack with his claws. He checks it once and flips it over before setting it back down crooked and at a slant.] And it sounds like you're preparing for something big. Worried our friends might be getting ideas?
[He drops his hand back down to his side. While the creatures running the place have been tame enough, there's always a possibility. October had been proof of that.]
[Greed settles his hip against the corner of the desk and as he crosses his ankles out in front of him, he lets a short laugh tickle at the back of his throat.] Wouldn't matter if you did. I haven't found a place I couldn't get into yet. [To demonstrate, he lifts of his arms and the points of his nails spring apart.] Besides, it wouldn't be as fun if I could just walk right in. Gotta make sure I keep up my end of the bargain.
[Living, he means. Not drowning in paperwork and shutting himself away, but living, seeing, having. And in exchange? He'll always try to keep things interesting.]
[The Sin lazily rolls his head back and as he shows off his throat, he lets his eyes drift over Michael again; the grin on his face, light and wicked.] No, you're not. But you've still got a few things to learn. [He gives a cheeky wink. He knows damn well the man could end him here and now. But oh, oh, oh.]
[How he does like to play with fire.]
Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get there, eventually.
[ Michael catches himself staring a little too long and coughs in an effort to cover his tracks. This terrible, he is trying too hard to keep himself from doing something foolish when there is no need. He flat out told him that he doesn’t care which should be a blessing, but it only seems to compound his anxiety.
Finally: ] Touché.
Perish the thought, I know who I’m dealing with. Whatever your price, I will pay it. It’s worth every penny if it means everyone has a better understanding of how to defend themselves. Heaven or Hell, it doesn’t matter where they come from. If they are willing to learn, I am willing to teach them everything I know.
[ Putting on one of his more knowing smiles, he walks over and proceeds to circle Greed, reaching out to check the lines of the suit. His tail only makes those noises in certain instances. ] A suit that was practically tailor-made for you, plucked unknowingly off of a shelf. What a fortunate find. If you’re able to find more of these suits, you should grab them — even if I know you dislike the sleeves.
[ He shrugs his shoulders about the food, briefly pursing his lips. ] I remembered you were partial to the spicy noodles, so I purchased two of those. Everything else came highly recommended by a few other residents so, if you do dislike anything, I can’t take the full blame.
Busy? That’s certainly an understatement, I’ve written so much that I feel like my arm is going to fall off. I volunteered to help Lute when she was still here, so I’m expanding on her idea. I know some people won’t want to delve into serious training, so I want to offer self-defense and other options. They don’t have to be a novice.
[ There it is, the million dollar question. Again, he traces out the visible part of his scars. ] I’m worried that it’s been too quiet lately, I think we’re long overdue for another perilous ordeal. I’m not omniscient however, so I suppose I’m just basing all of this on a gut feeling. Do you think I’m overreacting? [ He eyes the slanted paper and tries to ignore it, though he eventually reaches over to straighten it out again. ]
One day someone is going to push you off of the balcony. You saying that makes me want to test my knowledge and see if I can disprove your claim. [ When Greed extends his arms, Michael’s hands jolt out to protect a stack of paperwork within tipping distance. He never comes close enough to disturb it but he does tap a finger against his chest regardless. ] If you knock over my paperwork, I will be the one throwing you off the balcony. That’s three days of work, I’ve filed the rest away.
Be that as it may— [ He reaches out to adjust the sunglasses when he notices they’ve gone crooked. ] —fun can quickly turn into something else. Be mindful of where you’re sneaking. [ This insufferable man, why does he like him again? He rolls his eyes and groans at the wink before putting his finger to his lips to shut him up.
He looks like he wants to say something but the doorbell rings, causing him to draw away and turn on a heel to start for the door. ] Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone, please. [ But it takes less than thirty seconds for Michael to call back to him, sounding more than a little anxious. ]
Greed? [ When he reappears, he has no less than four full bags of food clumsily hanging from his arms. Three meals per bag, he will never admit that he didn’t check the order twice or even see what he was paying for it. So, now they have more than half of the menu to choose from between appetizers, soup and entrees. ]
[A smile (thin as a razor and far more sly) festers on his face. It's not a knowing kind of look. No, it's more than that. It's a flirtatious look, a scandalous look. The Sin's eyelids droop and as his eyebrows sink together, he throws his chin to the side, showing off the shallow curve of his throat.]
