( 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]

[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.