Ishizu buttoned up the top button of her prim black blouse and slid on her low black kitten heels. She regarded herself in the tall mirror leaning against her exposed-brick bedroom wall. Silky black blouse, knee-length white-and-black patterned pencil skirt, pristine black tights, and the low shoes. She'd French-braided her hair and put in some gold posts in her ears that found a match in the delicate gold bangle on her left wrist. She'd done up her face tastefully and minimally—a bit of black kohl to make her eyes pop, and some clear gloss on her lips.
It was surely not what Seto would likely be hoping for, but she felt safe in this attire, wrapped up in sleeves and tiny buttons and hose. It was just dinner (in a foreign country, something Ishizu still couldn't get out of her mind, even after having had a few hours to digest the information); a purely business transaction, like any ordinary meeting she had had with a potential museum donor. Yes. She could think of it that way, at least intellectually. Once Seto arrived to pick her up was another matter entirely.
After he'd left her a puddle of frustration in her office, she'd had a few seconds to recover—and seethe—until Marik would return, wanting to know what had happened? Ishizu wanted to believe that he was none the wiser as to what had transpired in her office during an official, business-related meeting, but neither she nor he was particularly naïve—As a rule, Marik was much more perceptive than he let on. He'd also been in his corner cubicle down the hall the entire time, and had at least picked up something during all the door openings and closings. Marik had not asked about how her meeting with Seto had gone, because he didn't need to. Ishizu had managed to pour herself into her seat, her white shirt clinging to her sweaty back, and had told Marik very calmly (she hoped) that she would be giving him the rest of the day off, beginning at 12:45. She'd be giving herself the rest of the day off at that time as well, she told him; she had a meeting with a potential donor in the afternoon, and so she'd be taking a break to get ready but would hurry back to the office as soon as she was ready. There was no need for him to see Seto coming to pick her up at one; she'd already suffered enough humiliation over the last day or two and did not need extra fodder for Marik to tease her with.
Marik had looked surprised initially, since Ishizu was not one to leave the Museum in the middle of the day, even for a donor, but had quickly brightened. He'd run back to his cubicle and promptly called Odion on his cell phone, telling his partner (who had arisen at 5 am to do his strength training and was only now getting himself breakfast) that he would be coming back to the apartment soon.
"Did you actually get any work done?" Odion's deep, stoic voice held a hint of sarcasm.
"Yes, we did, Odion. It's like you don't even have any faith in me," Marik practically whined. "Besides, you'll never believe who came in to see Ishizu today…"
Ishizu took one last look at herself, feeling ambivalent about the woman reflected in her mirror, and checked her phone for the time. 12:15. Good. Enough time to walk the two blocks to the Museum from her apartment (the low heels were sensible, indeed) and to get Marik out the door before Seto would arrive and make a ruin of her composure.
She checked the contents of her patent-leather black purse, and then checked it again. She went through the rooms in her apartment, making sure all the lights were off, the coffeemaker unplugged, the sinks completely turned off. She made sure her jewelry box was hidden beneath perfectly folded clothing in her chest of drawers. The mindless routine that she completed each time she left her apartment made her feel a little calmer, though it did nothing to stop her stomach batting about her insides with a combination of anticipation and what felt like nausea.
Once last glance in the bedroom mirror. She decided she looked professional, if a little flustered. This was a business transaction. Nothing more. And yet…
She couldn't tell what made her do it. She crossed over to her nightstand and, before she could convince herself otherwise, threw a few condoms into her purse.
Before she could change her mind, she fled her bedroom, grabbed a soft black shawl from off of a hook by the door, wrapped it around herself, and left her apartment.
As she walked out of the building and towards the museum, she ruminated on how overdressed she was for that time of day. The sun peeked out from behind some clouds; the sky was a timid blue. She wondered what the weather in Manila was. She wondered if she was overdressed. Or underdressed.
Ishizu unlocked the door to the museum, closed it behind her, and rode in the elevator to the administrative offices. It was now 12:30. She expected to see Marik packing up his things. Perhaps he would even have taken off fifteen minutes early, the rascal. She exited the elevator and walked briskly towards her office.
Her stomach dropped as she saw not only Marik, not only Seto, but Mayor Devlin, of all people, seated around her desk, talking furiously. Well, two of them talking furiously They didn't even seem to notice her—Marik leaning forward, gesticulating wildly, his voice verging on that whine, Mayor Devlin's brow wrinkled, his green eyes regretful, and Seto sitting upright in his chair, arms crossed, lips pressed together.