[No, Michael Morningstar has been caught red-fucking-handed.]
[But he keeps his mouth shut. Greed fans his out his fingers to nick lightly at the edge of the desk, and he lulls his head up towards the ceiling.] Whatever the price? Don't be so sure about that, Blues. Could end up being more than you can afford. But sure, why not. I'll help you with that little project of - ah?
[The sensation of Michael touching his suit makes him visibly tense. The former homunculus scoffs and as a whistle of air squeezes between his teeth, he shoves the end of his tail under the lip of the desk, shutting it up before it can give away anything else. He flits his fingers by his side.] What can I say? Wasn't made just to be durable. And it's not the first time I've had to wear something like this. [He loosens his ankles, making the toe of one of his boots bounce freely in the air.] Don't think I'll start making a habit of it.
[Using two of his free hands, the Sin presses his thighs, flattening the wrinkles in his jeans. He catches something in his pocket and as his fingers feel out the distinct shape of a toothpick, he spreads his legs, notching his heels into the floor.] Old habit. Something I picked up from the little pissant prince - [Thoughtlessly, he trails off and his attention turns back to the papers again. He has no doubt in his mind he spent hours making those notes. Hours, days, weeks. He pulls the toothpick out of his pocket.]
[Old habits, after all.]
[Greed slips the pick between his teeth and pauses.] Lute? [Has he heard the name before? Maybe. But he can't for the life of him put a face to it. He thinks he remembers it coming up once. Around the time Michael made his announcement about Lucifer, and that, well. He'd been a little busy then, hadn't he?]
[The Sin hums, twirling the toothpick with his tongue.] You're looking at it all wrong. You can't learn about fighting from a book. Sure, it can tell you what to do and where to hit, but you can't beat actual experience. [A sound shifts underneath his suit. It's light, barely there; the tune of it more similar to the scales of a snake, rubbing against one another. A sliver of black scratches up his jaw.]
Ehh, wouldn't say you're overreacting. Nothing wrong with going with your gut. [Greed drops his eyes, following Michael as he maps out his scars. No, instinct - it has its uses. It's one of the reasons he had a contingency plan of his own. However, the sewers had failed, and any sort of preparation became useless as soon as his came along and sniffed him out.]
[Part of the toothpick lets out a soft crck. Greed pulls it out of his mouth and slides it behind his ear.] Ha - ! They could try, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn't matter. [As soon as Michael practically dives for the pile of papers, the former homunculus mockingly throws up all four of his hands.] All right, all right. You've made your point, Blue Eyes. Though, if you did, I think your neighbors might start getting some pretty wild ideas, hmn?
[A man being tossed from a ten-story-plus balcony, in a suit on top of it all, leaves a lot of unanswered questions. And where there's questions, there's rumors. Rumors and stories spun up as people filled in the gaps.]
[Greed's about to peel himself off the desk, but then Michael's got his finger to his lips and oh. Oh, he can't help himself. His mouth widens and as his claws nip tiny pinpricks in the wood, he nudges his head forward.] Depends on your definition of fun. [He's about to finish that sentence (no doubt with something just as crude) when the doorbell rings. The Sin shrugs his shoulders, pushing himself up and onto his heels.]
Hmn? [At first, he trails after Michael, steady and slow. However, once he hears the slight lilt to his voice, he gradually picks up the pace; the heavy drum of his boots plunking against the floor. It isn't just a little dinner the Archangel's picked up, no. From the looks of it, he's ordered the whole fucking restaurant.]
[Greed barks a laugh into his chest as he crosses the room.] Y'know, the name's Greed, Feathers. Not Gluttony. [What personal space they may have had, he quickly eats it up. With a slide of his leg, with his arms outstretched, and if he just so happens to be practically chest-to-chest with the man? He doesn't seem to notice.]
Though, knowing you, you'd probably have a soft spot for him. Guy couldn't do anything without the rest. [He collects the bags in his hands, twisting the plastic around his claws.]
[ He narrows his eyes a fraction as if simply daring him to share what dances on the tip of his tongue. All the same, he follows his good lead and keeps the actual words to himself. Anyone would admire the look, at least that is what he is going to tell himself here. ]
Then I’ll make payments. You do take those, don’t you? Currency is currency. Small increments given weekly or monthly until you’re satisfied with the price. Will that suffice? Fortunately, whatever the price, I know that you won’t swindle me. That’s why I’m willing to pay it.
