Chapter Three: Mouton


"Hi there! I have your table ready now!" Mort interrupted Skipper's shock, waving them over gleefully.

The four followed, uncomfortably seating themselves when they realized how out of place they were. Sure, they were all dressed in suits (save for Rico, who wore a muscle tee), but this was not their type of crowd. Despite being located in what was essentially the slums, it was intended to be enjoyed by the rich, powerful, and secretive. Mort smiled brightly when they all were situated, before pulling out a menu. Skipper distantly noted that he was holding it upside down.

"Would you like a drink? It's on the house!" Mort exclaimed.

Skipper rose a brow. Free drinks? The day was just full of surprises. Kowalski and Private politely declined by shaking their heads, but Rico shrugged and nodded. Skipper resisted the urge to snort.

"Sure." He replied. "I'll have-"

"Great!" Mort practically shouted, clapping his hands together and allowing the menu to crumple in his arms. "Be right back!"

He dashed off, leaving Skipper hanging mid-word in utter surprise. Indignantly, he settled in his seat with a grunt, before his glare was turned towards Kowalski. Kowalski didn't quite notice at first, picking at his watch, before he winced and looked up, knowing he was in trouble.

"Uh… Something the matter, sir?" He inquired sheepishly.

"Why didn't you tell me more about who hired us? I thought it was a dame!" He chastised.

Kowalski shrugged, fiddling with his napkin. "I didn't think it was too important… I don't know all that much about him, anyway. I just know his name is Julien, he's twenty eight, Malagasian, and that he's the main dancer here."

Julien. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful man.

"And that he and Clemson were in love!" Private supplied enthusiastically, only to shrink back when Kowalski shot him a scowl.

"I wouldn't have guessed that Clemson was into men." Skipper muttered.

"Ehh," Rico spoke up, waving his hand back and forth.

"Rico's right," Kowalski nodded. "I don't think you have to be into men to be into Julien. He's sort of an exception, wouldn't you think?"

"What are you saying, Kowalski?" Skipper's tone dropped into something almost humored. "Are you into Julien?"

"No." Kowalski immediately denied, frowning. "I just acknowledge aesthetically pleasing qualities when I see them. Honestly… I sort of think he's more your type."

Skipper's visage darkened as it clicked with him, what Kowalski had been trying to pull off. Kowalski wanted Skipper and Julien to become an item, more likely than not to pull him out of his decade-long rut. An insulting notion on it's own, but even more so that Kowalski was disregarding the unprofessionalism of it. Relations with someone he'd work for? Skipper was just about to go off on him when Rico reclined in his chair, looking over to Julien.

"Mm, 'd prolly fuh 'im." Rico admit casually.

"Rico!" Skipper smacked his surrogate brother on the wrist. "Watch the language, Private's right here!"

"Oh, I don't mind a bit of naughty words," Private's sweet british accent almost dissuaded his anger. "It's all right."

"See, Rico? You're desensitizing him." Skipper pursed his lips in annoyance.

Rico made a soft whining sound, but was cut off when Mort returned, carrying two glasses in a very precarious position. He somehow managed to get through the crowd without spilling any, and rather enthusiastically placed the two drinks before Rico and Skipper.

"Okay, bye bye now! The show is almost over, which means Julien will be meeting with you soon. Enjoy!" Mort waved flamboyantly, practically skipping away.

Skipper sent him another look of disapproval, before he took the drink into his hand and examined it. It definitely wasn't something he was familiar with, at least, not right away. As soon as he tasted it, however, he recognized it.

"Rico!" He practically shouted, staring down at his cup with wide eyes. "This is a Mouton! I didn't think anyone would make them here in New York."

"A wuh?" Rico set down his now half-empty glass, pausing in his drinking to examine the liquid.

"The Chateau Mouton Rothschild," Kowalski mirrored Skipper's surprise. "They're usually only made in, well, France. Don't those sell for something like one thousand per drink? How did you ever get one before?"

"Monte Carlo." Skipper responded clinically before he turned back to his wine, swirling the ambrosia around in the glass. "I can't believe they just gave us these…"

Rico looked down at his empty glass, having just downed the entire thing, before letting out a short chuckle. "...N'ce."

"Oh my," was all Private could manage in his chirpy tone. "Perhaps I should have said yes! I don't quite fancy alcohol, but if it's such a rare drink…"

Skipper glared at Private just in time for the lights to dim. The show was ending, and the four of them looked up to the stage as the deep crimson curtains drew shut, the crowd going wild with applause. Skipper felt suddenly nervous, realizing that he was just about to meet with the alluring man he'd felt smitten towards just minutes ago. He pushed down those feelings, though, repressing them. Regardless of how tempting it was, he had to remain professional if he wanted him and his brothers to get out of debt. There was no room for those sorts of feelings; especially not when Hans was waiting for him at home...

Not a moment later, the curtains reopened, revealing more showgirls who were ready to shake and dance for the entertainment of the Park Zoo customers. The crowd once again hooted, though with slight less enthusiasm they'd held for Julien, Skipper noted. He looked down at his wine, before taking a rather large gulp of it. It was certainly a refined liquor.

Julien was going to pay them two hundred thousand dollars to put Parker behind bars, and apparently he could spare another two thousand just to give them some nice drinks (or another four thousand, had Kowalski and Private accepted). Was this pocket money for the seductive dancer? Skipper winced, reminding himself that Julien was probably involved in the same organized crime that Clemson no doubt had been. Great.