"Excuse me?" Ishizu began, a sinking feeling pulling at the base of her stomach.
The three men flicked their eyes over to her. Mayor Devlin stood up first, always solicitous and straightforward, and bowed his head respectfully. If he found her clothing odd, nothing about his countenance indicated it. "Hello, Doctor Ishtar. I'm so sorry I didn't get a chance to call you; I was in a council meeting earlier this morning and I simply couldn't wait to get over here." His suit was navy, his tie the color of his eyes. Somehow the ensemble worked.
Ishizu stepped into the threshold of her office. Marik's glance towards her was quizzical—his colleague was all gussied up for some reason. His breath was heavy, chest heaving.
Seto, on the other hand, looked at her like he wanted to eat her. His lips curled into a slight smirk, his icy eyes glimmering. Ishizu was sure he could somehow see her naked under her clothing, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from trembling.
"Is everything all right, Mr. Mayor?" Ishizu found her voice, folding her hands together delicately.
Marik deflated. The Mayor's face looked infinitely sadder. Seto reverted to looking bored.
"I'm afraid I have some rather regrettable news, Doctor," began the Mayor, walking towards her. Ishizu's heart dropped into her stomach. Marik buried his face in his hands.
Mayor Devlin took Ishizu's hand in his gently. "You see, the city council has voted overwhelmingly to stop supporting the D-CARP pilot. I'm so, so sorry." His eyes matched his somber voice.
Ishizu felt slapped, pulling her hand away. "Was—was this because of the business yesterday? Mr. Mayor, I was being harassed, and I lost my temper…" Calm, cool, collected. Calm, cool, collected.
The Mayor shook his head. "It's a matter of perceived results. The council is concerned with the lack thereof—your efforts, as good as they have surely been, haven't brought about anything. And with the contribution I gave to the museum construction—it just looks bad for me to push this issue with the council. I hope you understand." His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his lips pressed tightly together sympathetically.
Ishizu clenched her fists reactively. "It's only a matter of time, Mayor—please! There has to be something—perhaps if I stepped down from the initiative and you appointed someone else…" In, out, in, out. Her breath was coming shallower. She couldn't have a panic attack here—it would be completely unprofessional and humiliating. As if she hadn't displayed both of those behaviors of late. No use dwelling on that now.
"Doctor Ishtar, if you can't attract duelists to this program, nobody can." At this, Seto smiled to himself. Ishizu blushed briefly at the Mayor's comment. The Mayor continued. "There are so many other places where municipal funding is needed… where your talents are needed…"
Here Seto saw an opportunity. He gently cleared his throat, drawing all eyes into the room to him. Ishizu froze upon seeing his expression—she couldn't for the life of her read the arrangement of his features. In this moment, he was a wildcard, and she did not like that one bit. Marik could only look on helplessly. The Mayor, for his part, looked confused as to what Seto had been doing in the room in the first place.
"Yes, Mr. Kaiba?"
Seto struck an earnest tone. "Mr. Mayor, on behalf of all future reformed duelists, I strongly protest the closing of the D-CARP program."
At this, Marik brightened and sat up, watching with interest. Ishizu could barely sputter out, "Mr. Mayor, I think I should explain—"
Marik cut her off. "Doctor Ishtar, this man has a right to be heard!" If she didn't jinx this, he figured, Seto might just save the project by some satanical measure. "Continue, Seto."
Ishizu gritted her teeth, stomach churning, but said nothing.
Seto took Marik's cue, giving an almost imperceptible conspiratorial nod. He rose and took a step towards the Mayor, who looked upon the taller man quizzically. "Mr. Mayor," Seto began, his lips settling into a smirk, "would you be open to a proposition?"
Ishizu rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. "Mr. Kaiba, the Mayor has a full schedule, I'm sure, and will not be available for dinner tonight!" What on Earth was Seto playing at with such high, precarious stakes?
Here the Mayor looked even more confused, regarding Ishizu with alarm. "Doctor Ishtar, what are you talking about?" He cut his gaze back to Seto, who looked as unflappable as ever. "What did you have in mind, Mr. Kaiba?"
