Chapter 13: Asking Questions… maybe even getting answers.

Getting answers is easy. Correctly utilizing the newfound information is where mistakes start to happen.

This is the second time you're going to a club this month. Same one, no less. Whenever did you become such a party animal?

Oh, I'm sure there's glorious amounts of party to be had at seven thirty in the morning.

Standing in front of the mildly familiar neon sign, its letters now sporting a dull gray coloring as the energy was turned off, Darius had spent the last minute wondering how he ended up in life where he did. As expected, the answers all narrowed down to but a singular: he decided it'd be cool to play black ops at a Hunter academy. And yet the truly saddening realization was in the fact that the excitement still refused to leave his head, even now forcing his lips to spread in a predatory grin as he contemplated what exactly he was going to ask.

Of all the things I could have, and should have, been doing, I am currently planning an interrogation. At least I've got a new cape.

Alright. Realistically, Qrow did give me a direction: first thing to do is to establish whether the raids are connected. Torchwick must be getting a steady supply of manpower to enact them. I could ask where one could procure this amount of willing hands. What else?

I'm sure this guy isn't the only man in the city who collects information from down under. Get leads on other info dealers. After all, he may or may not sell us complete bollocks for information.

We're not going to actually pay for it, are we?

You're talking to yourself, moron. It's your decision. Not like you have the cash anyway.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he realized he just went through another loop in the downward spiral of his onsetting madness. As mundane as such interactions seemed to him throughout his life, he was more than certain he'd eventually wind up as a babbling mess in a straightjacket if conversations like these ever were uttered aloud. Still, he had a job at hand, and insanity could wait. So, he approached the glass door leading inside and tugged on it, led more by false hopes that the door would miraculously be unlocked, rather than by actual expectations that the club would stay open to visitors at this time of day.

To his great surprise, the door opened with a quiet creak, beckoning him inside. Intent on exploiting the opportunity now and asking questions later, he immediately darted for the nearest dark corner, breaking into a sprint and summoning the darkness to conceal him further. Darius was certain this place was full of people who wouldn't want to see him here. He was more than happy to oblige.

Back in his comfort zone, that is to say deep within the shadows and out of anyone's sight, he paused for a moment, remembering the layout of the location from his previous visit. Accompanying his thoughts with a snap of his fingers, Darius began moving along the long corridors with quick yet careful strides. While his body and the sounds of his footsteps were both obscured and muffled by his Semblance, one only had to focus their gaze to see a spot of shadows stir in a slightly different manner than the rest, thus arousing suspicion, though the fact that for the three minutes he'd been wandering the halls he hadn't met a single guard or even any kind of cleanup personnel did convince him to drop the act and pick up the pace, jogging towards the main dance hall.

Having finally entered the premises, Darius was greeted with a typical aftermath of a party… only multiplied tenfold due to the sheer size of the hall: broken and not-so-broken glass littering the floor, occasional bloodstain of a debate that got too heated, along with… other stains made up mostly of bodily fluids and alcohol. Watching his step and his surroundings in equal measure, he treaded towards the bar stand, where a lone man stood before a sink, melancholically swiping a towel along a glass with almost machine-like movements, clearly indicating he was receiving less than no joy at all from the activity. It would seem that Darius stumbled in at the exact moment when the cleanup staff hadn't arrived yet and Hei was left on his own to ponder mortality and the meaning of life, or really any kind of metaphysical topics, like why he ended up in a shitty club sniffing out information from the rockiest bottoms there were. In a way, Darius was about to do Junior a big service in that he would interrupt those horrid thoughts that would never do him any good, instead only dragging him further into the blackened abyss of depression and mental degradation. Kind of what's happening to me right about now. Heh.

Showtime.

Can you get anymore cliché?

It's not like I'm exaggerating. We're putting on a show.

