Honey Trap
A Weiss Kreuz fanfiction by laila

Part 3: Girls on Film

If I thought wanted to go home when I was in the car, within five minutes of getting into Club Verde I'm absolutely convinced of it. It's not the kind of place I've ever been to for fun, or would ever have wanted to either. This is not my idea of a good time. Doesn't help that I feel stupid and out of place. I decide I really loathe clubs and stick close to Youji.

The place is pretty big, much more so than I thought it'd be, but I guess I'd call the atmosphere intimate. The room's really pretty dark, dark enough that I guess nobody's going to be able to see me close enough to question my gender, but it seems like it's the kind of dark that's meant to make guys feel comfortable enough to drop their inhibitions and not worry too much about being seen. From where I'm standing that's actually pretty creepy but I'm damned if I'm going to admit to that. I hope we can actually find Ogawa in all this. If he doesn't show that's just too bad because I'm not doing this again next fucking Saturday for anything at all. Omi can do it.

My shoes pinch and I keep thinking I'm about to trip. Elegance and fucking grace, my ass.

I get the feeling some of the guys are staring at me and I wonder if I look that stupid, but after a bit I think I've worked out why and it's got nothing to do with my looks. There's plenty of women in the place, but I'd guess most of them were hostesses. Now I'm not a girl but right now I might as well be, don't I just know it, and what makes me a standout is I came in with Youji. Who's ignoring me in favor of some hostess. She's as Japanese as I am but she introduced herself as… I didn't really catch it but it was some made-up American name like Candy or Sandy or Mandy. Which, I'd guess, means that anyone watching knows my so-called date isn't going to be that upset if someone else decides to take me off his hands.

It makes me feel like a kitten who's just crashed a convention of Doberman Pinschers. It's enough to make me wonder what I did to piss the others off so badly. Whatever it was, guys, I'm really, really sorry and I'll never do it again. Now can I go home, please?

Some drunk guy says hi to me. I try to look busy. Really busy. "Hi." I mustn't have sounded dismissive enough because he squints back at me, showing a mouthful of bad dental work in what I presume was intended as a smile. I look quickly round for Youji only to discover he's chosen this exact moment to vanish off somewhere. Thanks again, God.
"You look lost," he says. He sounds friendly enough but the squint and the dental nightmare is kind of off-putting.
"I'm looking for someone, actually." I say, pitching my voice up an octave and trying not to sound too Northern, or too like a guy for that matter.
"Stood up?" He looks at me like he's considering what to do with me. I consider breaking his nose. "Want me to stand in?"
Don't even think it, buddy. "That won't be necessary, thanks." Where's Youji gotten to anyway?

The sad thing is the drunk guy's actually more likable than Ogawa. Ogawa's not an attractive proposition and wouldn't be even if I really was a girl. He's pretty tall, pretty big and pretty unattractive but the most distinctive thing about him is, basically, he's a frustrated businessman here to score with the bar girls. This might be more helpful if I wasn't stuck in a club full of frustrated businessmen here to score with the bar girls.

And, or so it seems going by this idiot here, me.

Why didn't anyone think to tell me that part of being a girl includes nobody bloody listening to a word you say? I've made it all of two paces when someone puts their arm round my shoulders. Left to myself I'd slap it off and punch its owner and I'm about to do just that when I remember I'm supposed to be being cute, shy and naïve. I turn around and find myself staring right at my new admirer, bad teeth and all. It's only by grabbing my stupid bag with both hands that I manage to stop myself smacking him one.