"Faith in Doctor Ishtar, Mr. Mayor. I ask you to give her 32 hours to show that the D-CARP pilot will pay off!" Seto could hardly believe he was doing this for her stupid project. He didn't trust the Mayor—people who lie and manipulate recognize this trait in others. Best not to consider his own motives now when his pride was on the line.
The Mayor narrowed his eyes. "Why 32 hours?"
Here Marik piped up: "Because he knows the big D-CARP recruitment event is in 32 hours, roughly! Here at the Museum, tomorrow night at 8:00 pm!" His face broke out into a grin.
Ishizu's jaw dropped. "Marik…" she began weakly.
"But how can you guarantee that, Mr. Kaiba?" the Mayor persisted, refusing to let Seto off the hook.
Seto chuckled to himself as he thought back to the events of earlier that day. He remembered the meeting with Ishizu and how she had practically melted under his touch. "Let's just say, Mr. Mayor, that I have a feeling about it…" Seto cast his eyes about the room, looking for the makeshift contract on the misattributed quotation. His gaze landed on the indignant Ishizu, who was doing her best to remain calm. She looked magnificent, all tense and majestic; he wanted to make her warble his name from the back of her throat.
Seto took a step towards her. Ishizu felt her heart stammer obnoxiously. "Doctor Ishtar, where are our good friends Van Gogh and Picasso?" he asked coyly.
Ishizu bit her lip, knowing exactly what he was getting at. "Top right-hand drawer," she murmured sourly.
Seto nodded briefly, and crossed to behind the massively ornate desk. He busied himself finding the framed quotation while the Mayor cut in: "Before we continue with the added expense of the recruitment event, Mr. Kaiba, I daresay I'd like more assurance than a feeling." Here the last word was emphasized, highlighting how absurd the Mayor found the concept at this juncture.
"It's a very strong feeling, Mr. Mayor." Having found the framed quote, Seto brandished it, looked pointedly at Ishizu, and read: "'I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it'. Lovely, isn't it, Doctor Ishtar?"
His smirk showed teeth. She wanted to scream at him.
Seto turned back to the Mayor, who was still not quite following. Marik had been lost ages ago, and was merely turning his head to and fro as if at a tennis match. "Mr. Mayor, my proposition is this: why don't you come to the recruitment event and see for yourself?"
The Mayor crossed his arms, charmed at Seto's persistence. "Well, if I thought there was a chance of finding definite progress… and a sizable turnout…"
Seto picked up the framed quotation and walked closer to Ishizu, holding it out before him like a peace offering, contract side up. He titled his head mockingly, pursing his lips, his eyes twinkling impishly, arrogantly. Ishizu's stomach fluttered, her skin soaking up his impending nearness like a dry sponge in an ocean.
"Well…" Seto's voice was husky and disgustingly intimate. "What do you think, Doctor Ishtar?" He proffered the quotation. "Don't you honestly believe this program could be saved?"
If Ishizu had had any hope of getting out of the bargain, it disappeared in a flash. She dropped her gaze to the contract written in marker on the frame, reading the words aloud under her breath. Seto moved his eyes from hers down to her unceasingly elegant neck and collarbone, not caring how the two of them must have looked to the Mayor and to Marik.
Ishizu sighed, and took the quotation from Seto. "Mr. Mayor," she began quietly, "I am in a position to guarantee you personally at least one dozen duelists at the recruitment event tomorrow night." And she would be damned, but for Ishizu the work had to come first. Even if it came with appallingly tempting strings attached. Seto's lips curled up into something almost resembling an actual smile, so quickly that Ishizu thought she missed it.
The Mayor and Marik both broke out into huge smiles. "That's fantastic!" crowed the former, while the latter rose from his seat, hands clasped and eyes shining.
"Isn't it fantastic?" Seto quipped, watching Ishizu struggle with her emotions behind the tight controlled expression. The Mayor turned to Marik and shook his hand, the two men practically beaming.
"Yes. Fantastic." Ishizu sat then, contract in her lap, her entire body flush with not entirely unpleasant gooseflesh. Seto stood over her, crossing his arms, knowing he had won.
The clock on the wall now read a quarter to one. Just in time for the two of them to make their plane. The thought of Seto's proposition, his hands, his voice, how his lips had felt against hers—it was nearly enough to make Ishizu scream with frustration. She thought of the contraband in her purse, feeling utterly foolish. How she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face—by any means necessary.