He exited the shadows and took a seat at the stand, the loud clanking of the boots immediately attracting the informant's attention. As the glass hit the bottom of the sink after being dropped, Junior's eyes locked with Darius'… or at least with where they should have been. For instead of his face, Junior was staring into a pool of pure black, the head covered by the hood and the facial features by his Semblance, leaving only a featureless black cape to look at. To Junior's credit, Darius only saw him slightly flinch before regaining his composure and attempting to stare him down.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" he inquired with somewhat noticeable surprise in his voice, before switching to a more demanding tone. "Club's closed. Get lost before I sic the guards on you."

Which ones exactly?

"This won't be necessary," he calmly answered. Not like he had anything to fear. "I come in peace. So," a small silver coin flopped on the table as a result of Darius deftly extracting one from the depths of his cape, or, to be more precise, the wallet therein. "Why don't you pour me a glass of orange juice and we peacefully talk about things… Junior?"

Again, he saw the bartender stiffen for a fraction of a second before releasing the grumpiest grumble Darius ever heard. Junior turned around and headed for the stand, reaching out for a nearby pack of said beverage. A couple seconds later and the glass was put down in front of Darius, filled to the brim with juice, although he couldn't help but notice a tiny bottle filled with colorless liquid standing strangely close to where Junior was just standing. And to think of it, the juice smells a bit too sweet for my taste.

The informant extended his hand to grab the coin, but moments before his fingers touched it it was nabbed by Darius, who slightly tilted his head:

"You didn't actually think I wouldn't notice the chloroform over there?" a sleight of hand gesturing in the direction of the bottle rewarded him with new records in grumpy groans. "I don't recall paying for it and I don't feel like napping right now." He pushed the glass away, having to make a deep breath to prevent himself from just smashing it on Junior's face. "Another one. And where I can see it."

In complete silence Junior grabbed another pack and nearly slammed it in front of Darius, emptying it into another glass. After that, the coin finally changed hands as the caped visitor sunk a straw into it, taking a deep gulp.

"Good. Onto business, then."

"You know this normally happens during the night?" The amount of ice in Junior's voice could probably compete with that in the local freezer, but had no effect on Darius after prolonged exposure to both Weiss and Blake. Instead, he just sipped from the glass again.

"Which is why I come to you right now. I don't want people overhearing information you're supposed to tell me and not pay for it."

Boy oh boy, is he in for a surprise.

The promise of payment immediately removed some of the frost in the bartender's voice, reverting it back to his "normal" grumbling.

"Fine. Here's how it works: you ask your questions, I name the price. You pay half upfront and half when you're satisfied. Price varies depending on the amount and the complexity of the questions. It is not negotiable. Understood?"

Unable to fully control his surprise, Darius let a small chuckle slip from behind his lips. For a fraction of a second, he actually considered going along with his terms… that is, before being reminded by himself that there was no way he'd have enough cash to pay for what he was about to ask.

"You know, that's actually a pretty fair deal for an underground info broker. Now, the problem is…" again, he saw Junior stiffen, waiting for him to finish, all while drilling him with his eyes."…I'm a little strapped for cash right now."

He removed his right arm from the table, lowering it to his waist and lightly tapping on his leg, checking whether his mask still was there. It obviously was. "So here's a proposition. I ask you questions, you answer them. And when I'm done, I'll go away and let you live another day," he detached his mask from the tiny hook on his trousers and put it on the table. "How's that for a deal?"

In a millisecond all life washed away from Xiong's face, changing its color from beige to almost pure white, making him look less like a human and more like a statue, the only difference being his frightened eyes locked on that mask. As Darius reached for the mask and put it on his face, Junior finally recovered from his paralysis and stumbled back, still unable to avert his gaze and just blindly trying to find what Darius assumed to be the alarm button. As such, action had to be taken posthaste.

"Push that alarm button and you will be starting the talk with a severed hand." That right there was the purest bluff there could be. Physical torture was one of the few things punishable by exile or worse in the Order. Its psychological aspect, however, did not abide by the same rules. Considering that Junior looked like he was on the verge of losing the last shreds of his sanity, Darius chose to bet on his cowardice and pray he lacked balls to defy him.

