evowhisperer | IC Voicemail

[Ryuzaki takes the answerless opportunity to resume his seat on his own barstool, facing Cesar, smirk returning to his pale face.]

It is as fun as you've heard. Not addictive. Not dangerous. I can't say the same for the other activity I'm proposing. Those private rooms? Anything goes, and I do mean anything.

In addition to not crying and curling up in a ball and calling you by your dead brother's name, I actually can take a punch now. Why don't we check them out, turn this nightclub into a fight club of our own and blow off some steam?

*Ouch. Hell. How does Ryuzaki know about those details? Lazarus must have talked about them over the network. Probably to Misa, actually. It feels like someone's drained the fight out of him, and Cesar leans his elbows on the bar, letting his shoulders relax.*

*The tablet is brought to his face--but he just presses it against his forehead, staring moodily at the drink display. This wasn't the way he wanted this to go, but that tablet is a twist, and it's promising a happy evening. He's heard the stories--happy, surrounded by friends, and maybe even able to just forget his problems and enjoy life clutching lustfully in Ryuzaki's arms. 'No more crying and being mistaken for a man Cesar got killed' indeed. He might even be able to forget that, if he tries hard enough. Would that really be such a terrible thing? He could go back to work the next Monday and forget any of this ever happened. Lazarus would deal with Blaise. All his problems would go away.*

*His face is relaxing, and he gives the tablet a distant look, chewing on the edge of his lip. It's a bad idea. This is a bad place to try anything new like this, especially with--His eyes move to Ryuzaki, giving him a lazy, sidelong look.*

Edited 2015-09-21 04:53 (UTC)

[Some of what Ryuzaki "knows" is lucky guesses, and some of it was indeed gleaned from the "safe" Network conversations. It doesn't help that he knows enough about these people to recognize what buttons are the most lucrative to push.

He glances right back at Cesar, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.]

Our little secret. What happens here tonight stays here. But you can't stay where you are, hurting like that... I don't see any point existing that way when you have a choice not to.

Edited 2015-09-21 05:00 (UTC)

*Cesar stares at him heavily for a few seconds more, before his gaze drops. He smiles, laughing silently for a second or two, chest shuddering unsteadily. Ha-ha.*

*The Molly traces an invisible line down his face, towards his mouth, and leaves when it touches a half-smiling corner. He clasps the tablet in a closed fist: it's a goodbye to those fleeting, drunk-glowing dreams of a euphoric evening. He'll take it later, maybe, but not here, and not now.*

*Maybe the doppelganger really does want to see him happy, maybe he doesn't. Either way, though, there's nothing about this that was ever just meant to be about Cesar. Ryuzaki's just saying anything to sooth him, anything to coax him into letting them start something he'd been so determined to stop.*

*He'd almost let it happen again, hadn't he? Cesar rests his cheek on the closed fist, smiling at Ryuzaki. The clone had tried so hard. The room is rocking gently around Cesar's head, and he feels warm, and impulsive, and he still didn't do it. Acidic resentment bubbles up in his chest, and he straightens with abrupt poisonous energy. He's not getting a good evening, and he'll be damned if Ryuzaki gets away better off than him.*

{Did you know that he's better than you in bed?} *Cesar's eyes glitter, and he turns so that his back is to the counter, freeing his hands properly. The Molly is still pinched between two fingers.**

{You're not my first in everything. He's good enough I could come twice every time, even without trying.}

*Fuck if he knows or even means what he's saying. All he wants is to see Ryuzaki's face blanch in fury, to see his eyes flash and his oily smile disappear.*

Edited 2015-09-21 05:36 (UTC)

[Ryuzaki's eyes harden again, that flinty edge sharpening their focus even through the euphoric gleam the drug elicits as it starts to take hold.

So, you want to play like that, do you? He smiles gently, condescendingly.]

How impressive... if that was your lover and this was a year ago. But he isn't, and it's not. He's looking at being a family man, now. A girlfriend, probably wife soon, and two... well, let's face it, kids with special needs. There, I said it. So much stress and responsibility... he can pretend to handle it for quite awhile, maybe, but I don't think anyone will be coming at all in that arrangement.

But I've learned so much in a year... is that what this is? Are you drunkenly trying to get me to prove to you that you're wrong?

[He reaches for Cesar's knee, running his hand along his inner thigh.]

