This small bit of space is being taken to reply to all the people who wrote to me.
Rei Eien: Yes, she is creepy. I like to put her in just so I can insult her. Anyone as clueless and vapid as her, needs to but laughed at so that futre generation stupid mating with them and thus their population will decline. O.O It's midnight... ok.
Shuo Ri: That was a great analogy for the duet. I don't think "...dress-up dolly for these foreign freaks of affluence..." can beat compare, but I did honestly try! It's not easy to insult scary, spooky, and really hairy guys. ^.^ Well, maybe it is.
Shirogane: Thank you for putting this story under your favorites, I never imagine people to like it THAT much, but I like feeling so loved. Thankyou! And I don't know if it is, I am hoping for that pairing becuase I really love it too, but I don't really know if the fic wants to do that... You see the silly thing has a mind of it's own, and it's not my mind and not any mind that I familiar with so I don't know... J/K I think it be, but I don't actually know where to take this fic, I'm just writing it and writing it then posting it weekly. That's also the reason it in the R-rated section and the genre keeps changing, I'm taking no chances because I know nothing. ~.^ Well, mostly nothing.
Sakura_Aya: That's a good question. I will pull them in because *SPOILER & CHEESECAKE!* However, Farfallow maybe more tame than normal since it'd be to difficult for me to make him the violent little pixie of DOOM that we all know and love. Have I mentioned that it's now half-past midnight... LALA!
Thank you all for your wonderful support and back to the story. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
"Good morning gentlemen. How may I help you?" It was humorous that, even though Crawford was not the one shopping and not the one standing in the middle but in fact standing to back and off to the side, the clerk was still speaking to the bogeyman. Just goes to show that appearances do matter. Schuldig was not looking very happy about that.
Ran remembered the reason why he detested shopping quite well. He felt like running, but the orange wolf had longer legs than he did so there was no chance of out running the predator.
"My friend here needs a suit. Nothing tailored, just something on hand. It need to be simple but stylish." The clerk turned to the victim and seemed rather disappointed at having to deal with lower-class people. It was the wolf that took more insult, however. Pushing passed the annoying little Asian retailer and pulling the Japanese musician along, it was something akin to leading the lamb to slaughter.
"I have two already at home," that earned a glare from him, "I mean couldn't we just stop there? It'd be so much faster." He didn't know what was worse, the smirking or the glaring. His hat and pack were off before he knew to contest the pillaging act.
"Fujimiya. You need more than just any common suit. People like you need refinement. A pure black two piece with a burgundy button-drown in raw-silk would fit you nicely." The foreigner began searching about for clothing while the young man stood in awe. Not only had the man gotten his sense of style and taste correct, but that'd been the first time he'd ever used his real name. Perhaps Schuldig was finally giving him some respect.
"One should never pay much attention to most of the words that come from Schuldig's mouth. However, style is one thing he does actually know about," stated the good Englishman. He was seated with Ran's hat and pack. It was odd but the man's mouth twitched after he'd said that, like he would have smiled or laughed if he knew how to. Though it seemed highly unlikely that a man like that even knew how to smirk, even with that dork modeling one from dawn till dusk. And style? How could a man who combines orange hair with a green suit possess proper vision let alone an iota of style? Maybe they weren't foreigners, but actually aliens from Jupiter?
However, that smirk was more tolerable when one knew there was respect behind it.
"Good morning," an old man said. The stiff was probably the owner of the shop, considering how he was dressed in a tailored Armani. He was not the softly aging Japanese type either but the cheap and miserly kind of geezer who wants money and a nice retirement. Hadn't his staff informed the man of how they were buying for the low-class Asian and not Lucifer?
"What do you want now?" Schuldig snapped back.
"I'm Uyeda Keiichi. Please excuse my staff. Please have my sincerest apologies." Well, Why were these people open so early if they weren't expecting anyone? They were probably waiting for some high roller that paged them to be here this morning.
The young man shrugged. He didn't want to be here anymore than they wanted him to be here, so it was pretty even. But why was this guy still being nice? If he had bigger fish to sell to soon, why would he be nice to a small fry like him? Well, people have to pass the time somehow.
"Thank you, sir. But we won't waste your time."
"Ho, ho, ho! Making sure my customers are taken care of is my job. Now, are you sure you didn't want something fitted?" It was nice that the stingy man was being polite to their faces, but laughing and coming over pat his shoulder was more than he needed to do. As for his good happy hearted soul, if that was a real laugh then Crawford is the sugar plum fairy. He was already being forced to buy a suit, why was everyone making the experience even more agonizing?