[ He doesn’t laugh outright but his mouth does quirk up at the corners. But he does get closer than necessary, dropping his voice to a murmur. It isn’t as if the walls have ears or this is some well-guarded secret but someone has to get a little payback for the weight behind that wicked smile he was given. ]
I wouldn’t try to fit you into an unfamiliar mold and you don’t have to hide your tail, I know what you’re thinking just by looking into your eyes. I hope you don’t try making a habit of that either. [ Satisfied, he draws away from him, fingers tracing him from shoulder to elbow as he slides around him. ]
Lute is Adam’s Lieutenant or was until his passing. It’s unlikely that she will take his place, she is a great fighter but all of the hate Adam had in him he passed onto her. Putting her in charge would likely lead to the same outcome, needlessly lost lives, and I imagine she will be looking for revenge. I had hoped to take her under my wing here and see if I could open her eyes to the truth, but we can’t always get what we want.
[ He lingers just out of reach, folding his arms across his chest. ] Exactly. Why do you think I’m going to be looking for volunteers? I’m confident enough in my skill set that I can teach and adequately demonstrate them to a willing class, but I know not everyone is comfortable with fighting. If I can offer them a wide range of choices they may be more willing to attend, or at least hear what I have to say. [ There is a slight challenge there when he looks back at him again. ] One day, if you’re willing, I won’t hold back and I’ll show you what I’m really capable of.
[ Two monsters in the guise of humans, it would be a hell of a time. He groans, his attention turning to the balcony. ] They already have wild ideas and questions thanks to my frequent wall-climbing houseguest. You really are a troublesome man, do you know that? You and your unique brand of fun.
[ This asshole, he immediately looks a little embarrassed over the food despite uttering a quiet thank you when he takes the bags. The close contact has him making a face that screams half surprise and half something else, but the other half gets masked when he walks ahead of him and gestures to the table in front of the couch. If it seems larger than before that is because it is. Slowly but surely, the room is starting to look less like a hospital and more like a home.
On one of the walls is a framed drawing of him that is an impressive likeness, another gift for Christmas. On the wall beside it? A shadow box full of pictures that bring him joy: the picture of Charlie and Lucifer (along with the feather), a picture of him and Nobunaga (he looks annoyed), the thank you polaroid that Alastor sent him (complete with creepy smiley faces), a shot of him and Greed clinking glasses together during a late night chat and the Christmas card he got from this place depicting Lucifer pre-Fall. He is a sentimental bastard.
It also has the sword brooch and coffee mug given to him by Ochako, a pair of sunglasses from Alastor, the hilariously dark reindeer tie given by Runa and the duck and letter opener Greed gave him. These are the first physical gifts he ever received from people, how could he put them in any place but one of honor? ]
I didn’t know what else you liked, I was erring on the side of caution. [ A pause, that would be a lie. ] .. And I may have forgotten to delete the options I changed my mind about. Now, are you going to be using utensils or your claws today? I need to know how many extra napkins I need to grab.
[ Because he likes him but he will still launch a homunculus into orbit if he wrecks his furniture. ]
[With the bags tangled in his claws, the Sin gently presses his toe at the lip of the door to make sure it's firmly shut in place.] You're talking like I'll ever be satisfied. [He teases as he slowly turns away and back towards the kitchen. The plastic handles strain between his fingers, and the former homunculus shifts one or two of them to redistribute the weight.] But sure, fine. Figure out exactly what you need, and we'll work something out.
[A look (cocky and full of himself) eases on his face.] Putting a lot of faith in someone like me. Who says I wouldn't swindle you? [He wouldn't. They both know better by this point.] And if you already know what I'm thinking, then you shouldn't be surprised when I tell you that it won't be cheap.
[Greed crosses through the kitchen, his tail wandering behind him like a fishtail made of thorns. The new decorations on the wall immediately grab his attention. Had this been anyone else's room, he probably wouldn't have even noticed. But Michael, his has always been barren, hasn't it? Anything that wasn't completely necessary either didn't stay long or was never there in the first place. And as his eyes drift over the photographs (of Lucifer and his kid, of Oda probably causing the man his fair share of headaches, of Alastor with his pleasant, daring smile, of him, him and Michael, clicking glasses over something he barely remembers), the former homunculus is so distracted that he slams his shin into the new coffee table, earning a quick, raspy hiss.]
