Chrollo likes his games. Machi has known that since they were children, brandishing knives at those who deserved it and holding hands while they ran away with stolen jewels.
Today they sit at the edge of the fountain in the middle of Yorknew's iconic plaza, and even though she knows he's never felt anything for her, he still leans in and kisses the corner of her lips. It's brief, almost an afterthought, and she struggles to catch her breath, despite it not really being a kiss at all. "Our newest member. His name is Hisoka," Chrollo says. "I suspect that you will not find him easy to trust."
With that, he pulls away, apparently finished with this bit of strategic flirtation. Whoever this Hisoka is, he must be close enough to see them, hidden somewhere among the large crowd in front of them. "This magician . . . You're trying to make him jealous."
The sky is a collision of thunder and lightning in the darkness, and Chrollo shows no sign he's heard her, head turned towards something she can't see. "Unfortunately, I have business to attend to elsewhere. Good luck, Machi."
/ / /
It doesn't take long for the magician to show himself.
He's emerged from the crowd, smile serene and at odds with an all-knowing glare that makes her stomach tighten with dread. Dread of what, she doesn't know, but it's present all the same. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Machi."
And then, right when she's about to stand from the fountain, a red rose falls into her lap from thin air. She picks it up by the stem, fingers brushing against the shard-like thorns. "What is this?"
Hisoka doesn't answer, only kneeling down before her on one knee, the water splashing behind her becoming nothing but white noise. "A present for a new comrade. A lovely, new comrade." His façade of serenity breaks for a moment, and there's something there that she recognizes in his expression, something she's felt before herself – rageful jealousy.
"What if I don't want your gifts?" It's a dangerous question to ask. Anything – the wrong words, the wrong actions, the wrong thoughts – could bring out something in him that she certainly never wants to encounter.
He laughs. It sounds so normal. "Then I will not keep giving them to you." He takes the rose from her, idly twirls it in his hand. His next question comes out of nowhere, startles her completely. "You have never been kissed before, have you, Machi?" But he says it as though he already has the answer in his head.
It can't just be a guess on his part. He knows it, even though that's impossible.
Although not her darkest secret by any means, it's still one of those things she's tried to keep a secret for twenty-two years. A blush ignites her, infuriates her. "I don't know what your intentions are, but you really should leave."
"Of course. I will leave." His hands mockingly go up in surrender and he raises up to his full height, making her tremble ever so slightly.
He turns around, continuing to speak as he begins walking away. "I predict that someone else will be your first kiss before he is."
And then he's disappeared into the night, and she's found herself tracing the seam of her lips with her tongue, the lingering image of golden eyes and a lean build and vibrant hair clouding her mind's eye.