The orange revenge returned to the group with a few items. He grinned widely as he pushed Ran toward a changing room. The man didn't mind getting away from everyone but that didn't mean he wanted to try the clothes. He wasn't some dress-up dolly for these foreign freaks of affluence. Why was he doing this?
All of the items were tasteful and extravagant. He normally bought sensible things, things that were simple and elegant. He didn't like how ridiculously expensive it all was or how fake the people were either. Why did he even need any of this?
He closed his eyes and pulled up what he hoped would be an emotionless expression and opened the door. He didn't feel like looking at how people found his looks to be so strange or how horrible he'd probably looked right now. That smirking bastard had no reasons to be nice to him, but he could have plenty of things to hate about the musician. He knew what was going to happen, he'd be laughed at. Not for the outfit, because it was actually quite nice, but that he'd worn it wrong or something. In the end he'd become the butt of everyone's joke. Why was he doing this again? He didn't really owe them anything. They certainly seemed to dislike him every fifth moment or so. What could he have to offer them? What did they want with him? Their wealth was obviously very large but Ran wasn't a key person in any organization. Why take a random him to breakfast with important businessmen? His family wasn't that well known and he just played a keyboard for a Japanese band. Didn't companies still employ proper geishas anymore? Why did they need him to supply them with their sick sort of entertainment?
He emerged from the changing room calmly which was quite a feat considering he'd just reminded himself of the small twist growing in his stomach. He really was very hungry though. It hadn't been so terrible a pain earlier but it was steadily increasing in size and volume. He wasn't sure he'd make it to the breakfast before collapsing dead on the ground.
"Well that is absolutely perfect for you," which wasn't a surprising thing to heard from a man trying to sell it to him. Ran didn't need any of this. He was wasting time here.
"No."
"Oh, perhaps you'd like a violet shirt better?" Ran glared straight past the salesman to Schuldig.
"This is ridiculous. I have a suit at home I can wear. It'll take five minutes to drive there and then to the breakfast." He was cranky but being really very hungry does that to people. "These are perfectly fine clothes, but I don't need them."
"Mr. Fujimiya. Armani is a symbol of style and class. Somebody of your status should only wear the best. You're very popular, you should be seen in only the highest quality clothing." Old men take things too personally. "The suit is a gift, Mr. Fujimiya. Complements of Armani to you, sir."
Was the miser giving him the suit for free? Oh, that was just wrong. These guys were sick and wrong.
Ran had known there was a joke, but now he found the punch line. That smirking little weasel did this all just to see if the damn thing would come free for a celebrity. It was slightly moronic that he was more insulted by the fact the joke was not on himself but the poor, all be it selfish, retailer. However, that hardly swayed the young man. He spent the rest of the time at the shop plagued by his conscience and pride, the two most driving factors of his life.
When the boy was safely back in the limousine, well as safe as one can be with a serpent and a head case, he finally decided to voice his opinion.
"I've changed my mind about you." Ran said evenly.
"Really, Red? Do you now realize how intelligent I am?" He was smirking again… it was like this deformity on his face. Maybe he'd been hit with a shovel as a child and now his face made that strange pathetic version of a smile. It could possible be that the foreigner was born with the disfigurement, perhaps something related to down syndrome. Or maybe he was just really weird. Nevertheless, he was an abnormal and mental deranged carrot top with a fine taste for fashion that he disregarded when dressing every morning.
"You are very Machiavellian," he answered simply. However, hell frozen over for one brief moment as Crawford grin widely and gave slight breathe of laughter. A truly Kodak moment as they say.
The bogeyman really was the only creature alive that could stop that orange freak of nature from talking and smirking. The weasel sat in equal awe of the single most amazing moment of time. Then that look deformed expression returned and was bestowed upon the innocent lamb.
"How the Hell does some Japanese singsong boy with bunches of hormonal teenage groupies following him around the clock know a word like that?" and as agreeable as said musician found most of that comment to be, it was still meant as an insult.
"How does a orange haired man walk out the door in the same green outfit everyday?" A Fujimiya does not miss the chance to dominate.
"I do not wear the same outfit everyday!" And as enjoyable as the rest of the fight would have been if it had carried on, the bogeyman spoke.