"Come on, honey… would it kill you to humor a guy?"
Honey? Excuse me? I forbear to point out that it might just kill him and decide to try the diplomatic route. "Can you please take your hand off my shoulder."
"What's the matter?" He asks, like it wasn't completely obvious. He doesn't take his hand off my shoulder either. Instead he tries to draw me toward him. I try to walk away but lose my footing, nearly breaking my ankle in the process – blame the shoes. He catches me, pulls me to his chest and steadies me, then looks expectantly down at me. Am I supposed to thank him for pawing me now, or what? It'd be the easiest thing in the world to punch him in the face, but that'd blow my cover. "That's better, isn't it?"
"Hey," I say, trying to keep my temper, "I said I was with someone…"
He leers at me. "Come on, babe, what's he got I haven't?"
Well, how about good teeth? Maybe I should tell him I'm a guy. "Stop that." I remember I'm supposed to be being demure and add, "Please." And I try to pull free, then freeze. Oh, Jesus. He's got his hand on my ass.

At which point someone else grabs me by the shoulders and all but drags me away from the pervert. This time I nearly fall over backwards and end up leaning heavily against their chest. Okay, I'm getting pissed off now. This isn't to say I'm not grateful but it hurt and I'm already sick of being yanked around the place. Who the Hell is this anyway?

"She's with me."

Oh. It's only Youji. Good timing. He's got his hands on my shoulders and when I look over at him he's giving the guy an icy leveling death glare only marginally less ferocious than Aya's own. Has he been taking lessons or something? I'm about to ask where in the flaming Hell he thinks he's been for the last few minutes but leaving out the curse-words since I'm being cute, only for Youji to cut me off.

"Play along." He murmurs.
"Huh?" I blink. I think I've missed the point somewhere along the line. "Play along with what?"
"Shut up and do it, Hidaka."

Then Youji does something I'm really not expecting and kisses me.

First I'm stunned, so much so I can't even push him off. Then I'm absolutely bloody scandalized. I feel like I've gone into shock and maybe I have. Youji is kissing me and he's doing it well and it's so goddamn weird and freaky and wrong I don't know how to react. I want to scream. I want to kill Youji. I want to ignore the inconvenient fact that he's a frighteningly good kisser. I want to not have just had that thought. I definitely do not want to be thinking maybe I kind of like it. Finally my mind goes weirdly blank and I guess I decide that, deeply fucked up though this idea of Youji's is, I am going to play along with it after all. For now. Because I can't strangle him without jeopardizing the mission.

One of us is going nuts, right?

After an entirely way too long time he lets me go and I pull quickly away. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or not and it scares me. I feel dizzy, Christ alone knows why, and I'm absolutely convinced I'm blushing. I guess Youji must be saying something pointed to my admirer, who stammers some half-assed excuse for an apology then makes himself scarce, but I don't quite catch it. I'm too busy staring at Youji. What the fuck is going on here?

The minute the drunk guy and his teeth are safely elsewhere I give into impulse and slap Youji. It doesn't change anything and it's nowhere near as satisfying as breaking his jaw would be but what the Hell, it makes me feel better.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Youji says finally. Would you believe he's still fucking smiling?
"Youji Kudou, you are a complete, total, utter bastard! What did you do that for?"
"Do what?" He asks way too innocently.
I stare at him. I get the horrible feeling I'm blushing. All right, still blushing. "… you know what!"
"Verisimilitude." He deadpans. "We've got a job to do, remember?"

Oh, yeah. That.

Twenty minutes later I'm sat in some corner with Youji and Candy or whoever and some other hostess with a fucking awful blonde dye job who claims to be called Selina, a name she clearly hopes will add some kind of class to the proceedings. Sadly for all of us it's not working. Somehow Youji's managing to monopolize both women's attentions at once which I'll admit is pretty impressive. And me? I'm nervous, uncomfortable, humiliated and basically bored out of my mind. Youji's gone back to ignoring me and the girls think I'm a girl so they've barely even glanced in my direction. This leaves me nothing to do unless you count waiting for Ogawa to show up, which I'm not looking forward to seeing as how I'm already feeling really embarrassed and even more pissed off, no thanks to Youji of course.

We're never going to find the target stuck here at this stupid corner table, so I decide I'm going to speed things up a bit. The sooner I find Ogawa the sooner I can get out of this damn dress, right? It sounds like a good plan to me. All I need to do is get shot of Youji.

