A Late Night (Black Knights)

[Lucien "Ishtar" Darcy]

Black silk slipped of one shoulder at the gentle coaxing of an eager hand. It wasn’t the most eager touch Ishtar had been under, but it was far from the calmest. With a coy smile, he pulled the sash on his robe, letting it fall open and expose more skin to the general. A brilliant commander though he may be, the general was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he liked what he saw, if in fact he was trying to hide it at all anymore. He had pretended not to be interested at the fête, but had been rather receptive to Ishtar’s not so subtle flirting and suggestive talk. It was why Master had sent him home with the general in the first place, and now that they were alone the general had dropped all pretenses of propriety and had given into desire.

A firm arm around his waist lifted the courtesan off his knees and flipped him onto his back. Ishtar laughed at his impatience, but only fueled his excitement as he looked up at him with slightly hooded eyes and slid his body over the silk of the robe and the sheets below him. The movement made the robe release the last hold it had over Ishtar’s hip. That just about undid the general and the older man scrambled out of his own clothes before climbing onto the bed to accept the offering before him.

The lights had been turned down. The general wouldn’t have it any other way, but it worked just as well for Ishtar. Darkness meant secrecy. It also meant that he didn’t have to look in his victim’s eyes. There was nothing more haunting to him than a look of betrayal on a man’s face and the glazed, empty look in his eyes as he died. In the dark, Ishtar moved his hands to his hair, unclipping the small knife hidden in a barrette. Grasping it tightly, Ishtar moved it to the general’s neck as he took his pleasure and let it split the skin. The general moved above him and rolled over, off of the red haired courtesan.

It was Ishtar’s cue to leave. Blood coated his hand and the knife he held within it as he retrieved the clothes he’d warn into the room. Ishtar had only gotten half dressed when he hand grabbed his wrist. Green eyes were wide, as Ishtar was roughly whirled to face the general, bleeding but not dead. He’d missed. He never missed. He knew then that he had to leave, no matter what. He had failed, so he had to flee. Ishtar sprinted, but cried out when he was yanked back by the wrist held firmly within his grasp. The general was dragging him back toward the bed, and the pistol Ishtar knew was on the bedside table.

Ishtar was on autopilot. His knife hand sought the artery on the exposed flesh of the general’s thigh. Whether he found it or not, he didn’t stay to see, but his wrist was released in the elder man reached for the wound. Ishtar bolted for the door and down the stairs of the estate. Some of the servants had heard the general’s cry. It was why Ishtar typically sought a quick kill at the jugular. He was only lucky that a general alarm hadn’t been raised, and he was able to escape the estate with no further injuries than he’d already sustained.

The damaged wrist wouldn’t be the only injury he suffered before the sun rose.

Ishtar had no hope of hiding it from his Master even if he’d been given the chance. He usually returned calmly and poised not panicked and disheveled. His half dressed state alone was enough for Master’s accusing eyes to narrow. Ishtar had never failed. Failure wasn’t an option, and with it came punishment.

Crack. A red streak. “One.” Crack. Darker. Brighter. “Two.” Crack. Warm. Raw. “Three.” Crack. A weal. “Four.” Crack. Another. Criss-crossing the first. “Five.” Crack. Open skin. “Six.” Crack. Blood spilt over pale skin. “Seven.” Crack. An abused wrist, straining for freedom. “Eight.” Crack. Raw skin. Split skin. “Nine.” Crack. Bloodied back. Bloodied hands. “Ten.” Crack. Pleas. Tears. “Eleven.” Crack. Pain. “Twelve.”

~

Crack. Broken. “Thirteen!” Lucien shot up in his bed, eyes wide but they were met with only darkness, darkness that did not help erase images from his mind’s eye. Fire burned across his back and raced through his veins. Hands wound tightly in the blankets as Lucien tried to ground himself in something. His breath came hard and fast which did nothing to calm his racing heart. Lucien was used to being haunted by ghosts. He’d killed enough to walk the line between being desensitized to it and being consumed by it. He’d also learned to take neither side. He had enough heart to let it hurt, but enough defensive mechanisms to move on. This… This was a night Lucien had tried to forget about all together. His only failure. That general had lived, and Lucien had paid for it. Two long days as Master’s whipping post. No food. No freedom.

As Lucien’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he started to calm. He absently rubbed his wrist, long since healed of the break, as the memories started to recede. Light would help, and Lucien slowly rolled out of bed and left his quarters. It was brighter. Hot chocolate would help more. Barefoot and dressed only in his nightshirt, Lucien stepped to the main kitchen.

