[ the silence that greets samatoki's statement is agreeable, at the very least. roxy presses her tongue to the back of her teeth as she watches the game start to wrap up, laughter echoing up to the rafters as some guy gathers up all the chips owed him over the game. cigars are put out, ladies are kissed on the cheek and only two of them are sent on their way.
one of the men at the front of the table draws out a book, casually fingering through its pages but the writing is so small and roxy and samatoki are so far away that it's impossible to make out what's scribbled on the pages. and that's not even the most weird part of the evening. as the discussion ramps up, a small barrel is wheeled in on a cart, a side door creaking shut. glasses are passed around; wine glasses, by the shape of them, and roxy's brow furrows. the men laugh but roxy feels a tight rubber band pulled down the length of her spine, ready to snap at any passing moment. something about this cask is off, and when the spigot is opened to let the wine pour, roxy draws in a heady breath and looks away. ]
... Hell. [ the wine is too dark. it sticks to the sides of the glasses as its poured in. too viscous, it leaves a stain on the lips of those who never wore lipstick. ] .... That's not wine.
[ Considering his profession, considering his childhood, even from a distance Samatoki knows blood. He's washed it out of his white white hair, from under his nails, had Nemu stitching him up when he couldn't risk going to the hospital and seen it staining her favorite dresses.
(he stood in a pool of it, once, at sixteen - )
Even before the glasses touch someone's lips, he knows that's blood. And his skin crawls, all in the same moment that his skin goes cold in the dying light of day, his cigarette dangling loosely from his lips for that second, two, of realization. She has it, too. Even from here, even if they can't see the pages of the book below them clearly, the cigar smoke is starting to clear up as the focus goes from card games to whatever the fuck they're doing down there.
He thinks he sees the mayor's aide. He thinks he sees a few of the cops that work in the station Juto does, that Nemu works clerical for.
He doesn't care, suddenly. The book holder is talking, but Samatoki can't hear him from here. Taking his cigarette from his mouth, he flicks it across the roof and steps forward, dropping down into a crouch. ]
What the fuck are they doing? [ This isn't about bootleggers encroaching on the mob's turf anymore. This isn't just about some girl's sister getting into trouble with the wrong side of the law.
[ roxy can't look for too long, her stomach isn't strong enough for it. she can't look in case rose takes a sip from that cup too. she doesn't want to see if this is some kind of initiation ceremony or if this is something else entirely; she can't look. she won't look. her face is in her hands as she forces herself to push the image from her mind, wanting to pay attention to what she can do to help get her sister out of this.
down below, the ceremony is quiet, simple. wine and chatter, a promise shared between everyone. indeed, the only one not drinking is rose, but the tall woman she's with places an arm around the blonde's slender waist, hand rubbing in supportive circles along the small of rose's back. all in all, it seems as though it's nothing more than drinks with friends, except for what, exactly, the drink is. ]
... I can get you down there, [ roxy finally whispers, pulling her hands down and looking sideways at samatoki. ] Unseen. My dogs are pretty quick and quiet, mom used to say that I was just a ghost in the house.
[ she's rambling. dear god she's rambling but she can't help it. the less time she spends silent the less time she feels as though her insides will become her outsides. ]
Promise me we'll get her out first before you do what you gotta do.
[ For as often as he acts first, thinks later, Samatoki is stone still and silent. There's an otherness here that he can feel, raising the hairs on the back of his neck as he just watches - he feels the disgust, but it's less stomach-churning, more disdainful. Whatever the hell it is that they're doing, whether this is some kind of initiation into something more or their idea of a swell time... it doesn't matter.
He can just barely see Roxy out of the corner of his eye as he watches them like a hawk, see the way she shies away from watching. That's her sister down there. Making her watch that would be fucking cruelty.
His weight tips back onto his heels, eyes finally tearing away from the scene below as he watches the blonde and her tall companion for that final second longer so that he can look at the older sister that's stricken next to him. If he were in the same situation as her, he'd get it: he'd want to get Nemu the hell out of there, faster'n anybody's ever seen, fast enough they'd sure enough get whiplash from it. Whatever this is, it's a different kind of hell when family is involved. ]
Once she's out, you take those dogs of yours and run like hell with 'em. Don't you fucking look back, girl, whatever you hear, whatever you think you see when you're leaving. Because you've peeped at plenty enough tonight.
