Lenalee is rushed out of the room before anyone has a chance to say anything to her. He watches as men protect her from the onlookers with a various amount of reactions. Some praise her, calling her a goddess and a queen, and others condemn her, spitting at her and expressing their disapproval. She says nothing to either person, but keeps her chin up high, her shoulders square, and her expression blank. Lavi is completely taken by this, intrigued solely because of her strength. Her frame is small and thin, her hair cut short, a mix of blood and sweat adding an extra tone to her olive skin. At first glance she catches anyone of guard, which is why her performance has left him in such a daze.
The chaos follows her out of the arena, and soon the crowd begins to settle. When she's gone, there is a calm that passes over them. They seem sated, like they've been given a dose of something to relax their nerves. Some have even begun to sit down, talking amongst each other, thoroughly pleased. They ignore the blood running down the sides of the rings and the smell of flesh circling the tight space they're occupying. It's almost as if it contributes to the twisted atmosphere of this place.
Lavi's limbs press to his side, awkwardly trying to avoid touching anything or anyone he doesn't have to. He's already felt the crude limbs of the crowd as he was pushed into it earlier, and suddenly he is aware of that even as he stands a few inches taller than most of the people around them. He sticks out.
He feels something itching in the back of his mind when he recollects what he just saw; how animated and truly alive Lenalee was in the ring. He wants to be nearer to her, to have the chance to speak to her. He knows it's what he has to do if he wants to complete this assignment as thoroughly as possible. The anticipation courses through his veins like a current, and he wonders how and when he'd ever have the chance to be close enough to even get a hello in. He knows one thing for sure: watching her was simply not enough.
Something snatches the side of his head, and suddenly he is being yanked by his ear, his head throbbing as he's pulled away from the crowd. The man pulling him does so with such force that he can barely make out his surroundings, just pays attention to the throbbing in the side of his head. When they are out in open space, the man lets go, and Lavi glares at him as he massages his tender skin.
"Idiot," the man says. His long, bright red hair tumbles out of a large hat, spilling over his oversized trench coat. He turns on his heel in a dismissive manner, and Lavi is quick to follow him. He begins running to match the large stride of Cross Marian, one of his most important superiors. The man frequently expresses his disappointment through physical means, much to the chagrin of Lavi.
A trail of smoke begins to follow the older man, and Lavi switches to the opposite side so he doesn't catch the brunt of it.
"What did you tell them?" he demands, his voice muffled by the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He is referring to the guards who almost kept Lavi from entering the fight.
"I told them I issued death certificates." The taller man barks out a laugh, and Lavi is grateful for his wit. It gets him out of trouble just as much as it gets him in trouble.
"No, you're not off the hook," He says this slowly, deliberately. "But you and your idiot friend can make up for that later. Make sure he gets my guests home safely tonight, and you won't have to worry about anything else."
A sigh escapes Lavi once he realizes the conversation he'll have to have with the white haired boy who drove him today. By guests, Cross means prostitutes, but Lavi has nothing to say about them. It isn't his business what Cross does in his free time, so long as no one is being harmed by it. In this case it would be the exact opposite, for both parties. But he knows that the white haired boy won't be happy about driving them all home again. At least he was able to avoid a harsher punishment this time around.
"Fine," he agrees.
"Do you know what you're meant to do, boy?" Cross says, raising a curious eyebrow at him. The air about him changes, and he knows he is no longer talking about the cab ride.
"Yeah. But I've got to see the old man before I can begin, per his request." He makes sure to mention this to keep Cross's mouth shut, earning a smirk from the older man. There is a car waiting in the same place Lavi was dropped off earlier, and as Cross climbs into the back seat, Lavi wonders if he's meant to wait long for his own ride.
"3 AM is a better time than most. Try not to be late." He smirks before shuffling a bit to reach for something in his pocket. A clip glints in the light as he pulls it out. Cash. The redhead completes the exchange just before he is greeted by a puff of smoke as Cross speeds away. He jumps back to avoid the spray of water from the back tires.
There isn't a lot of time that Lavi gets to collect his thoughts, and so he uses the few moments he has between the fight and now to think. He can't keep his mind from wandering back to her, wondering where she came from, who she was, and why she was. He couldn't fathom how utterly ruthless she had been despite having just ate her opponent's fist. More than that, the smile that split from her face was what he could not move past. He remembered it clearer than any move she performed that night: the tight, rough edges of her lips that clashed with the smooth skin around her eyes. Her mouth was full of blood and one eye was swollen, but he when he saw her smile, he sensed that there was something much more vicious and bittersweet behind her expression, and he was eager to discover its true nature.
He remembers his folder, and scrawls three simple words to trigger his thoughts about her later.
She was electric.
a/n: just getting things moving along. this story is not meant to be very complicated. i really appreciate all the support on the first chapter! it's very encouraging. i hope you guys will stick around (: if it was shit, don't be afraid to let me know what i could do better to make it not shit! 3