Lucien was still in a semi-dazed state, but who else would be awake at this hour to notice. He put the water kettle on the stove and let it begin to heat. His back still burned with the memory, and if he wanted to fully shake the nightmare he needed to get rid of it. The kitchen lights were on, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something else. Green eyes landed on the kettle again, and Lucien watched it for a while before placing a hand on the side of it. He held it there. He could feel heat, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it should.

The small amount of common sense that Lucien could currently access demanded him to pull a hand away. It was red but hadn’t started to blister. That same common sense dragged his hand under some running cold water. The tea kettle was whistling. The water was running. The lights were shining. But Lucien’s mind was still racing as it reminded him of the price of failure.

[Sakura Shizuka]

‘Your Father was a traitor…we hope you won’t turn out to be the same.’ Blood. Betrayal. A corpse. Her father. Her father’s corpse...covered in blood-

CLONK Sounds of a muffled groan.

“Ugh…” Emerald eyes flashed to the table clock that was buried amongst the piles of paper work on the wooden desk. 2 AM. Another groan, followed by a face-plant to the desk. Staring down at the wood, Sakura’s mind wandered off to the dream she had just woken up from. The day her father was killed. Yet again, the images of the guards and officials standing over her father’s body plagued her mind, resulting in another sleepless night for the young commander.

Sighing, Sakura sat up yet remaining in a somewhat slumped position as she stared in front of her piles upon piles of paper. Twang. Aaannnd cue bitch headache. Lovely. “C’mon Sakura…staring at the paper isn’t going to help…’ Sakura whispered to herself as she reached over and randomly plucked out a packet and began to leaf through it. Tonight (as with every other night for the past few months), rather than sleeping, Sakura had been trying to find out anything she could about a Mr. Anderson. Aka Male Blondie. She felt her hand clench at the mere thought of him. Her first meeting with the man had not been a pleasant one, as everyone in the Black Knights were more than aware of, and their second one had not been much different. Running into him at the airport only to have him try to get her arrested via secret services and then to further try to outdo her in a linguistic battle did not brighten Sakura’s viewpoint of the man. Rather, it only fueled the fire of hatred that was growing. But beyond her personal experiences with the man, there was something just…suspicious about him. As if there was more to him than the flamboyant jackass persona he carried around. As for whether or not this gut feeling of hers was the result of some subconscious desire to find an excuse to kill the man beyond that of personal dislike, that was another story. Either way Sakura was determined to find out what she could about Anderson and use the knowledge to see to it that the man suffered a humiliating death. All in the nicest way possible, of course.

But that was where she ran into trouble. Finding information. Despite being a member of the noble class of Britannia, there was hardly any information under the name ‘Anderson’ in any of the texts Sakura had consulted. Which could lead to a multitude of reasons. One being that the man was apart of some underground agency that either the government was trying to hush up or had no clue about. Another being that the name ‘Anderson’ was an alias. While it seemed unlikely, the chances of an alias were higher than the former. Well, it didn’t matter frankly. Fact was finding information on Anderson was like trying to pull a drunken Anju away from her booze. Not easy.

Sakura glanced at the clock again. 2:30AM. She glanced back down to the papers in her hand. A minute went by. Another glance to the clock. A heavy sigh. This wasn’t working. She saw words alright…thing was none of them were sinking in. Plopping the papers back to the desk, Sakura stretched widely, tilting her chair all the way back. She supposed she should try to get some shut eye…she had fallen asleep at the table already, the slight throbbing on her forehead being a lovely reminder. Problem was…she wasn’t sleepy. Well more like she couldn’t sleep. Sakura crinkled her nose slightly. Only one cure for a sleepless night-tea.

Getting up, Sakura quietly slipped out of the flat that she and Anju shared and padded her way to the elevator, the thought of a steaming mug of oolong filling her mind. Yes, she would go for oolong tonight…or perhaps she ought to go for chamomile? Yes, chamomile was the brew to have when one couldn’t sleep. Chamomile it was then. Entering the kitchen, Sakura switched the lights and set out to find her mug and tea bag.

