Mid-story Disclaimer: We doesssn't owwwnsss it, doessss we, Precioussss? We don't tryssss to makesss money off of it, doesss we, Preciousssss?
Ais: Not Smeagol again, PLEASE!
Smeagol: Ssssmeagol and Gollum apologissseeee, but we were bored and thisss wasss our favorite chapter...
Ais: Remember what happened last time? SECURITY!
Smeagol: What did we ever do to you, preccioussss... Nooo, precciousss! Not the big white coat again!
Ais: --whew—Thank God.
Doujima: You can say that again. You recognize it, she doesn't own it. And thank God, we still don't own Smeagol. Hey Ais, you're leaving me in the story?
Ais: Well... you're my favorite character. And I couldn't exactly cut you out without a lot of rewriting... and you organized my closet... and bribed me with Prada boots... Oops. Did I say that out loud?
"I'll take you to Doujima's apartment. You can spend the night there."
"Without telling her?"
Amon shot her a Glare Calculated To Indicate That Well-calculated Glares Have A Way Of Getting What One Wants.
"Oh. I see. Think we should risk going back to my apartment to get my things?"
"No."
"Neither do I."
'And toNIGHT... there will be a LOW in the LOWer FIFties, with a sliiiiight chance of shOWers!' the irritating TV meteorologist woman sang perkily. (It was made even more interesting by the fact that she was, of course, speaking Japanese.)
"Who turned that up?" Robin asked.
Amon stood up and stalked over to the TV, shooting everyone around him a Glare Calculated To Make All Evil TV-volume-turner-uppers Shake In Their Shoes. One man immediately got up with a look of sincere fear on his face and ran for the door.
"Mutter," muttered Amon, and sat back down beside Robin, who had just opened a new Frappaccino.
"I'll walk you up," Amon said darkly, opening the door of the Great Black Audi.
"You don't have to do that."
"You don't know where Doujima's apartment is." (Idiot implied here)
Robin opened her mouth and closed it again.
Amon led her into a very, very, very tall building of white limestone with brass on the clear glass doors.
"She lives here?"
"Yes."
They walked up to the door and into a lobby, and then to a very shiny cage elevator. The elevator was prompt and silent. It brought them up one—two—three—four—five—six... um... nine? No, ten floors, to the very top. When they walked out of the elevator, Robin saw that they were in some sort of hall with a few fake palm trees and two doors, one at each end. On each was written: '1A. Doujima Yurika.'
"No, Robin. That's her front door."
"Oh. How can you tell?"
"The 'Welcome' mat is at the front door. The mat with the vines is at the back door."
"I see..."
Amon pressed the doorbell. "Dee-do-dee-do-dee-do-dee-do-dummm, duh-duh-duh-dummm..."
"Is that 'Fir Elise,' Amon?"
Amon, of course, did not want to admit that he knew what Fir Elise was, so luckily at that moment the piece stopped, and Yurika's voice could be heard. "Who's there?"
Robin jumped about two feet in the air, and Amon pointed to a tiny speaker above their heads. "Security system," he muttered, and pressed a button under the doorbell. The words "For The Last Time, Not A Doorbell, Darn You!" were written on it. "It's Amon and Robin."
"Do you have identification?"
Amon gritted his teeth hard and muttered to himself.
"What is it?" Robin asked.
Amon rubbed his forehead.
"Say it!" Doujima said again.
Amon muttered.
"Say it or you don't get to come in!"
Amon pressed the not-a-doorbell button again and quickly muttered: "YurikaDoujimaisthemostbeautifulwonderfulperfectpersoninallJapanEarthandpossiblytheUniverse! Happy now?"
"Yes," Doujima's voice said, obviously trying not to laugh. "I'm in the living room!"
The door slid open of its own accord, like an elevator door, and Amon and Robin were greeted by the most stylish mess they had ever seen. A pile of Manalos and Chanel shoes lay in a pile by the front door, along with a Dolce and Gabbana handbag or two. The hat tree was covered with very expensive coats and hats. Some very selective, expensively framed modern art prints hung on the white walls.
"Am I mistaken, or is the contents of her front hall alone worth over five thousand dollars?"
"Shh," Amon muttered. If it's possible to mutter a 'shh.'
Robin peered into the room they passed. It looked like a living room to her! (and Ais too...) It was green and white and palm-tree print, had a very large TV and stereo system at one end, and several very comfortable looking couches. There were cabinets in the corners, which probably contained DVDs, CDs, and videos. There was also a box of candy, a plant or two, and several hundred bottles of nail polish.
But this was apparently not the living room.
"I'm in the kitchen now!" Doujima's voice floated in.
