damned_institute | Day 42, Noon: The Twin Pine Restaurant

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Day 42, Noon: The Twin Pine Restaurant

Yuffie took the long way around, practically making it a tour of the entire town. She collared--not literally, since the nurses would've thrown fits--a few random citizens along the way, asked as many inconspicuous sounding questions as possible, and then moved on. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sneaking a few covert glimpses into stores and windows confirmed what she'd been talking about with Sam earlier; no dates, no explicitly mentioned locations outside of the town itself… how weird was that? Even the most insular of towns back on Gaia would've coughed up some kind of connection with the outside world.

It was almost like a living ghost town.

Well, maybe she was just thinking too hard. Maybe she was throwing shuriken too hard at the wrong target. Back home, she had a concrete frame of reference. Here, she couldn't take anything for granted; she had no local or international knowledge whatsoever. All she could try to do was get a profile of the immediate area and build it up and out from there. Theories were already budding, popping up like weeds hit by Quadra-Haste, but without facts to back them up, theories were like sand in a desert.

Not that she didn't want to share those theories, sand or not. She did. A lot.

Once she'd developed a viable mental map of the place (as viable as she was gonna get given the time constraints), Yuffie swung back around and jogged back to North Street. From there, she took the alley; a quick right turn; slow to a trot, and there. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold winter air, and they stung as she poked her head in through the door.

Okay, so maybe she was a little early after all. That was cool. Very cool. She had some time to set things up, to pretend that she wasn't hideously under prepared for this lunch date. Stepping into the warmth, Yuffie surreptitiously cased the place out as she headed to a table. Homey, in a way that almost reminded her of some of the up-and-coming rural towns. Automatically seeking out one of the more strategic seats--one with a good view of the rest of the restaurant, and one that didn't leave her totally vulnerable to mutant chairs or murderous sandwiches--she made herself comfortable, whipped out a few crumpled pieces of paper and a pen, and began to jot down her findings.

[Closed to Edgeworth.]

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"Aidou. Sorry." said Michael. His hand hung in the air for a few more moments before he lowered it, still smiling. He'd dealt with six people so far, and NONE of them had agreed to shake his hand. AND they'd all been either incompetent, evil, or incompetently evil. At least the bumbling crime bosses in Miami knew how to shake hands. Well, he'd try being honest one more time, and then it was on to the lies.

"You didn't trust me because I wouldn't come see you in person. You survived the night, so now I'm meeting you in person. If you don't want my help, I'll just walk away, but I CAN help, and you DO need help."

Michael stopped the waiter as he put the glass of water down in front of him.

"Excuse me. We changed our minds. The country fried steak just sounds SOOOOOO good. Can we get one of those? Oh, and bring an extra plate and knife. We'll share."

As the waiter walked away, Michael turned back to Aidou and smiled.

No, Aidou didn't need help, but he couldn't expect this man to understand that. He did want to know where Michael stood and what he knew, so the vampire kept the corrections limited to his family name only, and didn't bother to interrupt while Michael made his unnecessary demands to their server.

And, for another thing, he didn't point out how inappropriate it was to be smiling so casually if one was truly interested in preserving the life one was discussing.

He just crossed his arms on the tabletop, now that Michael wasn't leaning into his space. "Yes, that's right. Your message did bother me," Aidou agreed at first, once they were alone again, relatively so. Needless to say, he didn't linger on how the terms of their meeting kept changing, either. He had someone who knew his name and his face here, now, and that was good enough. For the moment. "I recognize that time is precious; your willingness to meet is appreciated." If there was irony in those words, it wasn't apparent in the vampire's tone. "And since we're speaking in person, your concerns with privacy should be more satisfied. Now I'd ask that you divulge what you know."

Michael leaned back in his chair, still smiling.

"Mmhmm. I take the time and trouble to find you, tell you everything I know AND buy you lunch and then you walk away or have me killed or spill my water all over this nice smiley face shirt. No, I don't think so. First, I'd really like to know who you are and why someone would want to scar your pretty face. You know, in case you are the type to cut my hands off as soon as I've given away all my useful information."

Even if they were sincere, the paranoid ones were so difficult to deal with... Well, Aidou supposed were it him (and he had taken more logical steps from the get-go), he'd be just as cautious. But was it purely caution or an opportunistic streak at play?

The latter was where the similarities would end.

He almost rolled his eyes at the attempt to pass this farce off as 'buying him lunch'--1) they weren't on a date, and 2) free coupons didn't count, and 3) whatever garbage they made here wasn't what he wanted--but he resisted the urge. "I'm not," was the vampire's curt counter. Aidou didn't need to lie about such a thing, wasn't cowardly enough to need to rely on deceit. He was a noble, but Michael probably didn't comprehend that. But Aidou's bald words were the only reassurance the human was likely to get, anyway, whether they were believed or not. "And I'm not so pathetic as to harm others without due cause, unlike this mysterious source of yours." He cocked his head sharply, cool and frank. "If I did seek to harm you, though, you would know and it would be because you deserved it. Not if your intentions are still as pure as you said."

