The Major is so done with your shit. (origami_cranes) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-12-01 09:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, gin ichimaru, motoko kusanagi |
Guess we ain’t gonna get that do-over date, ne?
Who: Motoko and Gin
What: Interrogation/Date
When: A few years ago
Where: Tokyo, Japan
Status: complete
Rating: PG-13
The evidence was circumstantial but it was enough to bring the target in. Motoko waited, someone impatiently. Really, she was going above and beyond what she was allowed to do but this entire case had started to become personal to her. She wanted to bring this man down, but she’d let it go if she could get to the bigger fish.
But oh she looked forward to this little date. She’d even set up a chair and a really bright light and some painful handcuffs. <3.
Gin had been a very bad boy, lately. Certainly, he was careful to not to leave behind any clues, covered his tracks nicely, and had the backing of his Yakuza branch to mop up the rest and make him seem squeaky clean. In fact, they even had him down as an accountant for some of their more seemingly legitimate business fronts, when in fact, he spent a lot of time in the back rooms, drinking sake and lazing around, waiting for his next mark.
When Gin was led into the interrogation room he let out a little sigh. This was not the date he expected with the hot cop lady, when she told him that she wanted to take him out and ask him a few questions. Little did he know when he had shrugged and smiled to show he agreed, was he going to be handcuffed to a chair with a bright light overhead. Good thing he had his happy squinty face on, so the light wasn't as obnoxious as it could be. The handcuffs, however....
"...dinnit realize this date was gonna end in some sado-masochistic fun times," he announced in his laze-about Osakan drawl, probably for the benefit of whoever was standing behind a two way mirror or if the proceedings were being recorded. "If I knew before, I woulda worn some leather."
"We all have our kinks," she replied, pushing him into the chair and cuffing him to it. She left one hand free. "You've been a bad boy, Gin, and if you don't want to get punished you're going to answer my questions."
She held up a glass of water. "Thirsty?"
Gin frowned for maybe two seconds at being pushed down like that and handcuffed. It didn't take long for him to put on his happy face, because he did kind of like Motoko. She seemed a little rough around the edges, so maybe in another lifetime...if he wasn't an assassin and she wasn't law enforcement.... Nah. Life was too short for what if's, so it was better to try and keep things amusing.
"I can't get a spankin' instead and get put in the corner," he asked her, turning sideways in the chair a little bit, to get any pressure off his wrist, and so he looked like the perfect picture of relaxation. "Since this was your idea of a hot date, I think I will take somethin' ta drink, but I'd rather have some tea. I'm kinda hungry too. I dunno how ya think you're gonna get anythin' outta me, if you ain't treatin' me right. I'm gonna start ta feel abused."
He grinned at her. Riiiiiiiight at her.
He was an attractive man, and while Motoko's leanings were generally towards the female persuasion she did have the occasional exception. And with Gin she someimtes wanted to slap slap kiss him.
"Maybe if you behave. Lets start simple. What's your name? For the record?" She kept her voice gruff and her expression even. She put the water down pointedly on the table. "And I'll get you something to eat."
She was an attractive woman. So it wasn’t like the feeling wasn’t mutual. It was more that they were on opposite sides of the law, entirely.
And more apparently he had that effect on others with the slap kissing, even when he was trying to be off putting. To show as much, he mock pouted at the mention of behaving, then tilted his head to one side, as he listened and thought about a proper response. He dropped that laid back manner of speaking a little bit into something a little slower and sexier, "You're the one that's got me handcuffed, ne? You can call me whatever ya want. For the record."
She stared him down with an unamused expression on her face. "Your name." She rested her hands on the arm rests and leaned over him. “Or is that too simple for you?”
This wasn't Gin's first rodeo, being questioned. Usually it was on his turf and terms, but this was just as easily to navigate around. When she leaned over him, he leaned more toward her in response. They were practically nose to nose, the smile on his lips, even as he spoke.
"I dunno. Maybe I like things ta be a lil' more complex."
That was true. He also thought girls were prettier when they were a little miffed at him, which is why he pursed his lips just enough to blow her a little kiss, and went right back to smiling again.
Her eyes narrowed. Fine. She decided to get right to the most recent assassination. "Last Thursday, where were you and what were you doing? Think carefully, Ichimaru. I'll know if you're lying."
"Ahh, last thursday," Gin echoed, thoughtfully. He snapped his fingers like he got it, and raised his free hand to point an index finger so the tip of it nearly touched under Motoko's chin. Nearly. It was a hair's breath away. "I was visitin' my mom."
His mom, would totally back her son up, since she was an actual yazkuza accountant. That meant she was as silent as the dead when being asked questions, even if she didn't approve of her son's diverting from the family course of actual, factual work that didn't involve spilling blood. She may not approve, but she did have her only child’s back when it counted.
"What can I say? I'm a mama's boy." Gin's smile split into a mischevious grin, and he ever so slightly lifted his finger up, gave Motoko a teeny tiny tickle under her chin, and then flopped his hand back down into his lap. "I'll take some tea and somethin' ta eat now. Or else this date's gonna rank as the worst one ever."
