Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara!, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Ryohgo Narita and Suzuhito Yasuda. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Adjectives
"This isn't about Seiji anymore, is it?"
She says nothing. The way she looks at him, trying to appear neutral, is confirmation enough. He grins, spinning in his chair to face the window, the book and pen in his hand. For the last several minutes, he's been playing a bit of a game with a crossword puzzle, reading the hints before flipping through the dictionary to find a random word to fit into the boxes.
For the fun of it, he'd decided on words that described the woman hovering over his desk.
Brash, crude, bitter, obsessive, humorless. He could go on for quite some time, and he'd gone so far as to highlight each one and fold the corner of the page.
"What are you insinuating, Mr. Orihara?" she snaps, her hands turning the chair around again. "Are you suggesting that I have another motive for coming to see you? Something more important than my Seiji's safety?"
She's quite the woman, this Namie Yagiri. Ambitious, over-the-top, and even daring. Three more wonderful adjectives he can add to his list of descriptions. It certainly made for an entertaining game, one that he'd have to remind himself to play again. At that, he wonders just how many labels he can slap on people like Masaomi and the timid Mikado. Even little Anri will looks much more appropriate with something distinct to identify her on his board.
"I never said anything of the sort," he replies coolly, pressing the puzzle into the pages of the book. "But, since you've brought it up, yes."
He focuses his attention on the computer screen as she begins berating him about his disrespectful attitude towards her. He only hears half of her words, as he's far too amused with watching the pinging red light as it moves around the map. Smiling, Izaya turns the computer towards her, watching as the woman's eyes widen.
"There he is," he says, leaning on his hands. "Your precious little Seiji. Now, maybe you want to ask me to go save him from the big bad wolf. Who knows? She might get hungry and try to eat him alive."
"How dare you?"
It's sharp, the sting of her hand against his face, but he doesn't move. Just sits there, staring at her with a look of amusement. She's never struck him before, not even made a move to. But, now that she has, he's given another word to attribute to her person. Based upon that moment, and the secret desires she holds in her heart for her beloved, he can say with certainty that Namie Yagiri is a physical woman.
It makes sense, this new label. By the flush of her cheeks, he knows that she's upset by his words. That his comment about Seiji has sent her off into the deep end. She can't stomach the thought of someone else, another woman, doing those dark things to her brother. She has to do them herself.
"It's not about Seiji, after all," Izaya laughs, standing as she steps back. "No, it's about something far more... pressing. Something that, despite your love for him, is interfering with those undisclosed desires of yours." He smiles, staring down at her. "Confused, aren't you? You poor thing."
"Don't touch me," she hisses. "It's about Seiji... Always about Seiji... Don't you dare think otherwise!"
Now, as she walks away, cursing him between breaths, he has another word for his list. He returns to the paper folded inside the dictionary, grinning as he jots it down in the boxes of the puzzle.
"She is... conflicted."