Author's Note: FanFiction was actin' a little screwy there for a while, so I was less than inclined to update anything. However, I'm pretty sure that's all fixed up now, so here ya go!

Chapter 9

Ryou woke up sometime later, and needless to say, she did have more than a couple questions. But she disregarded nearly all of them when she saw Bakura emerge from his office and begin to put on his coat.

Folding the blanket that Bakura had put on her earlier, Ryou inquired sardonically, "You have a train to catch?"

"No, unfortunately. What I am doing is not nearly as exciting, I'm afraid," Bakura answered.

Ryou waited patiently for him to elaborate on this, but apparently, he planned to do no such thing. Discouraged, Ryou cleared her throat.

"… Oh." It was as if Bakura momentarily had a lapse of memory and overlooked Ryou's presence entirely. "I forgot something at the office. I'm going to go retrieve it."

"Can I come?"

"Depends. If you can behave in front of my coworkers, I might make it a possibility," Bakura teased.

"Mai would probably prefer if I didn't," Ryou rebounded.

"Ah. Yes." Bakura tried to smirk secretly, but Ryou caught it. "She would welcome the dramatics, no doubt."

-transition-

Or… Perhaps not.

"'Assistant-for-a-day'? I won't allow it! If you want to be Bakura's assistant, you'll have to interview like everyone else!"

Bakura leaned over Mai's desk, his smirk thriving with cruelty. "Oh? Are you sure you would like that, Mai? Ryou probably has more qualifications for this position than you do."

"Is that a fact...?" Mai seemed to take this as a challenge. Her lips pouted out to the point of almost threatening to drop off her face. Then, she fixed her fierce gaze on Ryou, making the writer shrink a couple inches in her sneakers. "Fine then. Name your major."

"Major…? As in college?" Ryou swallowed and thought for a moment in how she would reply. "I have no major. Meaning that I'm probably majorly underqualified."

"Not exactly true," Bakura refuted. "Higher education is important, yes, but there are other skills that you cannot pay for."

Mai tilted back her chair and stared at the ceiling. "Such as…?"

"Ryou." Said person jumped at her name. "How many books have you written?"

"Uh… Like, one and nine tenths?"

"You see?" Bakura was back on the offensive. "I don't see you writing any books, Mai."

"Well…" Mai mulled this over in her head. "I'll give you that one." She targeted Ryou once again. "All right. What else you got, sweetheart?"

"Huh?"

"Skills. You got any special skills?"

"Um…"

"Honestly, Mai, I am ashamed," Bakura tisked. "You cannot tell for yourself that Ryou is from England? She is as fluent in English as I am." Bakura turned to the conversation topic—Ryou—and inquired in crisp English, "Isn't that right?"

Ryou was put in a state of shock for a moment, having never heard Bakura talk in English before. But it sounded so clean and natural that now Ryou could not imagine him uttering a single word in any other language. Yes, it was true that she had to have been subconsciously aware that Bakura could speak perfect English, but it was still extremely strange to have her unspoken thoughts confirmed.

Finally, Ryou responded, "Oh… Yes. I lived in England up until high school, so I speak it just fine." Unlike Bakura's English, Ryou's sounded a little rusty. And, considering its lack of usefulness for her in the last several years, it was to be expected. Still, she was embarrassed how unnatural it seemed when compared to Bakura's. She continued anyway and admitted in the language, "Wow, it's been so long since I've used a lot of English all at once… I almost forgot what it sounded like when I speak it."

"It seems to be coming back to you nonetheless," Bakura commented. "Besides, it is impossible to unlearn your first language. It's part of who you are, no matter how many miles you are away from the source."

Something about the way Bakura said this gave Ryou the impression that he was somewhat bitter about this fact. But she shrugged the feeling away.

"Whatever it is that you guys just said, it has convinced me," Mai cut in. Her Japanese made the two have to mentally shift mindsets, and it took a moment for either of them to reply. And, when they were finally fit to respond, Bakura suddenly decided the conversation was over and promptly waltzed into his office. Ryou, left to her own devises, didn't take long to follow.

Bakura's office had changed since the writer had seen it last. She could tell Bakura was adjusting his office to his own unique specifications at last, and it proved to be as unorganized and eclectic as his home. But Ryou digressed. It was still nice to see the little room not be so bleak and blank and un-Bakura.

"Apologies," Bakura suddenly uttered as he dropped himself into his desk chair. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

"Oh…" Ryou had almost already forgotten. "Don't worry about it. I was kind of curious myself as to if I was qualified enough for Mai's job," she admitted.

"You're not, to set the record straight," Bakura stated bluntly, beginning to search his desk for the item he had come to retrieve.

"Oh." This second "oh" was much more dejected.

"That's all right, fortunately." Bakura fingered through some files. "Being a writer doesn't have any qualifications. Though, I've heard that some argue it should."

"Qualifications? For art? That's against every definition of it," Ryou disputed fervently. She promptly slumped into the chair across from Bakura and pouted in protest at the mere idea.

"Perhaps you're right." Bakura fished a certain document out of a file, scanned it, and then moved onto the next. "As a writer myself, I shouldn't be standing in anyone's way lest I discourage them to pursue the written word."

