III. The Boss's Daughter
They were still talking. She was still drinking.
Not the type to check the time, Revy counted the empty bottles arranged like bowling pins and guessed they'd been talking for awhile, unsure if Rock was just spewing bullshit to butter him up or if he had already made the exchange and now they were simply chatting like old pals or what. Glancing over in her stupor, Revy could swear they were locking lips with each other, but then again those could also the two cows she'd seen pass by going at it, and squinted.
About to take a swig from the bottle in her hand the realization slowly hit her that this was actually the last and her only solace and why waste it all now when she could save it for later because fuck the saké those small fry Yakuza were bound to have, That was when she heard Rock tell her he was finished and that they could move on.
"Ah. Fuck it," she grumbled, slurring her words, chugging it and then tossing the empty bottle to shatter against the wall behind the hooded figure in the corner.
The whole night—or morning, she didn't fucking know anymore—the woman had been just standing there and was probably some rich asshole's expensive daughter from Baltics given to their pansy-ass client for the money. Or marriage. Or whatever. And, by the looks of it, the woman didn't want to be here nor did anybody else seem to want her around because they all ignored her and yeah, well, that made two of them.
Rock called her again. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you the first time!" she called back, deliberately knocking over the mini-bar before lumbering away and joining her partner at the elevator.
"Let me help you," he said, taking a hold of her arm as she swayed a bit.
"Lay off," she spat. pushing him aside and going in first. And, as Rock hurried in after her the elevator doors closed, but not before she and bride-to-be's eyes met for the first, and, last, time.
Next stop, the fucking Gandhis of Japan's underworld.
Revy sniffed, arms crossed as she leaned on the wall outside the building where Rock and the Yakuza had begun their negotiations. He hadn't said it but the look he'd given her on the ride here held all she needed to know: that she wasn't to interfere in any way, shape, or form. She didn't object when he told her to wait outside while he handled everything.
Counting how many stupid Buddha statues were positioned atop the gate of the complex the Yakuza were based in, it wasn't like she had any plans to crash their little party, anyway.
What the fuck was she going to do? Knock over their teasets and stomp all over their gardens? These pansies were a bunch of jokers, not even worth the effort. Maybe she could've punched the old man that'd greeted them at the entrance in the face when she had the chance, but she wasn't the type to punch people for no explicit reason—usually. At least he'd looked like a hard ass, but around here his type seemed to be the exception and not the norm. A dying breed.
Feeling a headache coming on, she cursed and tried to walk it off—'cause what else was she supposed to do, it was better than standing around doing nothing—and stumbled as she did, managing to fall flat on her ass not long after. Looking up at the Buddha statues, she wished she still had her Customs. Then these fat Humpty Dumpties would be scrambled eggs. It would give her something to do, anyway.
And, getting up, why the fuck should she stay here, anyway? Nobody would care if she simply went for a walk to… wherever… and cleared her head a bit, would they? Rock would be fine by himself, after all. No use having her hang around and, thinking of how long it'd take him to wrap up his teaparty, she went out the gates and stepped into the suburb, looking to the left and right before deciding on the left and starting down the sidewalk.
She was at the end of the block and about to turn right when a voice called out to her from behind.
"Hey! Stop! Wait!"
They probably didn't want her wandering around on her own, but she wasn't in the mood to talk, so she kept going and was halfway down the sidewalk when she heard the voice again, getting closer.
"I said wait up!"
She didn't stop.
As she went around another corner, she heard the sound of something—a vespa or a scooter, maybe, who the fuck cared—as it revved to catch up. Whoever it was sure was determined, and, glancing back, the rider was going so fast they flew past her on accident and had to screech to a halt. But, not before swerving to avoid a pole and tumbling into a pile of trash some jackass left out on the side of a wall.
