InsaneJournal

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Magnum Dance (daisukejigen) wrote in mirage_rpg,
@ 2008-08-06 20:42:00

Entry tags:

complete, daisuke jigen, day 9, mamoru chiba, tuxedo mask

Day 9 evening
Who: Jigen & OTA => Mamoru.
When: Day 9, late evening
Where: Housing Unit A, indoors.
Why: Wandering about, looking around.
Rating: PG
Status: Completed.

It was a freaking miracle. Jigen did not know if he should be rubbing his hands together giddily or have his hand on his revolver at all times and scared shitless. Nevertheless, stepping into a spacey room furnished to suit his tastes exactly and finding rows of clean new suits, shirts, shoes and hats in the closets had a literally jaw-dropping effect on him. There was a full pack of Pall Mall super longs on the living room table, and nearby he found a bar equipped with whiskey, cognac, calvados, port wine, vodka and gin along with appropriate glasses for all of them. He found a record-player and a shelf full of jazz, blues and bossa nova records. The sofa was made of black leather, the coffee table in front of it was simplistic and made of glass and steel, the sheets on the bed were dark blue and the floor was of dark wooden laminate.

Jigen had to sit down for a while to stare at all of it - his room, his apartment that was more perfect than his hideouts in New York and the outskirts of Tokyo that he had been furnishing for a decade. It was uncanny and scary that someone or something could read his mind and know his tastes so well.

Before long he took a shower - never letting his gun from his sight, though - and changed to a new, clean black suit that felt like it was tailored to fit him perfectly. The black and white wingtip shoes were brand new and felt like they could use some walking and getting used to. He found a black fedora almost like his old one, and when he tried it on in front of the mirror, he started feeling at home again.

Never mind the kidnapping, the hurricane, the mind-reading Planet, the stone-faced golems, or girls changing their hair-color with magic. Now he had a clean black suit, a fedora to shade his eyes, his heavy Combat Magnum revolver under his jacket tucked under his belt at the small of his back, and a cigarette at his lips. That meant all was well in his books again, and so he left his room to look around a bit with his hands in his pockets and the brim of his hat hiding his dark eyes.

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prince_endymion
2008-08-07 01:08 pm UTC (link)

There was no doubt in his mind as he made his way back towards his dorm rooms. That had been very, very close. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't won the fight with the bald fighter who had introduced himself as Riddick. At best, it was a draw, and the fact that he had been the one to retreat might even make it a loss. That didn't work for him at all, but his aching and sore body told him he'd made the right choice.

Though he tried to walk straight, he kept hunching over against a particularly nasty blow Riddick had gotten in on his side. It was painful, but would heal. He just had to be careful for a few days. All he wanted, he decided, was a hot shower and then to lie down.

Mamoru opened the door to the building that held his room, and then let it close behind him with a sigh of relief. The storm outside had really, really not helped with his condition. He was sure that his short hair was nevertheless filled with sand that had been blown around, and his blue eyes were tearing up from the harshness of the wind. It had been an effort even to walk through the driving wind and rain, and even moreso because of his injuries.

Exhausted and seeing no one else around, the tall young man leaned against the wall, trying to regain his breath and gather enough strength to go upstairs to his room. A door opened down the hall, and despite the pain it sent through him, he pushed himself fully back onto his feet. His blue eyes tracked every movement as a man entered the hallway, dressed almost entirely in black, with a hat on his head. He wasn't sure, as the other man was far away, but he thought that perhaps the newcomer had an Asian cast to his face. This actually comforted him slightly, as he'd been raised Japanese, but he didn't let his guard down.

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daisukejigen
2008-08-07 01:19 pm UTC (link)

Jigen glanced at the figure in the other end of the corridor before he pulled the door closed. A thug - a young brute, by the looks of him, he deducted from afar. Something quite different from the silly girl he had met earlier. Jigen, even if he was fit, was not a big or a particularly muscular man. He relied on his guts and dexterity more than anything, so he as well kept his guard as he paced lazily along the corridor towards the young man.

"Rough night," he said as he approached making the two words sound like a low grunt. The young man had evidently just come back inside judging by his damp and messy clothes, and now that Jigen was closer and peered up at him from under his fedora, holding the smoking cigarette near his lips, he looked like he had taken a few blows. Not necessarily from flying rubble in the hurricane either.