"I'll have to verify your alibi," Motoko replied. "Where were you on the third of last month?" She pulled back and signaled someone to bring in a teapot and stale crumpets.Eww, they’re stale!
"Phone's in my pocket. Mom's on speed dial." His mom was the only number he had on that phone too. It was otherwise clean as a whistle, no last calls or texts or anything, which was why he wasn't bothered if she wanted to reach in and get it. Bonus points if she had to rummage in the pockets for his phone! After all, he didn’t tell her which pocket. But! Back to the topic at hand? "Don't remember 'bout the third of last month. I was probably hung over. If I was wakin' up hungover with you, then I probably would've remembered it more clearly."
He smiled cutely up at her.
She reached for it, rummaging around in pockets that were fare too big. Gin had to be enjoying this and it made her want to throttle him. That would get her nowhere though.
"Only in your dreams, Ichimaru." She gave him a dirty look and then pages through the phone. Fucking clean. She hated his phone already.
He was still trying to manage the cutesy smile while she did that, but - if asked - he had to say he enjoyed that frisking moment. He even made a little 'ooo' sound when things got really touchy. It was easy to tell that she wanted to smack him a few times, which Gin enjoyed. It meant he got under her skin a little bit, which he was pretty adept at doing...without seeming like he was doing it, at all.
"Tell ya what? Put yo' number in that phone and I'll call ya later. Let ya know about the dreams I'm gonna have, after ya put those hands of yours on me," he sweetly replied, raising his eyebrows a little bit as he watched. He knew it was cleaner than clean. The Yakuza were careful about that. "I didn't think you were supposed to touch the people you were introgatin', Mo~toko~chan. I feel a lil' violated."
If he had both hands free, he would have made a little heart shape with them.
"Kusanagi," she said. He didn't deserve to call her by her first name, let alone any cute honorifics. She balled up her fist and imagined breaking his nose. It was a nice thought. One that would get her into trouble. But a nice thought. She put the phone down.
"Keep comfy." Then she walked out to punch a wall and make some phone calls.
"Ooooookay, Kusanagi~kun," he replied with the greatest of ease. When she was walking out, he gave her a gently spoken reminder in case she forgot. "Still waitin' on some tea and snacks. I ain't ever goin' out on another date with you, if all ya want is kinky handcuff times. It ain't nice."
Make sure to punch that wall more than once.
Three times, in fact. She was losing her cool, which wasn't really like her, but Gin had a way of getting under a person's skin and he was rather lucky she didn't have super strength because she was that aggravated right now!
She almost threw the snacks into his face, but kept her cool, face impassive and once again collected. "Crackers. Enjoy."
He reached out, picked up the packet of crackers, and looked it over. It was past the expiration date. He continued to squint at it while his mouth formed into a little frown. He even went 'eehhhhhhh' at it, like it wasn't satisfactory.
"Aww. I come all this way an' it's a package of ol' sesame crackers and nothin' ta drink." He brought it over to one side so he could open it using both hands, managing not to spill any of them onto the floor. Then it was placed on the table. He drew out one between his fingers and, before he could pop it into his mouth, asked Motoko, "Did mom say hello when ya called her?"
"Among other things. She invited me for tea and asked how you were doing. I told her you were tied up and you probably don't want to know what she'd said to that."
She's not blushing. She's not.
The crackers were stale and he had made a noise that conveyed his general eww about it, stopping entirely when Motoko said that. Gin had a blank look on his face for a moment, before he realized his mom was flipping everyone some shit. Hey, he had to get it from somewhere. Then and only then did his face split into a wide smile. And, besides, that was really kind of hilarious.
"I imagine it was the whole 'have safe sex and give him a few extra spanks, because he’s always been a lil’ naughty' speech. Ahh, my mom. She knows me so well." He reached for another cracker, while slyly adding, "Come ta think of it? I might be mo' inclined ta answer, if ya tried that."
He is not blushing. At all.
She lifted her hand as if she had every intention of punching him, but dropped it to her side and just glared. Nose to nose, two inches apart. “Does that kind of line ever work, with anyone?”
Gin smiled at her, a little more sweetly than necessary.
"You'd be surprised, cuz it'd be a lil' over half the time. See, I'm an accountant. We're really repressed people. We like it a lil' rough, especially when strong women handcuff us to furniture and act like they're gonna hit us. But that's probably not what your voyeuristic friends behind the glass wanna hear us talkin' about, is it?"
He shifted in the chair a few times, either because he was uncomfortable, or to make a show of the fact that he couldn't really go anywhere. It was probably that last thing, since he thinks this is a fun new game. He even tilted his head a little bit, so it wasn't their noses that were that close to touching, more like their lips. Cocky little shit.
"Oh." It was like he suddenly realized something was amiss. He lowered his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, "Kusanagi~kun? Ya forgot my tea. I gotta wonder if this' the beginning of my punishment."
“Yes, because I’ll punish you by taking away your tea.” She pulled away, before she did something she’d regret, and disappeared out the door. She was gone for ten whole minutes. Then a light flicked on behind the glass and it wasn’t opaque anymore. There wasn’t anyone in there.
She came back in and put down a bottle of green tea. “Best I can do on short notice.”