Oh, Aidou wouldn't lie--he was definitely no pretty face to take lightly. He, in turn, deserved the man's probing, to an extent. Everything went up front, however. Abusing the acquaintances of people who had helped him was not something Aidou was prone to do. It was the people who went out of their way to wrong him who were testing very cold waters.

"That's the truth. As such, I can't begin to tell you why I'm being targeted until I know who's behind it."

Michael sipped his water as he watched Aidou's reactions. The tone he took, the self-assurance, the way his hair was done. He was practically wearing a solid gold medallion with "rich kid" etched into the front. Could be some kind of royalty, but from where Michael couldn't guess. But it meant Aidou was probably telling the truth when he said he meant no harm. Maybe he even had some pull around here. Maybe Michael had met the one person from the asylum who wasn't completely useless.

"Alright," he said finally. "A ... well I'm not sure how old he was ... hired a much bigger man to do something involving your name and description. The big guy wouldn't be someone you'd recognize, but do you know anyone with short, messy gray hair? Kind of small. Constant, creepy smile. College roommate, maybe?"

Now this was the interesting part. If there was indeed a legitimate threat he could confirm, than the information Michael had would be valuable. That was, of course, depending on how and why this stranger had such information to begin with.

Aidou listened, eyes that had gone the color of deep blue waters intent on the person across from him. Even after Michael finished, his gaze didn't shift away, though his attention turned inward.

His name and physical description weren't difficult items to procure, and given everything, he could believe all too well that the 'big guy' had been the bounty hunter spoken of before. But the other person described... Of course, Aidou could recall everyone he'd ever personally encountered, and the features of most of the other prisoners that he hadn't, but the thing was, no one that came to mind matched all of those characteristics. Only some of them.

A few faces fit better than others, nonetheless.

There was just so much that wasn't adding up yet. The hands resting on his arms gripped more tightly for a heartbeat, then relaxed again. "Did you hear them speaking?" the vampire asked rather than answer right away. He needed more to go on than that... and if, for whatever reason, Michael had overhead them, and had noticed this gray-haired person speaking with an uncommon accent, then that greatly narrowed it down.

Edited 2009-07-07 19:51 (UTC)

Michael folded his arms. When was the waiter going to get here with his food? This Aidou wasn't exactly a fantastic lunch date.

"I didn't have the foresight to plant a listening device on the table next to me, no. I did get a look at the paper the client handed to the thug. Just your name and a description. That's all. Are you telling me someone's sending hitmen after you and you don't know who he is? How important are you?"

Again, Michael scanned the room for his food, then made sure his shirt was tucked into the elastic band of his sweatpants. He was only going to get one chance to do this. He couldn't screw it up.

Not that Michael Westen ever screwed up.

A flicker of annoyance streaked through him, aimed at Michael, aimed at this supposed threat, aimed at everything in general. How important was he?

If it came to the value of his life, then he was more important than everyone in this room--everyone in this town--but no, he couldn’t put a face to every enemy. There were too many, and there were too many fools who made themselves an enemy. Too many stupid reasons to want to anger a B class.

He took a deep breath that bordered on a sigh, looking down at the tabletop. “No, I’m telling you I’m not confident assigning an identity without a complete description,” Aidou said slowly, almost absent-mindedly. “Can you tell me more? About the both of them?”

"Food's here! Mmm-mm-mm." said Michael, beaming at the greasy fried steak as it was placed in front of him. "Finally. We'd been waiting for a long, looooooong time."

When trying to create a distraction, most people look for something that will draw attention away from them. If you can't do that, however, drawing a lot of attention to yourself is the next best thing. If you need a distraction in a crowded restaurant, I reccomend breaking a glass. The whole room will be talking about you, but you'll be free to do whatever you want.

As Michael spoke, he spread his arms to indicate just how long a time it had been, and in the process of returning his arms to his sides, spilled his glass of water all over the table.

"Oh no!" he cried, and immediately began clearing the table of everything within arm's reach; napkins, plates, steak knives. With all the commotion, no one would notice one measly steak knife disappearing inside a shirt collar.

"What are you doing sitting there, Aidou? Help me out!"

This time, the streak of emotion that went through him was deeper and darker. Aidou wouldn’t tolerate being led around--there was no one present with the right or ability to do that. If this man had put forth the intention to be helpful while having some other motive in mind, the noble wasn’t interested in playing along, and if the man sincerely meant to be helpful, he was even less interested.

