perfect poison
. helium lost .

Author's Notes: Hmm. Nothing to say, really. Just read and enjoy :)

Theme: #15: perfect blue (perfect blue)

Date: 7/3/2006

"You know," he said as he stared up at the endless expanse of blue sky, "it's on days like these when I remember the people I've tortured."

I rolled over and propped myself up on an elbow, pausing to pick a couple blades of withering grass off my jacket. "Yeah? And what's this all of a sudden?"

He sat up and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." There were blades of grass stuck to his back. I reached up ever-so-slightly to pick those blades off, but decided not to. They made him look—oh—"endearing" wouldn't be quite right. More of "like a child" would probably match better. Can't say I'm very good with words; that would be Bonorenolf's area of expertise.

"Hmm," I said plainly, lying on my back again. A soft breeze passed by the hill looking over York Shin on which we were sitting. The breeze ruffled Feitan's hair; I watched him from behind as he sat so motionlessly and tranquilly.

"Do you remember the Owl? And the way his eyes were ridiculously huge and too big for his head?"

I rested my head on my open palms. "Yeah. Don't think I can forget him even if I tried."

He straddled me so quickly that I barely had enough time to blink. I scowled.

"The hell are you doing? Get off," I muttered. He only smiled, something I could see despite the fact that he had the lower half of his face covered.

"I had him in a head restraint," he said, grinning now, as he forcefully held down my head, reenacting the scene. "And then I took hold of his eyeballs—" He raised his hands, mercifully sparing my eyes. "—and yanked them out—" He pulled at the air. "—and crushed them. He could probably still see me doing it; the nerves were still attached."

"Oh?" I said, unflinching. "And what did it sound like?"

He paused, lying on my chest, arms folded under his chin as he looked up at me with that little smile of his, eyes twinkling in that mischievous way that accompanied only blood, sweat, and tears. His knees rested on either side of me, his spine arched like a cat stretching. "The sound…" he murmured, tilting his head like an inquisitive bird, perfect eyebrows arched delicately. "It was like those carnival balloons popping. You know, the ones shaped like cartoon characters, with their smiling faces on them," he said after a moment. "And, come to think of it, the Owl's eyes aren't even that large. Probably was just his glasses."

"Hmm," I murmured in reply. He rolled off me, then lay closer to me than before, his back resting gently against my side, his ten gentle. The silence resumed, unruffled. I watched as the white clouds drifted by lazily, as if without a care in the world—then again, what kind of clouds have cares, anyway? Rain clouds hell-bent on causing storms, maybe, but… I yawned as Feitan idly pulled up small clumps of grass with those hands of his, unmarred and feminine, white.

"Wonder what it's like to torture Danchou," he said after a while. I sat up abruptly and looked down at him.

"Why?"

He shrugged again as he turned onto his back and continued staring up at the sky. The shrug was partially obscured by the folds and ripples in the dark fabric that he was wearing. "Just to see his composure crack, I suppose. To see that calm exterior disappear."

I furrowed my brow, suddenly reminded of Hisoka. "I'll never understand you," I said, then thought to myself, or any other transformation type, for that matter.

He raised an eyebrow and looked up at me. "Maybe you're just too simple-minded."

I frowned. "Are you calling me stupid?"

He turned over onto his side again and casually twirled a lock of hair, back facing me. "Maybe." I could tell he was smirking. I rolled my eyes and turned him over with maybe a bit more force than I'd intended.

"Just 'cause I'm a reinforcement type doesn't mean I'm stupid, you know," I tried to say sternly as I caged him in with my body, pinning him down to the ground with my arms and legs, but his expression—one eyebrow raised, lips set in a provocative smirk—far from being cocky, it dissipated any notion of annoyance I felt.

"Yeah?" he said, laughter at the edge of his voice. "Then what's the thirty-second digit of pi?"

I mouthed his question, repeating it, my mind blank except for the thought of why in the world pie would have digits in the first place. Finally, I said in the most intelligent tone I could manage, "…What?"

He grinned.

"Thought so."

With that, he reached up and pulled me in close, pressing his lips against mine, gently pushing and drawing back until he found the perfect position.

Well, I thought as I closed my eyes, light-headed, if this was what I got for being stupid, then maybe it wasn't so bad after all….

Author's Notes: As usual, any feedback, constructive criticism, etc. is greatly appreciated. Seeing how I haven't written Phinx in a couple years, I feel my writing getting a little rusty… eh. ;