"Y-y-you!" It would seem that the barkeep had regained some of his consciousness, although he was still clearly struggling to form sentences longer than two words and his voice sounded at least two octaves higher than it should have been. Seeing as his hand was still darting around the shelves, Darius extended his in return, sending a tendril of smoke to grab the frenzied limb. He then yanked the arm, along with the rest of bartender's body, towards him, locking the hand on the table and pulling out one of his scythes. He was left with no choice other than keep the act up, after all.

"Tell me, Hei…"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS NAME?!"

Junior's crazed wails echoed through the vast space of the dance hall, but returned nil, as silence was their only answer. Darius slightly turned his head, looking him straight in the eyes, which seemed to have a mesmerizing effect on the informant… in the sense of a mouse being mesmerized by the cobra's hood before getting swallowed whole.

"Tell me, Hei. Is this information really worth your hand? Along with other assorted limbs you seem to be so eager to just… give to me. If not, why struggle? And if it is…" he slightly lowered his weapon, stopping it millimeters before Xiong's wrist. "…Then I'll have to get it out of you regardless of how many little Xiongs I'll end up with. What will it be?"

Darius did not at all like the way he said the last line. Even less, however, did he like what he was feeling. Seeing Junior like this: degraded, scared out of his mind… it felt good. Intoxicating, even. For a millisecond that seemed an hour to him he thought he could quite literally smell Xiong's fear pouring out of his pores. Having never tasted alcohol in quantities more than a fifth of a glass for posterity reasons, he never knew the feeling of being intoxicated, but it sure felt like it. Like the rage he was so prone to, it too clouded his mind, but instead of washing away the colors of this world and streamlining his vision to include his opponent and naught else, right now those very same colors only seemed to gain in intensity and vibrancy, making his surroundings look surreal… and yet more real than ever before. It was… magnificent.

And he wanted more.

Against his own will, not quite realizing what he was doing, he lowered the blade of the scythe, just barely managing to stop himself in the last possible second, leaving only a slight cut on the back of his hand instead of chopping said limb completely off.

"ALRIGHT! Stop, I'll talk!" Hei shrieked, yanking his wrist back and cradling it like an infant despite the wound being superficial. Darius was more than glad to let go. "Just… don't touch me."

"Much better."

The euphoric feeling lasted only a moment more before vanishing without a trace, hurling him back into the real world, and from his feeling, it would seem he landed on his head: a quite rare phenomenon. Darius shook his head in an attempt to restore focus and took a long and deep breath. He still had an interrogation to conduct, and he was not about to flub it because of a moment's weakness.

"Question number one: the ongoing spree of Dust shop robberies. What do you know?"

"Jack shit is what I know," Xiong replied, although the boy could clearly see that it was wounded pride speaking in him and not spite. Staring the informant in the eyes for a couple of seconds had the latter shiver and continue. "What I meant to say, I do not know why he's stealing so much or where he gets so much manpower."

"He?"

"It's Torchwick," Junior elaborated, grabbing a towel and carefully wiping the blood off the hand in the meanwhile. "I'm guessing that address list I handed over to him came in handy. The news only caught him once, but I know it's been him the entire time."

"And how would you?" Another sip of orange juice. Thankfully, it would seem that Darius' ailing mind had ceased the mutiny and no longer demanded blood. As much as Darius wanted to blame on some drug the bartender added into the drink, he really couldn't.

"For his first heist, he had my men doing the lifting for him. He sent me a request for some amount of hands and paid upfront, about double of what I generally charge for this, and I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth," the bitterness in his voice became more and more apparent with each word. "Guess I should have. The one robbery he was doing with my guys they got beat by some girl and got him flashed on the news. Fucking pathetic."

"I would say I feel you, but I don't. What about the other two?"

