( IC INBOX / BUSINESS CARD )

[manuscripture]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ROHAN KISHIBE. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 512.66.730.91 *** USER has joined 512.66.730.91 <AUTOMATED REPLY, DO NOT RETURN:> You have reached the inbox of Rohan Kishibe. I am currently away and unable to answer messages. Leave a BRIEF message with a subject line below. Messages will be replied to in order of importance and subject matter. Advertisements and junk mail will be ignored and blocked from this server.

[ Somewhere around town-- at the bookstore, the Tomoe-Kaname Bakery, attached to posts and notice boards --you find a small white notecard. On it is printed a little message and some numbers in ornate lettering. If you look closely, it reads the following: ]

Rohan Kishibe, Mangaka & Visual Artist
Owner Pro Tempore of Ebony Threads Tailor Shop
Highly Experienced.
Commissions & Advertising For Hire
Pay Negotiable.
Contact At: 512.66.730.91 for inquiries
Castle Lüvchaque - Directly North of Bavan per appointment ONLY.

(( feel free to use this as an action-based prompt too. any random interactions will MOST LIKELY take place in the form of walk-ins at the tailor shop unless it's pre-planned. just drop a starter in here! ))

Comments

[pomaded]

[From scolded puppy to hangdog in one word. He's screwed up and he knows it, which is why he doesn't even attempt to bolster that last, weak argument or even meet Rohan's eyes.]

Look, I told you I'm sorry. It really does just keep happening and then when it does I can't leave it alone because he's fun to mess with and... and...

[He slumps a little further down in his bed and drags a hand through the tangled remains of his pompadour. Being anything but totally honest right now is only going to get him a face full of tail or, if he's particularly unlucky or Rohan angry, bile.]

... if it matters, that was the first time I've actually seen him in months and it was an accident. I was suddenly a goddamn dog, freaking out and recognised the cafe's smell so I went for it. [a pause] Fuck.

[manuscripture]

[ It really depends on which of the two he uses to take off Josuke's head first, honestly. Caustic exposure or blunt force trauma. He's trying-- He's trying to stay chill. Chill isn't one of Rohan's strong points and they are handling a permanently very, very delicate subject. ]

No, it doesn't matter! I don't know why you think that it would! [ He is at a loss here. ] There is nothing fun about that man. He's evil, he hasn't changed! [ Rohan hasn't seen him in months either but he isn't stupid. ]

Whatever pity you've decided to harbor and let grow on him is toxic as Hell and dangerous. You of all people should know that and I'm the one being the rational party here. I get dragged for following the Fog God but at least I can admit that the things I have done for Her have been questionable to flat-out wrong on an ethical scale.

HE doesn't have an excuse and neither do you. [ His fingers have instinctively started scratching at his sweater for the key underneath it on his chest. ] The things I do might be wrong but I can say it.

[pomaded]

You're right, he hasn't changed and he probably never will- but you have, Rohan, and it fucking scares me-!

[It comes out before he can stop it, a verbal landslide of frustration and fear and concern that he just can't seem to find footing in before it comes crashing down on whatever it was he wanted to say before and his voice cracks. Fuck. None of that was supposed to happen. He was going to do it calmly and sensibly, not when he's still half growls and aching all over and itchy, whiplashed senses.

If nothing else, he seems remorseful for his outburst. Unable to look at him, Josuke tugs his knees up to his chest again, letting his forehead fall against the pillow with a soft sigh.]

... can we have this conversation another time? I feel like shit. [His voice is muffled but, in a way, it's almost easier; emotion doesn't carry well through fabric and feathers.] You don't have to stay if you don't want to.

[manuscripture]

[ okay ow.

Rohan's lips press together. He stops. ]

Tell me how I have changed...

[pomaded]

[For a few, tense moments, it's up in the air as to whether he's even going to answer. He really doesn't want to do this right now but the abruptness of Rohan's response tugs at his chest- it would be pretty cruel to just leave it hanging. So, reluctantly, he gives another sigh.]

... I don't like how you do things. I've never liked how you do things.

[Read: "it's okay to slowly waste someone away for my art".]

But this? This is different. When did you decide that it's okay for some god who did all this in the first place to mess with you and get you to do all her fucked up dirty work? Or that it's okay if you kill people and string them up like New Years lights just because she told you to? [Though he doesn't look up, he shakes his head.] You're an asshole, Rohan, but you're not a goddamn psychopath. And don't tell me you're doing it to try and fix things- you're in deep with this cult shit. You're hers and she can do whatever she likes with you and you're not even fighting it.