[He shakes it off by dropping two of the bags down on the corner of it.] Tch. Told you before that I'd always keep you on your toes, Blue Eyes. [Greed shoves the food out of the way to set the other two bags dangerously close to the table's sharp-lipped edge. He turns his head up, catching Michael's painted likeness.] You asking me if I'm willing is like asking me if I want something. I've told you to never hold back with me. And there's a few things you should know how to deal with, anyway.
[Like how to take care of a homunculus if it ever comes to it.]
[But he doesn't say that. That's a conversation for another time, when Michael's shown him everything he's got, and he'll be the right monster for the job. The Sin's attention silently bounces between the rest of the objects hung on the wall. Sentimental. Despite how hard Michael may try to come across as otherwise, he's sentimental. And maybe, that's something they share in common. Where they'll never say it, never admit it, but it's all so plain to see.]
[Greed scoffs and shrugs his shoulders as he winds around the other side of the coffee table.] You've never fought something like me, and I've never dealt with something like you. Not fully, anyway. [He shows off a hint of his teeth as he presses his head lazily into his shoulder.] So I hope you realize what you're asking for. Not that I think I'll be able to do much to you, but don't expect me to go easy on ya just because I like you.
[It comes out before he means to, and the Sin quickly waves his hand in the air to dismiss the idea. Thankfully, the Archangel does him the favor, if only by changing the subject. Greed takes a seat on the other side of the couch. He folds one leg over the other and as the small of his back sinks into the cushions, he pins two of his elbows behind him, leaving his claws to dangle at his sides.] Ehh, I might not be Gluttony, but I'm not exactly picky, Blues. [He almost sets his boot on the table, but quickly stops himself partway through. No, that's a sure-fire way to earn himself a one-way ticket right off the balcony, no matter how many times Michael never makes good on the threat.]
[So instead, he stretches out his leg, grinding his heel lightly into the floor.] I can eat with a fork y'know. [The former homunculus bounces his foot. Since when did he care about how he ate in front of anyone?] Just makes it easier this way. [To clarify, he spins his wrist and all five of his fingers fan open; their crooked nails, as smooth as a black, filed-point fork.]
[Greed lets his wrist fall limp.] But if it's gunna be a problem, we'll do it your way this time. [The look he shoots over his shoulder may be sarcastic, but there's something else there too. Something warm, something accepting, and as the former homunculus reaches for the bag, he drops his leg off his knee.] Usually these places pack some anyway. [He starts as he begins to dig through the plastic.] And it would be a waste if we didn't use 'em, right?
[Is it a good save? Probably not. But it's as good enough as any.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wreck that shit, my inbox is ready for it
[ Michael sounds amused and the sound of a chair being pushed in, followed by the soft rustling of material, fills the room. He doesn’t step out immediately, running his hands through his hair to try and make himself presentable. This is so awkward, he has never been concerned about things like this before. ]
Did you mean what you said about helping out? I can pay you for your time, of course. It wouldn’t be for free. Name your price, I’ll be paying anyone who wants to be an instructor as well. I want to make sure what the students are taught is done correctly.
[ He steps into view wearing a nice suit of his own and has actually attempted to tame his hair — attempted because it still sticks up on the sides. That is what took him so long, and the fact that it still looks wet. Because it is. His hair tends to fluff up when it dries.
When he emerges, he makes no secret of the fact that he is sizing Greed up. Slow and steady, those bright blue eyes scan him over from his toes to the top of his horns, appreciatively taking in his effort. He knows how he feels about sleeves. ]
You look nice, thank you. The food should be here soon, I took the liberty of ordering a handful of different things. Though I’m sure they will pale in comparison to the spice of Hell. [ Despite the fact that he just put it on, he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair, rolling his sleeves up. Perhaps choosing a white suit when eating notoriously messy food was a bad idea but he tried.
