Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-06-27 15:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, count d, leon orcot |
Who: Leon Orcot and Count D
What: Leon finally finds the count
When: Today
Where: Count D's Petshop
Rating/Warning: Probably strong language because Leon, narration about dream murders
Status: Complete
It seemed like Leon could never get a break. Fiji had been great, and it had helped him and Chris reconnect - Leon hadn’t even realized how far he’d drifted from Chris in the last few months, until he’d been forced to spend all day every day with him for three weeks. It was something that Leon had planned to fix once he’d gotten back to California, but, of course, the moment he’d come back to California, everything he’d been trying to get away from had caught up with him. Dan, his best friend, was a career criminal. He and Alex still weren’t in a great place, though Leon had no idea what that would look like now that they weren’t together. The money Alex had sent to the victim’s family had helped assuage some of Leon’s guilt, but not enough of it.
Not enough to make Leon stop wondering if he was really in the right line of work. How could he be a good cop if he was covering up a murder to keep his ex out of jail, or turning a blind eye to his best friend’s side gig (or maybe, it was his full-time gig and the Double Tap was just a cover)? The best thing for him to do would be to turn in his badge, but all he’d ever wanted to be, for his entire life, was a police officer. He didn’t know what else he could do. Security, maybe.
Sometimes, to clear his head, Leon walked down Chinatown, and that’s what he was doing now, dressed in a Judas Priest t-shirt underneath a olive, cavas jacket, and a pair of faded blue jeans. He’d given up ages ago about actually finding D’s shop, though when he’d first started dreaming he’d canvased ever Chinatown in the Orange County and had even driven to LA to check out theirs. Sometimes he’d try googling it, but he’d come to accept that D was nowhere in the area. Which was definitely a good thing. The last thing Leon needed was to need to solve a rash of animal-related deaths orchestrated by some stupid, frustrating, sweets-loving homicidal maniac while everyone else on the force fawned over him.
So lost was he in his thoughts, and certainty that today wouldn’t be any different, that the sign almost didn’t register. He had even walked a few steps past it before it clicked, and he quickly backpedaled. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, sure that it had to be a mirage, and when it didn’t disappear he stared at it some more. Then, he took a quick jog around the block, just in case. Then another one.
It hadn’t moved, and it finally seemed to click that Leon had found it. He had finally found that sicko, D. He grinned to himself, and then walked through the front door.
The birds were chatty today, chippy-chirpping happily in their cages as D completed his rounds. Tea was ready, at last. Even on warm days, he brewed. On his shoulder was perched his good friend, a lovely hairless rat that had so far lived to three; D called him Rat-Chan and kept him in tiny sweaters he knitted by hand to keep him warm. Customers often snickered at Rat-Chan’s balls and would find themselves paying the shop an extra bit of money for pet food that suddenly experienced an inflation in price.
D’s Kimono was a near match for Rat-Chan’s sweater. As he set his tea tray down near the register to pour a cup for himself, he gave the rat a smidgen of biscuit. The rat took it between his tiny hands and ate. D smiled and was about to pick up his tea to have a drink when the overhead bell rang.
A customer.
During tea time was always a little annoying, but D was always pleased to see a customer, especially one who seemed so...purposeful. After placing his tea down, D moved to the front of the shop, his hands folded in front of him (it wouldn’t do to be impolite).
“Welcome,” he greeted smoothly.
Leon had thought that he was prepared for this. He’d even come up with a plan already: ask to see D’s most dangerous animal, and then slap him in cuffs when D showed him whatever dancing grizzly bear or whatever the fuck he had hiding in one of those maze-like corridors. D didn’t have any idea who or what Leon was yet, which is why this plan was going to go absolutely perfectly.
Except for the fact that when Leon saw D, his mouth went dry and he found that he had temporarily lost his entire ability to speak, and so he just stared.
Heh. Funny man. Not staring at his animals, but rather, at D himself. Perhaps the man didn’t speak English.
“What does the customer desire?” asked D, in calm hopes of prompting a response. “My shop carries everything. It has dogs, cats, birds, insects, and more.” Surely that would help the customer if he was simply undecided on what pet he wanted. Why was the man so pale?
What does the customer desire? The question broke Leon’s stuper, and he scowled, just barely managing to stop himself from saying ‘I desire you behind bars for life.’ This was it. This was his chance.
He smirked. “Actually, I was hoping for something a little different.” He said, puffing up his chest a little. “I want to see the most dangerous animal you have. Something that could kill a man.” Nailed it.
It wasn’t often D felt compelled to drop his calm exterior, but the man’s presumptive question cracked his exterior, only for a split second. D blinked and tilted his head in a most subtle fashion.
“You make such jokes,” he stated, more as an accusation. “I would not sell such dangerous merchandise.” As if to illustrate his point, D brought a pointed pink nail up to gently run it along the rat’s sweater clad back.