If it were imperative, he could get better information more swiftly and with less hemming and hawing. This play-acting had gotten old when it’d been through writing.

As such, when Michael spilled his water--a move about as subtle as a flying brick--the vampire instantly removed his arms from the table with knife-sharp grace, preventing the water from touching him. He was unimpressed. No, he wouldn’t help, and if the spill threatened to drip off his side of the table, his seat would soon be vacated. Informing the staff of the human’s little act of thievery would be just as tasteless as Michael’s methods, though.

He folded his arms closer to his chest. “You didn’t answer me,” he prompted simply, and although he didn’t raise his voice, he made sure his words cut through the din.

The spill would NOT drip off either side of the table. Michael wouldn't have stood for it either. Even now, nearby busboys were returning the table to its original pristine state. The knife scratched against Michael's belly, and he smiled.

"Would you recognize him if I said he was 6'1"?"

All this nonsense was pissing him off. It wasn’t the subterfuge itself that earned the most disdain, it was the fact that it was needless in this situation.

Aidou frowned in the face of Michael’s smiling, and on him, it made him seem like the elder. Which he was, and that wasn’t something to be forgotten. He said nothing until they were left alone again, and then finally: “Listen, if there’s a point to your games, you should make it. Your ‘useful information’ deserves equal repayment, not this inconsistent commitment to giving me a very simple explanation. I’m not just here to be a distraction for thieves. I only want to know exactly what you know, no more than that.”

It wasn’t a difficult task, but so far this human had to do everything in a stupid way. Lying was just another one. Did he honestly think he was doing either of them a favour?

"Look," said Michael, poking tentatively at his steak, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you were in danger, and I think you would have walked away from my stupid games a WHILE ago if you didn't think you were in danger, so okay. I'm done messing around now. I didn't want you getting up and leaving before I got what I came in here for."

The spy patted his stomach - where the knife still sat - and smiled.

"This steak is simply too good to pass up, and I don't like eating alone. Now, do you know a man matching the description I just gave you? Because if not, we've both just wasted a LOT of time."

If it wasn’t for the circumstances, someone trying to borderline use him for their little stunts would so not be tolerated, but because it was a barter of sorts, the scales had balanced out. But if it turned out this Michael really was full of useless information--not assuming he was equally manipulative--then it would be a very kind favour on Aidou’s part. One that definitely wouldn’t happen again.

As it was, all these wrongful assumptions were also just added annoyances. Whenever the noble felt the urge to roll his eyes, it was usually a bad sign.

With dutiful patience, he waited until their exchange was back on track before saying, “I do,” with an edge of hardness to his tone. “Even if I didn’t, that doesn’t matter so much if what you say is true.” After all, acquaintances didn’t have to run both ways before assassination attempts happened, especially when a vampire was involved. “We’ve established you didn’t hear anything, but now what of the other one involved? Please describe him.”

And this time, it’d better be a serious description. Assuming Aidou couldn’t make use of or wasn’t interested in the most stringent details was woefully off base.

"Oh, you're not going to have a hard time recognizing him. Same height as the guy who hired him. Black hair, slicked back. red eyes. Black tattoos on the face, abstract. Pale, pale skin. He could be a decent assassin if he could approach you in a car, your home, or something but in the hallways of a mental hospital, I would have gone with someone a little more generic. There."

Michael sat back and pushed the plate of untouched steak towards Aidou.

"You sure you don't want any of this steak? I'm stuffed. It's on me."

A straightforward answer that seemingly came without strings. Aidou looked down at the newly cleaned tabletop, tracing the faint, uncanny reflections of the overhead lights on its surface.

Aidou had always prided himself on being keen. And he did recognize much of what Michael said as being more than just fantasy, because even if a part of him remained dismayed at the uselessness, he still kept his eye out, his ears open. People’s faces and snippets of conversations were filed away in his memory like cards on a file-o-fax. Michael’s descriptions matched prisoners he’d seen, one certainly more than the other.

The thing was, why? And how? Most importantly, the level of danger he put the situation at was small, which was suspicious in its own right. The lack of even a hint of an attack went against what this man was telling him. As for the lack of provocation, well…

If it was who Aidou thought, then overconfident fools didn’t need much provocation, did they?

It wasn’t until the plate of steak was pushed into his field of vision that the vampire looked up again, expression back to being as noncommittal as a porcelain doll’s. “I respectively decline,” he said. If he was being ironic, it was well masked. Unfolding his arms, he then rose from his seat. “If that’s all you know, then I’ll be taking my leave now. Thank you.”

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Day 42, Noon: The Twin Pine Restaurant

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