Three Dates
Guilty Gear belongs to Sammy Studios and Daisuke Ishiwatari
Chipp flits across the rooftops, recognizing the landmarks as easily up here as on the ground, but he has no destination in mind. Instead he runs for the sake of running, moving toward the seedier part of town and only stopping when the sounds of the Seine are no longer in earshot.
He takes the time to drop down and kick over a trashcan in the alleyway. That seems to satisfy him and he proceeds to lash out at all the innocent trashcans along the road. If people in the neighborhood object to his activities, they do not dare to confront him.
He carries on for almost a minute before the anger abruptly vanishes and, suddenly drained, he leans forward against the brick wall.
"Chipp? What the fuck?"
The ninja looks over his shoulder in confusion. He has not noticed another's approach, and only after a few seconds does he recognize the voice and figure.
"Yo, Baiken," he mutters half-heartedly.
Her sword is sheathed, but from her stance, Chipp can tell she's fully armed – right sleeve holding a variety of nasty surprises that almost imperceptibly weigh down that shoulder. She looks cautious but not belligerent as she tilts her head in acknowledgment.
"What the hell did my trashcan do to you?"
Chipp blinks and regards the dented can by his feet. He gives the crooked alleyway another look over, and finally recognition comes. Unconsciously his feet had brought him to the apartment Baiken and Anji currently rent. He wonders if he's always this fucking predictable.
He looks over at the line of battered trashcans and decides, "It's a piece of shit."
"So are you, but I don't go around kicking yer face in," she retorts without any real menace. "Me and the fruitcake are trying to keep a low profile, so quit actin' like an idiot."
Chipp lowers his head in apology, "Sorry, Baik."
The woman rolls her one remaining eye, but her stance softens. "Whatever, kiddo." She takes a step closer and asks, "What the hell's gotten into ya?"
"Ain't nothin,'" Chipp mutters, but then spares her a hopeful look, "You an' Anji got any booze?"
Baiken shakes her head, "Nah, just ran out. There's a liquor store down the street though."
The liquor store is indeed right down the street, next to a park that might have been pretty in the daytime, but now looks dark and run down. By some unspoken agreement, when they emerge from the store, the handle of vodka in its traditional brown paper bag, the two hop the fence and settle in a part of the park on the edge of a street lamp's light.
They wind up next to each other, leaning against the same tree, her shoulder only coming up to the middle of his bicep. He sits to her left, and they are close enough that he feels body heat through her thin yukata and his shirt.
Neither of them bothers to speak as the ritual begins. Baiken takes a deep swig then passes the bottle to Chipp. He drinks and passes it back. The bottle moves back and forth until it is over half-empty.
As Chipp shakes the handle to assess its remaining amount, Baiken produces a well-worn kiseru from her obi.
Stuffing the pipe expertly with her one hand, she explains, "This shit ain't bad. Frenchies know their drugs – I'll give 'em that much."
Chipp takes the pipe without a word and fumbles for a lighter. He takes the first hit, breathing in deep and holding it until the burn itches in his lungs and eyes and he's forced to exhale. Once he passes it back to Baiken, he lets his eyelids slide shut in contentment.
He listens for the sound of her exhale then asks, "Where's Anji, anyway?"
"Looking into another lead," she answers. "Seems That Man's had some activity around here recently."
Chipp nods, then falls silent. He thinks about Anji, hard at work, as they drink and smoke their way through the night. As if to assuage his guilt, he remarks, "He hates smoking, right?"
Baiken's thoughts must run along a similar line, because at once she answers, "Yeah, he's such a fucking girl sometimes."
Half-laughing, Chipp nudges her with an elbow, "Needs a big, strong man to take care of him, eh, Cyclops?"
"Fuck off, Zanuff," she says, but there is laughter in her voice. "And what about you? Said you were going on a date, but then you show up halfway through the evening, pissed off and alone. Some Parisian bitch dump yer pasty ass?"
Chipp gives Baiken a hard stare until he remembers his earlier white lie. Knowing how the Japanese woman felt about Gears, he had mentioned a date to avoid bringing up Dizzy.
Funny how somewhere along the way, his lie had turned into truth.
"She wasn't Parisian."
"Figured. They're too classy for a punk like you."
His eyes slid shut again and he exhales, unsure how much he wants to admit.
"I kinda kissed Venom, like, a couple times." The words are out before he decides, and somehow it is both a relief and terrifying.
Baiken freezes, her mind assessing and reassessing his words. She is staring at him, hard pale eye boring into the side of his temple, but he refuses to look over. At last deciding that she had not misheard, Baiken manages, "What? Seriously?"
Resting his chin against the heel of his hand, Chipp nods with resignation. "So what do you think that is on a scale of one to fucked up?"
"I'm gonna go with pretty fucking fucked."
"Yeah," Chipp takes another swig of the vodka despite his stomach churning in protest. "'swhat I figured."
