For Liss, who thought I'd forgotten Ryou's birthday.

And, to commemorate Ryou's birthday, naturally ;)

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Even the toughest, most resilient criminals find themselves suppressing involuntary shivers when they enter: rather than a lawyer's office, most clients coincide that "Dark" Malik Ishtar's waiting room looks like the main meeting chamber of a Satanist cult.

Minus the torches. Definitely with the human sacrifice –themselves.

But Ryou has a few secrets up his sleeve as well, and he's never been impressed by his tenant's taste for interior design. Disgusted, only sometimes. Weirded out, rarely (depending on the case that Malik's working on at the moment). But, impressed?

Hardly. It would take more than lugubrious lighting and a couple of (artful) black draperies and panels to affect a witch doctor.

Despite how he's been there for an occasional cup of tea, Ryou's presence in the waiting room today has a professional purpose.

The receptionist, a huge bulk of a former felon who owed his freedom (and his life) to the late Robert N. Zork, has long since given up trying to pronounce his last name, and even his first name, and he doesn't even bother to ask whether he minds that he'll announce him as 'Ryou'.

Ryou won't mind, of course. Americans massacring the sound of his beautiful Welsh name is an experience he can always forego.

10 minutes later, after Ryou has all but memorized that eerie poem hanging on the wall next to him –written by Edgar Allan Poe, and framed lovingly by the late Mr. Zork himself –the door to Dark Malik's office proper opens and out comes a rather cold-looking, model-like sprite of a woman, wearing dangerously high heels and waist-long hair that would look bleached if it didn't look so genuine.

Malik sees her off with one of his creepiest smirks.

'Tell your husband that if he's really… committed to get off the hook, that it'll be my pleasure to take up his case. Buggy, give Mrs. Kaiba our contact information, and possibly an appointment, too, if you please.'

"Buggy", who is no other than the burly, massive receptionist, only grunts in response, and sees to the woman who, businesslike, stands before his desk.

'Ah, my dearest, landlord,' Dark Malik says, turning his attention to Ryou, who is no stranger to the way that his tenant goes about his business, and has been impassively watching the scene.

'Sorry if I made you wait. Shall we go in?'

Ryou nods. He'd offer Dark Malik a 'long time no see' smile, but his thoughts trouble him, and he foregoes it.

'Tea, may I assume? The usual?' Dark Malik doesn't even let him answer, and instructs "Buggy", who usually also doubles as a waiter, to bring them something to drink. Then shuts the door to his office, without even waiting for a reply.

Ryou takes a seat with a sigh. The interior of Dark Malik's office looks less like a room prepped to offer virgins to the devil, as was Mr. Zork's taste, and more like the burial chamber of some king of old –a pharaoh, maybe.

The main difference is that Dark Malik has got actual torches. (Ryou asked him once about them. "It just brings memories of my childhood," Dark Malik answered, "I'm a nostalgic guy, you see.")

'So, what have you been up to?' Ryou asks his… tenant. He'd readily call him a friend, mind you, but he's thought long about it and decided that friendship usually is a two-way business, and he profoundly doubts that Dark Malik sees anyone as a friend. Maybe he'll ask him, some day- but until then, and as long as Dark Malik keeps renting his grandmother's old beach house, he'll be fine with calling him just his tenant.

'Oh, peachy,' Dark Malik says with a witty little smirk (he's been liberally using that word since he watched Labyrinth, and bonded with Jareth over their mutual taste for hair and clothes), 'Work's been delightfully chaotic and dramatic, and there's two more acquitted murderers in the streets, thanks to yours truly.'

Ryou wishes he wouldn't shiver every time that Dark Malik says that, which is more often than should be healthy for society.

'There's also a rapist. Free, I mean,' Dark Malik adds, thoughtfully, 'I sometimes have second thoughts about those. Fleeting second thoughts (he grins) But, whatever.'

Seeing Ryou's far-off expression, he magnanimously decides to cheer him up before "Buggy" brings them tea, and tells him about the woman he just saw. 'You know, landlord dearest, I'm expecting that she'll bring me something golden.'

Ryou feigns interest. 'Really?'

'Oooh, yes. I can almost smell how good it's gonna be… Or it maybe just our tea. Come on in, my Insectan friend!'

Silently, "Buggy" sets a trail on Dark Malik's desk, and leaves.

'Thank you!' Ryou calls. Buggy grunts and shuts the door.

He's in real precious company, he thinks.

Dark Malik takes his tea as black as it was brought. He usually only drinks tea when Ryou visits, and Ryou has often wondered why. It seems too… nice for something Dark Malik would do. He's not asked, though.

'Now, take a draft from that tea and a cookie, and tell me what's brought you into my humble domains, landlord mine.'

