"But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am."

― Iago ( I.i. Othello )

The club stunk of sweat, and bodies and liquor and everything Shizuo had missed out on for the past three years. The music swelled with every step he took further from the entrance, his jacket left back there along with every care in the world, Kadota already having started to bob his head to the music. Shizuo grinned, a pleasant feeling washing over him, long before having a drink in his system. Maybe it was the restlessness of the place that created the bubble of euphoria that hung around him - maybe it was the manicured nail that ran down his arm, or the taunting smile he'd received.

Maybe, just maybe, it was that fact no one here knew of the Monster of Ikebukuro. If they did, he would not have been so relaxed, they would not have approached him, let alone hung off him, with their bodies and their eyes. He never considered himself much of anything; he was not as successful as Shinra, pleasant and good natured like Kadota, or, even though he admits it begrudgingly, he was definitely not as smart as Izaya. Though, he had his face, he supposed, as narcissistic as it may have been.

He watched the bartender, as he sat there, twirling his whisky glass in a slow pirouette of ice and liquid. She was fast, her nimble fingers threading around bottle necks, a pianist clinking sweet Coconut Malibu/s and tangy bitter tequila shots - a true veteran of the night. He envied her, envied the way she grinned arrogantly with every served array of vodka shots that were dyed blue with lighting. He envied the way she too, rose a glass with the group of people who sat in front of her, expertly downing the drink in one swing. She looked sated with her world, one of kaleidoscopic colors, and looking through the bottom of a shot glass.

Nothing could ruin his mood, though, even missing the only job he'd actually enjoyed. Tonight was about forgetting, and enjoying himself. Something he hadn't done in quite a while. In a single swing, he took the torrent of liquor down his throat, the mezzo scotch burning lightly as it went. It was rich, and delicious; there was a hint of vanilla swirling in with the intense taste.

"A-nother!" He choked out, slamming the glass joyfully down onto the lit bar. He could hear those around him yell, wolf-whistles seeming to flow eagerly around the bar. He didn't get what the fuss was about though, it wasn't as if downing a glass was that much of an achievement. He could faintly feel Kadota pat him on the back, yelling something over the effervescent sound of music.

" 'nother pale whisky on the rocks!" The bartender shouts, mood seeming to lift impossibly higher, even though Shizuo had been convinced she couldn't be happier than she was before. "Here you go, doll," she purred happily, sliding the glass across the countertop and expertly into Shizuo's palm.

"That's your ninth whisky, Shizu-o," Kadota hummed, feeling buzzed himself as he sat down on a vacant stool by the blond. Said blond had taken to looking at the bartender through the sepia, almost orange tint of the glass. "You'll be going home sick tonight,"

Shizuo grunted, soft yet satisfied. He had learned to hold his liquor well a long time ago, and hadn't needed to be babysat at a bar ever since he was sixteen and stupid. "It's my eleventh, actually," he corrected.

"What? When did that happen?"

"When you were puking up a lung not too long ago."

Kadota frowned lightly, "Oh."

Shizuo couldn't help but laugh at the expression. He was feeling a bit tipsy, if the abundance of flirting was much to go by. The woman he'd just smiled at had winked back. He was having fun, for the first time in― he didn't care to remember how long. Shizuo turned his attention back to the brunet who raised a drunken eyebrow. The blond took a heavy gulp before setting the glass down.

"You're the one who's going to get sick off your―" Shizuo's breath caught in his throat, and for a fraction of a second, he thought his mind was beginning to succumb to the concept of 'being drunk'. Through the corner of a honey-glazed eye, all he saw was leg; long and elegant, a hue that resembled that of tinted ivory. They were a pair of crossed marble pillars that composed of shapely calves and faded into a perfect, and almost drawn, pair of ankles. An elegant foot slid into the confines of mile high stilettos of red chamois. Shizuo felt like he was going insane.

She was more angular, he believed, than most females; her hips more narrow, lacking the usually prominent love-handles. He watched her, seated across at the twin bar that was parallel to his own. Her body was twisted, crossed legs resting against the side of the bar, an angular and narrow back facing Shizuo as she placed her order with the male bartender. Her black, a-line bob barely hid much of the back of her neck, giving the blond an pleasant view of the curve of her back, pale skin glittering against the abysmal black of the backless dress. He heard her laugh at the hand on her bare thigh, and for the most part, Shizuo hadn't noticed the man sitting by her. He watched her in new light, her hair a flowing halo as she turned abruptly to face the man, an evasive smile on her face.

Shizuo was not drunk enough not to know that profile.

Not drunk enough to forget the slight curve of that elegant nose, or the carmine of those cruel eyes. No, Shizuo was not drunk enough not to know Izaya Orihara when he saw him.

"No fucking way," he mumbled, his brain just registering the fact that the flea was meters from him, in a dress, no less. "Hey, Kadota, are you seeing this?" Shizuo's eyes were marginally wide as he leant back against the bar, resting on his forearms as he directed his attention to the woman that sat on the other side of the club. He couldn't believe it, he knew Izaya was into some strange shit, but crossdressing and seducing men thrice his age hadn't really been on Shizuo's list.

"What're we looking at," Kadota said with a slight hum, turning to look in the direction Shizuo faced.

"Izaya."

"What the hell, where?" Shizuo watched the man scan the entire length of the bar area, both their own that lay behind them, and the one across the club. The blond watched him do it once more before Kadota turned to Shizuo with a lip curled in disbelief. "Are you drunk? Orihara isn't here."

Shizuo scoffed lightly, tipping his head back, " 'e is, you dumbass, look forward― right there. The woman in the dress? Yeah, that's no woman. Women don't have dicks between their legs."

"What the hell, Shizuo!" Kadota hissed under breath, "that's not okay man, what if she heard you? She's the farthest thing from male." Kadota looked flustered, and even though Shizuo was the one without a girlfriend, he had to wonder if Kadota was anymore outgoing in that department than he was.

"Let him hear. I'm telling you, Kadota. That's Izaya. I'll always know a flea when I see one―" the woman tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing loudly at something Shizuo was one hundred percent sure did not deserve that much laughter. "― look, the piece of shit even has an ear piercing!"

"First of all," Kadota raised a single finger, seeming to have sobered up significantly since the start of this conversation, "a shit ton of women have ear piercings. Izaya does not."

"He had one in high-school."

"I'm pretty sure that's closed up by now, and you were the one who gave that to him at the beginning of class when he was napping!" Kadota snapped, almost incredulous at Shizuo's seemingly retarded logic. The blond smirked triumphantly.

"Well, yeah. The bastard had tried to give me a belly button piercing while I slept on the roof. With his knife. I have all the right in this world to give him one with the extra syringe I got off Shinra. At least I was being mildly hygienic," Shizuo crossed his arms, "not to mention he actually liked it, the masochistic little shit. Wore a stud for the longest time, too."

Kadota groaned in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose, "then how do you explain that man calling him 'Kanra', hm? I'm pretty sure whoever he's dating would know he's got something― extra," he added awkwardly.

Shizuo's eyes brightened substantially, "you said he called him Kanra? When'd you hear that?"

"When you were drinking the entirety of the bar down not too long ago."

"In other words when you were on your way to the bathroom, getting ready to puke up a lung, yeah?"

"I hate you," Kadota groaned, his cocky comment misfiring as Shizuo laughed, patting him on the back with a smile.

"Kanra, Kanra," Shizuo grinned idly to himself, turning back to face the porcelain doll seated not too far away. "I'll bet you we can have some real fun together."