"Youji." I say. Then I say it again. "Youji. Hey, Youji? Are you in there? Youji!"

That airhead Candy or whoever snickers at the look on my face but Youji doesn't even raise his head. Too busy talking to Selina's cleavage, the freaking pervert. I'd like to remind him we've got a mission to complete but no matter what Youji says about me I'm not going to be so dumb as to blow our cover in the middle of a crowded club by mentioning that little detail. Instead I drive my instep into Youji's calf and he looks up, wincing. I begin to wonder if maybe there aren't advantages to high-heeled shoes after all.

"Is everything okay, honey?" he asks with an air of mock-concern. Honey again? I smile in that poisonously sweet way Sakura's so good at and kick him again. That considerate act's nowhere near good enough to fool me. His grin's easily as fake as Selina's breasts and it says I'm in big trouble the minute we get out of here, though whether it's because I'm happily fucking up his lower leg or because I interrupted his ménage a trois I have no idea. Right now I don't care either. If anyone's got a right to be righteously indignant it's me anyway.
"I'm going to get some fresh air." I say firmly, getting to my feet and grabbing the stupid evening bag from the table.
He tries to hide his relief but doesn't manage it. "Okay," he says with a nod and a smile. "Just watch you don't get yourself into any more trouble, babe."
I can't quite keep the pissed look from my face. "Thanks, but I can look after myself."
"Which is why that guy back there had his hand on your ass, is it?" Youji asks, and grins at me.

I am going to kill him. I mean it. Youji's a dead man.

I wonder if it would jeopardize the mission if I hurled my bag into his face. Probably. Oh, fuck it. I turn my back on him with what I hope is an adequate amount of contempt and walk cautiously off into the crowd. I would have tried to turn on my heel in disgust, but with me in these shoes that maneuver'd land me on my ass most likely, so perhaps not.

I'm glad to spot a largely unoccupied couch by the small dance floor on which a few business-types, blasted enough to lose all their natural inhibitions but not quite blasted enough to fall over or throw up down their shirtfronts, are either suffering some kind of seizure or boogieing embarrassingly badly, egged on by the giggling bar girls. I sit down on the end of it (knees together, back straight and don't look so pained, Siberian, some of us have to sit like this all the time – thank you, Manx) and try not to look at the gyrating salarymen, all of whom I'm sure I'll be seeing in all my nightmares from here on in. Instead, I watch the club, waiting for a glimpse of Ogawa. When I don't get that, I just get more bored.

I'm starting to think I recognize that one guy over there, which is kind of freaky. He's a couple of years older than Youji and looks even slicker than him, as if that was even possible, so I can't quite figure out why I'd think I'd have met him. After a bit, though, I figure out where I've seen him before and I'm so shocked I nearly fall off the end of the couch. That guy was on the same goddamn soccer team I was!

I stare suspiciously at him for way too long. He notices and looks back at me. I turn away way too quickly.

For the first time this evening I'm ridiculously grateful I'm pretending to be a girl.

I wonder how he'd react if I went over and said Hi. Yeah, I used to be Ken Hidaka, you guys all think I'm a cheating bastard no thanks to Kase, oh, and I'm supposed to be dead. And male. No, that's really not a good plan. What the hell's he doing here anyway? I feel myself start to frown. I realize I'm starting to get pissed off – or rather even more so. Geez, just to look at some guy I used to know and I'm feeling homicidal… well, I can't say it's not fitting. You know you've got problems when you sound bitter even to yourself. I quickly look back at the bopping salarymen to take my mind off my irritation with my teammates both former and present, but they're all such bloody awful dancers I get embarrassed just to watch them. Guess fate or karma or whatever the Hell you want to call it's telling me it's high time I went and looked somewhere else.

Which sounds kind of like a nice idea, but it takes barely any time at all for me to wish karma would go pick on someone else for a change.