"Well, he obviously did not ask me for manpower that time. I know that the crew for the other two robberies was at least as large as the first one, but I didn't pick up anything from other info brokers in this city who could point to the right people. And, seeing as the other two were massively more successful than the first one, he couldn't just have picked up some random burglars around the slums."

"This is nice to know, but gets me nowhere. But…" Darius leaned further on the stand, causing Xiong to backpedal a couple steps before meeting the shelves with his back. "You say there are other info brokers around here? I'm sure you'll introduce us."

"I am not leading you to them!" In a matter of a heartbeat, the panic returned to the bartender in full force. "They'll rip me not one, not two, but three new assholes if I rat them out!"

"That's if you get lucky," Darius hemmed. "However, I don't think you understand how it works. Regardless of whether or not you tell me about them, I'll find them eventually. But the thing is: without your cooperation, it'll take me considerably longer to do it and when I do, I'll be considerably more pissed off at you. Now guess what, Xiong: when they ask me how I found them, what do you think I'll say?"

"You won't…" As his voice got hoarser and his eyes wider, Hei himself was slowly petrifying, achieving an almost perfect condition to be placed as a monument in a square. This was not, however, what Darius needed, so he leaned back, providing a bit more space for him and changing his tone to a mildly friendlier one.

"It's mutually beneficial, really. Namedrop them, and I won't namedrop you. Come on, Xiong, you're a businessman, you have to see that we both benefit from this: I am relieved from a massive hassle and you will have to deal with me less."

"…Fine," another grumble took place, but it was far more reminiscent of a whimper as Xiong unwrapped his scroll, flicking numerous folders away. Darius, in turn, put his on the stand, syncing it with Junior's. After a couple minute, he heard the sound of the scroll notifying him of receiving a data packet. With a satisfied chuckle, he folded the tool and hid it in his pocket.

"Appreciate it. And the last thing. The one heist that got interrupted by one of Vale's vigilant citizens. There are reports that Torchwick escaped via conveniently timed Bullhead. What do you know about it?"

"I know it was a Bullhead," the bartender grumpily mumbled. "The rest is hearsay and rumors. There are, for instance, rumors that it headed to the North afterwards…"

"Not helping. I want videotapes and vector analysis. Tell you what…" With that, Darius made the last gulp, emptying the glass of orange juice and raised himself from the chair. "I'll come back in a couple weeks, and when I do, I want to know what the pilot ate for breakfast that day."

"But you said…"

"I said you'd be dealing with me less, not 'not at all'," after two interruptions in a row, it was apparent to Darius this was just about everything useful he'd get out of him for now. "Do take care."

Pushing away the door of the club, Darius pulled down the hood and hung the mask back where it belonged, that is to say on his hip. On the one hand, this went pretty well for his first ever interrogation, although for no reason at all he was beset by a guttural feeling that there were going to be many more where this came from. On the other, he absolutely did not like what happened to him there. From some of his interactions with his brethren-in-arms back in Atlas, he heard both stories and warnings of the servants getting, as absurd as it sounds, hooked on the victim's fear. All people are prone to temptations and intrusive thoughts; those who draw from the darkest depths of their souls are exposed to them more than any. The fate of those who succumbed… he shuddered.

Better to feel nothing during this than that.

Oh well. There's one thing taken care of. Now, what can we do about the other?...

"Blake?"

Was it not for her ears and subsequent superhuman hearing, she would definitely get caught off guard by Darius' frame appearing in the corner of her vision. Despite his build being closer to that of what a veteran pit fighter rather than a simple combat school graduate, she found he was freakishly good at getting unnoticed when he wanted. She barely managed to overhear him entering the library and something told her he was not even trying to sneak. Though, having given it more thought, she was forced to come to a conclusion that it probably had to do more with his Semblance, as such side effects were commonplace for people with the darker hues of aura, herself notwithstanding.