"We have arrived." That said. The two well-behavior little boys followed to big scary monster out of the car and into the darkness under the bed.
Well, it wasn't really very dark since they were outside and simply walking up the front stairs of the Ota Cooperation Tower. The sunlight was making everything look a little golden. The building itself seemed ominous, as did its twin normally, but the young man wasn't going to say that he found either tower to be intimidating. Ran was better than that.
The last time he'd been in the tower it had frightened him. He'd been with his mother. She had worked at the building before she'd married. Many of her friends still worked there, so during a trip to Tokyo she'd decided to visit them all. He'd only been nine years old at the time, but the memory of his mother's bright smiles and bubbling laughter was still fresh to him. Also the memory of the many people, who pinched, patted and hugged him that day, was hard to forget.
They called him beautiful and handsome, most certainly his mother's son, while his younger sister Aya was not. Everyone was pleasant to her, but they didn't much care for her. Everyone loved five-year-old little girls with dimples and pigtails, excluding brothers of course. The girl was still the center of attention and she was sixteen. It still baffled Ran.
The boy took one last breath of freedom and entered the building.
Schuldig put his hand on the musician back and ushered him followed more closely. Immediately pulling away from the contact, the orange wolf frowned at the slight. The younger man disliked the idea of being touched by a massive orange Cheshire cat. Didn't everyone?
The Japanese man watched all the people in the lobby stare at their entrance. They were probably looking at the odd and disturbing eyesore that was the orange and green siren. A tall, ugly foreigner would draw attention anywhere he went.
"Well, aren't you popular?" mused the younger man. The carrot top laughed.
"They're not looking at us cutie. We scare them. You on the other hand are a Japanese man with crimson locks and violet eyes. Beautiful, exotic, and all natural I'm guessing. Not a common thing to see, ever." He was smirking again, but that was not as bad as the fact that he pat Ran on the head. He patted him, like he was the man's pet. What was wrong with this guy? Was anyone going to give him respect around here?
"Mr. Crawford, Mr. Schuldig, good morning. They're waiting for you upstairs," said a middle-age woman. She was neat and with few wrinkles. Hair short, skirt long, make up simple, she was the model of the working woman. It reminded him of his mother, but without the radiant smile his mother had which made her look younger. This woman smiled, but it didn't reach her full face. Fake smiles are like that; they can only cover so much before the truth shows up from underneath.
She didn't seem to like either of the foreigners and wasn't taking the time to notice the native. Not that he minded since he'd gotten his fair share of notice already.
Ran patiently waited before the elevator. He glanced at the carrot top. Beyond the smirking leprechaun of doom, there were two young men standing close to each other looking at the trio suspiciously. The pair didn't look like businessmen, but then neither did the orange avenger over here. Well, funny looks were expected when two scary foreigners walk in with a popular music artist.
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, they entered, and all was normal for a few brief moments of bliss. It was a small elevator, but it smell like cinnamon and honey. The moment ended when the woman gasped, well it might have been more like a hiccup, but she made a noise. People don't randomly emit sounds on a regular basis, and if the do they're generally not from their mouth. In this case, it seemed the lady noticed that there was third male occupant in the elevator. How wonderful, she's finally become aware of her surroundings.
"You're." She looked too old to be a fan, but then he never did understand fans. Even his own sister baffled him with her obsession towards Iceman. He should smile for her, but he didn't like to lie to people. He really couldn't wait until breakfast…
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, they exited, and all was normal for the short walk down a large hall. The hall really was huge too. The décor was tasteful and conventional. It looked pleasant, but something about this place put him ill at ease.
"Please go inside. Ota is waiting for you," she said, turning to face them and bowing deeply. The two older men continued on passed a set of double doors, but Ran stopped. Schuldig pause to look back at him.
The woman was smiling at the musician, genuinely. She might even have had some tears in her eyes. He didn't know why anyone would be so overjoyed by seeing him, but then he didn't know a lot of things.
He smiled back as best he could, since he was a little confused and a little cranky. The lady just burst at that pathetic excuse for a happy face and started hugging him rather fiercely and crying what he hoped were tears of joy. Being more than a little confused now, he looked to the insanity of orange in forest green trousers for help.
But he was smirking again…
"Oh, excuse me." She pulled back from him, still teary-eyed. "It's just." Shaking her head, she walked brusquely back to the elevators. Ran sighed and turned to follow his pseudo-companions into the next room.