Leon frowned, wondering if D was telling the truth or not. Maybe he needed some kind of codeword or something to show customers the real merchandise. Maybe Leon could say that he’d heard this was the place to get things like that, and if D asked from where he could drop the name of some mob boss. D dealt with all kinds of different mobs in his dreams, there was no reason it would be any different here.
But before he could ask his question, his gaze was drawn to the ugly, fleshy creature dressed in a sweater that was sitting on D’s shoulder. “What in the fuck is that thing?” he blurted out instead.
Such language. Mildly annoyed, D’s brow gave a brief furrow before relaxing again. His lips pulled into a knowing little smile that was somewhere between a secret smile and a smirk. This could be a good opportunity to give a hairless rat a home, although he couldn’t even imagine why this stranger had come in here; to look at kittens for a would-be girlfriend would have been D’s guess.
D gently plucked Rat-Chan from his shoulder to hold against his forearm instead, his other hand petting him. “A rat,” he answered, no flatness to his tone, only pleasant non judgement. “Much like your common Dumbo rat, only bred to live without hair. Hairless rats are more docile, often smaller, and live longer. You would do well with a rat.” Everyone did well with rats.
Leon repressed a shiver. He really, really hated that creepy, creepy smile. It always meant that D was up to no good. It wasn’t, now that he thought about it, a smile that he had seen too recently in the dreams. But it never meant anything good.
“No thank you,” Leon said, waving a hand. “The damn cat would probably eat it anyway.” There really was no love lost between Leon and the stray cat that had come to live with him and Chris, even if she usually slept at the foot of his bed at night. She liked Chris and Chris liked her though, and so Leon had decided she could stay. That, and he couldn’t get her out of the apartment once she’d decided to move in.
“Why don’t you just show me around the shop?”
So the man did have charge of a pet. A cat. Surprising.
There was something off about the stranger. He wasn’t just here for pets, D could tell. It wasn’t as if he’d never been visited by police before, asking him questions, making sure everything was legal, sometimes messing up his shop just because they could. The stranger reminded him of a cop, just not apt to mess anything up.
The worst of it all was really that his tea was getting cold. Alas, he’d have to make more later.
“Of course,” he said with cool pleasantness. Rat-Chan was placed back on his shoulder and D turned smoothly, placing his hands together in front of him as he walked with the gruff man. “Is there anything you’re looking for?” he asked, foregoing the chatty birds for mammals. “A companion for your companion? Might I suggest a rabbit? They enjoy the company of cats and vice versa.” At this, D slowed around the rabbit display. Here were baby rabbits, all docile in their case. “I have many different breeds. A dwarf, all the way to Flemish giants, but I would warn you. The Flemish giant demands four times the food of a normal rabbit and will grow to be as large as a medium dog.”
Leon frowned, peering down at the rabbits. His first thought when man-eating rabbits had attacked the OC two Easters ago was that D had had to be behind it, but he’d found no proof of that and D had never shown up afterward, so he couldn’t be sure. Maybe now he’d get the chance.
“And what breed of rabbit is it that eats people? You sell those ones too, right?” Leon asked, peering at D from the corner of his eye.
Off now felt like the least of D’s worries. D’s own expression betrayed nothing. Expertly, he lifted a bunny from the display, a New Zealand lop with markings that resembled a cow. He cradled the animal in his arm and stroked its soft back, a nail scratching sweetly behind the creature’s ear. Oh, he did love a warm, soft rabbit.
“Perhaps you’d like to take one home to make a stew,” he suggested calmly, the way one might suggest a new restaurant. “They’ are rich in Vitamin B, good for the brain.” Clearly, the stranger needed all the help in that department he could get. A lack of sleep could be another explanation. D had cures for that as well, but if this was an officer, well...D wouldn’t be suggesting any of that.
Leon balked, looking at the rabbit in D’s arms and then back at D’s face. “I’m not going to slaughter some rabbit and make a stew out of it!” Leon exclaimed. He knew how, it was one of the survivalist skills his dad had taught him when he’d take him on their summer survivalist camping trips, but it didn’t mean it was something Leon was going to do. Besides, that was for wild rabbits they managed to trap, not domestic bunnies he’d buy in a pet store. Anyway, Chris would hate him. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean anyway, ‘good for the brain’?” Leon demanded, punctuating his sentences with a finger. “My brain is fine, thanks.”
“You’re angry,” D observed.
The man hadn’t said no to the rabbit so D kept him in his arms and, after a bit of thought, handed him over to the tall man, his secret smile smirk reaching his eyes to show approval.
“Would you like some tea?” he asked, brushing calmly past man and rabbit, regardless of any struggles that were happening. The stranger-who-could-be-a-cop would figure it out.. In the meantime, his tea was at least still warm.
“Of course I’m angry. Who wouldn’t be fucking angry when someone insults them with a smile on their-” Leon started, and then, suddenly, there was a rabbit in his hands and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.