[ Samatoki stands straight again, shrugging off his jacket so he's down to his waistcoat. His gun holsters are visible that way, and a hell of a lot easier for him to reach. ]
We get in, you get out. I'll leave on my own time.
[ the knot in her stomach becomes more and more dense, sinking into a deep pit that hollows her out. her lungs shake with each breath she draws in as though trying to strangle her from the inside. she almost doesn't hear what samatoki has to say; it registers a minute later and roxy turns her head up. ]
Why are you keen on helping me?
[ she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but her curiosity has never been stopped before. ]
[ Flicking the straps keeping the pistols in place, one at a time, Samatoki pauses on the one that's closest to her. He takes a bit of a moment to answer, assessing her, thinking of a white bob and happy, red eyes, and hoping against hope someone else would get her out of trouble if he wasn't there to come in guns blazing. ]
If it were my baby sister, I'd do anything to get down there and get her the fuck away from these people.
[ And he moves past her, starting to make his way to the rooftop access. ]
[ that's all he needs to say, all that needs to be exchanged between them before roxy can trust that this guy will do as he say he will. they share the protective instinct of an older sibling, and roxy knows how strong that can be.
hopping to her feet, she scuffs silently behind samatoki, tapping his shoulder to tell him which way to go to remain unseen, deep in the shadows even when the streetlights come flooding in with soft yellow. once on the ground she hesitates, glancing every which way to get her bearings. ]
[ As they descend, it's easy to cross draw one of the pistols from a side of his holster. For someone that doesn't trust many at his back, Samatoki obeys when Roxy gives him a tap, thumbing the hammer back on the gun but keeping his finger on the trigger guard and not the trigger. Better to avoid the risk of firing on someone in surpriae, but regardless be ready to shoot if you have to.
Instinct tells him that everything is all wrong. The otherness - he can't sense it, but he also can't shake the way blood stained smiling lips, how they all drank so willingly and freely from that goddamned cask. That's enough for him to know that things are inherently wrong, so ass over end.
Shifting, he puts his shoulder into the wall. It affords some coverage as she orients. ]
[ something's not right, something more than just a cask of blood wine getting passed around a table of laughing kooks. roxy tiptoes closer to the door, body bent forward to make herself as small as possible. she wasn't lying earlier, when she said she could move quietly as a ghost.
tipping forward little by little, roxy peers around the corner and into the warehouse to find: ]
[ A wildcat ready for a fight, but quieter than a mouse. Samatoki watches her, covers her from his spot, feeling thay same prickle along his skin and up his spine that leaves him itching for anything to break the cloying silence.
That -
That definitely counts as something, but definitely not a something he wanted to hear.
If they're gone, then he's not dealing with the bushwa of steslth. His stride is brisk, his step clipped in noise as he comes to join her. Hand braced on the warehouse door, the creak of hinges could be mistaken for the breeze, but he aims the gun in instead of to the dimming sky.
Nothing. ]
How in the name of - [ Samatoki is at a loss, but doesn't raise his voice yet. ] Another room?
[ so baffled is she that roxy can't figure out anything to say, eyes scanning around the empty room once more. no one, not even her precious sister is there. has she already failed before they've even had a chance? ]
There's... There's a door on the side, I think.
[ the side room where they brought the barrel from. ]
She mentions the door, and he steps around her, eyes sweeping before settling on the door itself. They couldn't have scattered so fast, it didn't take that long to get to the ground floor. And there would be more evidence here, that people were here.
Samatoki stops at the door, reaching for the handle and looking her way. On three, he mouths.