Reaching on her tiptoes, Sakura opened the cabinet that was supposed to be the home to her tea collection. Only to frown in disappointment. Where was her chamomile? She was certain that she had recently bought a box full. And why were tea boxes arranged differently? Her frowned deepened. Odds are some birdball had tried to clean out the cupboards…the result being a disorganization in her tea collection. Muttering some curses under her breath about the incompetence of some people, Sakura walked to the backroom to see if her tea had somehow been placed there. Her eyes scanned the rows, her nose twitching slightly in an attempt to sniff out her tea.

“Ah.” Her nose caught the faint scent and her eyes flew to the top shelf. There we go. Tea found. She raised an eyebrow slightly. And of course it has to be on the highest shelf, didn’t it? Now Sakura wasn’t some shrimp or anything, but even she had her limits. The top shelf of the storage room happened to be it. Finding a crate to use as a shelf, Sakura hoisted herself up and claimed her brew, cradling the box in her arms carefully.

Stepping out of the room and closing the door with her foot, Sakura tilted her head to look ahead of her. And jumped slightly in surprise. Standing there, half naked (as always) was Lucien. Sakura blinked twice, snapping out of her revere. “Darcy? What are y- It was then that the sound of running water and the whistling of a kettle reached her ears. Automatically, Sakura bolted over to the stove and shut off the kettle, placing her box of tea on the counter in the process. “Darcy! Watch what you’re do-

Her eyes fell onto his hand. It was red and swollen. Burnt. Instinctively, Sakura reached over and gently held it, her thumb rubbing his palm slightly. Without saying anything, Sakura headed to the freezer where she grabbed a couple of ice cubes and placed them in a Ziploc bag. Heading back to Lucien, Sakura turned off the water, took a hold of Lucien’s wrist and gently but firmly pulled him over to a chair where he was promptly shoved into it. Sitting down next to him, Sakura took a hold of his arm and adjusted it so that his hand was palm-up. She then placed the makeshift icepack on his palms, keeping her own hand on top, applying pressure.

There was something off with Lucien. He seemed dazed to her. Perhaps he too was having a sleepless night? Why else would he be in the kitchen at 3:00AM? Odds were the guy was trying to make himself something t drink (hot chocolate most likely) and he ended up hurting himself in the process. But it was unlike Lucien to be in a dazed state. It was as if something was troubling him. Sakura mentally frowned. Well…she wouldn’t press on it. If the man needed to talk, she would listen. But she wasn’t about to pry at him if he didn’t wish to speak.

“Next time…” Sakura began after a few moments of silence. “…put ice on immediately. Cold water isn’t as effective.”

[Aoi Akuma]

Screaming. Blood. Building's burned. 'Get out of her now Aoi. Run!" Then more screams. More blood. Mother's blood. Father's screams.

"Where are we going!" a muffled scream laced with tears.

"Somewhere safe Aoi." Father's yell. Even back then she should've known that there was no where safe for them.

The slam of a door shut. She trodded up the stairs to what was her 'room'. The boards creaked wearily as Aoi walked around to grab her mother's knife. Her knife. Sorrowfully she let the tears leak as they always did.

Then the breaking down of the door. Father's yelling. Crashes and breaking glass. Then complete silence filled Aoi's ears. Even then she knew. Knew that father was dead. Hearing footsteps she clenced the knife and jumped out the window. Landing with a sickening crunch.

"Get back here you damned Eleven!"

~

Aoi shot out with a very small gasp. She stared around the room warily before settling back into her bed curling around the pillow. The bluenette flinched at the sounds of the building creaking. "Get a hold of yourself Aoi." she muttered to herself before realizing there was no way she would be able to sleep. Remnants of the past still clouded her mind. It had been so long since she had thought about it that it began to give her a slight headache.

Turning in her bed she let her feet lightly touch the cold floor. Holding herself up on the bed she pushed herself off and onto the floor. Her black silk nightgown had ridden up so that it ended mid thigh. Aoi pulled at the short sleeves to let them cover her shoulder before glancing at the clock. 2:32 a.m. Aoi groaned softly at the clock before padding out of her room. Her normally straightish hair was now wavy down her back thanks to Anju's braids.

"I need a drink." Aoi muttered to herself as she made her way towards the kitchen. Wearily she entered the room and made her way to the fridge, still out of it as she walked. Reaching in she grabbed the bottle and lifted herself up and shut the door. "Ahh wine." she muttered to herself unscrewing the cap. Only then did she realize that she had company.

Shizuka, who had a tea bag in her hand. And a half naked Lucien who's hand was red and throbbing.