"Do you like dancing?" Someone says in my ear.
"Huh?" Okay, that wasn't the smartest response. I force a stupid smile onto my face and turn around. "What do you mean?"

Ohh, shit.

I shouldn't even have looked at this one, never mind talked to him. Big mistake! He's not the guy from before but he's so like him he might as well be. Another drunken middle-aged salaryman. How nice. You sure can pick 'em, Hidaka, or more exactly they sure as Hell pick you! I'd be worried about this if I wasn't here specifically to get Ogawa, who's also a drunken middle-aged salaryman, to go off somewhere private with me so we can get rid of the bastard but I'm not sure if this says more about the clientele or the kind of man someone like I'm pretending to be attracts.

I've already decided that I really don't like this man. Even if I was a girl rather than just pretending to be one I doubt I could ever find someone like this appealing. Where the last one's teeth were a horror story, this one has a bald patch he's raked a few strands of hair over, like it could make it look any better, and he's practically poured himself into some casual suit that's far too small for him. I guess that suit might have been something special when it was new but going by the state of it and the state of him, this must have been when I was about four years old. Looks aside, it's the same bloody story the last one was trying to tell me.

My smile gets even more forced. My new best friend here doesn't notice. Too busy gawking at what he fondly imagines is my bust line. I pray to any god who might be listening that Youji doesn't decide to come bale me out again.

"You've been watching the dancers for the last ten minutes."
He's been watching me? Oh God. How in Hell do I get out of this one? Without making a scene and blowing my cover, that is. "Not really… I was just, well, I'm kind of looking for someone." I say lamely.
He smirks. "You've found someone."
Fuck. I walked into that! "Uh… yes, well I can see that, but—"
"But what?" He asks, resting one hand on my shoulder. I resist the temptation to punch him in the face and run. He opens a crumpled packet of cigarettes, takes one out, offers me the box. "Cigarette?"
"I don't smoke." I say quickly, trying not to look too revolted. I wonder if I should commit seppuku with a cocktail stick before I get myself in deeper?
"You don't mind if I do though, do you?" he asks, lighting up before I have a chance to tell him that yes I do bloody mind.

The salaryman offers to buy me a drink. I turn him down. He tries again. I say I'm not thirsty. He laughs and says a small one won't hurt and drinking together is the best way to forge a friendship. Getting desperate, I tell him I'm too young to drink, hoping it'll put him off. It doesn't. His horrible smile gets horribly knowing. I realize I've just fucked up big-time.

Screw pride where is Youji. If he was anywhere in sight I'd take a cue from those rabid schoolgirls at the shop and latch onto him like some sex-starved octopus. It'd be embarrassing as Hell, sure, but at least it'd get me away from this old bastard. No Youji, though. Not a sign of him. Thanks for nothing, Kudou, and I swear on all that's holy I'm going to strangle you the minute we get out of here!

"One drink won't kill you." He wheedles.
I wonder if he knows how close I am to killing him? "Look, I'll be…" He puts his arm round my shoulders and draws me closer to him. I freeze. "Um. Could you not do that please." Oh God, am I blushing? Please tell me I'm not blushing.
"Shy?" He says, missing the point entirely. "Why not have a drink with me, honey? It'll help you relax."
I don't want a drink, I don't want to relax, and while we're on the subject I'm not your honey either. "Look." I say, and I try to say it firmly, "This has been really interesting but I've got to go." I try and pull away from him but he doesn't want to let me. This is getting old fast.
"When we're just getting acquainted? That's hardly fair." He murmurs. Of course it's not, but who said anything about this being fair? If life was fair I wouldn't be in this stupid club wearing a stupid dress and getting leered at by perverts, would I? Of course he thinks I'm a girl so maybe he's not a complete pervert, but whatever…

He grabs me under the chin and tilts my head back. I get a horrible feeling I know exactly where he's taking this and I try to pull away. No dice. Oh, fantastic. I flinch. Every instinct I possess is telling me to deck the guy, well, every one except the one that's telling me if I screw this entire mission up because some middle-aged guy got a bit too close then Aya will see to it that the rest of my life is both short and very uncomfortable. Isn't there some old saying about being stuck between a rock and a hard place? Every so often, I'm reminded of it…

"Is this man bothering you, my dear?"

