Kumi-InⓎａｋｕｚａNaoki Sugita - The dumb punk without a brain of his own - HumanTwo men slowly approached the front door of the hostess club, one very tall with blonde hair and an eyepatch and the other an irritated brunette. "
I hate host clubs," grumbled the shorter man, his arms crossed behind his head and shoulders pushed back a bit. He closed his eyes as they walked towards the door, trusting his colleague to tell him when they reached the first step going in. Sacha was a total d-ckbag, but he wasn't so juvenile. "
I hate the stink of women that everyone's been all up on and booze that costs too much for too little. Why can't we go where I wanted to go?" he whined.
"
Because you have no culture or sophistication and wanted to go to a strip club. Talk about something that everyone's been rubbing themselves on. Besides, this is much better. The women are classier, the drinks are better, and we promised to meet the boss." His hand jutted out, smacking his partner's arm as they reached the door. "
And you're less likely to get your wallet lifted."
Naoki groaned, opening his eyes as he stopped at the top of the stair. "
That was one time, Frenchy, let it gooo!" He droned the last word out, catching the gaze of passers-by. Shooting a mad-dog sort of glare their way, he sighed melodramatically and finally nodded. "
Fine, but you owe me. You know how much I hate these pretentious places." He opened the door, waiting for Sacha to walk inside. "
Just like I know how much you hate babysitting for the boss." He snickered, kicking his foot out in an attempt to trip the elder male. The blonde might not be that childish, but Naoki certainly was.
Stepping easily over the foot, Sacha slid his hands into his front pockets and walked inside, breathing in the scent of women's perfume. He always loved perfume, having grown up with a single mother, a courtesan who wore only the finest of Parisian scents. He'd always loved sitting at his mother's vanity, thumbing through all of her bottles and make-ups, promising himself that one day, he'd buy such beautiful things for the woman he married. Of course, growing older, Sacha had realized that he wasn't meant for such a lifestyle. He was a b*****d child of a prostitute, albeit a wealthy and well-known one, and those connections would only do him well in the underground. That was probably why he agreed to join that gang when he was so young. Sacha cleared his throat, shaking away the memories of his first gang and returning to the sweet memory of being eight years old and standing by his mother's side as she painted herself for a night on the town, looking as radiant as any woman ever could. He still had a picture of her on his nightstand, although Naoki stole it every now and then when his porn magazines proved to be useless.
Speaking of his least-favorite moron, the Japanese man grumbled to himself about a failed joke on his partner as he walked to stand beside the blonde. "
You gonna actually go in or what?" he grunted.
Sacha rolled his eyes. What a Phillistine. "
C'mon, let's go find you a nice picture book to keep you out of my hair for an hour while I talk to the ladies." He almost smiled, but kept it hidden until Naoki realized he was being teased.
"
Hey, f-ck you, old man!" he hissed, wincing as he was smacked hard on the chest. "
I ain't gonna sit on my a-s while you flirt with cute girls. I'm gonna call for a hostess myself!"
The elder yakuza rolled his blue eyes in irritation. "
Shut up, Sugita. You only make yourself sound dumber the longer you speak."
"
Go to hell, d-ck." But it definitely shut the younger yakuza up, at least for now. He would certainly speak up once more later, but chose to remain silent as Sacha spoke to a woman about their seating arrangements. Next time, they were definitely hitting up the strip clubs. After all, why should he stay in a musty building filled with expensive alcohol and prudish broads when he could be getting a lap dance from a blonde bombshell named Kandi? Mmm, it made him salivate just thinking about it. Hopefully Sacha couldn't see it, even with the eyes in the back of his head. The hand that smacked his forehead proved otherwise. Eh, he'd just stick to thinking about sexy women wearing nothing but bikini bottoms and a smile. It seemed like forever since they'd last visited his favorite strip club.
Story of my life, thought Naoki, sulking. He never got to do what he wanted.
"
So when's the boss gonna get here?" he asked his partner, following him as they moved to sit in a booth. He sat back, crossing his arms behind his head and sitting with his legs wide open. Sacha, on the other hand, sat with his long legs crossed, his lithe body posed in such a way as to greatly differentiate himself from his companion. The Frenchman's body language only spoke to serve its purpose: he was clearly the more refined and secluded of the two, with a mysterious eye patch and a clear, intelligent blue eye looking out to survey his location and thick blonde hair carefully pulled from from a sculpted, handsome face that seemed to have been carved by France's greatest artists. His partner, much younger and less handsome, kept himself open like a book, his dark eyes suspicious of each passerby and face occasionally scowling at whoever looked at him too long.
The blonde shook his head. "
I don't know. He might not even show up. I'm not his guardian or his wife, Sugita, I don't follow his every move." He sighed, then smiled as he was offered a drink. Taking it, he leaned back and sipped, wincing as Naoki excitedly slurped his beer. "
Please, at least pretend like you're in public." He sighed, then took another drink. If the boss wasn't going to be there, at least they'd get some nice drinks out of it.
Sacha Leroux - The quiet bookworm with a gun strapped to his hip - Mostly human