The room was bright. The morning fog had burned off completely leaving the sunshine to cascade through the canopy of glass. It was like a green house, but the room held sparse amounts of foliage. There was mainly the large glass tabletop covered with delicious breakfast foods of multiple origins, or at least that's what really caught Ran's attention first.
A woman dressed in a red suit sat at the table reading a paper. She had large bouncing curls in her hair, obviously just as fake as the crimson hair. He knew what natural blood-red hair looked like and hers was totally counterfeit. As they entered she smiled and looked up to see the arriving company.
"Crawford, what brings you back to the island?" she asked. The woman looked at Schuldig and shook her head and gave a light laugh, "Never did care how you looked. Aye, Schuldig?" The troupe sat down comfortably and the middle aged woman looked at Ran. Nodding politely, as if to accept the extra to her table, he took his place next to the weasel.
So this was Ota, it didn't like she could rival the koala man.
"Returning for work or still in search for some?" she asked gingerly, returning to the paper.
"Still searching," replied the white suit. A waiter, who appeared out of nowhere, poured them all drinks while the green suit placed delectable treats onto the other redhead's plate.
"I suppose I could help you. If that' all you came for then you could have simply called." She was a rather aloof kind of woman. Some may label it as pure arrogance, but there was more class in her than that.
"Hope you don't mind that we brought along a stay kitten," said the Cheshire because that stupid smirk was back in full force.
"No, but it is surprising," she replied and looked up at the young musician, "You don't usually pick up stragglers. Are you going to introduce us?"
"Ota, a pleasure to meet you," Ran said, standing up and bowing his head. Ota nodded in return while sipping a drink in her hand. "My name is Fujimiya Ran."
The sound of glass shattered on the ground is actually quite frightening, not that any grown would admit that publicly, but Ota jumped. She stared at the boy for awhile looking rather shocked. Why was he suddenly evoking these hysterical reactions upper first encounters with the oppose sex? Normally people in general aren't that surprised to meet him. Then again, he seemed to have become a magnet for strange and unusual people in general lately, starting this morning actually. Today was a very confusing day and it wasn't even to the halfway mark. He should have never come back to this place.
But at least nobody pinched him this time.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you again for reading and all your lovely reviews you've given me!
Rei Eien: Yes, she is creepy. I like to put her in just so I can insult her. Anyone as clueless and vapid as her, needs to but laughed at so that futre generation stupid mating with them and thus their population will decline. O.O It's midnight... ok.
Shuo Ri: That was a great analogy for the duet. I don't think "...dress-up dolly for these foreign freaks of affluence..." can beat compare, but I did honestly try! It's not easy to insult scary, spooky, and really hairy guys. ^.^ Well, maybe it is.
Shirogane: Thank you for putting this story under your favorites, I never imagine people to like it THAT much, but I like feeling so loved. Thankyou! And I don't know if it is, I am hoping for that pairing becuase I really love it too, but I don't really know if the fic wants to do that... You see the silly thing has a mind of it's own, and it's not my mind and not any mind that I familiar with so I don't know... J/K I think it be, but I don't actually know where to take this fic, I'm just writing it and writing it then posting it weekly. That's also the reason it in the R-rated section and the genre keeps changing, I'm taking no chances because I know nothing. ~.^ Well, mostly nothing.
Sakura_Aya: That's a good question. I will pull them in because *SPOILER & CHEESECAKE!* However, Farfallow maybe more tame than normal since it'd be to difficult for me to make him the violent little pixie of DOOM that we all know and love. Have I mentioned that it's now half-past midnight... LALA!
Thank you all for your wonderful support and back to the story. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
"Good morning gentlemen. How may I help you?" It was humorous that, even though Crawford was not the one shopping and not the one standing in the middle but in fact standing to back and off to the side, the clerk was still speaking to the bogeyman. Just goes to show that appearances do matter. Schuldig was not looking very happy about that.
Ran remembered the reason why he detested shopping quite well. He felt like running, but the orange wolf had longer legs than he did so there was no chance of out running the predator.
"My friend here needs a suit. Nothing tailored, just something on hand. It need to be simple but stylish." The clerk turned to the victim and seemed rather disappointed at having to deal with lower-class people. It was the wolf that took more insult, however. Pushing passed the annoying little Asian retailer and pulling the Japanese musician along, it was something akin to leading the lamb to slaughter.