When he hoists them up a little too high, he reveals the scars on his arm. Upon noticing, he rubs at them awkwardly before gesturing to the living room to offer him a seat. They are a blemish, an imperfection, and while he typically appreciates reminders, this one is different. Everything is as immaculate as ever save for his desk, which is nearly piled high with hand written notes and details about the self-defense topic. Everything from hand-to-hand combat to magic, he has left no stone untouched and it shows in his face.
He looks a little tired, with a soft dark hue under both eyes. ]
You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? I would make a second key for you but I think breaking into my room would lose its magic if you couldn’t pick the lock.
[ And he has to keep him coming back somehow. It is a small price to pay for good company. ]
What was all that about my righteousness? I’m really not as rigid as you think I am. When you’re so accustomed to showing one face to people, everything else tends to get left behind. It just took time for me to hit my stride, as they say.
no subject
[Greed slips his shades into the collar of his shirt, and the weight of them sags against the center of his chest.] I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't interested. As for a price, well. [He shrugs his shoulders, causing the stiffness of his jacket to crease at his neck.] We can get to that once you've got everything up and running. Just don't expect it to be cheap.
[He's halfway stepping forward when Michael comments on his suit. The back of his heel finds the floor, the point of his toe points sky high. And while he doesn't say anything at first, the rattle at the end of his tail does the talking for him. The spines clack together in a shushing motion; the sound of them as tinkling as a handful of pins, shaking in a jar.]
[Greed pockets his hands, twisting his head away as he slouches over his hips.] Tch. This thing? It was nothing. [It wasn't, but he'd sooner be strung up and crucified a second time than admit it.] Just something I found while I was out. [He finds his pace again and as his boots drag across the floor, the former homunculus slides his eyes to the side.] A handful? Oh ho, that's a first. Call me surprised again, Blue Eyes.
[But as soon as those scars come into view, his attention quickly shifts. His eyes immediately narrow in on them like a shot-true arrow, and that core of his tenses. It isn't the fact that Michael has them. Everyone he's ever met has their own, be them visible or otherwise. But the way he seems to rub at them, to hide them - a snarl tenses on his upper lip. While he won't show his tusks here, he can feel them begging for it. Begging for a chance to tear, to snap, at whatever (whoever) made them in the first place.]
[He shoves his tongue behind his lower lip, coaxing that simmer down, down, down. No, now's not the time. And given how tired Michael looks? He'll save it.]
[Instead, he urges up a grin, turning his focus on the mountain of paperwork neatly strung about his desk. No stone left unturned is right.] Seems like you've been busy. [The Sin wanders over to the desk, picking up a single sheet from a stack with his claws. He checks it once and flips it over before setting it back down crooked and at a slant.] And it sounds like you're preparing for something big. Worried our friends might be getting ideas?
[He drops his hand back down to his side. While the creatures running the place have been tame enough, there's always a possibility. October had been proof of that.]
[Greed settles his hip against the corner of the desk and as he crosses his ankles out in front of him, he lets a short laugh tickle at the back of his throat.] Wouldn't matter if you did. I haven't found a place I couldn't get into yet. [To demonstrate, he lifts of his arms and the points of his nails spring apart.] Besides, it wouldn't be as fun if I could just walk right in. Gotta make sure I keep up my end of the bargain.
[Living, he means. Not drowning in paperwork and shutting himself away, but living, seeing, having. And in exchange? He'll always try to keep things interesting.]
[The Sin lazily rolls his head back and as he shows off his throat, he lets his eyes drift over Michael again; the grin on his face, light and wicked.] No, you're not. But you've still got a few things to learn. [He gives a cheeky wink. He knows damn well the man could end him here and now. But oh, oh, oh.]
[How he does like to play with fire.]
Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get there, eventually.
guess who can’t sleep again
Finally: ] Touché.
Perish the thought, I know who I’m dealing with. Whatever your price, I will pay it. It’s worth every penny if it means everyone has a better understanding of how to defend themselves. Heaven or Hell, it doesn’t matter where they come from. If they are willing to learn, I am willing to teach them everything I know.
[ Putting on one of his more knowing smiles, he walks over and proceeds to circle Greed, reaching out to check the lines of the suit. His tail only makes those noises in certain instances. ] A suit that was practically tailor-made for you, plucked unknowingly off of a shelf. What a fortunate find. If you’re able to find more of these suits, you should grab them — even if I know you dislike the sleeves.