A hand stuck out from the pile and wiggled. "A…" they began to say, probably trying to ask for help because they were buried in the shit, but if they seriously thought she'd go out of her way to pull them out they were wrong. However, they managed to pop their helmeted head out and then their body, gasping for breath. "Ah… Nevermind…"
Was that… English?
The woman removed her helmet, hair a sweaty mess as she brushed herself off and then picked up her vespa. Grinning like a dumbass, she wheeled it over and extended her hand, holding a box.
"You left without this," she said.
"Huh?" Revy scowled. What the fuck was she talking ab… Oh. That's right.
The old man boss's daughter. She'd promised to snag her a piece of cake—or whatever the fuck those little pastries she'd seen inside before having the door promptly shut on her face were. Revy took it, and opening the box, sure enough, it was a piece of cake—and a big one, at that.
"I'm Taiga," the woman said super enthusiastically, hand out again, this time for a handshake. "Taiga Fujimura."
Revy let it hang. So, this was the boss's daughter. Not what she was expecting, but it didn't surprise her either. Well, sorta. The woman hadn't missed a beat and took it upon herself to grab her free hand, shaking it once and then letting go. It only served to make her even more annoyed, and she had half a mind to take the cake and slam her in the face with it, but, in the end, just sighed and took it out the box.
"You got a fork?" she said, taking a seat on the curb.
"Yeah, right... here..." The woman had reached into her jacket pocket. Confusion set itself on her face. She stopped, then patted herself down and had an aha! moment and pulled out a… a squirt gun... She froze. The color in her face drained. "Ah… That's not…"
"Whatever." Revy was already stuffing it in her mouth. And, when she finished it, giving the box back, asked for the gun. The woman handed it over. Revy held the toy up to the moonlight and blinked. Least she thought she could do was piss off cats with it, but there wasn't even any water in it.
"You can have it, if you want." The woman had parked her vespa and was now sitting by her.
"T… thanks…" Revy said, blushing a bit and thinking why the fuck she was, then looking at the woman's smiling face and quickly looking away. Shaking her head again, Revy took a double take. She must be more drunk than she t—"Huh? Gua…!"
Why the fuck was this bitch blushing too?
Wait. Whatever the reason—like she wanted to fucking know! She scooted farther away.
"I'm Taiga," the woman said after an awkward silence, introducing herself again.
"R… Reb… y… I mean, Revy." Goddammit.
"Reby…" the woman repeated, voice trailing off… "That's—"
"Revy."
"What?"
"It's Revy," she mumbled, not meeting her eyes because she didn't want the wrong idea. Fuck that.
"What is?"
"What?" Was this bitch deaf? "My name!"
"What? Your nose? Oh! Do you need a tissue?"
"Hah? N… My name! It's my name, you stupid bitch!"
"I don't have any on me, I'm so sorry!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?!"
"You're funny," the woman suddenly said with a laugh.
It was then that a part of her remembered she was drunk. The alcohol had finally caught up with her. Whatever she said came out as gibberish like she was fucking two years old or something and goddammit where was Eda when she need somebody to punch in the face because—"Ah, dammit…" She keeled over.
"Hey, you don't…"
She threw up.
"... Look so good…"
Revy clumsily wiped her mouth, bits of cake and vomit on her sleeve as she sniffed and then sneezed, blowing her nose on it, dirtying it more. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Let me take you back, I can—"
Revy slapped her away. "Fuck off!" But, she was so drunk it sounded more like 'Fsud ouf!' and she didn't even try to resist when the woman helped her to her feet and got a spare helmet and put it on her head, then sat her on the back on her bike and made sure she was secured tightly to her, before riding off, back to the complex.
"Hold on, I'll get you some medicine and a warm—"
"Pleuzdwaintiacmobecktheyar." The words tumbled out her mouth before she even realized she'd said them, and she gripped the woman's waist tighter.
"Alright," the woman said wholeheartedly. They passed it up. "Then I know a great place, and with better food that..."
But Revy fell asleep before she could hear anymore.