"I have two already at home," that earned a glare from him, "I mean couldn't we just stop there? It'd be so much faster." He didn't know what was worse, the smirking or the glaring. His hat and pack were off before he knew to contest the pillaging act.
"Fujimiya. You need more than just any common suit. People like you need refinement. A pure black two piece with a burgundy button-drown in raw-silk would fit you nicely." The foreigner began searching about for clothing while the young man stood in awe. Not only had the man gotten his sense of style and taste correct, but that'd been the first time he'd ever used his real name. Perhaps Schuldig was finally giving him some respect.
"One should never pay much attention to most of the words that come from Schuldig's mouth. However, style is one thing he does actually know about," stated the good Englishman. He was seated with Ran's hat and pack. It was odd but the man's mouth twitched after he'd said that, like he would have smiled or laughed if he knew how to. Though it seemed highly unlikely that a man like that even knew how to smirk, even with that dork modeling one from dawn till dusk. And style? How could a man who combines orange hair with a green suit possess proper vision let alone an iota of style? Maybe they weren't foreigners, but actually aliens from Jupiter?
However, that smirk was more tolerable when one knew there was respect behind it.
"Good morning," an old man said. The stiff was probably the owner of the shop, considering how he was dressed in a tailored Armani. He was not the softly aging Japanese type either but the cheap and miserly kind of geezer who wants money and a nice retirement. Hadn't his staff informed the man of how they were buying for the low-class Asian and not Lucifer?
"What do you want now?" Schuldig snapped back.
"I'm Uyeda Keiichi. Please excuse my staff. Please have my sincerest apologies." Well, Why were these people open so early if they weren't expecting anyone? They were probably waiting for some high roller that paged them to be here this morning.
The young man shrugged. He didn't want to be here anymore than they wanted him to be here, so it was pretty even. But why was this guy still being nice? If he had bigger fish to sell to soon, why would he be nice to a small fry like him? Well, people have to pass the time somehow.
"Thank you, sir. But we won't waste your time."
"Ho, ho, ho! Making sure my customers are taken care of is my job. Now, are you sure you didn't want something fitted?" It was nice that the stingy man was being polite to their faces, but laughing and coming over pat his shoulder was more than he needed to do. As for his good happy hearted soul, if that was a real laugh then Crawford is the sugar plum fairy. He was already being forced to buy a suit, why was everyone making the experience even more agonizing?
The orange revenge returned to the group with a few items. He grinned widely as he pushed Ran toward a changing room. The man didn't mind getting away from everyone but that didn't mean he wanted to try the clothes. He wasn't some dress-up dolly for these foreign freaks of affluence. Why was he doing this?
All of the items were tasteful and extravagant. He normally bought sensible things, things that were simple and elegant. He didn't like how ridiculously expensive it all was or how fake the people were either. Why did he even need any of this?
He closed his eyes and pulled up what he hoped would be an emotionless expression and opened the door. He didn't feel like looking at how people found his looks to be so strange or how horrible he'd probably looked right now. That smirking bastard had no reasons to be nice to him, but he could have plenty of things to hate about the musician. He knew what was going to happen, he'd be laughed at. Not for the outfit, because it was actually quite nice, but that he'd worn it wrong or something. In the end he'd become the butt of everyone's joke. Why was he doing this again? He didn't really owe them anything. They certainly seemed to dislike him every fifth moment or so. What could he have to offer them? What did they want with him? Their wealth was obviously very large but Ran wasn't a key person in any organization. Why take a random him to breakfast with important businessmen? His family wasn't that well known and he just played a keyboard for a Japanese band. Didn't companies still employ proper geishas anymore? Why did they need him to supply them with their sick sort of entertainment?
He emerged from the changing room calmly which was quite a feat considering he'd just reminded himself of the small twist growing in his stomach. He really was very hungry though. It hadn't been so terrible a pain earlier but it was steadily increasing in size and volume. He wasn't sure he'd make it to the breakfast before collapsing dead on the ground.
"Well that is absolutely perfect for you," which wasn't a surprising thing to heard from a man trying to sell it to him. Ran didn't need any of this. He was wasting time here.
"No."
"Oh, perhaps you'd like a violet shirt better?" Ran glared straight past the salesman to Schuldig.
"This is ridiculous. I have a suit at home I can wear. It'll take five minutes to drive there and then to the breakfast." He was cranky but being really very hungry does that to people. "These are perfectly fine clothes, but I don't need them."