"Agreed." Ryou nodded acutely. This subject was over, it seemed, and she decided that this was the golden opportunity to ask Bakura about something she had been meaning to bring up all day. "Bakura…?"

Bakura slapped a file closed at that moment, making Ryou jump in place. "That was pathetic," he snarled. "That was the single most pathetic use of my name I've ever heard. You sounded like a… like a…" He waved his hand in the air in front of him. "… Like a lost kitten in a storm drain during a typhoon." Immediately, he stuck his nose back into the file.

"I sounded like that?"

"Yes." Bakura tried to push his reading glasses up into proper placement but hastily discovered they weren't there at all (which was the problem.) He retrieved them from his pocket and then continued carefully scanning the words before him. "Again now," he ordered, not making the least bit of eye contact. "But this time, sell it."

"A-all right." Ryou straightened her back and cleared her throat. "Bakura!" Her voice was much too loud now, but somehow, Ryou couldn't seem to find a happy medium between kitten-in-a-storm-drain-during-a-typhoon quiet and deafeningly loud. So this would have to do if Ryou was ever to get her point across. "I want you to tell me! Tell me why you kissed me!"

The entire floor of the office building seemed to hush all at once, like the conductor of an orchestra had waved a silence over the band.

Bakura looked shell-shocked. His eyes were wide behind his lenses, and the file that had been occupying his attention slid out of his hands and onto the surface of the desk.

"… Come again?"

Ryou, in contrast to Bakura's panic, was eerily calm. It was illogical… She should have been embarrassed beyond all the embarrassment she had ever had to endure. But she was the opposite. Right then, she was Commander Ryou, and she was directing this battleship into uncharted waters.

"Bakura, do you remember last night?" Ryou's tone was soft once more, but this time, it was different.

"Not… especially." It was a lie—and a bad one at that.

"Ah. I thought that might be the case. You were tired after all." It was more than obvious to Bakura that Ryou was only playing along out of mercy. "Although… I somehow doubt you have forgotten the last thing you did before you fell asleep."

"Last thing, huh…?" Bakura leaned on his hand and thought, but it wasn't very deeply. Ryou could tell the memory was hovering on the surface of the man's consciousness. He was clearly trying to avoid it until he could think up something clever that would shift the balance of power back into his favor. "I remember now, Ryou." He smirked deceptively, and Ryou knew he had thought of something good. "Our alliteration contest. I recall winning, I think."

"Yes, you did win. However, you cheated, so I don't think it counted."

"I… cheated?"

"Yes." Ryou blurted unconcernedly, "Because you kissed me."

"Oh, I see…" Bakura thought a moment. "I have… a logical explanation for that."

Ryou crossed her legs and leaned forward. "I'm listening."

Bakura had dug his own grave. He had never been so completely out-maneuvered before. He had no way to wriggle out of this, short of physically leaving the room, but that would be like handing her a victory. There was no escape. In the snare of Ryou's stare, Bakura didn't dare hope that Ryou might willingly leave an opening.

"I—"

"It's okay." Ryou had suddenly found new strength in finally beating Bakura at a game of words—albeit only briefly—and realized that the silence was a response in that of itself. "You don't have to answer now."

"What do you mean 'now'?" Bakura apparently thought that this one word held the most meaning in what Ryou had said.

"I mean that you can think about it," Ryou explained coolly. "I would like an explanation eventually, of course, but it doesn't have to be right at this second."

"That's… generous of you."

"Think so?" Now that the topic had taken a much more casually feeling, Ryou picked up the teapot Bakura had recently brought into the office and attempted to pour herself a cup. However, Bakura leaned across the desk and plucked the cup from her hand.

"Trust me—you don't want to drink that," Bakura told her, setting it well out of her reach.

Ryou blinked at her hand, stunned at the vacancy of it, and questioned, "Why not?"

Bakura took a sip of what had previously been Ryou's tea and muttered, "There's gin in it."

"Really, Bakura? At work?"

Another sip was taken. "I don't tell you how to live your life."

Ryou liberally poured herself a glass of the spiked tea. "Actually, you do."

This took Bakura by surprise, but he didn't rebuke her. "Well, that would be my job, wouldn't it?"

As they toasted, Ryou thought that maybe this was the beginning of a better understanding of each other.

An alliance. A connection. A mutual agreement. A…

-transition-

"A... what?"

"A conference." Bakura adjusted his glasses and specified, "They're having one down at the convention center for up-and-coming authors. A rather hefty amount of potential readers will be going there to learn about new books." He tapped his red pen twice down on his desk. "As your editor as well as your publicity advisor, I suggest you attend as a guest."

"As… a guest?" Ryou wasn't confused—far from it actually. She was horrified. Talking... in front of people? About her book? About herself? No... No, no, no. It just wasn't possible for her. Bakura must have known that. So why was he even suggesting it?

Bakura took her silence in the way she unwittingly intended it, and he informed calmly, "I understand you may have some concerns, however—"

"Some concerns? No, Bakura, I don't have concerns." Ryou snapped, "I have an answer. And the answer is N-O. No."