[ He shrugs his shoulders about the food, briefly pursing his lips. ] I remembered you were partial to the spicy noodles, so I purchased two of those. Everything else came highly recommended by a few other residents so, if you do dislike anything, I can’t take the full blame.
Busy? That’s certainly an understatement, I’ve written so much that I feel like my arm is going to fall off. I volunteered to help Lute when she was still here, so I’m expanding on her idea. I know some people won’t want to delve into serious training, so I want to offer self-defense and other options. They don’t have to be a novice.
[ There it is, the million dollar question. Again, he traces out the visible part of his scars. ] I’m worried that it’s been too quiet lately, I think we’re long overdue for another perilous ordeal. I’m not omniscient however, so I suppose I’m just basing all of this on a gut feeling. Do you think I’m overreacting? [ He eyes the slanted paper and tries to ignore it, though he eventually reaches over to straighten it out again. ]
One day someone is going to push you off of the balcony. You saying that makes me want to test my knowledge and see if I can disprove your claim. [ When Greed extends his arms, Michael’s hands jolt out to protect a stack of paperwork within tipping distance. He never comes close enough to disturb it but he does tap a finger against his chest regardless. ] If you knock over my paperwork, I will be the one throwing you off the balcony. That’s three days of work, I’ve filed the rest away.
Be that as it may— [ He reaches out to adjust the sunglasses when he notices they’ve gone crooked. ] —fun can quickly turn into something else. Be mindful of where you’re sneaking. [ This insufferable man, why does he like him again? He rolls his eyes and groans at the wink before putting his finger to his lips to shut him up.
He looks like he wants to say something but the doorbell rings, causing him to draw away and turn on a heel to start for the door. ] Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone, please. [ But it takes less than thirty seconds for Michael to call back to him, sounding more than a little anxious. ]
Greed? [ When he reappears, he has no less than four full bags of food clumsily hanging from his arms. Three meals per bag, he will never admit that he didn’t check the order twice or even see what he was paying for it. So, now they have more than half of the menu to choose from between appetizers, soup and entrees. ]
I really hope you’re hungry.
fuck i got lost in the sauce
[No, Michael Morningstar has been caught red-fucking-handed.]
[But he keeps his mouth shut. Greed fans his out his fingers to nick lightly at the edge of the desk, and he lulls his head up towards the ceiling.] Whatever the price? Don't be so sure about that, Blues. Could end up being more than you can afford. But sure, why not. I'll help you with that little project of - ah?
[The sensation of Michael touching his suit makes him visibly tense. The former homunculus scoffs and as a whistle of air squeezes between his teeth, he shoves the end of his tail under the lip of the desk, shutting it up before it can give away anything else. He flits his fingers by his side.] What can I say? Wasn't made just to be durable. And it's not the first time I've had to wear something like this. [He loosens his ankles, making the toe of one of his boots bounce freely in the air.] Don't think I'll start making a habit of it.
[Using two of his free hands, the Sin presses his thighs, flattening the wrinkles in his jeans. He catches something in his pocket and as his fingers feel out the distinct shape of a toothpick, he spreads his legs, notching his heels into the floor.] Old habit. Something I picked up from the little pissant prince - [Thoughtlessly, he trails off and his attention turns back to the papers again. He has no doubt in his mind he spent hours making those notes. Hours, days, weeks. He pulls the toothpick out of his pocket.]
[Old habits, after all.]
[Greed slips the pick between his teeth and pauses.] Lute? [Has he heard the name before? Maybe. But he can't for the life of him put a face to it. He thinks he remembers it coming up once. Around the time Michael made his announcement about Lucifer, and that, well. He'd been a little busy then, hadn't he?]
[The Sin hums, twirling the toothpick with his tongue.] You're looking at it all wrong. You can't learn about fighting from a book. Sure, it can tell you what to do and where to hit, but you can't beat actual experience. [A sound shifts underneath his suit. It's light, barely there; the tune of it more similar to the scales of a snake, rubbing against one another. A sliver of black scratches up his jaw.]
Ehh, wouldn't say you're overreacting. Nothing wrong with going with your gut. [Greed drops his eyes, following Michael as he maps out his scars. No, instinct - it has its uses. It's one of the reasons he had a contingency plan of his own. However, the sewers had failed, and any sort of preparation became useless as soon as his came along and sniffed him out.]