And then he counts, mouthing the numbers before he pulls, swinging his body in time with opening it, gun leading the way by momentum - ]
[ tension coils through her muscles, filling her with that need to swing out, to fight, to pop her solid fist into the face of some big palooka for ever daring to get her little sister involved in this. roxy stays behind samatoki, flexing her fingers and steeling herself for when he kicks the door in. dust and wood splinters shower the air around them but nothing is more dangerous than the acrid smell of old blood that washes over the both of them.
blood, rust, poorly cared-for steel; its a mix of metals and roxy feels her eyes sting. the darkness hides any confirmation for whether the source of the blood is still there in the room, but in the shifting light that pours in, roxy can see small tufts of wool scattered on the floor.
choking on her own breath, roxy gives up the fight and takes a few steps back, hands covering her mouth. she's no shrinking violet: she's seen sheep and horses torn to bits by predation, but this is older. this has history, layers of fresh blood on top of dried, oxidized blood and its stronger than fresh viscera strewn across the pasture grass. ]
[ Only through sheer experience drilled into his reflexes does Samatoki not rear back from the smell - like rusted metal meets the metallic, meaty tang of blood, but coagulated, congealed, caking from age - and that experience does nothing to prepare him for being in this hell room. Rather than reaching to get the second pistol, rather than going to support the butt of the first, he brings his free hand up to press the back of his wrist against his nose. Nemu's bracelets even through his sleeve bump into his face, but he uses them as something to ground him to this new reality.
He's been in a butcher before, for work. He's watched them, methodical and precise, machines in their own right. They know how to skin an animal, to bleed it out, to take it apart so all the right parts are conserved, and the waste is waste.
This has intent of a different kind. There's no rhyme or reason to the carnage that he walks into, ignoring the fact that his shoes cross into a familiar sensation that is still so alien at the same time. Fresh blood has a different sensation to old, but this is both, layers of history that he really does not want to uncover.
Samatoki finds the rest of the sheep.
Oh, hell, he wishes he hadn't have found the rest of the sheep. Or the remains of what he hopes is another goddamned sheep. ]
We need to leave. [ The words come out muffled, but he immediately starts to step back. He doesn't want to turn his back on this room - Samatoki Aohitsugi doesn't run from anything, but fuck if he's staying here, if he's going to breathe this rancid, wrong air without knowing what could be waiting for them in this warehouse. ] We need to leave right now.
Edited (how do I keep missing the word "the" HOW) 2019-06-05 12:49 (UTC)
[ he doesn't need to tell her twice. eyes flick up to his expression and her feet are already moving, carrying her to the door opposite where they came in. part of her wants to reach back and grab him by the arm but he's taller than her, he'll catch up.
even two, three strides away from the room and the air feels fresher, filling her body with brine and the cool spray from the sea. her legs suddenly lose strength, turning to jelly and dropping her against the outside wall. fear is stabbing the backs of her eyes but roxy breathes deep to keep herself from falling apart. no words come to her. she doesn't want to ask what he saw, thought he saw, imagined he saw, the panic and dread has made her skin pale and cold. ]
...
[ there she stays for a few minutes, blood burning. she can't even process it. she wants to but she can't. hey mind rejects everything.
when she finally feels she can talk, roxy looks back at samatoki, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. ]
[ Heel of his shoe bumping - something - Samatoki hides a flinch behind his wrist still, listening to the skitter of something distinctly metal. He could look, and he knows he could check to see if what he finds is the very thing that slit this ewe's throat, maybe gutted the animal, tore it to pieces. A dark corner of his mind wonders if the sheep was spared being dragged in here still alive and breathing, but he knows better. Fear is powerful no matter the context.
And there's no way he can wrap his head around the context of this. Not with just one room. The party had made sense, bigwigs and thugs and birds perched pretty on their arms, cards, smokes, drinks brought under the table. But the turn it'd taken? No, shit no.
His shoulder bumps the door where it holds itself up on the hinges, creaking unhappily now from being broken into. There aren't any stops until he's outside, though, and only then does Samatoki lower the gun, thumbing the hammer back down and heaving a lungful of air. The brine is a small comfort, scrubbing away the way he can almost taste metal at the back of his tongue, how everything lingers on him. His shoes will probably have to get thrown out - be easy enough to clean them, they have cleaners for that, but he doesn't want anyone else to get even a trace of that pit.