His thoughts were stopped short when a door he hadn't noticed before, it being obstructed from his view, opened. Out of it stepped Julien, and it was as though the room slowed down in response to his casual presence. He was laughing at something from inside the room he was leaving, waving sweetly before he turned. He moved like a ghostly angel, seeming to float over the floor as he made his way past each table. His skin seemed to glow in the flashing room, his smile light and enticing as his eyes swept over the crowd. Skipper physically jumped when Julien's gaze locked onto him once more, and his visage seemed to brighten even further.

Julien closed in on them deliberately, rising more anticipatory nervousness in Skipper, who swallowed thickly, mouth feeling dry despite the expensive wine he tightly gripped. Julien was an ethereal man encased in golden jewels and silk, more rare and of more worth than the Chateau Mouton Rothschild by far. He was a god walking among mortals and he seemed to know it, flaunt it, in a manner that was somehow hard to discern as conceited. It was egotistical, yet humble, all in one bizarre way. He was Daisy Buchanan, Jessica Rabbit, Holli Would, Satine. He was a king. He was Julien.

Skipper took another sip of his wine, not even noticing when Kowalski elbowed Rico for making inappropriate sounds, just as Julien reached their table. He seated himself delicately beside Skipper in the extra chair, smiling widely. Now that Skipper could see him up close, he was even more speechless. Julien was gorgeous beyond all compare.

Repress, repress, repress.

"Hello there, you must be the Penguin Eyes. It is nice to be meeting you," Julien greeted them, tone captivating. Somehow, despite it being so quiet, it rose above the loudness of the crowd, drawing in the attention of the four he was addressing. "I am Julien Hira."

Skipper cleared his throat several times, before managing to conjure up the ability of speech (earning several strange looks from his tablemates). "Ah, yes… I am. I mean, we are. The Penguin Eyes, I mean."

Julien's intense gaze was fixed on him now, his smoldering amber eyes so transfixing that it took him an extra moment to register Julien's soft giggle at his incoherency. His expression was tender, almost exclusively loving as he was fixed on Skipper, playfully indulged in Skipper's nervousness. Skipper couldn't even bring himself to find such humor to be distasteful.

"We were hoping that you could help us find out more about the case before we really take it on." Kowalski intervened into their moment of silent staring, no doubt feeling awkward at the display.

Julien turned to Kowalski and his expression of solicitous intimacy transitioned into something more like woe. He sniffled in a very obviously feigned manner, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Oh yes, it is all very tragic! My dear Clemmyson has been the brutally murdered, by that evil Parker, who very totally deserves to be behind bars."

Kowalski, Rico, and Private all looked to each other dubiously, clearly noting that Julien was falsifying his sadness - for what reason, they weren't sure. Skipper, on the other hand, was still completely dazed and drawn in by Julien's aura, nodding in empathy towards his situation, even as a pained twinge ran across his visage. It was, to him, evident that Julien still had feelings for his deceased lover, which meant that Skipper himself had no chance (not that he wanted one, of course!).

Julien turned away, fanning himself dramatically as his eyes fell shut in melancholy mourning. "It is so being awful, you know? Parker is now running freely among the streets, maybe being able to shoot anyone else he is not liking! My sweet, loving Clemmyson is completely unavenged, and the police guys are not any help to me. I only need you to prove that he is not innocent, so that he can be put in the prisons!"

Julien opened an eye to peek at the private investigators, catching Skipper agreeing enthusiastically.

"Of course, Mr. Hira." Skipper assured, tone sincere.

"Oh please," Julien returned to his previous state of simplicity, no longer holding the conspicuous facade of dismay. "Just be calling me Julien, okay?"

Skipper took another shaking sip of his wine, reminding himself to repress, repress, repress. "S-sure."

Julien turned to Kowalski this time, almost professional in his now acquired tone. "I will send you an email with my whole side of the story, yes?"

Kowalski rose a brow. "That won't be necessary, thank you. I prefer to rely on cold, hard facts."

"Kowalski!" Skipper snapped, slapping his brother upside the head, before he looked back to Julien. "Don't mind him. By all means, please send it."

Julien smiled almost coyly. "Thank you, Skipper. This is meaning more to me than you might ever know."

Skipper was momentarily at a loss for words, smiling and nodding brightly. How Julien had managed to wrap him around his finger in a matter of a few minutes was astounding and ridiculous, but Skipper found himself not caring. Meanwhile, Kowalski was muttering under his breath, rubbing the side of his head.

"Well! I must be going." Julien rose to a stand. "My next show is to be coming up very soon, so I must be changing my outfit. Be sure to visit again soon, penguins?"

"We certainly shall," Private assured. "It was pleasant meeting you!"

"And you too!" Julien smiled, tilting his head, before his gaze tore away from the young one and was refocused on Skipper once more. "...Goodbye."

"Bye," Skipper replied weakly, throat dry.

For a fleeting moment, there was something almost yearning in Julien's irises, before it was swept away into that objective sensuality once more. He leaned down as he passed by Skipper on his way to the door, stroking down his back and leaving a waning whisper into his ear. "I want you to uncover the truth."

With that he slid away, escaping Skipper's last melting glance of surprised lust, just in time to magnificently disappear behind the door he'd entered from. Skipper stared after his ghost of presence, before he attempted to recover by finishing off his wine.