Well that was an interesting development. Gin's eyebrows went up a smidge at the fact no one was watching in the immediate sense. He knew it was all being recorded though, so Motoko would still have to mind her manners. Maybe. Unless she wanted something racy to share with her coworkers later on.
"It'll do," he replied, reaching for it and then making a 'buh?' face at it before that smiling fox-faced bastard facade was quickly back in place again. "It's like room temperature. I'm onta you. Ya torture artist."
“If I really wanted to torture you, you’d know,” she replied, steel in her voice and iron in her eyes. “How did you get to be this infuriating? Did you learn it or is it a family trait?”
"Oh no. Help," he was whispering in a sly voice, ever so softly, "police brutality."
The smile was still on his face, so it wasn't exactly a real call for help. Ahem. He also shrugged a little at those questions, opening the bottle one handedly and taking a leisurely sip of his tea so she had to wait for the answer. When he was done, he responded with a light and airy sounding, "Nope. Neither one. It’s all inherent talent."
She waited for him to finish his drink before she was suddenly close enough to kiss now, her dark eyes staring into Gin’s. Motoko exhaled heavily, breath warm. “You haven’t yet seen my brutality, Ichimaru.”
It would probably help if he wasn't doing that perpetually happy squinting thing, so she could even see his eyes. The actual color of them only shown in rare instances. Maybe someday he wouldn't have to hide behind the squint, but he was in full force with it, at this juncture.
When she exhaled, Gin breathed in slowly and exhaled even slower, like this was all a little inconvenient. Fun, but inconvenient. He tilted his head a little bit as he moved forward. If it was just an itsy bitsy bit closer, his lips would have barely moved against her lips as he spoke.
"I ain't gonna talk if ya turn it into somethin' I'd enjoy," was what Gin whispered to her. That was followed by, "If you don't have more questions ta ask? You can't keep holdin' me in here. Handcuffs or not."
“Who says I can’t keep you here indefinitely? What if I just say I let you go? How long can we do this before someone just presumes you crossed the wrong person? Or, say, the right whisper reaches the right ears.” Maybe she could get some of these groups to take each other out. Or maybe she could just kiss him. It was ridiculously tempting.
The thought did cross his mind too. If only she wasn't on the side of the morality spectrum that would try to stop him from doing what he had set out to do.
"Ahhhhh, you just want me all to yourself, don'cha," he asked, still whispering. He knew it was annoying when or if things were being recorded, if they had to try to amp it up to hear and things went fuzzy and inconclusive. "We're gonna need more stale crackers an' lukewarm tea."
He shifted in the chair a little bit and wagged his wrist so the handcuffs made a rattling noise.
"There's probably better things you could handcuff me to. Like a headboard on a bed. At least then I can get some sleep, after you're done abusin' me and I'm done not answerin' your questions."
She pulled away from him and paced the room, slowly. Then she rolled her shoulders, drew her gun, and pressed it against his forehead. “Then I’m done with you.” The safety clicked off. “Unless you have some information for me, you’re useless. And there’s no good cop that’s going to come and save you.”
Aww, she was flirting. It wasn't the first time Gin had a gun to his head, with the safety off. In fact, it was probably about the fifteenth time. That was probably why the smile on his face didn't flinch, twitch, twist, or fade.
"Do that, and my mom won't wanna have ya over for tea," was his all-too-sweet reply. "Ahh well. Guess I'm useless then. Better pull the trigger."
She wanted to see if he’d actually flinch. So she pulled the trigger. The chamber was empty, and so was the clip, but it still clicked ominously in the small room. “Oops.”
There was no flinching. Gin continued smiling as though it was a sunny summer’s day and they were on a picnic and everything was idyllic, indeed.
“You are a bad cop, if that thing ain’t even loaded,” Gin said, as though he found it profoundly funny. “And this rates as my worst date ever. I’d like a do-over.”
Motoko growled at him. Literally growled, and looked like she was either going to pistol whip him or kiss him. She did neither, instead storming out of the interrogation room and slamming the door behind her. It seemed like a very very long time before she returned, loading a clip into her gun. She lifted it and fired. The bullet shattered the chain on the handcuffs. “Get out.”
Gin raised that hand up and rubbed at his wrist with the other, giving her a smile. He did stand up and picked up his tea bottle, giving her a little saluting motion with it. He knew a few people that could get that side of the handcuff off with the greatest of ease, and - until then - it would double as some sort of bizarre fashion statement. If he was asked about it. He doubted he would be, because...Japan.
Hey. Japan is a legitimate reason.
“Guess we ain’t gonna get that do-over date, ne?” He was walking by as he gave her a friendly little kiss on the cheek and said under his breath, “Shame, cuz it woulda been fun. Ya look pretty when you’re angry.”
He headed for the door before she could shoot him multiple times.
Japan is a legitimate reason for just about anything. This is true. “Maybe when hell freezes over.” The safety clicked back into place before he really did get shot.
Gin had been halfway out the door, but he leaned back around it for a moment. It was only long enough to say, "I'll keep an eye out for that weather report." Then he was walked out, not in a rush or nothin'.