open: boogie nights

[horrifictie]

Who ⬤ Harry and the unfortunate people he crosses paths with
What ⬤ Substories and Begging
When ⬤ Mainly the first week of arrival
Where ⬤ Around town
Content Warnings ⬤ Mentions of drug use


I. Money, please! (night after the partying)

[ Harry is in a bind, one which he only thinks is fifty percent his fault. When you break down the math that percentage makes a lot of sense! He had a fifty percent chance of doubling his money, and a fifty percent chance of losing almost all of it. He just fell on the wrong side of fifty because the fates are cruel. The more logical part of his headspace urged him to not gamble it all, but they couldn't stop him from gambling period. History repeats and he's in the same predicament as when he woke up to reality for the first time a week or so ago.

Luckily, he has a time-tested approach to getting more cash. One he readily employs as he looks out for people who look like they at least have some spare change and asks: ]

Hey, you look well to do. I'm a little down on my luck at the moment - can I have some money?

[ Who wouldn't say yes to a 40-something man with *incredible* handlebar facial hair who looks like he's coming down from a day long hangover? Please say yes. ]

Substory: High Definition

[ The rabbit's drugs are surprisingly potent considering his tolerance. The first time he took it he rationalized it as doing it for the advancement of scientific research. The surface level truth was he wanted a hit after being sober for almost a couple weeks. His body still aches from the gunshot to his hip, but that pain is flattened by the first time he takes the drug. When he reports his survey and asks if he could get more, the rabbit tells him all he has to do is report his experiences again.

The next drug he takes turns the whole world black and white, no different than the grainy film reels he (apparently) loves to watch. A voice in his head tells him of the low-budget adaptations of Dick Mullen novels looking just like this, steeped in a gritty *noir* aura that is irresistible to anyone with a passion for genre fiction. It seems only fitting then that he should play up the part. Digging around in the trash nets him a musty old brown overcoat (with a few faded stains on it that he doesn't notice) and his meager cash is enough to buy a cheap novelty detective's fedora to sit on his head.

With that he takes to the streets, notepad and pen in hand, approaching people with a simple "Evening. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?"

The yokai he asks twists her head to a 180 degree to meet him, back still turned, and barks a laugh in his face before continuing on her way. Harry shrugs, knowing this is part of the process, then looks to his next target -- you. ] Hello. I need to ask you some questions, if you have a few minutes to spare?

Substory: Sweet Jacket

[ Now this man's jacket is not *nearly* as sweet as Harry's FUCK THE WORLD leather jacket (which, sadly, did not make the trip to Hell with him) but he can respect a man's right to his fashion choices. As such, he volunteers to chaperone the man across the bridge as a bodyguard. They don't make it more than half-way before three men rush up to them and threaten to kick Mr. Cool Jacket's ass. No way to get past them either. Luckily, Harry has a plan guaranteed to work: ]

Look, over there!

[ Apologies to the poor soul he is pointing at - if you stop he's about to say something *very hurtful* about your fashion choices as a diversion. It's enough for the three men to look with him, even if they have no idea what the big deal is. ]

[ ooc: if you want a special prompt or to plan anything out, feel free to PM me. would especially be interested in an atrocious karaoke thread with one or two people who want to party. ]

Comments

[everblooms]

[ A record scratch practically plays in her head. Later, she'll probably mark this down as a Yep, that's me moment. ]

Uh... Dunno. [ Her expression twists in confusion, trying to pull all the knowledge she has about the word "communist" to the forefront of her mind. It's a political ideology, she drags out. ]

Explain it me?

[horrifictie]

[ RHETORIC - You know the drill. Give your *opinion*. ]

Communists are *failures*, Aerith. The bottom of the barrel. Society's losers. The world hated them so much they put them all up against the wall and shot them in the head!

[ There's a tense pause, his hand raised, giving a conspiratorial look to their surroundings. Then he goes on, his voice hushed in secrecy. ]

And yet, they persevere through it all. Their brothers are the rats and their sisters the cockroaches. Through all the continuous - and I *do* mean continuous - failure, they keep trying to build communism again.