Thoughtful, Ryou does just as told. When he looks up from his half-empty cup of tea, he sees Dark Malik's almost-preternatural clear eyes studying him with a thin-lipped smirk. The bizarre tattoos around his eyes (one of many mementoes from his time in prison) make his stare even more predatory. Though Ryou has seen much (and of the natural and supernatural varieties), he can safely say he's never seen eyes like those.

Very scary eyes. He's told him so. Dark Malik's reply was a hearty laugh and an honest thank you, doc. Doc, as in doctor. Witch doctor. He still calls him that, sometimes, though he seems to enjoy landlord better. Whatever. He's mind-rambling.

Finally, Ryou speaks: 'My father died,' he says, sullenly.

Not surprisingly, Dark Malik grins widely and congratulates him. Asks him if he's up to toasting for it.

'Dude, I'm not happy about it,' Ryou chastises, and Dark Malik tries to look apologetic. He fails. His smirk seeps through.

'Too bad. And here I thought you'd remembered your humble tenant and wanted to share the good news,' Dark Malik mock-sighs, 'Now I have no choice but to get down to business –I assume that's what you came for, eh, Rhydwyn…?'

'Sadly, yes, Mr. Ishtar,' Ryou sighs, though genuinely, 'Yesterday I got a call from my father's personal representative in Cardiff. Now, I know for a fact that he left no will, and everything was meant to pass on to my sister and me –yeah, Amane's not of age yet, so the lot of my father's estate that she gets will be kept in trust until she's 18, we know all of that. We went through it with my father's counsel some days ago.'

Dark Malik smirks, patiently. 'So?'

'So,' Ryou almost spats, 'Apparently my father's ex-wife comes up yesterday, waving a supposed will around that nobody knew about, and she wants to get it through probate, but, man, that thing is as false as they come.'

Dark Malik lets out a thin whistle, 'You're gonna have to get yourself some plane tickets,' he comments, off-handedly.

'Just bought them,' Ryou answers sullenly, 'but I didn't want to leave before I consulted with you.'

'AH, here it comes!' he exclaims, raising his arms in a lofty gesture, '–precisely what did you want to consult me about, hmm?'

'You see…' he bites his lower lip, not unlike flustered, 'My father left some stuff… It's mostly sentimental reasons why I want to keep it… but it's also kind of pretty valuable, from an archaeological point of view…'

'Oh, I see. It'd be a shame if it fell into the heathen hands of the non-savvy, wouldn't it?'

Ryou huffs. '…In a scale from 0 to 10, how illegal would it be for me to keep it?'

Dark Malik cackles, somehow under his breath.

'Dearest Ryou, it's a personal legacy to you, in the worst case –but he gave it to you himself while he was alive, remember…?'

'But, that's the point, he didn't give…. oh.' Ryou stares at him for a while, blankly.

'Give chivalry a break, doc. Are you so scrupulous when you go around making zombies?'

Still trying to come to terms with his very own, non-practical righteousness, Ryou scowls at Dark Malik. 'I think we talked about this already –that's evil black magic and I do no thing of the sort. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a plane to catch…'

'Oh, come on, don't be like that,' Dark Malik calls, standing up after Ryou, 'I know that plane doesn't leave for a couple of hours, or a cautious guy like you wouldn't have come all the way to talk to good old me. Tell you what. I'll buy you a drink ahead of the birthday you're gonna spend soaring over the Atlantic, and you can tell me all about zombie-making.'

Ryou wants to groan. He wants to be alone with his brooding thoughts. He wants to tell Malik to shove the booze where he could fit it, for reminding him that, indeed, he'll be spending the better part of his birthday crammed in a plane… only to land 7 hours later across the world, where there's gonna be little left of the second day of September for him to celebrate… amidst the paperwork on his deceased father's estate. And his horrible ex wife.

Well, at least he'll be seeing Amane. That should be nice (although he doesn't particularly like the shade of blue she's decided to dye her hair.)

He doesn't do anything of the sort, though. He lets himself be led to the door by a very perky, and quite crazy, lawyer.

'You know you won't get anything out of me, even if you get me drunk, right?'

'I know,' Dark Malik says with his best smirk, 'the gods know I've tried.'

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Author's Note:

MR. ZORK; guys MR. ZORKKKKKKKKKKK I'm dying.

I decided to keep most of Ryou's background from Coroner's Court, because I was pretty fond of it. If you're wondering about his full name, it's Rhydwyn Ysbrid.

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Up Next:

The mysterious Mrs. Kaiba, and "Buggy"'s shady past.

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Also Up Next:

'Malik… that's a chicken.'

'I know. I'm training it to screech like a hawk, though.'