And so he was here, just standing in front of her, waiting for her reaction. Exactly what do you want with me? Part of Blake wanted to ignore him and continue reading, thus keeping up the status quo established over the last two weeks. After the first couple of days, Darius seemed to have abandoned the hopeless struggle to win over her favor, having to accept her unwillingness of further contact and keep it to a possible minimum. She didn't mind. Yet something made him change his usual routine of just coming to this library and stocking up on books every couple of days and instead pushed him to talk to her again. What?

Blake looked at the book she was reading, then slightly shifted her eyes to look at Darius, who was still just standing at the table, seemingly waiting for her to invite him to sit down. With a sigh, she flipped the book and put it down. Having interpreted her reaction correctly, the Silva took a step to the side before taking a seat in front of her. He still hadn't said a word. Curiosity tends to kill the cat. Why am I doing this again?

"What would you have of me…Darius?"

She saw his lip slightly twitch to the left and his nose exhale just a little bit sharper. Seems like Darius already was amused by the exchange. She, on the other hand, was not.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, actually. Just feels nice actually hearing 'Darius' instead of 'Silva' from you. Means some progress has already been made."

From his nonchalant expression, or his voice, for that matter, she could not garner whether he was serious or not. Needless to say Blake was less than fond of this.

"Progress towards what? I'm not in the mood for charades."

"If you so desire," and suddenly there wasn't a slip of the carelessness that was present a mere second ago. Instead she found herself looking directly into his grey eyes, or, to be precise, his drilling hers as his expression went straight to dead serious. "What I meant is progress towards addressing the Goliath in the room. I'm simply curious as to what your long term goals are. Do you actually plan on ignoring me for all four years we'll be training?"

"Never took you as hungry for attention," Blake smirked. While not exactly meaning it in earnest, she thought she might as well have a little fun at his expense, since she had already been talked into conversing with him. "And that's coming from me. Might want to reconsider some of your life choices."

"Oh, we're trash talking each other now?"

Something incredibly subtle changed in Darius' tone, nothing Blake could put her eye on, but very much something she could feel. And she did not like it one bit. Darius leaned further on the table, never breaking eye contact with her and lowered his tone to the point where even she could barely hear it:

"Well, I take you for a lot of things, too. Say, a Faunus. Why do you hide?"

In the silence that loomed over them for what seemed to be an eternity, even her own breath seemed deafening to Blake. Consciously she understood that the smart thing to do would be to act confused and deny everything, but this moment was one of the few when her own eyes betrayed her, clearly broadcasting the plethora of emotions she was overwhelmed by to Darius. Fear for what he might do with the newfound information. Subtle spark of bloodlust in the furthest depths of her amber eyes, one that she immediately squashed at the thought of what happened when one of her teammates ended up in a spar with Darius. As she watched the boy's eyes slightly widen from her reaction, anger had been added to the mix as she realized that this was less of a calculated jab at her, but more of a guess. I got played like a damn fiddle. Good job.

Not to mention my disguise getting blown by a fucking Silva. In the first month, too. I'm screwed.

She could feel frustration spread through her body, paralyzing her will to do… really just about anything better than any neurotoxin. So, she kicked back and adjusted herself in the chair, looking at Darius. To the mild surprise registering somewhere at the back of her mind, he didn't exactly look triumphant or really even satisfied to have his suspicions confirmed.

"So, now what?" she said, the bitterness seeping in her voice. "You're going to blackmail me? Because if that's your plan, you might as well announce to everyone here who I am. I am not doing Silva's bidding."

Instead of an answer, she only heard a weary sigh. Not a disappointed one, either. Shockingly, it sounded sad more than anything.

"You know, I thought it'd be easier if I started the talk like that. Would be easier to show parallels and whatnot. Shows what I know about people."

"How did you even know?" Blake asked, her tone bordering on hissing despite the library being completely empty at this time.

"I didn't, actually. I just noticed some odd things and made a guess. I'm not sure whether I'm glad to have my suspicions confirmed."

"And why would that be?" she mused. "Ashamed of being on the same team with an animal?"