[Please, Rohan. Make me understand.

The words don't leave his lips but perhaps they don't need to.]

[manuscripture]

[ While he just admitted that he knows he does wrong, it's hard to be given such harsh criticism from Josuke of all people. Rohan's skull is too thick to shake it off and he, of course, takes it personally. Josuke is saying that he isn't a psychopath-- He's not mad, just disappointed.

Josuke isn't aware of WHY Rohan is in on this. It's for a selfish reason. A reason nonetheless. ]

Josuke, She helped me. She helped fix something that I wouldn't have been able to mend on my own. You know that I am not the type to blindly run into things. When I needed the most help--... When I was rapidly losing inspiration to make art here, that was when I went to Her. I'm well aware that some of the things I do to stay in Her favor are wrong. It's not like I want to. It's...

It's normalcy. I'm not trying to fix anything. I don't feel like I have to. [ His hand scrambles to his chest to make sure his key is still under his shirt. ] I was desperate, Josuke. I was desperate and She has done nothing but make me feel better. You told me that you hated yourself when you first became a monster and had to deal with the psychological and physical things, right?

I hated it too. She makes me feel like I'm secure with myself again. [ Rohan's wall of words shakes here and there but he means it. ] The things She asks me to do aren't 'fun'. I would rather be considered safe with the entity who brought me here for a reason than sit idly by. You don't see me forcing it on you or Jotaro, do you?

I... I'll be fine. [ A pause. ] I came here with a name no one knew because we weren't from the same place. It feels good to have a purpose again. I can make all the art I want here but if there isn't anyone who appreciates me for what I do-- [ Because Mister Man's anxiety and social issues are showing through. ] --what else do I have?

Don't call me a psychopath, Josuke. I don't like that word.

[ It's a rare moment where Rohan Kishibe feels actually upset and it shows in his face rather than just his body language. ]

Please understand. I don't want to go back to hating myself because I'm a nobody again. [ Another beat. ]

Take that stupid ribbon off.

[pomaded]

[Josuke listens. Had he the attentive puppy ears still, they would be twitching with concentration but the determined look in his eyes has much the same effect. He takes in every word slowly and carefully, fighting every urge to respond until the naga has finished speaking- and, by then, he's long since lost any need to argue.

Is it worth it? Isn't that selfish? The questions that he wants to ask suddenly don't feel so important. The man standing in front of him looks hurt and tired and, most uncharacteristically of all, shaken; it's such a strange thing to see someone who, until this moment, appeared to float on a wave of self-importance, look so insecure. In the end, it's empathy and an ache in his chest that wins out and, after a few moments, he shakes his head.]

... you're not a psychopath. You're Rohan Kishibe and you're a mangaka. My old man owns most of your work. You're rude and you could turn holding grudges into an Olympic sport. You can make acid spit look artistic. You have a house full of Pretty Woman furniture no one but you uses. [He swallows hard.] You're in love with my nephew and it's gross. You can hold Shizuka without making her cry.

[As he speaks, he unties the ribbon, winding it around his finger and gently setting the roll on the bedside table. And then, with a wobbly smile, he leans forward and puts his arms around Rohan's shoulders, hugging him tightly to stop him from immediately squirming away.]

You couldn't be a nobody if you tried, Rohan Kishibe.

[He sounds a little muffled now but he's glad for it; he might have successfully hidden the hot prickle of tears in his eyes but he wouldn't have been able to do the same for the catch in his voice.]

[manuscripture]

[ This is embarrassing. This is so embarrassing. Rohan is mashing the heel of his palm into his cheek in an attempt to not end up crying this one out. Not in front of Josuke. No, ma'am. Cool guys don't cry. The hug obscures any of that so it's juuuust about keeping his voice steady.

They hug too much.

He sniffles and shuts his eyes. He doesn't sound the least bit serious, covering up what he wants to say in favor of just being prickly: ]

I hate you, Josuke. You're the worst.

[ The naga draws the backs of his fingers underneath his right eye to avoid smearing his makeup, exhaling hard. Go away, emotions. ]

Every time I want you to go away, you say something like this and--... [ The Moment is busted by Rohan's tail wrapping about Josuke's leg and PULLING. ] You smell like a dumpster. Don't touch me.