"Mr. Fujimiya. Armani is a symbol of style and class. Somebody of your status should only wear the best. You're very popular, you should be seen in only the highest quality clothing." Old men take things too personally. "The suit is a gift, Mr. Fujimiya. Complements of Armani to you, sir."
Was the miser giving him the suit for free? Oh, that was just wrong. These guys were sick and wrong.
Ran had known there was a joke, but now he found the punch line. That smirking little weasel did this all just to see if the damn thing would come free for a celebrity. It was slightly moronic that he was more insulted by the fact the joke was not on himself but the poor, all be it selfish, retailer. However, that hardly swayed the young man. He spent the rest of the time at the shop plagued by his conscience and pride, the two most driving factors of his life.
When the boy was safely back in the limousine, well as safe as one can be with a serpent and a head case, he finally decided to voice his opinion.
"I've changed my mind about you." Ran said evenly.
"Really, Red? Do you now realize how intelligent I am?" He was smirking again… it was like this deformity on his face. Maybe he'd been hit with a shovel as a child and now his face made that strange pathetic version of a smile. It could possible be that the foreigner was born with the disfigurement, perhaps something related to down syndrome. Or maybe he was just really weird. Nevertheless, he was an abnormal and mental deranged carrot top with a fine taste for fashion that he disregarded when dressing every morning.
"You are very Machiavellian," he answered simply. However, hell frozen over for one brief moment as Crawford grin widely and gave slight breathe of laughter. A truly Kodak moment as they say.
The bogeyman really was the only creature alive that could stop that orange freak of nature from talking and smirking. The weasel sat in equal awe of the single most amazing moment of time. Then that look deformed expression returned and was bestowed upon the innocent lamb.
"How the Hell does some Japanese singsong boy with bunches of hormonal teenage groupies following him around the clock know a word like that?" and as agreeable as said musician found most of that comment to be, it was still meant as an insult.
"How does a orange haired man walk out the door in the same green outfit everyday?" A Fujimiya does not miss the chance to dominate.
"I do not wear the same outfit everyday!" And as enjoyable as the rest of the fight would have been if it had carried on, the bogeyman spoke.
"We have arrived." That said. The two well-behavior little boys followed to big scary monster out of the car and into the darkness under the bed.
Well, it wasn't really very dark since they were outside and simply walking up the front stairs of the Ota Cooperation Tower. The sunlight was making everything look a little golden. The building itself seemed ominous, as did its twin normally, but the young man wasn't going to say that he found either tower to be intimidating. Ran was better than that.
The last time he'd been in the tower it had frightened him. He'd been with his mother. She had worked at the building before she'd married. Many of her friends still worked there, so during a trip to Tokyo she'd decided to visit them all. He'd only been nine years old at the time, but the memory of his mother's bright smiles and bubbling laughter was still fresh to him. Also the memory of the many people, who pinched, patted and hugged him that day, was hard to forget.
They called him beautiful and handsome, most certainly his mother's son, while his younger sister Aya was not. Everyone was pleasant to her, but they didn't much care for her. Everyone loved five-year-old little girls with dimples and pigtails, excluding brothers of course. The girl was still the center of attention and she was sixteen. It still baffled Ran.
The boy took one last breath of freedom and entered the building.
Schuldig put his hand on the musician back and ushered him followed more closely. Immediately pulling away from the contact, the orange wolf frowned at the slight. The younger man disliked the idea of being touched by a massive orange Cheshire cat. Didn't everyone?
The Japanese man watched all the people in the lobby stare at their entrance. They were probably looking at the odd and disturbing eyesore that was the orange and green siren. A tall, ugly foreigner would draw attention anywhere he went.
"Well, aren't you popular?" mused the younger man. The carrot top laughed.
"They're not looking at us cutie. We scare them. You on the other hand are a Japanese man with crimson locks and violet eyes. Beautiful, exotic, and all natural I'm guessing. Not a common thing to see, ever." He was smirking again, but that was not as bad as the fact that he pat Ran on the head. He patted him, like he was the man's pet. What was wrong with this guy? Was anyone going to give him respect around here?
"Mr. Crawford, Mr. Schuldig, good morning. They're waiting for you upstairs," said a middle-age woman. She was neat and with few wrinkles. Hair short, skirt long, make up simple, she was the model of the working woman. It reminded him of his mother, but without the radiant smile his mother had which made her look younger. This woman smiled, but it didn't reach her full face. Fake smiles are like that; they can only cover so much before the truth shows up from underneath.