[ ENDURANCE - It's pathetic.
VOLITION - It's madness.
SAVOIR FAIRE - It's *broke*. In the metaphorical and very literal sense. Much like you. ]

[everblooms]

[ Since she can remember, her head's been full of people talking at her. In this case, Harry unloading about his political opinions— or unloading at all, really— is strangely more familiar to her than much of Jigoku has been. ]

Hm. That's not a metaphor... or exaggeration. [ She pictures it and it hurts her heart. All those lives blinked out with a pull of a trigger. They died for war, for passion, for something. ]

So you're a communist, then. [ That same passion lights up in his choice of words. He becomes a pulsing mass of articulation, suddenly. ] Care to tell me their ideals? What do you believe in?

[horrifictie]

Eating the rich.

[ He smiles proudly, knowing he just illuminated the world view of a young person. ]

--Oh! And arguing with other communists who are wrong, unlike me.

[everblooms]

[ Enlightenment has been achieved: He really is just a weird dude wandering the streets. Alright, grandpa, let's get you back in bed. ]

Sounds like a lot of moving your mouth. [ She's an act now, don't regret it later kind of gal! ]

Well, in any case, you should get it together, then. How about you tell me what's actually got you hanging out in an alley way with someone you've just met?

[horrifictie]

[ RHETORIC - It's hard to say if she *truly* understands the gravity of your historic building of communism.
EMPATHY - What *does* have you out here in alleyways, ambushing young women about communism? It's not a difficult question. ]

Well, Aerith, I want to get to know people. Understand who they are, what makes them get up every morning even when things are at their hardest. And for all of us who just arrived in Hell, things really *are* hard. I'm just here on the mean streets looking for friends and people who need friends most of all.

[ ELECTROCHEMISTRY - All of that, and you're high. You should invite her to party with you. ]

[everblooms]

[ That's a lot of words, she notes. Sometimes, people who talk a lot are just very, very lonely— an experience she's come to know intimately, really. The Detective's words fall upon her shoulders like cold rain. He's a man looking for friends in alley ways. These aren't the words of someone doing well, at the very least, much less someone she would feel entirely alright with leaving alone. Is he even sober? The stench of dumpster diving conceals the reek of alcohol. Or maybe it's more that alcohol has stained something of his. (It could be a bone-deep stain, she finds herself thinking.) ]

How about I make you a deal, Detective? Tell me about yourself while we walk, and you can help me deliver some mineral water to the Burgatory.

[ These don't actually go to the Burgatory, but she's not going to leave him in Tamamo territory. Sutoku would be kinder to him. They don't take outsiders in any of the clan territories. ]

[horrifictie]

[ SUGGESTION - This "deal" doesn't really benefit you? It's a pretty bad deal that's only framed pleasantly.
RHETORIC- On the other hand, she has piqued your curiosity. It isn't like you have anything better to do. You will learn more about her through this. ]

Alright then. [ He wants to make a comment about how it's not really much of a 'deal', but he chooses to skip that part of the conversation. Mostly because he does want to keep speaking with her. ] You can call me Harry by the way. Or Detective Du Bois works.

[ Is he still a detective? He thinks so. The RCM gave him the rank, built him into a case solving machine, but they don't own him anymore than he allows now. No one gets to decide who he is but him. ]

[everblooms]

Well, Harry, it's very nice to meet you.

[ Detective Du Bois is far too formal for friends! Perhaps overly familiar already, admittedly, but there's nothing wrong with manifesting. Aerith dips into the alley way— it half-cast in shadows and brilliant, white sunlight. There's old litter everywhere, and a trashcan tumbles down as a particularly small, curiously rodent-like creature rummages in it. ]

I thought you would point out that this seems like a bad deal. [ The playful tone in her voice almost implies she wishes he had. She might have had fun with that outcome. ] But then we wouldn't get to know each other, would we? So, how about we start with this. Why'd you become a detective?

[horrifictie]

I was trying to be polite about it. Only because you're so charming.

[ Charming people really do get away with everything. From corporate espionage to oppressing the workforce. He shrugs his shoulders at the question, eyes darting to the can to check on the gutter creature looking for the next meal. Relatable, really. ]

I've been told it had something to do with a woman? [ A vague descriptor of who she was, a hopeless attempt to draw distance ] This is as good a time as any to let you know I have amnesia. As of a week or two ago. Answers of my past allude even me, and I have more questions than you.