Eyes dropping to Roxy, he barks out a humorless laugh that rings stark in the relative silence, only broken up by distant traffic and surf, his hand swiping up over his face and into his slicked back hair. ]
Bootleggers. Cops. Fucking mayoral aides. Little sisters that ain't got any business being in a place like this. [ In other words: more than either of them ever expected when they got their intel. ]
[ this has gone far past beyond bad, bad is in a completely different county. they're entrenched in hell, roxy thinks, and her sister is messing with something neither of them are prepared to cope with. how could they be? roxy and rose had a simple life in this glittery city, money from either parents not withstanding.
maybe that was the problem: things were too simple. rose had always been a precocious child, easily bored and always looking for something more exciting. roxy was just happy to be around people, carted around at jazz clubs and kissing a cute john on the cheek. but rose, she had always been more cerebral, within her own mind and slow to make new friends. failure wrapped around roxy's heart like a band and slowly dragged it down into her stomach, flooding her with guilt, doubt, and blame.
after their mother died, roxy was in charge. after their mother died, all they had was each other — at least until the two striders entered the picture.
so many people in powerful seats; they could run the city however they wanted. the only moves they could make would have to be calculated, and roxy couldn't bear to think right now. ]
Bulls incoming, [ she mumbles, barely audible over the crash of the ocean. ] Someone opened the pen.
[ in the distance, police sirens wail with gradually growing volume. ]
[ Responsibility is a mantle just as much as it is suffocation. But the police sirens are a reminder of that, to him. Maybe Juto would be able to get him out of trouble, maybe his boss would, but he doesn't ever enjoy giving Nemu reason to worry when he comes passing through the station in a set of bracelets not made by her own hand. ]
Shit. [ With a sigh, and his hand ruffling a little at his hair before smoothing it again, Samatoki holsters the pistol and snaps the straps back into place. His jacket is still up on the roof, but he doesn't much care, really - there's no means for them to identify him by if they find it, and having a connection on the inside means it'd get swept under a rug if they even suspected a damn thing.
But he has to get back, and - like hell he knows. What's he going to tell his boss? That the bootleggers aren't just bootleggers, and are slaughtering sheep for fun so that they can drink their blood? Yeah, that'll go over swell. They'd be worried he was zozzled. That maybe he'd hit something else hard, instead. (A part of him has to wonder if he did inhale something unsuspecting that resulted in him seeing what he saw, or mistaking it, but there was no mistaking the corpses of livestock, or the blood staining a dame's mouth without makeup to create the illusion. There's no mistaking the smell of blood - not for him.)
He rolls up his sleeves after unbuttoning the cuffs, unhappy, ready to do some running if he has to.
First thing's first, though; he offers Roxy a hand, his bracelets clicking together as he extends it. ]
You stay sitting there, they're gonna have some questions for you that you really can't answer. Up and at 'em, girl. Gotta put those dogs to use.
[ all this and now running from the police? this night keeps getting worse, and in truth roxy naively thought that maybe she could talk to the cops arriving and figure out what to do, but... this guy's right. there are already dirty ones involved with whatever it is that just went down, so with a nod, roxy takes a breath and takes his hand.
once on her feet, roxy figures out from which direction the fuzz is coming, tugging samatoki closer to her as she snakes her way down under the dock. there's a small sandy beach here that they can use to escape, hide their prints with everyone else's. ]
[ Working with the dirty cops that he does, and seeing dirtier ones yet, Samatoki knows better than to stick around at a scene even with the chance that you can get off scot-free. Life's not fair; there's always someone that's ready to screw you over at a moment's notice. Most days it's survival of the fittest to him, because that's how the world treated him, how people have tried to square up to him, thinking he was easy prey when he was a little known thug.
Women, kids, they don't deserve that. He tries to do right by them, tries not to be a bully to people weaker than him.
Tries to help people that have the look behind their eyes the way Roxy does.
But when she doesn't let go of his hand, starts to lead him off, he doesn't pull away. His other hand goes to brace against one of his holsters, prepared to draw the Smith & Wesson at a moment's notice as he follows her. This isn't wholly unfamiliar territory, or at least the terrain isn't, after growing up in this city, so he remains sure-footed and quick to keep pace with her. ]
[ the pace doesn't slow until roxy feels the earth give way beneath her feet, pitching her off-balance for a split second. the heels of her shoes sink deep into the sand, and she quietly mutters a curse. reaching her free hand down, roxy tugs off her mary janes and holds them delicately in her fingers. ]
Here, [ her hand drops his and she motions to his feet. her stockings feel cold against the nighttime beach but she has to put up with it for a bit longer. ] Take your shoes off, throw 'em in the ocean.