And then D was talking about tea, and without even thinking about it Leon said agreed. He gave another look at the rabbit and then, not really sure what he was supposed to do with it, he carried it with him while he followed D.
D led the way to a small sitting area, a place he usually took his tea by himself. Today, he had company. Rather interesting, if not angry company. That was alright, D was used to dealing with all manner of customer.
This one, though….
He wasn’t quite able to put his finger on it, a most frustrating thing. “Since you are having tea with me,” he said as he brought the tray to the coffee table, “I would ask you your name, please.” He trusted that the stranger would have a seat with the bunny and not disturb the hedgehog who was on a pillow. Without asking if the stranger wanted sugar, D plopped four cubes into both their cups and poured the tea over it. Ah, good, still steaming.
Leon did notice the hedgehog - he was on the lookout for anything with sharper teeth that might randomly attack him for no reason. He didn’t see anything that resembled a goat-dog-tiger-cross thing, like T-chan, or anything that looked more mundane, so he plopped down in the chair and let the rabbit go on his lap. Instead of hopping down like he hoped it would though, it made itself comfortable and Leon scowled at it.
“Leon,” Leon said, taking a tea cup. “Leon Orcot." It was better if D didn't know he was a cop just yet. It would give him another chance at this undercover thing. "And you’re Count D,” he said. He took a mouthful of tea and nearly immediately spit it back into his tea cup. "How many times-" he started, and then stopped himself. Zero times. He had told this D exactly zero times that he didn't take sugar in his tea. "First of all, I don't take sugar. Second of all, this is way too much sugar for any normal person."
Leon Orcot. D committed it instantly to memory and D had a memory better than an elephant. It helped the Leon Orcot was a difficult man to forget.
Seemingly unperturbed by Leon spitting the tea rudely back out, D slid over the dish of assorted biscuits and small tea cakes toward the man. “Have some snacks,” he offered graciously, ignoring Leon’s statement about not taking sugar. How preposterous.
“She likes you,” he said of the hedgehog. “A hedgehog might suit you. Prickly as they tend to be at times.”
“I don’t like sweets,” Leon said, putting down his tea cup. Despite his statement though, he still grabbed one of the tea cakes to munch on. He hadn’t had lunch yet.
His eyebrow twitched at D’s comment. Leon wasn’t prickly. He really shouldn’t have been surprised that D in this world was just as infuriating as he was in the Dreams. “I don’t need anything else to take care of, thanks,” he said. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”
“Oh very well,” D sighed, his expression faltering. He’d hoped Leon would at least adopt the rabbit who was enjoying a little spot near Leon’s hip.
D took another sip of tea, enjoying the sweet warmth as it rolled down his throat. It mattered not to him what Leon said about the sweets, the man was still having them. Idly, D ran the tip of a nail down his own cheek in thought. Rat-Chan had perched himself on D’s crossed legs, on the knee, with his own tea cake.
“Why did you come here if you do not want an animal?” he asked with another curious tip of the head.
Leon’s shoulders tensed as he realized that he might have just blown his cover. “I already told you why,” Leon said, feigning confidence even if his bunched up shoulders gave away the lie. “I’m looking for a specific animal. One that can kill someone. I don’t want just any rabbit or hedgehog that comes around.” He punctuated it with a boisterous laugh, which did startle the bunny out of it’s near nap.
“Oh!” D exclaimed. Not for himself, but for the rabbit who was now trying to burrow under a pillow. Now perturbed that Leon had startled his rabbit, D’s calm demeanor was on the brink of fading. Rat-Chan knew to move and took a spot on the arm of the sofa D was sitting on so that D could get up. He placed his tea down and went to lift the sofa pillow, glowering at Leon as he did.
“It’s alright,” he promised the rabbit. “I’ll give you a banana later.” A real treat for a rabbit.
He let the rabbit stay in his hiding spot for now. “And I already told you,” he said with a firm edge to his still somehow cool tone, “I do not sell such merchandise.” D placed his hands back together in his Kimono. “If you are looking to assassinate someone, you will have to look elsewhere, Mr. Orcot.”
“And I don’t believe you,” Leon said hotly. “I think you have exactly what I’m looking for hidden away in this shop somewhere, just looking for the right home. What is it? A tiger? A bear? A man-eating gerbil?”
So angry, Leon was. D didn’t lose his temper. Not yet. It wasn’t even simmering, but if Leon scared another animal…
“Do not be so ridiculous,” D replied. “What I sell is love and dreams.” After a soft huff of breath, he added, “Man-eating gerbil. You must have read Food of the Gods one too many times.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Leon said, standing up suddenly (startling the poor hedgehog this time, who immediately went to take cover in the couch cushions) and jabbing another angry finger in D’s direction. He was getting nowhere with this though, and he could see that. He’d just have to try a different tactic next time.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “And next time, there better not be any sugar in my tea.”