"See!? I told you. That outfit is like, so much sexier than those disgusting boy clothes you always wear. I mean, for Kami's sake I'd totally tap that!" Neon squealed none too silently as soon as Clandestine came out from the dressing room. She roughly took her by the waist and spun her around, praising herself for the impressive work she had done.
Clandestine, on the other hand, could not give a single bull. She did not comprehend the importance of those killing devices that dangerously took her off-balance in more ways than one. And what's this dress supposed to cover anyway? She could not even make two steps without uncomfortably tugging the hemline to at least maintain all that was left of her dignity!
"Ugh, come on, girl. Don't be such a prude virgin! Show them that lovely rack you got there." The heavily maquillaged saleslady gave a sassy wink, earning a wolfish howl from the stupid hooligan that got her into this mess. Did they just freaking make a call about her ass?
She imagined a slow, painful death with the use of hangers. Two mannequins also need heads and some arms and legs. Yes, maybe both of them could pull it off nicely.
"Anyway, I'll leave you two babes to yourselves. Just call me if you need help." The thirty-ish something woman smiled at the two girls, her two-inch heels click-clacking the fancily checkered floor. "Enjoy your shopping, ladies! And don't forget to snag them sexy hunks in the club. I'm sure you can get them good in no time." Neon giggled at the obvious innuendo of the parting woman while the other looked visibly appalled. Neon then linked her right arm around poor Clandestine's left arm and pulled her towards the cosmetics section. Horrified, the latter hurled her extreme distaste with several colourful obscenities and forcibly tugged herself away from the overly hyper heiress. But the scantily-clad girl didn't even budge.
"Oh, just shush it. You're not paying anything anyway. Consider this as my way of showing gratitude!" The young Nostrade's smile was too bright for her not to feel suspicious. Somehow, she figured this odd behaviour of hers was connected to their conversation earlier that day. She knew her enough to say that Neon would never buy anything foranyone other than herselfnow that the budget given was lower than she was used to, much less someone of Clandestine's status in the household.
"They're gonna arrive tonight, right?"
"Kind of."
Neon's eyes then twinkled in mirth when they were halfway done, her breath rushing in excited huffs while giddily dancing. "Ooooh, I'm sooooo~ gonna convert him nicely with my hot mess!"
Clandestine could only roll her eyes.
The day hadn't even officially started yet, but she was so damn tired already.
The hacienda was the biggest and grandest one yet, perhaps around three hundred hectares or more. It was no way to tell with only the full moon and some lampposts which served both design and convenience to illuminate the road to the actual mansion but Senritsu gave more than enough information about the place and the person owning it all. Rich pine trees and mahogany lined the sides in an evenly manner and there were several cherub statues around the vicinity.
She stole a glance at the heiress sitting at the back through her rear view mirror. She had turned uncharacteristically quiet as they were coming closer to the mansion. The melancholic air, along with her fancy chignon and sultry eyes, made her more sophisticated and adult. She almost missed her bratty attitude. But only almost.
It was off-putting to see Neon's excitement to see the bodyguard dying when she found out where they were headed.
She kind of felt sorry for her though. Her father sold her to the old man owning all these grandeur in exchange for a bountiful part of his manor. What kind of dad would do that, anyway? Certainly Light Nostrade, and maybe hers.
No, scratch that. She never met her parents to begin with so there's no telling. But was leaving her to die as an infant in Meteor City (why, of all the fucked-up places) counted? Maybe her dad was even much worse than Light, if that was possible. Did he even kissed her goodbye when he left and—
She mentally reprimanded herself, stop it. There's no point crying over spilled milk.
When they arrived, Light was already at the entrance door with a chaperone. Neon kissed her father's cheek with cold indifference, earning a disapproving look from the man, and they proceeded inside. Clandestine most especially did not appreciate the way Light's eyes travelled down her form before the doors closed.
Oh, how she wished this night would end already. Too bad her real task was far from over. The banquet she was supposed to take part in was nowhere around here. She could not decide if it was better or worse.
Several moments later, the unmistakeable figure of the blonde appeared on the door. His fancy black suit contrasted the white polo underneath that had two buttons loose, and his face held the usual I-shit-you-not expression. To Neon and some other silly women, it must've looked sexy. But to her, it meant something was definitely making him crankier than he already was.
His scowl was painfully apparent when he got closer. "I heard that you and Neon were talking about me."
Huh.
She suppressed the urge scoff. Was he seriously miffed because of just that?
"Technically, it was more of her talking and me simply listening."
He crossed his arms, his hardened gaze boring into hers. "Elaborate."
She thought for a moment and re-encountered her little talk with the heiress. "Well, she asked me how much I knew about you, about your family and background and friends, what you like and dislike, if you have girlfriends, or if you're interested in anyone particular—"
"Basic information about my life." He muttered. "What did you tell her?"
She shrugged. "Told her I don't know you that much." And then her expression turned sheepish. "And, well... that you might like guys more."
His face turned blank. She took this as a bad sign.
"What..." Then his faced bloomed red in fury—or embarrassment? She could not tell. "... did you say?"
"I—god, calm down!" Her hands immediately shot up in defence as the steam blew considerably high on his head. "How am I supposed to know? You're not very clear of your gen—"
"I am not homosexual!"
"I—fine. I stand corrected, then." Clearly she was not convinced and this irritated the young bodyguard even more. No wonder Neon's advances were more adamant than usual. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming, "Is that all?"
"Yes."
He exhaled deeply. "Fair enough." He took in a few more breaths to calm himself. As much as the girl was good about her job, her ability to irritate him was just as excellent. He did not know why, but the fiercely independent way she brought herself always rubbed him the wrong way, making her much more condescending in his eyes. Not only that, she even had the audacity to insult him with her unabridged words every now and then. Only a very few people could get away with that. Usually most people were too scared to even try.
It was then he properly noticed the change in her appearance. Her burgundy hair framed her lightly made-up face and curled lightly down her chest, earning a softer and more feminine look. The evergreen tube-dress also hugged her curves nicely and swirled above her knees. It was a new look for her, and he had to say it suited her.
He remembered her palpable hatred for high heels. In a strange act of revenge, he looked down on her toes that looked like it could bleed any minute now and smirked nastily. "Your feet are quite happy, I must say."
Her once unreadable expression turned to irritation. "Don't you start." She yanked the passenger's seat open with more force than necessary. When he didn't budge, her brow twitched. "What are you waiting for?"
His smug smirk didn't waver. "It's rude to let a lady drive, most especially if she was wearing such fancy apparel."
"Please get in the car, boss." She hissed the last word with all the poison she could muster. It was a low blow and he fucking knew it.
Kurapika wordlessly went inside but the look on his face almost had her slamming the door.
Stupid asshole of a bastard.