"If we could just discuss the possibility all the way through, I think you'll find—"

"Didn't you hear me? I said the answer was no."

"Ryou, you're being unreasonable." Bakura gazed down at his red pen sharply. "Furthermore, I think I have made you well aware about how I feel about the word 'said.'"

That was far enough. She promptly stood up. Ryou and Bakura had been getting along much better recently—tolerating each other at the very least—but public speaking was Ryou's kryptonite, and she wouldn't hear it.

"Good day." She briefly heard Bakura try to combat her statement, but he was cut off abruptly by Ryou slamming the door, crippling his rebuttal all but completely.

"Whoa. I've never see anyone shut down Bakura so suddenly. You must be talented."

Ryou whirled around to be sized up by a man about her and Bakura's age but of a completely different nationality. It wasn't just his skin that gave it away either; his Japanese was coarse and accented. Then again, who was Ryou to talk?

"Can I help you?" the author mumbled, what little courage she had mustered previously abandoning her.

"Help me? Not necessary." The man smirked and gestured at the door behind Ryou. "I was just about to visit my friend. However, I think even I am capable of finding the rest of my way there."

"Oh... I see." Curiosity piqued, she glanced back at the door. "I'm probably in your way, huh?" But, wanting to get a little more information out of him before she let him pass, Ryou didn't move any inch and inquired, "So, you're Bakura's friend?"

"Yes. I know—shocking, right? You wouldn't think he had friends." He laughed, obviously proud of his jab and probably thinking it beyond brilliant.

Ryou hummed momentarily. She would have stuck up for her editor, but she wasn't in the mood. Yet, she still wasn't finished questioning this alleged friend of Bakura's and began, "Has Bakura always been so—?"

"Marik, stop harassing my clientele this instant!"

Ryou jumped, and the newly dubbed "Marik" pulled Ryou in front of him as a shield. "Aww, 'Kura, we were just having some fun. Isn't that right, kind person?"

"Who? Me?" Ryou blinked back at Marik. The blonde nodded almost frantically. "I, uh... Yeah. Just some fun."

"Like hell." If looks could kill, Marik's obituary would have already been half written. "If you're going to gossip about someone, at least have the common decency to do it a good ten meters away from their office."

"Man, 'Kura, you're terrible. Can't you take a joke?"

Bakura's glare said otherwise.

"Yeah, okay, whatever." Marik shrugged it off easily enough, and Ryou had to wonder if he had been genuinely scared at all or if it had all been some elaborate act. "Look, 'Kura, I didn't come here for a social visit. I—"

"I can't lend you any more money," Bakura snapped.

"That's not what I came here for!" Marik looked less hurt than Ryou thought he should. "Well… Okay… But it was only half the reason!" Suspicions confirmed. "Seriously though, 'Kura. I'm worried about you. That evaluation is coming up, isn't it?"

Bakura was suddenly on the defensive. "And what if it is?"

"Have you reached the quota?" Marik appeared much meeker than before. "Last time we talked, you said—"

"God, I hate the word said," Bakura interjected harshly, but it seemed more like an excuse to cut him off more than legitimate annoyance. "And forget it. I can take care of it."

"But—"

"Enough." Bakura was done with the subject. No objections would be tolerated.

Marik seemed to understand this fact quite well. He sighed in silent protest. "Fine. Be that way. Leave your friends to lose sleep over you." As if on cue, Marik laced his arm around Ryou's neck. "Aren't you with me, kind person?"

Realizing Marik was still unaware of what her name was, she informed, "It's Ryou. And, yes, I think I would be with you. If I actually knew what you two were talking about…"

Marik blinked at her. "You're kidding. I would think that Bakura's client would be the first to know." Bakura's friend lost himself in thought. "Then again, he wouldn't want to appear desperate, now would he…?"

"Marik, I believe you've said quite enough."

"Ha! Look who's said 'said' this time!"

"You just said it twice in a row!"

"You said it again!"

"Marik…!"

"Bakura," Ryou calmly cut in. The sheer tranquility of Ryou stunned them both into silence. "I really don't care what Marik is talking about. And you know what? I really, really don't care about the word said. I told you good day, and I meant it. Goodbye."

As Ryou made her way out of the building, she could still hear the squabbles of the two echoing throughout the structure. ("See, 'Kura? You're so un-charming that you chased poor Ryou right out of here!" "Un-charming isn't a proper word!" "You're not a proper word!" "You're not making any sense!" "I'll show you who doesn't make any sense!") It was enough to give her a headache, and she longed for a warm bed and a hot cup of tea.

However, when Ryou did finally reach home, she couldn't seem to get her mind off of what Marik had mentioned.

Evaluation… Quota… What did it all mean for Bakura? What did it all mean for her?

Ryou dismissed the thoughts and turned off her light in hopes of catching a quick nap. Time would tell, she supposed.

And she was right.

Author's Note: Trouble in paradise, it seems… So this story does have a plot! Huh. Who knew, right?

For those of you who were super patient and waited forever for this chapter, thank you. You guys are incredible for putting up with me.

Please review.