Hey, I'm echoing back the world's greatest detective. Proof is kind of what I do.

Edited 2015-09-21 05:44 (UTC)

*Cesar's smile falters, and the doppelganger has won this round. Lazarus isn't his anymore, and it brings him no joy at all to think of the young family crumbling, and a new father falling back-first for a too-light impact in a bathtub full of glass--*

*The caress at his thigh steals his thoughts, and his lips part, not quite drawing in air. He doesn't reply for a few seconds. Yes, Ryuzaki just knocked this round clear out of the water, too. Trying to regain lost ground, Cesar leans his face closer, staring him eye to eye.*

{You even copy his echoes, if you still get anything at all. Is that the real reason you're doing this? You're copying a list he wrote of everything and everyone he won't do? Is there anything about you that's original?}

Edited 2015-09-21 12:24 (UTC)

[That clinches it; in seconds, Ryuaki knows just what's happened, and he relishes the aftermath. It's even more delicious because Cesar thought he had him with those choice digs at his origin and his nature. Not that they don't sting; it's a highly sensitive topic for a creature that only exists because an inferior, frail one was accidentally created 28 years ago.

Then Cesar's close enough to kiss... or bite, should the fancy strike the doppelganger.]

Maybe that's true. Maybe I get his echoes, and maybe I just know how to use them better. Papacito rico, Desde que te conocí no hago nada más que pensar en ti.

[His accent is perfect, his voice deeper, lustier.]

Edited 2015-09-21 15:13 (UTC)

*The words weren't especially raunchy, but the throaty hum that delivered them more than made up for it. Cesar straightens, and his face and ears are burning, and he won't immediately meet the other man's gaze. Great: Cesar, 1. Ryuzaki, 3.*

*He doesn't understand why it isn't working. It's like he's firing shots point-blank at Ryuzaki's chest, but they're passing through like smoke. Why isn't he distracted? Why isn't he losing even a little bit of control, and why is Cesar the one thinking about the feel of Ryuzaki's breath, and how it smells of alcohol and faint licorice? He'd watched the man's lips while he talked, trying to hear the words under the deafening synthetic beat, and the shapes they took were mesmerizing.*

*Cesar's fingers are work at the Molly tablet without his attention, turning it around once or twice. He stops doing this to sign.*

{Your accent is shit.} *No it's not. Jesus, Cesar doesn't even know how to sign in Spanish. It's the first time he's ever wanted to, and it grates that he can't.* {You should know that before you embarrass yourself.}

*His free hand goes to the nearest shot glass--but it's empty, isn't it? He presses the hand flat on the counter instead, taking the moment to stand up again. He's done here. He needs to get away from whisky and licorice, and eyes that pin him like an exposed bug.*

Edited 2015-09-21 22:13 (UTC)

[Control's a state of mind. If Cesar did have the upper hand here, even by just one point, Ryuzaki would be devastated, but it's like trying to sow a deadly plant in a patch of land where the seed can find no purchase. For it to take and grow roots simply isn't possible here, with Cesar alone and entrenched in Ryuzaki's element, drunkenly mourning a relationship that's left without him.]

It's not shit. It's him. That detective. Stupidly smart, stupidly perfect... OK, for a psychopath, at least. But isn't that exciting, too, in its own way?

[He gives the bartender a look, and the shot glasses are swept away and replaced with two more. Ryuzaki's hand slides closer to Cesar's crotch, conveniently falling there and squeezing when the other man stands resolutely. ]

I also find embarrassing myself exciting. In. Its. Way. Sit down before you hurt yourself... and consider letting me do it for you in a way you'll like a lot more.

Edited 2015-09-22 05:03 (UTC)

*Cesar stops and reverses direction when the hand meets its goal, but moving his hips back doesn't create any distance. Sitting down doesn't, not when the hand can follow so easily. Cesar grabs Ryuzaki's wrist, pulling the arm up and to his far side, tugging Ryuzaki close enough to glare right up into his face. Their breaths intermingle between them, and they're close enough that Ryuzaki might not even have to shout over the music.*

*Whatever advantages Cesar had in glaring from the harsh shadows on his face are lost by his lack of high ground, as well as by the fact that his body had been instantly responding to the touch. Why had he agreed to come here? He hadn't even tried to insist Ryuzaki say his piece over the phone, he'd just buckled in and jumped at the first chance to drink and keep moving. Was it really so bad to have Ryuzaki pulling at him like a fishhook through his hand? Yes, but dealing with his problems without distractions just then was worse.*