“Next time…” Sakura began after a few moments of silence. “…put ice on immediately. Cold water isn’t as effective.”

"You ok Lucien?" Aoi muttered wearily sitting herself across from them before tilting the bottle back and letting the white wine go down her throat. She let her hand run through her hair which she had left untouched by her usual headdress. Crystal blue eyes looked only slightly worried at Lucien. But worried all the same for the usually flamboyant boy.

[Anju Saravati]

The house was a busy, bustling whirlwind of activity. The servants were excitedly cleaning the house and putting up the decorations; long rolls of cloth on the walls, festive pillows and couches, flowers everywhere in large glass vases. All the windows and patios doors were wide open, letting in the light. All was jubilant, for it was the fifth anniversary of the Master's and Mistress's daughter. The celebration was not to take place until the next day, when the son-in-law and granddaughter returned from his meeting of the minds with the political purists of the Indian government.

Even Anju was helping. She, if anything, loved a good party. Even if this one was partially catering to the friends and affiliates of her father's company. She and Raoul had been partners for five years and she had yet to want a divorce. He was her best friend and she saw no reason to ask for somebody else. Mama was just thrilled get a granddaughter out of her unruly offspring. Anjali would be back in her arms within twelve hours, the energetic four year old racing around the house to torment the servants and harass the guests. Ah, bliss.

Anju finished convincing the chief to add vodka before racing off to the main sitting room where the television was. Raoul was at the political conference in Delhi, arguing for the resistance against Britannia. 'Jali had demanded for weeks to go with him. She ran into Chinmayi, the head maid in the doorway. She looked sick. 'Ma'am, please. Ma'am-!' Anju shoved past her to see the screen. Several servants had dropped their belongings. A young maid was making sick in the corner, another holding her hair. The volume was off, so the screaming and the gunshots from the Knightmares on screen were muted. The camera was shaky and static, rushing through the conference hall. A man in a red jacket holding a little girl in a red dress was lying on the floor.

~

Anju sat straight up in bed and shoved her hands against her mouth to muffle the scream. She heaved loudly and flopped back down onto the sheets, exhausted. She sighed and looked toward the door. If Sakura was awake, the girl would be rushing in, sword at the ready, any second. Anju waited; no Saks. She'd shared the flat with the ex-Britannian for several weeks and had been subject to quite a few of the girl' security fueled paranoias, but tonight it seemed she was finally down for the count. She waited for another minute before getting up. She wouldn't be getting more sleep tonight.

Anju pulled on her robe before padding out to the small kitchen in the flat. Anju was known as a recreational drinker but less known was her hard drinking tendencies. Sakura had yet to discover the difference. It usually involved tequila and blackouts. And oddly, the occasional bout of brilliant in mecha design (ie: the free mobility cockpit). Right now, an intimate affair with Jose Cuervo would be nice. She opened the liquor cabinet and frowned. Seven bottles, all those little complementary airplane ones, the kind that never got you drunk no matter how many you had.

Annoyed, Anju turned on her heel and left the flat, heading for the main kitchen. She got down there in time to hear she wasn't the only night time visiter. Running water and Aoi asking if Lucian was okay. Anju leaned her back against the outer wall, choosing to stay silent and listen.

[Lucien "Ishtar" Darcy]

“Darcy?” Lucien ignored the voice, eyes on the water. “Darcy!” He ignored the name, not thinking anything of it. A hand fell around his wrist and guided him to a chair. Lucien didn’t protest, didn’t even look up. He obeyed. He sat. The burn had felt warm, but something made it cool. “Next… ice… cold… effective.” Ice. Glazed green eyes stared at the bag of it on top of his palm.

“You okay Lucien?”

Lucien. He hadn’t been called by his proper name in a while. Who would bother to use it to address him? Nothing registered properly at first, but the haze lifted a bit, and Lucien slowly turned his head to look at Aoi. For a few moments she could just stare at her as his mind processed her properly as a friend. The glaze over his eyes cleared a bit and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly as he tried to offer a smile. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice sounded off, even to him, but his mouth curved into a smile. Hollow or not, it was a smile, and Lucien always smiled.

