Was it too much to ask for a little praise?

Okay, so it was his job to get his performers to their venues on time, but in this case it had taken a CIA stealth fighter to force the pink chimp's ass up on stage where it belonged. Didn't he deserve a small

'thank you' for that? K thought so and knocked firmly on the President's door. No answer, but the boss was in there. He was always in there. That, and his secretary had admitted it the moment K pointed a Desert Eagle at her. Tohma's flight from New York had landed the previous afternoon, so he should've had plenty of time to unwind from his trip.

If anyone needed unwinding, it was K. He hadn't had a smoke all day and desperately needed a nicotine fix. Come to think of it, he was all out of cigarettes, wasn't he? Damn. He'd meant to buy another carton, but things kept cropping up and he'd forgotten. For a second he patted down his Dockers, but Tohma's secretary looked at him strangely, so he gave it up for now. Fortunately she knew better than to interfere whenever he intended to enter the President's office unannounced. Holstering his gun, he opened the door and strolled in.

Shit. Not good. Tohma looked like hell. Well, not exactly true. He looked like a million bucks. A million bucks that had been through hell.

"How was your trip, boss?" It seemed a safe question, but the glazed eyes peering up at him over that plastered-on smile said otherwise. K didn't need an explanation. It was hard to miss the president's obvious adoration for his brother-in-law. Since Shuichi had performed the other night without laryngitis, hives, leprosy or any other ridiculous affliction, he must have made up with Yuki. From the look on Tohma's face, it must be permanent.

This was good. Maybe the diva would grow up and act like a professional from now on. K was getting so tired of bribing Shuichi to do his job like an adult. He'd never had trouble getting Ryuichi to perform on time. Why was it such a chore to get Shu to do his fucking job? It was his chosen career, after all. His dream job. Millions would kill to be able to do what Shuichi did for a living.

"The concert went well, Shacho. Everything we could hope for. You would've been pleased."

Tohma nodded, and K wandered over to the windows. With the manager behind him, Tohma dropped the phony smile and stared down at some paperwork in front of him, but even from this vantage point K could tell he wasn't seeing the paper. Probably wasn't seeing anything, except maybe the untimely death of an annoying pink usurper. K could understand that, but couldn't let it happen. Shuichi was his meal ticket, and the revenue generated by Bad Luck merchandise, promotional appearances and concert performances paid for a lot of ammo. He'd be damned if he'd let the boss derail his gravy train.

Tohma didn't look angry or vengeful, however. Just depressed. No, more like crushed. Destroyed. Like he'd lost everything worth living for.

"You're a married man, Shacho."

"What?" Tohma looked up with genuine bafflement, or perhaps more like his thoughts had been read.

"I said, you're a married man. Go home to your wife and forget him."

"I don't need you to remind me. I know my duty."

"Do you? He's your brother-in-law. Your wife's brother. I went to your damn wedding."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. K. It's all in perspective now. Please leave."

He really ought to. If he could scrape up enough change he could buy a pack of cigarettes from the vending machine downstairs, and he seriously needed a smoke right now. There was nothing keeping him here except the fact that underneath his own scheming, manipulative nature he was a human being, and this wreck of a man before him was suffering. Something Ryuichi had said a few days ago elbowed its way to the front of his mind:

"No, you're wrong! Tohma isn't off being angry; he's grieving, na no da!"

Someone grieving could probably use a little advice. And a friend. K stood beside the executive chair and flashed a crooked smile as the President turned toward him in surprise.

"He's not worthy of you." K didn't bother deliberating the wisdom of fingering Tohma's hair. He was no groveling lackey, and he'd known Tohma for years. Sakano had a long way to go before he knew the boss's mind as well as he did. "You can do better."

Tohma said nothing, but didn't pull away, either. A good sign. K stared into his eyes, keeping him riveted on the manager's face while he caressed Tohma's cheek. What was Tohma thinking? Possibly weighing the differences between them—Yuki and himself. K had longer hair and more height but otherwise looked very similar. Like Yuki, he reeked of cigarettes and a hostile attitude. But there the similarities ended. He was no broken boy with a troubled past. Could Tohma only love someone who needed protection? "You can do better," he repeated quietly.

The President might have answered, if not thrown off balance by the sudden buzzing of the intercom on his desk. "Seguchi-san? David Geffen's on the phone."

"Hmm...? Oh, yes. Thank you."

The secretary went back to whatever she was doing and K headed for the door. "You know where to find me if you want to pursue this." There was no point in sticking around, and the pink chimp in the recording studio downstairs could probably use a good pistol whipping right about now. K swaggered out of the office and headed for the elevator at the end of the hallway. The further he got from Tohma's office, the more he thought nothing would ever come of whatever had just happened in there. To Tohma, Yuki would always be the headliner, and next to him everyone else was merely an opening act. K would never be the featured performer.

Too bad. It could have been interesting.

"Okay, I think this track is ready for overdubbing," the sound engineer said as K entered the control room. Evidently Shuichi was taking care of business today, even without the promise of an amusement park or a sidewinder missile as motivation. A nice change. Hopefully his relationship with Yuki would stay on course and K could dispense with the threats and coercion from now on. Wouldn't that be nice.

There were a few yen hiding at the bottom of his pocket somewhere; he was sure of it. Maybe he had enough for a pack of smokes. K dug around, but retrieved instead a crushed softpack with a single, pristine cigarette inside. Talk about serendipity. Things in the studio seemed to be under control for the time being; he might as well take a little break. Who knew how long the calm would last? With a nod to the neurotic producer he turned toward the exit, when Sakano's cell phone suddenly played the first few bars of a Grasper tune.

"Sh-Sh-Shacho! What may I do for you? The recording is going as well as can be expected. You should have heard Shindo-kun perform the new single—hmm...? Oh, yes, yes. He's here. What's that?" Sakano listened for a few seconds, bobbing his head frantically in agreement. In another moment he closed the keypad and turned to K. "Mr. K, the president would like you to stop by his office before you leave for the day. He said you'll know what it's about."

"Hn." Arching an eyebrow, K headed out the door. Yes, he knew what it was about, but things could go either way from here. Maybe Tohma was willing to try out the coach section for a change instead of first class, or maybe he'd just decided to fire the manager for his insolence. It could be the closing curtain of a farce or the opening act of a new blockbuster. He flicked his lighter and lit the cigarette before glancing up at the sky. Puffy white clouds. A good sign. Puffy white clouds, Shuichi was working and he'd found a cigarette when he'd desperately needed one.

Something told him he wasn't going to get fired today.