*Cesar pushes Ryuzaki's back towards himself, and the painful twist with an equally uncomfortable grip were probably deliberate. There's two shotglasses in front of him, and they both get a stormy look before he's reaching for the first one, knocking it back.*

Edited 2015-09-22 16:29 (UTC)

[It might not be as gratifying as a devastating mental or emotional blow, but by nature of his existence, Ryuzaki inherited Lazarus' sensitive wrists. They've never been the same since he tried to carve them open and bleed to death quietly in a bathtub, even after corrective surgery, and the result of Cesar's maneuver is to cause him to hiss in pain and withdraw. At least, he attempts to withdraw; it's kind of hard, with Cesar pulling him so close that he can smell, even taste the alcohol on the other man's breath. Though his eyes and breathing pattern say he feels it, he smiles through the pain.]

H-heh... nice, I... knew I could get you to touch me. Feel the hotness of your blood.

[A sharp cry gets elicited as Cesar twists and flings his hand back at him, and he turns and massages it, reaching for the other shotglass and matching it.]

You know, I have always been on your side. But now that you've decided to hurt me... let's work with it in a mutually beneficial way. You feel better now, don't you?

*Cesar's eyes flicker his way at the cry, but it's easier to focus on the shotglass instead, and when it's downed he studies it as though there might be secrets hidden in the cheap glass.*

*He does feel better. He has more room to breath, now, and driving that cry from someone who's gone out of their way to cause so much pain has given him a vindictive curl of satisfaction that barely took the edge off of everything that's still pent up inside. It's not that he's a cruel person, or that he enjoys seeing people in pain. He doesn't. It was just... circumstantial.*

*Cesar rotates the shotglass back and forth, eyebrows low and back curved defensively. On impulse he waves for the bartender's attention, holding three fingers up and tapping his chin. Water. He should have some, shouldn't he?*

Edited 2015-09-23 01:06 (UTC)

[If Ryuzaki sees a spark of the pleasure, it's something he can respond in kind to. That's what he's there for, that's what he thrives on, even if it means a little bit of temporary discomfort. He catches sight of Cesar's sign, mouth twisting into a smirk.]

What he said, bartender. Three more shots of whiskey, the W is for whiskey.

*'What?' he mouths, looking at Ryuzaki. By the time he looks back to the bartender the man is already pouring shots, and he only lifts his eyebrows at Cesar's signaling gestures.*

*Cesar doesn't try very hard, sighing and shooting Ryuzaki another sour look. This next shot will be his fourth one, if he takes it, and this is on top of what he'd already had before arriving. How much had that been? He tries to remember what the bottle looked like when he'd started, but he hadn't checked. His body feels pleasantly warm, now and his thoughts are loose enough that the original pain--Lazarus, Misa, twins--is nearly tolerable.*

*This wasn't the first ex he'd had that had gone on to marry and have 2.1 children. Sonia had been terrific, and Cesar had sent wedding gifts when he'd heard the news. It wasn't the fact that they were separate that made Lazarus' casual reveals so bad, it was how they'd ended, and that at some level Cesar had assumed that Lazarus would stay the way he was: unavailable to anyone and focusing on himself. Of course he'd been mistaken; it hadn't been some permanent mental handicap, it'd been a medication issue, and from the sounds of it it'd cleared up the moment his medications returned. Why would Lazarus want to remain single? As offputting as he was, he still had an unusually magnetic effect on the people around him. He was honest. He meant well.*

*The moody, surly drunk Ryuzaki has been coaxing continues to study his empty shotglass, ignoring the new row that's been lined up in front of him.*

Edited 2015-09-23 04:25 (UTC)

[Ryuzaki glances back at him, winking impishly as the shots get lined up on the counter in front of them.]

Salud, Cesar.

[He takes one of the shot glasses, too, drinking it down in one smooth motion.]

Come on. You're not going to make me finish these myself, are you? It's your turn. Unless you're ready to stop, of course, in which case we can find somewhere a little quieter. What'll it be?

