Author's Note: Sorry this is short, it was going to be part of a longer chapter but I decided it worked better if I ended it here.
The sun has barely started to peek up over the horizon when Shizuo wakes to the sound of his phone ringing, immediately fumbling around for it so he can answer it before the noise wakes up either of his two guests. "'Ello?" He greets with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Am I correct in assuming that this is Shizuo Heiwajima I'm speaking with?" A voice asks, its accent suggesting that whoever it belongs to isn't a native speaker; it's a pleasant voice, crisp and clear and calm… yet for some reason, the very sound of it sends chills down Shizuo's spine.
"Who the hell wants to know?" He responds, trying not to raise his voice. The flea is passed out on the futon next to him, all but dead to the world; considering how exhausted he'd looked before Shizuo had ended up giving into his urges, disturbing his rest is the last thing he wants to do (besides, as long as he's asleep, he won't be able to piss him off).
"My name is Vincent Pierce-Montgomery. I believe you've heard of me?"
The moment the name leaves the man's lips, Shizuo's hackles raise and he finds himself having to fight very, very hard to keep from yelling or crushing his phone. "Yeah, I heard of you." He growls lowly, grabbing his pack of American Spirits from off the coffee table before opening his front door and stepping out onto his porch. "You're the asshole that tried to have me killed. What the hell do you want?"
"Ah yes. An unfortunate bit of business, that; I was forced to, ah… let go of that particular employee. I do so dislike failure."
"You killed him, you mean." Shizuo states flatly, his hand shaking as he attempts to light his cigarette. He knows it's not his fault - the guy tried to fucking murder him, after all - but he still can't help but feel guilty, the thought that he might have sent a man to his death making him more than a little uncomfortable.
"Did I say that? How quick you are to jump to conclusions!"
"What. Do. You. Want?" Shizuo asks again, clenching his free hand into a fist as he takes a deep drag off his cig.
"To extend an invitation."
"What kind of invitation?"
"You have something I want. Since I can not trust my employees to retrieve it for me, I realize I must take matters into my own hands. That is why I would like us to meet."
"You're kidding, right?" Shizuo scoffs, incredulous. "Why the hell would I agree to that?"
"Why would you not? From what I hear, you are quite capable of protecting yourself… unless the rumors of your strength are not to be believed?"
"Oh, they're to be believed, all right." Shizuo says threateningly, taking an even deeper drag off of his cigarette. Something about this man bothers him more than Izaya ever has - and that's saying something, considering the little shit had managed to get under his skin the moment he first laid eyes on him.
"You'll have to understand why I'm hesitant to take you at your word… the idea that any human being can be as powerful as you are said to be seems a little too… far-fetched."
I'll show you what's far-fetched…
"So lemme guess, you want to see it with your own two eyes. That right?"
"Precisely."
Shizuo almost wants to laugh. This smarmy bigshot wants proof? He'll gladly give it to him. "Alright, asshole. It's your funeral. Where are you?"
"Have you ever heard of the Imperial Hotel?"
"Yeah, I've heard of it…" Shizuo responds, trying not to sound too envious. The Imperial Hotel is the most famous hotel in Japan, and is easily one of the most expensive; there's no way even the cheapest of rooms there costs less than 30,000 yen a night, and the amount it'd cost to rent one of the suites is more than he makes in an entire year. If he didn't hate this guy already, he certainly does now.
Just how fucking loaded is he?
"Excellent! I'll see you in… how long does it take to get here?"
"Thirty minutes." Shizuo replies through gritted teeth.
"Thirty minutes! Wonderful! I look forward to finally meeting you, Shizuo Heiwajima." Vincent hangs up, leaving Shizuo to finish his cigarette before flicking the butt over the railing and going back inside. Izaya doesn't seem to have moved an inch, but Maki is now awake and staring at him curiously from her little kitchen-nest; having no way to communicate to her what's going on without having to wake up Izaya, he settles for an awkward wave before going over to his laundry and digging through it for a clean vest, dress shirt, and pair of slacks. He goes into the bathroom to change, deciding once he's in there that it might be a good idea to shower first - when he comes back out, he finds Maki waiting by the door with a confused look on her face.
"Mornin', kiddo." He says, crouching down so they're at eye level. "I sure do wish you spoke Japanese…" He ruffles her hair affectionately, giving her a reassuring smile before straightening back up. Making sure he hasn't forgotten anything, he turns to open the front door - but before he can actually step through it, he feels one of her tiny hands grip his sleeve. Her expression is one of worry, and seeing it almost makes him want to call Vincent back to tell him he's changed his mind… but the thought of being able to put an end to this whole thing sooner rather than later is too appealing to pass up, so he gently removes her hand from his shirt and pats her on the head. "I'll be back, okay?" He tells her, hoping that she's able to at least somewhat understand his intention. "Promise."
He leaves at that, too busy imagining what it will be like to smash Vincent's face in to pay any attention to the voice in the back of his head saying that maybe, just maybe, he's making a very, very, very big mistake. Taking another cigarette out of the pack, he lights it as he makes his way towards the train station.