Note: I'll be adding on to this whenever the mood strikes. Keeping it super casual.
For thir13enth
"Terror is one of the great motivators, like spite, and rage, and raw hunger. Love, I'm afraid, is only for poets."
[quote taken from putthepromptsonpaper via tumblr]
The girl eyed his array of bottles skeptically. She glanced up at him and Kisuke gave her his most charming smile – the crooked one he knew made him look like a believable sap.
"How do I know this isn't just some fake junk?"
"I suppose you don't," Kisuke said lightly, tapping one of the bottle caps with his closed fan.
"How much?"
"Would you be so cold as to put a price on the possibility of love?" Kisuke leaned his hip against the counter and unfolded the fan dramatically. He winked at the girl from beneath the brim of his hat. "How much is your beloved worth to you?"
A loud, unceremonious yowl came from the corner of the shop. His customer's gaze jerked to the left and her eyes widened. Kisuke laughed but didn't glance at the source of the yowl.
"I didn't know you had a shop cat," the girl whispered. "All black too!"
"Don't let Mister Yoruichi distract you, lovie," Kisuke said, trying to lure the girl back into his palm. "He's only after my otsumami."
She finally returned her attention to him. "I didn't know cats could have alcohol."
Kisuke leaned forward on his elbows and held the fan to the side of his face conspiratorially. "Mister Yoruichi is a bit of a lush, I think. Let's keep that between you and me, yeah?"
"Right," the girl whispered. She blinked and glanced down at the bottles once more. "I'll take one."
"Twelve hundred Yen, please, I think that'll do it."
She scowled. "Twelve hundred? That's a little steep."
"Ah, well, I suppose your love will have to wait!" Kisuke made to return the brightly colored bottles back to the shelf behind the register but the girl huffed in frustration.
"Here." She handed over the money and reached for a bottle hesitantly. "Which one?"
"Which appeals to you most?" Kisuke asked in a sugary sweet tone. "The one that sings to you will surely bring you everything your heart desires."
The girl snatched the red bottle. She bit her lip and then stuffed it away in her pocket.
"What if it doesn't work?"
"I'm afraid there's no refunds, lovie," he said, sweeping the remaining bottles from view. "But if that one doesn't work for you, you're welcome to try any of the others!"
"For another twelve hundred Yen?" she replied dryly.
"Business is business. I do need to keep poor Mister Yoruichi in his favorite salted snacks."
His teenage customer spun on her heel and stalked from the store. Kisuke watched her pull the bottle from her pocket once she reached the curb. Apparently satisfied, she disappeared around the corner.
Another yowl followed by the sound of tearing drew his attention. Before he could blink thousands of grains of rice spilled from their bags onto the floor. The sleek black cat leapt gracefully from the ground to the counter where she began to clean her paws delicately.
"You're cruel, Yoruichi," Kisuke muttered, brushing the tips of the cat's ears with gentle fingers. "Is it because I called you Mister? We both know it's better this way."
Yoruichi swished her tail and watched him with her bright golden eyes.
"You want to know why I sold that girl a lie." He laughed softly. "She's afraid of dying alone despite being so young. Terror is one of the great motivators. Like spite and rage and raw hunger."
She pressed her nose into the palm of his hand.
"Love, I'm afraid, is only for poets." He smiled with unchecked affection. "Perhaps she's got some poetry beneath that skepticism, perhaps not."
Her eyes were still the same even though she now hid behind the guise of downy black fur and an impressive set of claws. Kisuke didn't think he'd ever grow tired of her gaze.
"Well, then," he said softly. "I've got some sweeping to do." He unfurled his fan again and winked at her. "And some rice to put on discount."