"I don't know who you're taking me for…" A Silva, obviously. "But even if I was supposed to be indoctrinated into Faunus hate, which I doubt, I guess my family just didn't live to follow through with it for reasons widely known. You, on the other hand, seem to be quite adept at hating my guts."

"And you think there are no reasons to?"

"There probably are. However…" for the first time in their exchange, he looked away from Blake before closing his eyes and propping his head on his fist. For some reason, he seemed very tired. It was some time before he looked back at Blake, clearly trying to find appropriate words. Slowly he spoke:

"Do you want to hate me?"

"What… What is that supposed to mean?" she stammered, even slightly tilting her head in confusion.

"I don't know if you ever noticed from what little we did interact, but I've never actually denied we Silvas have done some terrible things, to your kind in particular. But there I am, doing what I can to if not make others forget about what we've done, but at least blur the events behind what good we, and maybe I, did. So. We've known each other for roughly two weeks. It's not much, I agree, but that's your sample. I only ask you to look back at them and tell me: am I actually someone worth hating…" another sigh. "…Or do you just want to see a bogeyman, kind of like what the Faunus are to the rest of the world?"

Whatever reply was forming in the depths of Blake's subconscious was cut short and tossed away by Darius' final sentence, sinking the room into silence yet again. Having given it a bit more consideration, she ended up with a conclusion she... hadn't exactly looked at it that way. Further developing the thread of thought, at some point Blake was just about ready to start tearing said threads off her own head from her maddening hypocrisy. Not only did she fail to scavenge her memories for any actions to justify her antipathy for Darius, what she spent an entire two weeks on was commonly referred to as "guilt by association", something her entire kind had been subject to for generations on end.

What do you call someone actively trying to hinder someone from accomplishing essentially the same thing that this someone is trying to do? Blake Belladonna, I guess. Today it might as well be synonymous with 'hypocrite'.

Blake slowly looked up, struggling to find strength to look him in the eyes again. To her surprise, she didn't find them. As it turned out, Darius, too, was staring at the table instead of the one sitting at said table. While hiding his emotions well enough for a human not to notice, one thing he couldn't hide was the scent, and so the Faunus quickly realized he wasn't far away from what one could call "being a nervous wreck", kind of like she was a minute ago. It was clear as day even he was unsure of what he said to her; a most uncommon sight.

"I…" her own uncertainty was not helping the situation: Blake was rarely at a loss for words, but it would seem this day would reach new heights in awkwardness with each passing minute. "I'm… not even sure what to say, honestly."

"The truth would suffice," despite the phrase sounding less than optimistic, Darius reared his head, sensing… not an opportunity, but a small glimmer of hope for himself.

"Well… The truth would be that for all your talks about indoctrination, maybe it's been me receiving some ideas too well. I'm… I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," he quietly laughed. "I say we write the last two weeks off to a rough start. What do you say?"

"Yes," Blake smiled for the first time since the two have been initiated and assigned into teams. "That would be convenient."

"I say that calls for a bit of a celebration," with that said, Darius pulled a black pouch off his shoulder, where it had been hanging for the entire duration of the conversation, and put it on the table. A suspicious glance was thrown.

"What's this?" Blake asked.

"A family tradition of sorts," he chuckled. "To commemorate, or in hopes of accomplishing, some important events, we tend to not come empty-handed and instead bring gifts with us. Myrtenaster would be one such gift, bu-u-ut I was a little short on time to forge a proper weapon. I promise to make up for it. So… it's yours. You can even take the pouch if you like."

With an eyebrow raised, she pulled the bag towards herself across the table and unzipped it, carefully putting her hand inside. Moments later her fingers felt the hard cover of a book. She gripped it and pulled it out… Only to put it back inside.

From the second she got to look at the book, she could clearly read the title "Ninjas of Love: Tip of the Sword". Pulling it halfway out yielded the same result, as well as allowing her to closer study the cover, depicting a female in highly revealing clothing tightly gripping a Zweihander. Previous experience, however, hinted to Blake that this was not at all what the title alluded to…

Completely disregarding Blake's will, her cheeks slowly but surely achieved a hue comparable with Ruby's cape as she threw a glance full of fury at Darius, who was eagerly watching her reaction, hands covering his mouth in the most inconspicuous way imaginable.