[ Reflexively, his grip tightens when her balance pitches. But the unsteady ground of the beach is something of a relief, marked by comings and goings of people and animals alike from the entire day, a blending of tracks that causes theirs to become muddled. Anyone sees the blood from his shoes leaving a trail will find it going cold.
Her idea works enough for him - Samatoki would probably have burned them, but this is a solution he can take care of now. His weight wobbles a second as he balances, one foot at a time, tugging the laces so he can loosen his shoes and hook a finger into the back to get them off. ]
I'm gonna fucking hate this. [ Shoes off and in hand, there's no further delay despite his complaints. Samatoki walks forward until his black dress socks are practically pitch from cold water - washing away his scent, just in case, even as he swears colorfully just under his breath - before he pitches his shoes off into the nighttime surf. ]
[ she can sympathize, and she gives samatoki a look that says as much as he takes off his shoes. already roxy regrets having to take hers off, the sand covering the soles of her feet, but fair is fair.
she wasn't the one who stepped in blood, but she follows suit and throws her own shoes into the water after samatoki. ]
Better this than them sussin you out.
[ police, the bootleggers, or anyone else who they crossed paths with tonight. ]
I know the song and dance by now. Have plenty of run-ins with the cops.
[ And plenty of ways to get out of it, but this feels... colossal, in comparison. He doesn't want to risk one of his closest confidants, or his sister, by bringing any attention to the police with his name attached for this thing. Samatoki doesn't even know what to call it, as he watches his shoes - then Roxy's - hit the water and disappear into the night. Instead, there's not really any words for it.
His hands pat his pockets down until he finds his cigarettes and matches, pulling one of each out so that he can light one while standing in the water still. His slacks are getting wet, and he's going to be freezing. But Nemu will probably be asleep by the time he gets home, allowing him to slosh in and clean up after himself without worrying her.
The drag he takes of the cigarette burns away more of the taste of copper. It steadies him further. ]
It's gonna be cold as anything, but we'd better walk in the water for a stretch. No tracks to follow, that way.
[ by all accounts, roxy knows she should high-tail it out of there if this guy's as shady as she's starting to realize. but that just puts her in a spot with no way to get out: if she stays, he might kill her; if she runs, he'll definitely kill her.
roxy adjusts the straps of her dress on her shoulders, staying up on the sandy area for a little bit longer. she's seen his face but doesnt have his name, but he's such a unique mac that anyone could pick him out of a line-up with even the barest of descriptions. ]
I'll make a deal with you, guy. You don't give me cement heels and I don't get you a pair of tin bracelets. [ ... well, he certainly wasn't wrong when he called her a bearcat. though it isn't meant as a threat, it certainly sounds like one. ] Fair?
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no subject
one of the men at the front of the table draws out a book, casually fingering through its pages but the writing is so small and roxy and samatoki are so far away that it's impossible to make out what's scribbled on the pages. and that's not even the most weird part of the evening. as the discussion ramps up, a small barrel is wheeled in on a cart, a side door creaking shut. glasses are passed around; wine glasses, by the shape of them, and roxy's brow furrows. the men laugh but roxy feels a tight rubber band pulled down the length of her spine, ready to snap at any passing moment. something about this cask is off, and when the spigot is opened to let the wine pour, roxy draws in a heady breath and looks away. ]
... Hell. [ the wine is too dark. it sticks to the sides of the glasses as its poured in. too viscous, it leaves a stain on the lips of those who never wore lipstick. ] .... That's not wine.
no subject
(he stood in a pool of it, once, at sixteen - )
Even before the glasses touch someone's lips, he knows that's blood. And his skin crawls, all in the same moment that his skin goes cold in the dying light of day, his cigarette dangling loosely from his lips for that second, two, of realization. She has it, too. Even from here, even if they can't see the pages of the book below them clearly, the cigar smoke is starting to clear up as the focus goes from card games to whatever the fuck they're doing down there.
He thinks he sees the mayor's aide. He thinks he sees a few of the cops that work in the station Juto does, that Nemu works clerical for.