His head lolls against Baiken's shoulder. She's too short, but the chemicals in his system dull the awkward angle's discomfort. Any other time, she would thwack him off, and curse him for getting too close, but she seems to sense his glumness and lets the affectionate gesture pass.
They sit without speaking for a long time. Baiken no doubt struggles for something to say, while Chipp idly wonders what it says about his friends if the closest thing he has to a confidante is a foul-mouthed, one-armed, one-eyed, angry Japanese woman.
"You know," the woman says at last, "We're goin' back to the Colony if this lead dries up. It's a pain in the ass dealing with the bounty hunters and tryin' to earn enough for travel, so there's no point stickin' around without a reason."
Chipp says nothing.
In a softer voice, as much question as request, Baiken continues, "Come back with us, Zanuff."
With a sigh, Chipp pushes off and leans away from her, his head again resting on the tree trunk. His red eyes stare into nothingness as he considers the offer.
Baiken and Anji. Somewhere along the way, those two had become a "we" – an "us" – and Chipp suddenly feels more an outsider than ever before. Always welcome, but always a guest.
"I'd just get in the way, yeah? And I sure as shit know Anji doesn't want me hanging around while he's trying to seduce you."
A snort from Baiken. "The boy don't know the first thing about seduction. He keeps on getting me flowers and shit. How gay is that?"
Chipp laughs a short bark of amusement. "Pretty gay." His smile twists into a grimace when he adds, "Although probably not as gay as macking with another man."
Baiken sighs and takes another hit. "Do you...like him?"
"Fuck if I know." He knows his words are slurring, but so are his thoughts, so he figures it evens out. "I hated him for leading the Guild before I met him. But then we kinda got to know each other, and I kept seeing myself in him. Like, you know, I could tell what he was thinking, because he's sort of a fucked up version of me. Guess it made me think we could be friends or something."
Pink hair brushes against his cheek when Baiken shakes her head. "You don't seem alike to me."
"Yeah, but I ain't talking about all that shit," Chipp replies with a dismissive wave. "I just meant the important stuff. Stuff like..." being alone, running away, constant humiliation and self-loathing. "You know, stuff."
His mouth shuts with a decisive clack, because he's drunk and stoned but not so drunk and stoned that he's going to cry like a snot-nosed brat on Baiken's shoulder. It makes him angry that he even feels tears pricking at the back of his eyes.
Baiken remains silent, as if thinking. She scratches the back of her neck before shrugging.
"Fuck if I know," she decides at last. "Usually if I can't hit something to fix it, I just ignore it."
Chipp nods his understanding, but then he gives her a knowing smirk. "Bet it pisses you off that don't work with Anji."
She glares, but the look is half-hearted. "Smart ass." She taps out the ash from her pipe then stows it back under her sleeve. "Truth is it's nice having someone like that around. Sure, he's a bleeding-heart dumb fuck, but as long as people like that can still make it in this shit hole, maybe the world'll actually be okay." She pauses, then adds, "Tell him I said that and I'll disembowel you, by the way."
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. You're the toughest hardass of 'em all." Chipp wobbles to his feet and offers her a hand. She pointedly ignores it and stands on her own. She shakes the handle a little and finishes it off in one swig.
"You need somewhere to stay, Zanuff?"
"Naw. Got a place not to far from here."
Baiken nods, "If you wanna join us, come by tomorrow."
"I'll let you know."
She pauses, her back to him, then adds, "If you need someone to kick Venom's ass, I can do that too."
Chipp rolls his eyes, "I ain't some girly bitch who can't take care of myself."
"Just saying. Anyone who fucks with you or Mito fucks with me."
Chipp smiles a genuine smile, though it's faint and tired. "Keep talking like that and I'll start thinkin' you're a softy. See ya around, Baik."
Baiken does not turn but she waggles the empty bottle at him in a half-hearted wave. Rather than use his ninjitsu, Chipp turns and walks in the other direction toward the part of town where he's rented a room. His feet are unsteady from the alcohol and weed, but he manages to mostly walk in a straight line with a little extra concentration.
He remains so focused on his task that several minutes later, he bumps into someone – hitting hard enough that he stumbles back.
"I'm terribly sorry. Excuse me!" The polite words as much as the voice lead to recognition.
Chipp blinks, once then twice. "Kiske!"
Ky returns the uncertain look. "Chipp Zanuff?"
"What the fuck are you doing in this part of town, Kiske?"
"N-nothing." He hesitates then adds, "Seeing someone."
Chipp rolls his eyes. "Well be careful, man. We don't like coppers around here, 'n I don't wanna have to save yer ass a second time."
"I must thank you for that, Mr. Zan – I mean, Chipp." Chipp merely shrugs and makes as if to keep walking. As he moves away, Ky calls out, "Chipp?"
With a frown, Chipp turns. "Yeah?"
Ky wavers then at last decides, "Never mind." He pauses and Chipp again moves to leave just as Ky mutters, "I hate dates."
Chipp nods, the train of conversation remarkably coherent, undoubtedly because of his current buzz. "Fucking A, man. Fucking A."