"What. Is. This?"

"I'm pretty sure I got the right iteration. Specifically asked the shop owner about the series," seeing as his explanation did not at all help the situation, Darius threw his hands up in defeat. "Oh come on. I had to switch the tone. Noble thoughts, like everything else, are only good in moderation. Besides, by this point, Ruby and maybe Nora are the only ones who don't realize what kind of books you read at night."

"You fiend."

"I'm not even denying it. So… Should I take the book back?"

"No!" she hastily put it back in the pouch. Her dignity may have been lost, but she was not about to lose the book along with it. "That's what I get for trusting a Silva."

"I'm just about as interested in exploiting this secret of yours as your Faunus nature, that is to say not at all. Have fun reading."

"Speaking of which," only one question remained unanswered. If she was losing secrets to keep, so was he. "How did you even figure me out?"

"Several things," he answered after taking a moment to look around to ensure there was nobody to overhear them. "First thing would be your dislike for me. Silvas are remembered as warmongers first and Faunus haters second. Even if we really only hated on White Fang. But that's irrelevant. The point is: humans generally fear us, not hate us, as you probably could see for yourself when I was introduced to the academy."

Reminiscing on the assignment ceremony, she couldn't help but agree. She could barely sense anything other than that primal fear some of the teams that were introduced before them felt.

"So, seeing a human with such a massive murder-on for me, I couldn't help but look at you closer. Leading me to the second point: your bow. You never take it off, even when sleeping."

Darius' reward was Blake staring at him with platter-sized eyes, even trying to inch away from him in the wooden chair.

"Don't look at me like that! I wake up earlier than the four of you do, and I still have to use the bathroom. I come down and enter through the window. Eventually I just looked at you and noticed the bow. Further observation told me it wasn't just you forgetting to take it off one night.

Third thing would be your dieting habits. You haven't spent a day without eating some kind of fish. I don't know precisely how Faunus metabolism works, but this is not at all healthy for a human."

"And that's it?" she asked after it became evident that Darius was done talking. "This is not enough to throw around accusations like this!"

"If it helps, I myself wasn't sure," he muttered. "You probably saw it in my eyes. If you just played stupid, I probably would've apologized and joked around the topic. But you were silent for too long, and your eyes… kind of gave you out. I was just as surprised as you were."

"Cover blown by a guess…"

"I don't exactly understand why you're hiding either. You're not Velvet, the bullies won't touch you with a ten-foot pole."

Because this is already more questions than I'm comfortable with.

"So… what now?" she asked after noticing the silence between the two of them had, again, reached awkward lengths.

"I could use a workout, actually," Darius remarked and raised himself from the chair, but remained standing. "My brain is just about fried from today's mental exercises and I'm thinking of switching it to physical. You?"

"This sounds like a subtle invitation to join."

"Perceptive."

She looked at him again. To say she did not interact with him at all during the last two weeks would be a lie, but their relations barely approached the mark of being professional, and even that was mostly due to excessive amount of fake smiles and poorly concealed animosity, albeit quite one-sided. Still, she did pick up a few of his habits and traits, in particular how easy-going he was for the kind of attitude he brought. Far more serious than any of her three teammates barring maybe Weiss and, evidently, more perceptive than any of the three, he was simultaneously the one who seemed far too eager to just… let go. Even now, it was almost like the exchange that took place seconds ago never happened and she didn't try to slit his throat the first time they were properly introduced, subsequently ignoring him for the next two weeks; instead, she could see a small smile lingering on his face, probably reminiscing of the incredibly suggestive piece of literature she just became the owner of. She could not bind these two qualities for the life of her.

But maybe that could wait.

"Sounds like a decent idea. Just… don't break my arm like Yang's?"

"Ahem… I'll… do what I can."