He doesn't care, suddenly. The book holder is talking, but Samatoki can't hear him from here. Taking his cigarette from his mouth, he flicks it across the roof and steps forward, dropping down into a crouch. ]
What the fuck are they doing? [ This isn't about bootleggers encroaching on the mob's turf anymore. This isn't just about some girl's sister getting into trouble with the wrong side of the law.
This is a little too above their pay-grade. ]
no subject
down below, the ceremony is quiet, simple. wine and chatter, a promise shared between everyone. indeed, the only one not drinking is rose, but the tall woman she's with places an arm around the blonde's slender waist, hand rubbing in supportive circles along the small of rose's back. all in all, it seems as though it's nothing more than drinks with friends, except for what, exactly, the drink is. ]
... I can get you down there, [ roxy finally whispers, pulling her hands down and looking sideways at samatoki. ] Unseen. My dogs are pretty quick and quiet, mom used to say that I was just a ghost in the house.
[ she's rambling. dear god she's rambling but she can't help it. the less time she spends silent the less time she feels as though her insides will become her outsides. ]
Promise me we'll get her out first before you do what you gotta do.
no subject
He can just barely see Roxy out of the corner of his eye as he watches them like a hawk, see the way she shies away from watching. That's her sister down there. Making her watch that would be fucking cruelty.
His weight tips back onto his heels, eyes finally tearing away from the scene below as he watches the blonde and her tall companion for that final second longer so that he can look at the older sister that's stricken next to him. If he were in the same situation as her, he'd get it: he'd want to get Nemu the hell out of there, faster'n anybody's ever seen, fast enough they'd sure enough get whiplash from it. Whatever this is, it's a different kind of hell when family is involved. ]
Once she's out, you take those dogs of yours and run like hell with 'em. Don't you fucking look back, girl, whatever you hear, whatever you think you see when you're leaving. Because you've peeped at plenty enough tonight.
[ Samatoki stands straight again, shrugging off his jacket so he's down to his waistcoat. His gun holsters are visible that way, and a hell of a lot easier for him to reach. ]
We get in, you get out. I'll leave on my own time.
no subject
Why are you keen on helping me?
[ she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but her curiosity has never been stopped before. ]
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If it were my baby sister, I'd do anything to get down there and get her the fuck away from these people.
[ And he moves past her, starting to make his way to the rooftop access. ]
C'mon, bearcat. Let's go get yours.
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[ that's all he needs to say, all that needs to be exchanged between them before roxy can trust that this guy will do as he say he will. they share the protective instinct of an older sibling, and roxy knows how strong that can be.
hopping to her feet, she scuffs silently behind samatoki, tapping his shoulder to tell him which way to go to remain unseen, deep in the shadows even when the streetlights come flooding in with soft yellow. once on the ground she hesitates, glancing every which way to get her bearings. ]
Hold still a sec.
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Instinct tells him that everything is all wrong. The otherness - he can't sense it, but he also can't shake the way blood stained smiling lips, how they all drank so willingly and freely from that goddamned cask. That's enough for him to know that things are inherently wrong, so ass over end.
Shifting, he puts his shoulder into the wall. It affords some coverage as she orients. ]
no subject
tipping forward little by little, roxy peers around the corner and into the warehouse to find: ]
Th... They're gone!!
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That -
That definitely counts as something, but definitely not a something he wanted to hear.
If they're gone, then he's not dealing with the bushwa of steslth. His stride is brisk, his step clipped in noise as he comes to join her. Hand braced on the warehouse door, the creak of hinges could be mistaken for the breeze, but he aims the gun in instead of to the dimming sky.
Nothing. ]
How in the name of - [ Samatoki is at a loss, but doesn't raise his voice yet. ] Another room?
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[ so baffled is she that roxy can't figure out anything to say, eyes scanning around the empty room once more. no one, not even her precious sister is there. has she already failed before they've even had a chance? ]
There's... There's a door on the side, I think.
[ the side room where they brought the barrel from. ]
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She mentions the door, and he steps around her, eyes sweeping before settling on the door itself. They couldn't have scattered so fast, it didn't take that long to get to the ground floor. And there would be more evidence here, that people were here.
Samatoki stops at the door, reaching for the handle and looking her way. On three, he mouths.
