The evening was still warm but the breeze was cool as Hisoka walked in the road in a neighborhood that seemed more run down than some of the places The Phantom Troupe had called home. The sky was a dusty dark blue dipping towards burnt orange where the sun had recently set, and his gum was losing its flavor when he found the apartment he was looking for. He stuck the old gum to a light pole and leaned against the railing of a bus stop to pull out a fresh piece and pop it into his mouth. kurapika should be here, inside and waking up if he even slept. Hisoka knew a lot of things, and these days Kurapika was enough trouble to be worth keeping an few eyes on.
He moved around the back of the building and pulled the fire escape ladder down, then climbed it to the landing of Kurapika's back porch. He could hear the six o'clock news muffled through the door, just barely audible over the rattle of a window air unit making the structure around it buzz. Hisoka had come here to talk, having heard that the kid was looking worse and worse as the weeks dragged on, and he wanted to see to what degree. He let himself in, a little surprised he didn't have to pick the lock.
Kurapika was at the kitchen table, his back to the television and his phone in his hand, reading it attentively. He had his gun out, as well as the supplies with which to clean it, but hadn't yet begun, still waking up if the full mug of coffee was anything to go by. Kurapika's eyes flicked to Hisoka, then back to whatever he was currently reading.
"Are you against knocking?" His tone was unreadable, but he didn't look bothered.
"It wasn't locked, you practically invited me inside." Hisoka smiled as he came closer and pulled out a chair to sit in, crossing his legs and leaning an elbow against the tabletop.
Kurapika arched his brow but didn't otherwise respond, bringing the cup to his lips to blow steam off the top. He took a sip and kept it up as he read. There was a tremor in his hand, most likely from malnutrition rather than any apprehension he had about Hisoka being in his home. That mixed with the bruises under his eyes only barely hidden by concealer told Hisoka his information was correct. So Kurapika was doing poorly, big surprise, he was never going to be a very stable one anyway.
Hisoka reached out with one finger and slid the gun to his side of the table, cleaning it for Kurapika and only letting his smile stretch further at the long stare he got for it. "So you're still a bodyguard, interesting. When did you take up management?"
"Since the original manager died." He put his phone down and locked it as he took another sip of coffee, then set that down as well. "I didn't think guns were your style."
"Oh Kurapika don't be foolish, I'm an opportunist not a specialist." He loaded the revolver and spun it's cylinder. He removed the ammunition, and spun it again. He set five bullets on the table and slid the last on into its chamber, then spun it again. And again. Kurapika narrowed his eyes as Hisoka held the gun up, pointing at the ceiling. "How should we decide who goes first? Age before beauty? Flip a coin?"
Kurapika was watching him intently now, tremor gone. "It's my gun, I'll go first."
Hisoka's face lit up and he flashed some teeth. "Ahhh, there's the spirit." He pinched the grip and let the gun swing downwards, held out for Kurapika to take. Hisoka's skin looked almost sickly against Kurapika's.
Kurapika turned the gun over in his hands a few times, looking at it curiously before pressing the barrel up under his jaw snugly. His eyes locked with Hisoka's and he didn't seem surprised to hear the click of an empty round. He blinked once, then again before handing the gun to Hisoka. "Why are you here, then? It's not just to play games."
"You're right, but I already got what I came here for so why should I tell you?" He licked his lips at the confused look Kurapika sent him, and chuckled. "Well I can't say I was concerned about you, that would imply a few things that neither one of us would believe."
"That you feel the need to come check on me is not helping my mood, Hisoka." He narrows his eyes, expression stormy and unwavering as Hisoka stuck his tongue out and pressed the gun to the flat of it, obscene as ever. He pulled the trigger, hearing only a click in response, and pressed a kiss to the barrel before handing it over. Kurapika snagged the cleaning rag and used it to wipe saliva and lipgloss off the gun.
"Take what you can get, kid. How many people actively keep tabs on you these days? Besides that lovestruck puppy dog always panting at your heels." He put his chin in his hand and watched Kurapika pause, looking at the gun. He paled a few shades and chose not to answer, instead putting the gun to his carotid. His finger twitched but he didn't pull, looking at his phone for a moment.
Hisoka blew a bubble while he watched Kurapika sit stationary. "Oh, is that a sore spot? Don't tell me about it, this isn't therapy."
Click.
Hisoka took the gun while Kurapika glared sullenly at him. He ran the pad of his thumb around the rim of the barrel, thoughtful. "You expect to get revenge still, correct? But how, I wonder, are you going to do that if you hate yourself enough to play games with me?" He put the gun to his temple and leaned against the table so he could look up at Kurapika, to see his eyes nearly close as he looked down in return.
Click.
Kurapika took the gun again and startled when Hisoka grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer over the table. His grip was harsh and his nails bit into the skin as he held him there to look him in the face up close. Kurapika took in a shaky breath, then let it out between his teeth. "The gun isn't even fucking loaded, don't act like I'm stupid."
"It isn't? Hm, I was sure I put a bullet in there, if you think that way why don't you take my turn for me?" Hisoka yanked his hand up so the gun was pointed at his forehead, a nasty smile thinning his features. Blood welled to the surface where Hisoka's nails had rent the skin, and Kurapika wet his somewhat chapped lips.
"Get out of my house."
"Evidently I'll be able to just fine, so pull the trigger." Hisoka tightened his grip until Kurapika gave in with a dulled click.
"I told you it was empty." He pulled his hand away the moment Hisoka allowed him to, glancing around for the lost bullet. He wouldn't put it passed his guest to flat out steal it.
Hisoka reached out again and brushed the back of Kurapika's ear with his knuckles, producing the missing bullet and holding it out. "You aren't all that much fun when the threat is fake, hunh?" He stood up when Kurapika snatched it from his grip and loaded the gun with all six shots.
"Get out of my house," he repeated, not bothering to look up from his completed task, bangs falling into his face. "I won't ask you again."
"You aren't asking now." Hisoka shouted a laugh when Kurapika turned the gun on him. "You're ordering. Alright, I'm leaving." He walked back the way he came and when he opened the door, the scent of grass and pavement wafted across his face.
"Oh, Kurapika." He didn't hear a reply, but he didn't expect one. "You can stop worrying about revenge. I'll be killing off the Troupe myself, focus on those eyes instead. Maybe try going on a date like a normal person." He heard the gun cock and he took that as his cue to slip out into the night.