Amon had the orbo gun out, of course, and was doing the Famous Stick-The-Gun-Around-Every-Corner Move. "Come on, Robin. Hurry."
"I'm hurrying." Robin shot a Glare Informing Hot Anime Guys To Shut Up at his back, which he pretended not to notice.
"Amon, are you doing the Stick-The-Orbo-Gun-Around-Every-Corner Move again?" Doujima laughed. "'Cause I'm back in the living room now."
"Mutter."
This door was apparently the living room. "Wait before you open the..." Doujima shrieked. "...door. Never mind."
On a white couch in her pink living room next to a very large cherry coffee table, Doujima sat staring sadly at the remains of her enormous playing card tower. "You knocked it over!"
"Sorry," Robin said, aghast. "We really didn't..."
"Mean to, I know. It's... okay. I was... going for the world record... but it's okay..."
"Oh Doujima, don't cry!"
"Doujima!"
"What!"
"Robin needs to stay here tonight!"
Doujima immediately perked up. "Oh good! You can have your pick of the extra bedrooms! I have three!"
"Three extra bedrooms in one apartment?" Robin glanced up at Amon.
"Penthouse. Parents rich, important people." He muttered.
Doujima was very happy. "We can get takeout! Do you like takeout? Pizza, or maybe sushi..."
"Er... that's fine. Whatever you want to do."
"...We'd be like sisters! I've always wanted a sister! I..." she paused mid-sentence. "Amon! You! Aren't! Wearing! Your! Bad! Black! Coat!"
"Oh yes! Amon, that reminds me. Here's the... um... you-know-what for the you-know-which." She secretly handed him the dry-cleaning ticket.
Oops. Bad thing to say in front of Yurika.
"What? What's the you-know-what? What's it for? Ooo! Is it a secret? You're hiding something! I bet..."
"I don't even want to know what you're thinking, Doujima, but whatever it is, that's not it."
Doujima turned back to Robin. "Tell me! Tell me!"
"Goodbye, Doujima. Goodnight, Robin." Amon tried not to smile as he turned to stalk back out.
"Amon! What'd I ever do to you?" Robin whispered. Amon just muttered... almost... dare I say it... gleefully? –shudder—
Did Robin burninate him? No, that wouldn't have been subtle enough. She used one of the Time-honored Methods that women have used for thousands of years when wanting to very subtly harm the men in their lives. She did the Kick-Him-Very-Hard-In-The-Bone-That-Sticks-Off-The-Ankle move.
And Amon, being the tough guy he is, only made a (muttered) sound, something like 'Oomph!' before trying not to limp out the door.
And of course, this being the auspicious day it already was, Doujima noticed. "It's serious, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you kicked him, didn't you?"
"I don't get it. I just handed him his dry-cleaning pickup ticket."
"Oh." Doujima looked disappointed, and then brightened. "I want pizza, how about you?"
"Um... fine."
"Where's your bag? Didn't you bring anything with you?"
"No."
Doujima paused, stunned. "You mean... nothing?"
"Nothing."
A smile began to creep across Doujima's face. "Does that mean... I get to give you clothes?"
"You don't have to do that. I'll wear this tomorrow and I don't need anything to sleep in."
"But you didn't bring anything."
"I don't need anything."
"But what about sleeping?"
"Um... no. I'll be fine."
"Well come on then! I'll get you something!" Doujima grabbed Robin's arm and began to run to the back of the apartment.
"But I don't..."
"Nonsense! Luckily there was a big sale day the day before yesterday, so there's a lot of stuff I've never worn!" Doujima opened the door to her bedroom.
As in Ais's room, clothes were everywhere. It was obvious, as with Ais, that Doujima changed clothes several times before deciding what to wear. Doujima grabbed a handle on her chest of drawers and pulled hard (the parallels to Ais are amazing), practically falling backwards when it flew open. "I've got some underclothes I've never worn—two for one sale! And..." she pulled open another drawer. "Nightgown or pajamas?"
"I really..."
"Pajamas it is! Aren't they cute?" She held up a camisole with an expensive-looking logo on it, and matching long pajama pants.
"Um..."
"And as for unworn underwear, I have... microfiber, cotton, mix, satin..."
"Um..."
"Mix it is! Are you going to wear that tomorrow?"
"Well..."
"I've always wanted to pick out an outfit for you!"
And we shall leave poor Robin to be tortured by the Ais-like Doujima.
Ais A/n: Well then. I know, I know, I just had to leave Smeagol and Doujima in.Doujima: I will now be doing the random disclaimers Ais throws in and any announcements!
Ais: Oh will you now.
And I'm very sorry, but there won't be any review responses because of emotional distress. And laziness. Sorry! –scoots away—
-------------------Ais