Gradually now, his mind was resetting itself, and he realized who else had addressed him. Sakura. Who else called him Darcy? Lucien turned the same hollow smile to the girl holding the ice over his palm. Glazed green eyes looked to it and the angry burn below it. It felt a bit colder. It wasn’t what Lucien had been hoping for, but having someone to talk to or just sit with would help. “Never could use a stove properly.” It was a lie. Lucien could only hope it wasn’t a poor one. “That’s what microwaves are for.” That’s right, deflect. It’s what he’d always done. Nothing mattered: burns, cuts, breaks. He can’t cook, can’t trim his hair, can’t dance. He could talk his way out of it with a laugh and a smile. No laugh today, but the smile should be enough. Let it slide off; make sure they don’t worry. Unless… Sakura hadn’t seen him had she? He honestly didn’t know. He hardly remembered even coming here let alone putting his hand on the kettle; she could have been there…

Almost hesitantly, Lucien turned his eyes to meet Sakura’s. He could avoid her eyes, but that would signal that something was wrong automatically. Maybe she wouldn’t look too close. Maybe she’d let him pretend nothing was wrong. He was just tired. That was all. Her eyes made him shift slightly in the chair, and he wanted nothing more than to fuss with his hair. Despite his restlessness, the braid had held, but he needed to fix the strands that had fallen free, preferably by re-braiding the whole thing. Unfortunately that was hard to do one handed. Still, Lucien’s free hand came up on its own volition to start tucking what loose strands he could back into the braid. It was an anxious habit that wasn’t comforting him much right now.

[Sakura Shizuka]

“You okay Lucien?” Sakura’ eyes snapped to the right. Aoi. How long had she been here? Ah well, didn’t matter. Apparently sleeplessness was plaguing everyone tonight-why else would the blue haired captain be in the kitchen at this hour? Sakura tilted her head in greeting, a faint smile on her face.

“Good evening, Akuma. Sleeping problems too I see?” Sakura said though her attention soon was drawn back to the wounded redhead next to her. Honestly…how the hell did Lucien manage to get himself burnt like this? Sure the man was a complete pervert who annoyed her to no end, but he was a careful pervert. It was unlike him to slip up and hurt himself. ‘When was the last time Darcy hurt himself anyways?’ Sakura thought absentmindedly as she kept her gaze on him, her eyes trying to tell what was wrong. Clearly something was on his mind. And whatever that thing was, caused him to go and get hurt. Now a normal person most likely would have shrugged it off as just a bad day on the part of Lucien. But Sakura was not like most people-she was a full blooded worrywart. She had a natural tendency to be somewhat of a mother-hen around those near to her. Add that to her position as Commander, and one finds it to be no wonder that Sakura was curious about what happened to the flamboyant playboy.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” A lie. Blatant lie. “Never could use a stove properly. That’s what microwaves are for.” Another lie. Sakura’s eyes narrowed slightly. She hated it when people lied to her. Especially in situations like this. Sakura kept her hand on top of Lucien’s, her hand pressing slightly harder, applying more pressure to the wound.

“You suck at lying, you know?” she said, an eyebrow raised slightly. She remembered the hollow smile he had given her. One meant to not make her worry. She sighed heavily. “We're entitled to worry about you. Don't deny me my privileges.” Her eye caught the fiddling of the hair and her eyebrow arched higher. It was coming out. His braid, that was. Not a lot, but Sakura could see a couple of strands falling out…and they were starting to annoy her. Her eyes snapped back to Lucien’s and she saw that he too was finding the strands to be bothersome…either that or she was making him uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure which. Either way, Sakura glanced back down at the icepack. It was mostly water by now. “Hang on a sec…” she muttered as she stood up, went to the sink and disposed the water down the drain. Then she headed back to the freezer, refilled the baggie and headed back to Lucien where she placed the icepack in his palm, letting the cooling process continue. “Here. Use your other hand and apply pressure. Adjust the bag on occasion.”

Sakura then stood behind Lucien and took hold of his hair, gently pulling it so that way all of the red locks were behind him. She undid his braid, her fingernails gently combing through the strands, untangling any possible knots. She didn’t have a brush on her at the moment, her fingernails serving as a makeshift one. Luckily, however, Lucien's hair was practically free from tangles. In reality, there was no need for Sakura to comb his hair (she could easily braid it in its given state) but she thought that perhaps doing so would make him feel better. Her father used to do the same to her when she was little, and Sakura soon picked up on this habit, finding that it helped others who were stressed.

“A fake smile flatters no one, Darcy.” Sakura said after a few moments of silence. “Don’t fear a frown…” her hands began to divide his hair into three separate strands. “…after all, even the jester cries at times.” she said softly, her time with Anju showing fully in braiding skills. Hey, best way to learn how to braid hair? From an Indian techie.