And then he counts, mouthing the numbers before he pulls, swinging his body in time with opening it, gun leading the way by momentum - ]
no subject
blood, rust, poorly cared-for steel; its a mix of metals and roxy feels her eyes sting. the darkness hides any confirmation for whether the source of the blood is still there in the room, but in the shifting light that pours in, roxy can see small tufts of wool scattered on the floor.
choking on her own breath, roxy gives up the fight and takes a few steps back, hands covering her mouth. she's no shrinking violet: she's seen sheep and horses torn to bits by predation, but this is older. this has history, layers of fresh blood on top of dried, oxidized blood and its stronger than fresh viscera strewn across the pasture grass. ]
Oh, god ...
no subject
He's been in a butcher before, for work. He's watched them, methodical and precise, machines in their own right. They know how to skin an animal, to bleed it out, to take it apart so all the right parts are conserved, and the waste is waste.
This has intent of a different kind. There's no rhyme or reason to the carnage that he walks into, ignoring the fact that his shoes cross into a familiar sensation that is still so alien at the same time. Fresh blood has a different sensation to old, but this is both, layers of history that he really does not want to uncover.
Samatoki finds the rest of the sheep.
Oh, hell, he wishes he hadn't have found the rest of the sheep. Or the remains of what he hopes is another goddamned sheep. ]
We need to leave. [ The words come out muffled, but he immediately starts to step back. He doesn't want to turn his back on this room - Samatoki Aohitsugi doesn't run from anything, but fuck if he's staying here, if he's going to breathe this rancid, wrong air without knowing what could be waiting for them in this warehouse. ] We need to leave right now.
no subject
even two, three strides away from the room and the air feels fresher, filling her body with brine and the cool spray from the sea. her legs suddenly lose strength, turning to jelly and dropping her against the outside wall. fear is stabbing the backs of her eyes but roxy breathes deep to keep herself from falling apart. no words come to her. she doesn't want to ask what he saw, thought he saw, imagined he saw, the panic and dread has made her skin pale and cold. ]
...
[ there she stays for a few minutes, blood burning. she can't even process it. she wants to but she can't. hey mind rejects everything.
when she finally feels she can talk, roxy looks back at samatoki, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. ]
Bootleggers, huh?
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And there's no way he can wrap his head around the context of this. Not with just one room. The party had made sense, bigwigs and thugs and birds perched pretty on their arms, cards, smokes, drinks brought under the table. But the turn it'd taken? No, shit no.
His shoulder bumps the door where it holds itself up on the hinges, creaking unhappily now from being broken into. There aren't any stops until he's outside, though, and only then does Samatoki lower the gun, thumbing the hammer back down and heaving a lungful of air. The brine is a small comfort, scrubbing away the way he can almost taste metal at the back of his tongue, how everything lingers on him. His shoes will probably have to get thrown out - be easy enough to clean them, they have cleaners for that, but he doesn't want anyone else to get even a trace of that pit.
Eyes dropping to Roxy, he barks out a humorless laugh that rings stark in the relative silence, only broken up by distant traffic and surf, his hand swiping up over his face and into his slicked back hair. ]
Bootleggers. Cops. Fucking mayoral aides. Little sisters that ain't got any business being in a place like this. [ In other words: more than either of them ever expected when they got their intel. ]
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maybe that was the problem: things were too simple. rose had always been a precocious child, easily bored and always looking for something more exciting. roxy was just happy to be around people, carted around at jazz clubs and kissing a cute john on the cheek. but rose, she had always been more cerebral, within her own mind and slow to make new friends. failure wrapped around roxy's heart like a band and slowly dragged it down into her stomach, flooding her with guilt, doubt, and blame.
after their mother died, roxy was in charge. after their mother died, all they had was each other — at least until the two striders entered the picture.
so many people in powerful seats; they could run the city however they wanted. the only moves they could make would have to be calculated, and roxy couldn't bear to think right now. ]
Bulls incoming, [ she mumbles, barely audible over the crash of the ocean. ] Someone opened the pen.
[ in the distance, police sirens wail with gradually growing volume. ]
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Shit. [ With a sigh, and his hand ruffling a little at his hair before smoothing it again, Samatoki holsters the pistol and snaps the straps back into place. His jacket is still up on the roof, but he doesn't much care, really - there's no means for them to identify him by if they find it, and having a connection on the inside means it'd get swept under a rug if they even suspected a damn thing.