[Part of the toothpick lets out a soft crck. Greed pulls it out of his mouth and slides it behind his ear.] Ha - ! They could try, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn't matter. [As soon as Michael practically dives for the pile of papers, the former homunculus mockingly throws up all four of his hands.] All right, all right. You've made your point, Blue Eyes. Though, if you did, I think your neighbors might start getting some pretty wild ideas, hmn?
[A man being tossed from a ten-story-plus balcony, in a suit on top of it all, leaves a lot of unanswered questions. And where there's questions, there's rumors. Rumors and stories spun up as people filled in the gaps.]
[Greed's about to peel himself off the desk, but then Michael's got his finger to his lips and oh. Oh, he can't help himself. His mouth widens and as his claws nip tiny pinpricks in the wood, he nudges his head forward.] Depends on your definition of fun. [He's about to finish that sentence (no doubt with something just as crude) when the doorbell rings. The Sin shrugs his shoulders, pushing himself up and onto his heels.]
Hmn? [At first, he trails after Michael, steady and slow. However, once he hears the slight lilt to his voice, he gradually picks up the pace; the heavy drum of his boots plunking against the floor. It isn't just a little dinner the Archangel's picked up, no. From the looks of it, he's ordered the whole fucking restaurant.]
[Greed barks a laugh into his chest as he crosses the room.] Y'know, the name's Greed, Feathers. Not Gluttony. [What personal space they may have had, he quickly eats it up. With a slide of his leg, with his arms outstretched, and if he just so happens to be practically chest-to-chest with the man? He doesn't seem to notice.]
Though, knowing you, you'd probably have a soft spot for him. Guy couldn't do anything without the rest. [He collects the bags in his hands, twisting the plastic around his claws.]
mmm the sauce
Then I’ll make payments. You do take those, don’t you? Currency is currency. Small increments given weekly or monthly until you’re satisfied with the price. Will that suffice? Fortunately, whatever the price, I know that you won’t swindle me. That’s why I’m willing to pay it.
[ He doesn’t laugh outright but his mouth does quirk up at the corners. But he does get closer than necessary, dropping his voice to a murmur. It isn’t as if the walls have ears or this is some well-guarded secret but someone has to get a little payback for the weight behind that wicked smile he was given. ]
I wouldn’t try to fit you into an unfamiliar mold and you don’t have to hide your tail, I know what you’re thinking just by looking into your eyes. I hope you don’t try making a habit of that either. [ Satisfied, he draws away from him, fingers tracing him from shoulder to elbow as he slides around him. ]
Lute is Adam’s Lieutenant or was until his passing. It’s unlikely that she will take his place, she is a great fighter but all of the hate Adam had in him he passed onto her. Putting her in charge would likely lead to the same outcome, needlessly lost lives, and I imagine she will be looking for revenge. I had hoped to take her under my wing here and see if I could open her eyes to the truth, but we can’t always get what we want.
[ He lingers just out of reach, folding his arms across his chest. ] Exactly. Why do you think I’m going to be looking for volunteers? I’m confident enough in my skill set that I can teach and adequately demonstrate them to a willing class, but I know not everyone is comfortable with fighting. If I can offer them a wide range of choices they may be more willing to attend, or at least hear what I have to say. [ There is a slight challenge there when he looks back at him again. ] One day, if you’re willing, I won’t hold back and I’ll show you what I’m really capable of.
[ Two monsters in the guise of humans, it would be a hell of a time. He groans, his attention turning to the balcony. ] They already have wild ideas and questions thanks to my frequent wall-climbing houseguest. You really are a troublesome man, do you know that? You and your unique brand of fun.
[ This asshole, he immediately looks a little embarrassed over the food despite uttering a quiet thank you when he takes the bags. The close contact has him making a face that screams half surprise and half something else, but the other half gets masked when he walks ahead of him and gestures to the table in front of the couch. If it seems larger than before that is because it is. Slowly but surely, the room is starting to look less like a hospital and more like a home.
On one of the walls is a framed drawing of him that is an impressive likeness, another gift for Christmas. On the wall beside it? A shadow box full of pictures that bring him joy: the picture of Charlie and Lucifer (along with the feather), a picture of him and Nobunaga (he looks annoyed), the thank you polaroid that Alastor sent him (complete with creepy smiley faces), a shot of him and Greed clinking glasses together during a late night chat and the Christmas card he got from this place depicting Lucifer pre-Fall. He is a sentimental bastard.
