/You might as well stay. I already know you're here./
Yohji closed his eyes as the voice ghosted through his mind. He fucking hated it when Schuldig did that. It always gave him the worst feeling of violation when Schuldig inserted thoughts into his head.
/And you thought I just did it 'cause it's convenient./
"Shut up," Yohji murmured and took one of the empty bar stools next to Schuldig. He waved the bartender over and ordered his drink. Taking in the sagging posture of his companion he held up two fingers.
/Buying me a drink, lover? How sweet of you./
"Use your voice, Schuldig,"
"Don't get mouthy, Kudou." Schuldig's voice was oddly muffled.
The drinks arrived and Yohji saw the pale hand reaching out for the glass was slightly trembling. He caught the fingers in his left hand and turned Schuldig's face towards him with his right. Yohji whistled lowly and Schuldig jerked from his grasp to snatch the glass and glare at him while he sipped. The action pulled at his split lip and swollen cheek and he winced.
"Hell of a shiner you got there," Yohji said. "You kill'em?"
Schuldig flipped his hair forward and mumbled, "Can't."
Yohji frowned, sipped his own drink. "Crawford."
Schuldig stiffened. "None of your business, Kudou."
"You're right." Yohji lit a cigarette, took a deep drag. "Nor do I really care. Just making conversation."
They drank in silence for a while. After another round Yohji noticed Schuldig's posture relax somewhat. The fall of orange hair still concealed his face, but Yohji knew what was probably in his eyes. He saw it in his own eyes every time he looked in a mirror, a bone deep weariness of life. A derisive snort beside him jerked Yohji from his thoughts.
/I'm not one of your damsels in distress, Kudou. Get a grip. Your mind reads like a bad romance novel right now, and it's making me want to puke./
"You're such a prick, Schuldig."
"And once again, I'll remind you that I've never denied it."
Yohji twirled the ice in his glass while watching the telepath. He found it slightly disturbing to see defeat written over the man's face. It wasn't any more attractive a look than the damn smirk most often seen. Schuldig caught the thoughts and jerked his head up to sneer and narrow his eyes in a deadly glare worthy of Aya.
"So, you here drinking away your latest mission, White Knight?" Schuldig hissed.
Yohji's eyes took on a more bleak look and he raised his hand for another round. "You could say that," he said in a flat voice.
Schuldig blinked. It wasn't any fun if Yohji didn't fight back. Yohji seemed even more depressed than their last encounter. Even his attire was subdued. For Yohji, that is, meaning that not the usual amount of skin was showing. On pure impulse, Schuldig knocked back his latest drink and thunked the empty glass on the bar and turned to fully face Yohji, letting the assassin see the extent of the damage to his face.
Along with the black eye, the telepath had a split lip, a purple knot high on his cheekbone and his long nose was slightly off center with a bit of dried blood dotting his upper lip. Yohji instinctively dipped a bar napkin in the complimentary glass of water no one ever drank and dabbed at the blood. Frozen in shock, Schuldig just watched his face with wide, blue eyes and let it happen.
Yohji tossed the soiled napkin to the gouged surface of the bar and slid a fresh glass towards Schuldig.
"So," Yohji drawled. "Feel like getting shit-faced tonight, 'cause you're definitely not pretty enough right now to be seen with Kudou on the dance floor?"
Schuldig curled his lip in an almost sneer. "Screw you, Kudou. Even on my worst days I'm still prettier than you."
Yohji smiled into his next drink, sure the ball had bounced back into his corner for the while.