But he has to get back, and - like hell he knows. What's he going to tell his boss? That the bootleggers aren't just bootleggers, and are slaughtering sheep for fun so that they can drink their blood? Yeah, that'll go over swell. They'd be worried he was zozzled. That maybe he'd hit something else hard, instead. (A part of him has to wonder if he did inhale something unsuspecting that resulted in him seeing what he saw, or mistaking it, but there was no mistaking the corpses of livestock, or the blood staining a dame's mouth without makeup to create the illusion. There's no mistaking the smell of blood - not for him.)
He rolls up his sleeves after unbuttoning the cuffs, unhappy, ready to do some running if he has to.
First thing's first, though; he offers Roxy a hand, his bracelets clicking together as he extends it. ]
You stay sitting there, they're gonna have some questions for you that you really can't answer. Up and at 'em, girl. Gotta put those dogs to use.
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once on her feet, roxy figures out from which direction the fuzz is coming, tugging samatoki closer to her as she snakes her way down under the dock. there's a small sandy beach here that they can use to escape, hide their prints with everyone else's. ]
Time to hoof it. This way — careful of the rocks.
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Women, kids, they don't deserve that. He tries to do right by them, tries not to be a bully to people weaker than him.
Tries to help people that have the look behind their eyes the way Roxy does.
But when she doesn't let go of his hand, starts to lead him off, he doesn't pull away. His other hand goes to brace against one of his holsters, prepared to draw the Smith & Wesson at a moment's notice as he follows her. This isn't wholly unfamiliar territory, or at least the terrain isn't, after growing up in this city, so he remains sure-footed and quick to keep pace with her. ]
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Here, [ her hand drops his and she motions to his feet. her stockings feel cold against the nighttime beach but she has to put up with it for a bit longer. ] Take your shoes off, throw 'em in the ocean.
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Her idea works enough for him - Samatoki would probably have burned them, but this is a solution he can take care of now. His weight wobbles a second as he balances, one foot at a time, tugging the laces so he can loosen his shoes and hook a finger into the back to get them off. ]
I'm gonna fucking hate this. [ Shoes off and in hand, there's no further delay despite his complaints. Samatoki walks forward until his black dress socks are practically pitch from cold water - washing away his scent, just in case, even as he swears colorfully just under his breath - before he pitches his shoes off into the nighttime surf. ]
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she wasn't the one who stepped in blood, but she follows suit and throws her own shoes into the water after samatoki. ]
Better this than them sussin you out.
[ police, the bootleggers, or anyone else who they crossed paths with tonight. ]
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[ And plenty of ways to get out of it, but this feels... colossal, in comparison. He doesn't want to risk one of his closest confidants, or his sister, by bringing any attention to the police with his name attached for this thing. Samatoki doesn't even know what to call it, as he watches his shoes - then Roxy's - hit the water and disappear into the night. Instead, there's not really any words for it.
His hands pat his pockets down until he finds his cigarettes and matches, pulling one of each out so that he can light one while standing in the water still. His slacks are getting wet, and he's going to be freezing. But Nemu will probably be asleep by the time he gets home, allowing him to slosh in and clean up after himself without worrying her.
The drag he takes of the cigarette burns away more of the taste of copper. It steadies him further. ]
It's gonna be cold as anything, but we'd better walk in the water for a stretch. No tracks to follow, that way.
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[ by all accounts, roxy knows she should high-tail it out of there if this guy's as shady as she's starting to realize. but that just puts her in a spot with no way to get out: if she stays, he might kill her; if she runs, he'll definitely kill her.
roxy adjusts the straps of her dress on her shoulders, staying up on the sandy area for a little bit longer. she's seen his face but doesnt have his name, but he's such a unique mac that anyone could pick him out of a line-up with even the barest of descriptions. ]
I'll make a deal with you, guy. You don't give me cement heels and I don't get you a pair of tin bracelets. [ ... well, he certainly wasn't wrong when he called her a bearcat. though it isn't meant as a threat, it certainly sounds like one. ] Fair?
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