[everblooms]

I am charming, huh? [ Is it the dimples? It must be the dimples. She carries her words, joking, with a light air as she hopes over a deep crack in the pavement. It isn't a necessary movement at all, but there's a spring in her step all the same. ]

Hmm... Amnesia? [ Everything Harry tells her about himself is so sad. And wacky, actually, but... Well, it'd remind her of Cloud if she were aware. Somehow, a familiarity blossoms warm in her chest. Perhaps it's just a want to know the man and help him. He seems difficult, but there's charm to go with it. ] Well, that isn't too bad. You get to start all over, now. You're like a freshly bloomed flower.

[ Sort of. He clearly has his baggage, from the way he carries himself, and the way he interacts with the world. When Aerith takes a peek at his hands, she doesn't spot a wedding ring. A girlfriend? Sister or even mother, perhaps. But likely not a lover. ]

But what do you want to do for yourself, Harry?

[horrifictie]

[ INLAND EMPIRE - Freshly bloomed? No. You are the may bell. A symbol of the past, and of a future deterred. Dried up and better left to the wind. ]

I think I would like to be a detective. Which I am, actually. I'm a police officer back where I'm from, have been for eighteen years. Apparently I'm one of the best in the entire force! Can you believe it?

[ He doesn't, not with the light joke of disbelief that tint his words and the nervous laugh that accompanies them right after. It's all true though! Not that he has the ledger to prove it. Not that he wants it near him anymore after learning the dark void of apricots it holds. ]

[everblooms]

[ That is a lofty claim. He asks her if she believes it, and the truth is simple; she doesn't. Neither does he. Perhaps it's on record? He had mentioned amnesia, and there is disbelief in his voice. A little bird telling on himself to her. ]

One of the best in the entire force...? [ The way she parrots it back at him lacks any malicious tone. She's stalling to avoid responding. No need to hurt the guy, but dishonesty isn't a trait she wears eagerly. ] Well, what I think doesn't matter much. What you think of yourself does, though.

[ Turning to lean into his personal space bubble, she looks up at Detective Harrier Du Bois, walking mystery. Aerith's gaze is attentive. ]

You okay, Harry?

[ She should call him Detective, or Officer. She doesn't. She just wants to crack this nut open. ]

[horrifictie]

[ CONCEPTUALIZATION - Large eyes expand, within them an ink black ocean. One wrong step and you will fall into them.
INLAND EMPIRE - No. No, not one wrong step. The step has been taken. You're already drowning. ]

Something's wrong. [ A low mutter as he shuts his eyes tight, his body recoiling with two large steps to create distance. ] I'm -- I'm sick.

[ Is it the drugs? He doesn't know, how could he? He was born sick, born in a place people go to die. Is he *okay*? Everyone always asks but they never want to hear the truth of it all. ]

[everblooms]

[ Poor thing, she thinks. It would be the easiest thing in the world to raise her hand and cup his cheeks in his palms, to give him the gift of calm and serenity through touch. Though that ability is presently lost to her, she still wears a smile on her lips like the one your mother might give you when you've done something wrong, but it's a little learning lesson to her and you. ]

I know. [ It's obvious. But her tone is warm; it's okay. Really, it is. ] Tell me about it? I'm not leaving, regardless of whatever's wrong. But... [ Tilting her head a little, her twists a little melancholic at the edges. ] It's not just the rabbit-woman, was it?

[ She already met the doctor, as it is. Considered the same deal Harry took, in fact, but Aerith was lucky. Someone else took her dose. ]

[horrifictie]

[ ELECTROCHEMISTRY - The world flashes and bends, light twisting a kaleidoscope of color through the orbs of your eyes. Saturated chaos, into the mouth of madness. Black becomes green, gray turns to red, white turns to yellow, green turns blue, yellow turns red, red turns...
ENDURANCE - You're shutting down. ]

I need to go. [ It's a fast slur, beads of sweat trickling down his skin. He can't even look at her, not as her skin turns acid and her hair a sharp neon. He turns on his heel and rubs his face, voices in his head demanding he get a grip. ] I'm sorry miss, but I need to go now.