The guy hastily moves away from me but he doesn't quite let go. I pull away from him, take a hasty step backwards and collide with the newcomer, who immediately puts his hands on my shoulders. Godfuckingdammit what's wrong with these people? Still, I'm grateful for the interruption… or at least I am until I get a decent look at the stranger's face. At which point I promptly panic and wish with all my heart I could throw myself into the arms of the first guy, appalling suit, bald patch and all. I don't, though. I look into the newcomer's eyes, for all the world as if I hadn't actually noticed he was leering at me, and force myself to smile gratefully. Okay, Ken, you can do this…

Looks like I've just found Shougo Ogawa.

"Yes, kind of." I say hopefully.
"In which case," Ogawa's talking over my head now, looking straight at the first guy, "I think you'd better leave this poor child alone, don't you?"

(Poor child? Jesus Christ. I'd have been better off with Youji again than putting up with this crap!)

The guy takes a look at Ogawa, who I'm coming to realize is actually very tall and pretty well-built with it, and then back down at me. I try and look nothing but relieved at the interruption and as if Ogawa's hands aren't pressing far too emphatically down on my shoulders. It's actually beginning to hurt so I guess I must be a better actor than I thought going by the crestfallen look on the salaryman's face. (I can't help noticing that Ogawa here doesn't seem to want to give me the chance to make a break for it, either). For whatever reason he must decide he can't compete, because he stammers an apology and vanishes back into the crowd from which he should never have emerged.

It annoys me that he apologizes to Ogawa and not to me when I'm the one he's been pawing. It makes me feel like a bit of Ogawa's bloody kit, never mind that I don't know the guy and don't want to either. If girls really have to handle shit like this all the time remind me never to say anything bad about any woman ever again. Though I might have to make an exception for that blonde lunatic who wanted me dead because I scratched her face.

"The nuisance has left." He says, stepping forward and smiling down at me. I don't like the way he smiles. And he's still got his hand on one of my shoulders…
Then why are you still bloody here? "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me." He says smoothly. "Though, perhaps, if you were to let me buy you a drink instead…"
I smile at him again, hoping I look cute and clueless enough to keep him interested, and brush a few stray strands of hair from my face. "Well… if you don't mind?"

I try to keep smiling obliviously as I let him guide me over to a secluded table. I really want to run for it now, but how can I? This is Ogawa, the target. I can't be doing playing hard to get round this one. I'm horribly grateful when I catch a glimpse of Youji on the way over and, thank Christ, he notices me too and even stops flirting for long enough to give me a quick wink. I guess that means we've started the mission, God help me. I can't see the bodyguards, but I guess they're around.

I start to get the creeps just after we've sat down. Ogawa asks me what I want to drink almost immediately and, when I say I'd rather stick to fruit juice, he tells me he'll get me something light. I must look startled, because he makes two or three not terribly reassuring attempts at reassurance before calling over one of the waitresses. Great, I've known Ogawa five minutes and already he's trying to get me drunk. I try to pretend to be convinced by his lame guarantees. I want this guy to think I'm innocent and if I act like he's freaking me out, which incidentally he is, he won't buy into it for five seconds.

I tell myself this is only the whole point of it and it doesn't much matter if I'm out of my head when Aya shows up. All I've got to do – yeah, all I'm doing, as if the whole bloody deal didn't hinge on this! – is keep Ogawa distracted long enough for the others to come find him. It might even be easier if I'm slightly pissed. As long as he doesn't tamper with my drink I'll be fine.

(And now I'm freaking myself out.)