*Cesar shoots him a look, but reaches for another shot. The fact that he sips instead of throwing it back says a lot about his current levels of intoxication. What says even more is how he's considering the possibilities:*

*The first option is to stay there and drink. Could he drink forever? Obviously not, as he'd probably pass out or fall asleep at the bar. It wouldn't be such a terrible thing on its own, but there's nothing that feels safe or friendly about this club, and he's almost certain that he would wake up relieved of cash and credit cards.*

*The next option is to go with Ryuzaki. Cesar swallows, and the whisky's burn is barely registering by now. Maybe they could have a little fun, and Cesar could pretend he was having the last night with Lazarus that he never got to have...*

*Pathetic. Cesar grimaces and drags his free hand down the front of his face, sober enough to be humiliated by these thoughts and not sober enough to avoid them. He needed to get over himself. Maybe he'd be better off going with the man to a dark corner and punching him out, then tottering unsteadily all the way home. It was no more than Ryuzaki deserved....*

*The third is to simply leave. He doesn't find this one as appealing as the other two, for one because Ryuzaki would probably just follow him home, and for another because he's already tried it, and each time he stands Ryuzaki intercepts him. He could force the man away, of course, but there's an emotional fatigue that's stealing his will to make himself heard over Ryuzaki's cajoling. At the very least he wants to stay until he's recovered a little more.*

*Cesar takes a longer sip of whiskey, glancing at Ryuzaki with what he probably thinks is discreet consideration.*

Edited 2015-09-23 20:31 (UTC)

[The look is met with a benign, soft smile and Ryuzaki's glinting eyes. They go to Cesar's lips as the other man drinks the shot more slowly, undoubtedly feeling its burn more acutely. It's cheap stuff, certainly not for sipping. That alone is enough to make someone sick.

He holds up a hand, as if about to proclaim scout's honor.]

I could push you down, or I could pull you up to go somewhere better. It's up to you. What are we doing, Cesar? Something we've never done before?

[He reaches into his coat, pulling a condom out, biting the corner of the package and letting it hang over his lower lip.]

*The condom dangles from Ryuzaki's mouth like a charm, and Cesar stares at it, surprised he had one on himself at all. Seconds tick on. His mind is working surprisingly well for someone who's had as much to drink as he has, but it's going in circles, and an actual decision dances just out of his grasp.*

*.... Finally he reaches it. His gaze drops, and he tips back the last of the shot, swallowing it down to brace himself. His eyes go from the shotglass to Ryuzaki's head. Then to his neck, and his chest, and the shotglass again.*

*He meets Ryuzaki's gaze again, now, giving him a smile that's supposed to be agreeable, but that's turned out bitter and tense. He nods, lifting two fingers by way of answer. The second one. The second answer of which question? Either works, and he stands again, reaching for the last shot. He doesn't knock this one back.*

Edited 2015-09-24 02:50 (UTC)

[He grins around the condom package, tilting his chin lower so his eyes look wider, both hungrier and more innocent. Well... mock-innocent, at least, no one would ever believe that was truly the case.

He sits up a little straighter, feeling Cesar's less-than-focused gaze trailing downward along his form and reveling in it. His silvery laughter sounds at the indicated number.

His finger hooks around Cesar's belt loop.]

I like this song. It's got a good rhythm. A good beat. Let me want you. Let me take care of you.

*Cesar's smile is pasted in place with styrofoam-like pleasantness, all fake and insubstantial. He nods, turning to face Ryuzaki more. Any signs he makes are butchered by the shotglass held in his left hand, and he's making every effort not to spill or put the glass down for whatever reason. It's a serious hindrance.*

{Can we go somewhere quieter to do this?}

[He squints slightly, trying to make out the signs, biting back more laughter. He knows Cesar well enough, especially given their checkered history, to realize that this probably isn't ideal compliance, that he's still trying to move forward with some kind of trick up his sleeve. Ultimately, it's still exciting and intriguing.]

Quieter? You mean somewhere you can hear all the sadness and emptiness?

[He anchors himself on the belt loop, pulling himself up and locking eyes with Cesar, close enough to smell the whiskey on the other man's breath.]

I'm willing to share, but... I can make all the decisions tonight if you want someone to take charge. I'm good at that. I can think of a place in back, an area sectioned off for this kind of thing, with furniture just the right height to bend a man over and give him something to hold onto for dear life. That could be me, if you think you can get it up... or, you know, that could be you...