She didn't seem to like either of the foreigners and wasn't taking the time to notice the native. Not that he minded since he'd gotten his fair share of notice already.
Ran patiently waited before the elevator. He glanced at the carrot top. Beyond the smirking leprechaun of doom, there were two young men standing close to each other looking at the trio suspiciously. The pair didn't look like businessmen, but then neither did the orange avenger over here. Well, funny looks were expected when two scary foreigners walk in with a popular music artist.
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, they entered, and all was normal for a few brief moments of bliss. It was a small elevator, but it smell like cinnamon and honey. The moment ended when the woman gasped, well it might have been more like a hiccup, but she made a noise. People don't randomly emit sounds on a regular basis, and if the do they're generally not from their mouth. In this case, it seemed the lady noticed that there was third male occupant in the elevator. How wonderful, she's finally become aware of her surroundings.
"You're." She looked too old to be a fan, but then he never did understand fans. Even his own sister baffled him with her obsession towards Iceman. He should smile for her, but he didn't like to lie to people. He really couldn't wait until breakfast…
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, they exited, and all was normal for the short walk down a large hall. The hall really was huge too. The décor was tasteful and conventional. It looked pleasant, but something about this place put him ill at ease.
"Please go inside. Ota is waiting for you," she said, turning to face them and bowing deeply. The two older men continued on passed a set of double doors, but Ran stopped. Schuldig pause to look back at him.
The woman was smiling at the musician, genuinely. She might even have had some tears in her eyes. He didn't know why anyone would be so overjoyed by seeing him, but then he didn't know a lot of things.
He smiled back as best he could, since he was a little confused and a little cranky. The lady just burst at that pathetic excuse for a happy face and started hugging him rather fiercely and crying what he hoped were tears of joy. Being more than a little confused now, he looked to the insanity of orange in forest green trousers for help.
But he was smirking again…
"Oh, excuse me." She pulled back from him, still teary-eyed. "It's just." Shaking her head, she walked brusquely back to the elevators. Ran sighed and turned to follow his pseudo-companions into the next room.
The room was bright. The morning fog had burned off completely leaving the sunshine to cascade through the canopy of glass. It was like a green house, but the room held sparse amounts of foliage. There was mainly the large glass tabletop covered with delicious breakfast foods of multiple origins, or at least that's what really caught Ran's attention first.
A woman dressed in a red suit sat at the table reading a paper. She had large bouncing curls in her hair, obviously just as fake as the crimson hair. He knew what natural blood-red hair looked like and hers was totally counterfeit. As they entered she smiled and looked up to see the arriving company.
"Crawford, what brings you back to the island?" she asked. The woman looked at Schuldig and shook her head and gave a light laugh, "Never did care how you looked. Aye, Schuldig?" The troupe sat down comfortably and the middle aged woman looked at Ran. Nodding politely, as if to accept the extra to her table, he took his place next to the weasel.
So this was Ota, it didn't like she could rival the koala man.
"Returning for work or still in search for some?" she asked gingerly, returning to the paper.
"Still searching," replied the white suit. A waiter, who appeared out of nowhere, poured them all drinks while the green suit placed delectable treats onto the other redhead's plate.
"I suppose I could help you. If that' all you came for then you could have simply called." She was a rather aloof kind of woman. Some may label it as pure arrogance, but there was more class in her than that.
"Hope you don't mind that we brought along a stay kitten," said the Cheshire because that stupid smirk was back in full force.
"No, but it is surprising," she replied and looked up at the young musician, "You don't usually pick up stragglers. Are you going to introduce us?"
"Ota, a pleasure to meet you," Ran said, standing up and bowing his head. Ota nodded in return while sipping a drink in her hand. "My name is Fujimiya Ran."
The sound of glass shattered on the ground is actually quite frightening, not that any grown would admit that publicly, but Ota jumped. She stared at the boy for awhile looking rather shocked. Why was he suddenly evoking these hysterical reactions upper first encounters with the oppose sex? Normally people in general aren't that surprised to meet him. Then again, he seemed to have become a magnet for strange and unusual people in general lately, starting this morning actually. Today was a very confusing day and it wasn't even to the halfway mark. He should have never come back to this place.
But at least nobody pinched him this time.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you again for reading and all your lovely reviews you've given me!