Ogawa doesn't seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere, though. Having sat down here with me, he's showing every sign of putting down roots. The most energetic I get to see him, except for when he walked over here in the first place, is the strange hand gestures he makes to flag down the passing waitresses. Them he ignores though, save to issue ever more complicated drinks orders. All his attention's focused on me. He's got this laser gaze which is almost as intimidating as Aya's, and it's all I can do to keep grinning like an idiot in the face of it.

"You've never been to a club like this before?" He asks contemplatively.
"Ah. No." I look down, pretending to be embarrassed. "A friend brought me here, but he's… I don't know where he's gone."
Ogawa's eyes get shifty for a moment. "So, he's left you all alone here. That must have been pretty worrying."
It's not half as worrying as that look he's giving me. "Yes, he got talking to these other girls and vanished… I'm really glad I'm not by myself any more." I smile cluelessly.
"I see." Yeah, it really sounds like you see, buddy. "Are you new to the city, my dear?"
That throws me. "Huh?" God, I must sound stupid.
"You've an accent." Ogawa says with a smile. So he minds me sounding Northern but he doesn't mind me sounding stupid. Okay. "Where do you come from?"
Oh well, what the Hell… "Niigata."

Damn, he's gotta think I'm really naïve by now. He's staring at me so calculatingly that only a complete airhead could fail to notice it. He's planning something, I can just tell, and I'd say it was a pretty fair bet that whatever it is I'm not going to like it one bit. Blame a combination of that and trying to sound female that I've already drunk more than I intended. And I don't care what Leisure Suit back there said, it's not helping me relax at all. I'm getting the feeling he likes the idea I'm alone here…

… I'm beginning to wonder if maybe what I'm doing's a lot more dangerous than we bargained for.

Also, I'm beginning to feel like a candidate for some bizarre kind of job. It's as if he's interviewing me over… what did he say this ghastly pink thing he's insisting I drink was called anyway? A strawberry daiquiri, that was it. Have I mentioned I really hate cocktails? If I've got to get drunk at all why can't I do it on beer or something else partway normal rather than something pink and sticky with a cherry drowning in it? Oh yeah, demure young ladies don't drink beer. Damn, I miss my jeans.

"A Northerner, hm?" He looks me over again. "You've got to find Tokyo quite different to what you're used to… oh, forgive me. I never asked your name."
My name? Shit! It's only now I realize I haven't paid any thought to what to call myself. Ken's obviously out. I just had to go and have of those irritating names you can't stick 'ko' onto the end of to get a female equivalent, didn't I? I freak, my mind going horribly blank. There must be millions of girl's names out there and I can't think of a single one. Why can't you get girls called Ken? "Sakura!" I blurt out, hoping like hell I don't sound too frantic. Keeping it strictly to myself, I'm quite pleased with this. Actually, I'm just bloody glad I didn't say I was called Aya.
"Sakura. That's a pretty name." Ogawa gives me this look as if he's hoping to show how pretty he thinks it is, but I'd guess he's got a problem because he looks like he's not feeling well. I'm tempted to ask if he needs a bicarb. "It suits you."
Help and that's disgusting. "Thank you." I giggle vacuously. I think I'm going to gag.

Forty minutes. Ogawa orders four more drinks and downs them. I finish the strawberry thing and he immediately orders me something bright blue with a straw and a pink paper umbrella in it and a stupid sexy pun of a name. Now, this may just be a personal thing but I don't think any drink anywhere should ever be bright blue. It's a bad color for something you're expected to swallow. I ignore the double entendre as if I hadn't noticed it and that makes his smile get even more calculating. The drink, needless to say, is disgustingly sickly as well as being blue and I sip it, trying very hard not to taste it. Youji isn't going to believe Ogawa's taste in cocktails.

