a special sense of humor [ closed ]
Who: Rokudo Mukuro (sulphorous), Hatake Kakashi (ura_no_ura).
When: January 28, around 3AM.
Where: Queen's Throne and Fantasy Hotel, The Underground Mall.
Summary: Kakashi thinks he's being followed. Mukuro is just there.
Warnings: LULZ and fail. Lots of it.
[ Mukuro is generally of the opinion that every situation he gets himself into, no matter where or what it is, has its very own special sense of humor.
Including this.
Even now, at this early in the morning, the Underground Mall is buzzing with life; chattering people flit anxiously from store to store all around him, and Mukuro just moves silently along, tipping his shoulder to the side every time someone passes too close to him. He's never really been one for exploring. He just goes where he wants to, sticks his nose into business that compels him, personally, because.
Well, he doesn't really have the patience for anything else. When things get boring, he -- understandably -- gets bored, and when Mukuro gets bored, weird shit tends to happen. And then people start complaining. And then things get less boring, more explosive, and right when it starts to get really, really good, he usually ends up in prison.
It's a vicious cycle.
He barely notices when he passes by a building he hasn't seen before, tall and somewhat imposing in size, and he stops mid-step, his form shifting automatically from youth to adult, as he glances over to the glossy sign posted right outside the door. The people walking by him seem to ignore the instantaneous switch, as if they'd seen it one million times before, and Mukuro somehow isn't surprised.
The Queen's Throne and Fantasy Hotel. He smiles; it's warm, but warm in the wrong ways.
There's a sigh, and he's working on his gloves, stretching the material over his fingers, leather cracking as he fits them over his palms. He turns on his heel, stepping forward over to the door, easily avoiding a small crowd of people, and latches onto the brass handle and tugs.
-- And then steps inside. ]
When: January 28, around 3AM.
Where: Queen's Throne and Fantasy Hotel, The Underground Mall.
Summary: Kakashi thinks he's being followed. Mukuro is just there.
Warnings: LULZ and fail. Lots of it.
[ Mukuro is generally of the opinion that every situation he gets himself into, no matter where or what it is, has its very own special sense of humor.
Including this.
Even now, at this early in the morning, the Underground Mall is buzzing with life; chattering people flit anxiously from store to store all around him, and Mukuro just moves silently along, tipping his shoulder to the side every time someone passes too close to him. He's never really been one for exploring. He just goes where he wants to, sticks his nose into business that compels him, personally, because.
Well, he doesn't really have the patience for anything else. When things get boring, he -- understandably -- gets bored, and when Mukuro gets bored, weird shit tends to happen. And then people start complaining. And then things get less boring, more explosive, and right when it starts to get really, really good, he usually ends up in prison.
It's a vicious cycle.
He barely notices when he passes by a building he hasn't seen before, tall and somewhat imposing in size, and he stops mid-step, his form shifting automatically from youth to adult, as he glances over to the glossy sign posted right outside the door. The people walking by him seem to ignore the instantaneous switch, as if they'd seen it one million times before, and Mukuro somehow isn't surprised.
The Queen's Throne and Fantasy Hotel. He smiles; it's warm, but warm in the wrong ways.
There's a sigh, and he's working on his gloves, stretching the material over his fingers, leather cracking as he fits them over his palms. He turns on his heel, stepping forward over to the door, easily avoiding a small crowd of people, and latches onto the brass handle and tugs.
-- And then steps inside. ]