It also has the sword brooch and coffee mug given to him by Ochako, a pair of sunglasses from Alastor, the hilariously dark reindeer tie given by Runa and the duck and letter opener Greed gave him. These are the first physical gifts he ever received from people, how could he put them in any place but one of honor? ]
I didn’t know what else you liked, I was erring on the side of caution. [ A pause, that would be a lie. ] .. And I may have forgotten to delete the options I changed my mind about. Now, are you going to be using utensils or your claws today? I need to know how many extra napkins I need to grab.
[ Because he likes him but he will still launch a homunculus into orbit if he wrecks his furniture. ]
no subject
[A look (cocky and full of himself) eases on his face.] Putting a lot of faith in someone like me. Who says I wouldn't swindle you? [He wouldn't. They both know better by this point.] And if you already know what I'm thinking, then you shouldn't be surprised when I tell you that it won't be cheap.
[Greed crosses through the kitchen, his tail wandering behind him like a fishtail made of thorns. The new decorations on the wall immediately grab his attention. Had this been anyone else's room, he probably wouldn't have even noticed. But Michael, his has always been barren, hasn't it? Anything that wasn't completely necessary either didn't stay long or was never there in the first place. And as his eyes drift over the photographs (of Lucifer and his kid, of Oda probably causing the man his fair share of headaches, of Alastor with his pleasant, daring smile, of him, him and Michael, clicking glasses over something he barely remembers), the former homunculus is so distracted that he slams his shin into the new coffee table, earning a quick, raspy hiss.]
[He shakes it off by dropping two of the bags down on the corner of it.] Tch. Told you before that I'd always keep you on your toes, Blue Eyes. [Greed shoves the food out of the way to set the other two bags dangerously close to the table's sharp-lipped edge. He turns his head up, catching Michael's painted likeness.] You asking me if I'm willing is like asking me if I want something. I've told you to never hold back with me. And there's a few things you should know how to deal with, anyway.
[Like how to take care of a homunculus if it ever comes to it.]
[But he doesn't say that. That's a conversation for another time, when Michael's shown him everything he's got, and he'll be the right monster for the job. The Sin's attention silently bounces between the rest of the objects hung on the wall. Sentimental. Despite how hard Michael may try to come across as otherwise, he's sentimental. And maybe, that's something they share in common. Where they'll never say it, never admit it, but it's all so plain to see.]
[Greed scoffs and shrugs his shoulders as he winds around the other side of the coffee table.] You've never fought something like me, and I've never dealt with something like you. Not fully, anyway. [He shows off a hint of his teeth as he presses his head lazily into his shoulder.] So I hope you realize what you're asking for. Not that I think I'll be able to do much to you, but don't expect me to go easy on ya just because I like you.
[It comes out before he means to, and the Sin quickly waves his hand in the air to dismiss the idea. Thankfully, the Archangel does him the favor, if only by changing the subject. Greed takes a seat on the other side of the couch. He folds one leg over the other and as the small of his back sinks into the cushions, he pins two of his elbows behind him, leaving his claws to dangle at his sides.] Ehh, I might not be Gluttony, but I'm not exactly picky, Blues. [He almost sets his boot on the table, but quickly stops himself partway through. No, that's a sure-fire way to earn himself a one-way ticket right off the balcony, no matter how many times Michael never makes good on the threat.]
[So instead, he stretches out his leg, grinding his heel lightly into the floor.] I can eat with a fork y'know. [The former homunculus bounces his foot. Since when did he care about how he ate in front of anyone?] Just makes it easier this way. [To clarify, he spins his wrist and all five of his fingers fan open; their crooked nails, as smooth as a black, filed-point fork.]
[Greed lets his wrist fall limp.] But if it's gunna be a problem, we'll do it your way this time. [The look he shoots over his shoulder may be sarcastic, but there's something else there too. Something warm, something accepting, and as the former homunculus reaches for the bag, he drops his leg off his knee.] Usually these places pack some anyway. [He starts as he begins to dig through the plastic.] And it would be a waste if we didn't use 'em, right?
[Is it a good save? Probably not. But it's as good enough as any.]