Edited 2015-09-24 03:35 (UTC)

*Cesar braces himself against the counter while Ryuzaki pulls himself up, and then he's close enough to feel his warm breath on his face, and have his vision pinned by dark eyes that can see straight into his skull. There is no way to hide from them, no disguise for the way his eyes widen, or the pauses in breath while his gut swoops pleasantly. '... If want someone to take charge.' Pause. 'That could be me', Ryuzaki said. '... or, you know... that could be you...'*

*His mouth is dry. At this closeness the swallow is impossible to miss, and he breaks his stare, feeling naked already.*

*The moment cracks when Cesar claps a hand to Ryuzaki's shoulder, bracing himself as much as giving himself a somewhat literal upper hand. He doesn't seem to want to let Ryuzaki see him giving any of this much thought, as though keeping his answers vague will hold hide his yearnings protectively. Ryuzaki can't appeal to them if he doesn't know what they are, after all. Cesar gestures forward with the shotglass, wordlessly inviting him to lead the way.*

Edited 2015-09-24 04:14 (UTC)

[Though Ryuzaki is Lazarus' exact opposite in a lot of ways, the eyes are the same, their piercing, attentive quality swallowing up everything in their line of sight. For someone known to respond to them and their stifling effect, it's probably fairly difficult to ignore the way he's bending every ounce of his focus on Cesar.

His laugh turns giddy as Cesar's hand falls to his shoulder, a little rougher and less coordinated than a sober man would. He accepts the invitation gladly, leading Cesar by his belt loop and weaving his way through the writing bodies comprising the crowd.

This particular club has many dark, strange, anonymous corners, some of which provide slightly more quiet and privacy than others. A few have audiences. A few have more than two participants. The one that Ryuzaki was referring to has no one, revealed when he pushes aside a heavy velvet curtain and pulls Cesar toward a vinyl-covered bench that is, as he mentioned, just the right height to bend a man over.]

*Cesar freezes as the curtain sweeps closed behind them, staring around in shock. There's two walls made of brick, and two of heavy folds of cloth that blot light just as efficiently, and absolutely nothing else to hide them from the rest of the club. It's the most public place for sex he's ever been in, and he's looking around as though a second look would change things for the better.*

*It doesn't. The shotglass is still held stubbornly in his hand (even though most of its contents were knocked on is clothes by the seething crowd outside) and he tightens his grip, eyes leveling themselves towards Ryuzaki.*

*This isn't going to be easy. The ground feels like the deck of a ship in a storm, and Ryuzaki isn't nearly as drunk as him. Cesar finally turns his attention back to him, and the shift is screaming itself in the darkness.*

*His eyes are bright with excitement. Every muscle is tense. He holds the glass less like a jealous drunkard and more like someone armed, and it's all the warning Ryuzaki has before Cesar strikes.*

*One wild swing towards Ryuzaki's skull, heavy-side of the glass first. A second, third if he misses, or if the first two don't bring him down. He's stumbling, and by the third he's tripping over his own feet, falling heavily. The shotglass shatters close to his head, and Cesar flinches when the glass throws a shard close to an eye. He doesn't even notice the cut that a different shard does make, tiny and welling up with blood.*

Edited 2015-09-24 05:31 (UTC)

[Between the alcohol and the molly, Ryuzaki is just messed up enough to have fun and see the most exciting and positive facets of every event and encounter. It makes for a volatile, weird situation, and as he's turning toward Cesar to reach for his belt, ready to drop to his knees and start right there to chase away the last traces of reluctance the man might harbor, he's being hit in the side of the head with an uncoordinated but weighted blow.

Though he has more weight and muscle on him than Lazarus from a year of chomping bacon and working out, he's still lighter in build than Cesar, and he goes down, violently and instantly, hitting the ground, a goose's egg already starting to rise under the skin of his scalp. Glass shatters, Cesar staggers back, and Ryuzaki is rising with ringing, wild laughter. His eyes are alive and dangerous.]

Ha! That's more like it! Is that all you've got? Come at me again, if you can.

[He's injured, but he's not hurt. It should be becoming terrifyingly clear that Ryuzaki responds to many kinds of passion exactly the same way, with monstrous, bottomless hunger.

He kneels next to Cesar, taking his time, running a finger along the tiny cut and licking and sucking the blood from his own flesh.]

I thought you wanted to get off. If you want to get scared... well, I aim to please. Always.

[He draws his fist back, following through with a vicious and far more sober punch to Cesar's jaw.]

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