Ogawa starts talking about his career. Looks like I've passed the interview stage, now it's time for Trial by Boredom. My job seems to be to listen, nod, smile, make brief approving asides and laugh when occasion demands it. I'm just drunk enough to tune most of it out. I guess the way to win this round is to look approving and attentive, like this was the most fascinating thing I've ever heard. I flinch and nearly knock my horrible blue drink over when he rests one hand on top of mine but Ogawa must take it as proof I'm endearingly shy or something because all he does is smile indulgently. Prick.

This time, when he finishes his drink, he doesn't order another. He looks across at me and the disgusting blue thing he foisted on me. I've drunk about half of it and that's been enough of an ordeal.

"Do you want the rest of that?" He asks.
"No." I say without thinking.
"Good, good." He gets to his feet, brushing the creases out of his suit. I stand with him and I'm mildly alarmed when I have to grab the back of the couch to keep my footing. I'd like to blame losing my balance on the shoes but I know that's not all there is to it. How much alcohol is there in cocktails anyway? He can't have been spiking the bloody things since I was with him all the time. Unless he's got some kind of deal going with the bar staff, there's no way that could have happened. I guess all I am is drunk. It's not a reassuring thought. He offers me his arm. I try to look pleased and let him steady me.
"Oh," I say. "Where are we going?" The 'we' is good. He likes that. Too bad I don't.
"It's pretty noisy in here." Ogawa says smarmily. He's turning on the charm, or fancies he is. Oh God… Calm down, Ken, it's all part of the plan. "Would you like to go somewhere quieter, my dear?"
"Somewhere quieter?" I pretend to be confused.
"So we can talk a little more privately." He says with what he must fondly imagine is a reassuring smile. It makes me worried he's about to go for my throat. How can this guy have any success with women when he gives his dates the creeps? "Would you like that, Sakura?"

Not on my life, you pervert, and my name is Ken! I nearly blow everything by running for cover, but I remember the mission. Okay, you can do this, I tell myself. Briefly, I glance round for Youji – he's there, he's watching, he gives me another wink and a smile and I decide I forgive him absolutely everything – then gather all my courage and look up at Ogawa, smiling like an idiot and blinking as I push the hair from my face.

"Oh! Well… all right then."

The lift deposits us in a corridor lined with purple carpet. I fidget anxiously with my bag, wishing I'd thought to stick something I could use to defend myself in there before I left the shop, the scissors I use to cut ribbon with would have done, as Ogawa – the target, now – busies himself unlocking a door to one of the rooms. Talking himself up, he says this is his private suite, that it has a fantastic view. We'll really be able to get to know one another now. Oh, I bet. Is Youji ever this cheesy? I bet he's never this bloody creepy, that's for sure.

I wish the door hadn't creaked when he opened it. I wish the room hadn't been sunk in darkness as I stepped inside. I wish I wasn't here. Ogawa makes a big show of letting me go in first. Lucky me. When he snaps the lights on, I manage to disguise a quick sweep of the surroundings, casing out the room for anything I might be able to use as a weapon, as an admiring glance. It's a nice room, I'll give him that much. Nice furniture, thick carpet, alarming bed. It does have a good view, too. I greet the vases of artfully-arranged flowers like old friends, momentarily calculating how much an arrangement like that'd set someone back. Then I calculate how much damage I could do if I smacked Ogawa over the head with the pot. It's an interesting combination of flowers and death.

"Like it?" He asks.
Somehow I manage to nod and smile. "Oh, yes."

He nods briskly, closing the door behind us. Then he turns to me, all trace of the sickeningly smarmy smile he's been aiming at me all evening gone from his face. No, I really hadn't been imagining that look in his eyes. It'd be an improvement if it wasn't for what that complete lack of any attempt at charm spelt for me. All I can think is that Youji'd better get his bloody act together or I'll do something violent. I'm beginning to suspect that something violent will be called 'dying'.

"Alone at last, my dear." Ogawa says. This time, even a complete airhead couldn't have failed to notice the menace in it.

I'm in deep shit.