Once she was satisfied with her work, Sakura patted Lucien on the head twice before returning to her seat beside him. Resting her right cheek on her fist, she eyed him for a couple of seconds, her expression showing slight concern. Her eyes flew back to the kettle on the stove. And back to Lucien.

A knowing smile tugged the corners of her mouth.

Without saying anything, Sakura stood up and headed back to the stove. She licked one finger and quickly tapped it against the kettle, a loud sizzle being the result. Yup. Still hot. She bustled about for a few minutes, only to return back to the kitchen table with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in hand, complete with heavy dosage of whipped cream. Lucien’s ultimate guilty pleasure. Heaven knew he needed it.

Settling it down in front of him, Sakura sat down once again beside him, smiling slightly. “This is why you’re here, right?” she rested her chin on her hands, her head tilting sideways. “Apart from being your source of amusement, I can be a good comfort pillow on occasion.” she offered a crooked smile. “Wanna talk?”

Sakura knew the guy wanted to talk…it was evident through his body language. Plus, as hypocritical of her as it may be, Sakura often said that it was best for people to let things off of their chests. Besides, an emo Lucien was most unnerving.

It was only then that Sakura felt something run down her spine. Snapping her head to the door, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Someone was there. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That presence...wasn't that...

"Anju-san?"

[Aoi Akuma]

Lucien just stared at her when she called to him. The unwavering gaze was a bit unnerving but Aoi got used to it.

“Good evening, Akuma. Sleeping problems too I see?” Aoi turned her attention to Shizuka. She in turn nodded her head with a very faint smile on her lips. It seemed like everyone had difficulties sleeping tonight. A full moon perhaps? Who knows either way it was very unlikely for anyone to be able to sleep now.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Aoi winced at the hollowness of his voice and smile. “Never could use a stove properly. That’s what microwaves are for.” An obvious lie. Aoi tilted her head to the side as she stared at Lucien. It was odd for him to be acting like this. Something must have greatly disturbed him to make him act so..... hollow.

"You suck at lying, you know?” Shizuka said raising an eyebrow. “We're entitled to worry about you. Don't deny me my privileges.” Aoi nodded in agreement before downing more of the wine from her bottle. She noticed that Lucien had started fiddling with loose strands from his braid. And the way he was doing it made it look like a nervous habit. Just like when Aoi fiddles with what ever article of clothing is covering her scars.

Shizuka then stood up and went to fill the bag again with more ice. His hand must really be on fire for it to melt that quickly. “Here. Use your other hand and apply pressure. Adjust the bag on occasion.” Shizuka then stood behind Lucien and began to redo the braid. Aoi watched at the way her hands moved and began fiddling with her now wavy hair.

"Did you learn how to do that from Anju?" She asked weaving a strand of her hair between her fingers. She enjoyed the silence while it lasted fully knowing that the talking did not end here. The bluenette stopped fiddiling with the strand so that she could bring the bottle to her lips. Her lips dusted just lightly over the rim before tilting the bottle very slightly. This time though she only took a small sip. She smiled as she felt the liquid run down her throat.

“A fake smile flatters no one, Darcy." Aoi smiled knowingly as Shizuka broke the silence before turning her attention back to Lucien. "Don’t fear a frown…” Shizuka's hands began to divide his hair into three separate strands. “…after all, even the jester cries at times.”

After Shizuka finished she patted Lucien on the head twice before returning to her former seat and resting her head on her fist. She glanced worriedly at him before getting up and moving towards the kettle. While she was gone Aoi took this moment to study Lucien's appearance again. She noticed that his eyes seemed glazed over just slightly. He seemed to all out ignore the pain he was most likely feeling from the burn. Aoi recognized these things. Feelings you usually felt when you remembered something painful. Yes, Aoi had felt like that before. She just prayed it ended better for him than it did for her.

Shaking her head from those thoughts she downed more of the white wine in an attempt to rid herself from those memories.

“This is why you’re here, right?” Aoi turned her attention back to them. The red head seemed to have some hot chocolate with whip cream on it.“Apart from being your source of amusement, I can be a good comfort pillow on occasion.” Shizuka offered a crooked smile. “Wanna talk?”

Aoi shook her head softly. If he was like her when she was like this then the answer would be no. But, Lucien wasn't her so maybe he would like to talk. If he did Aoi would be there to listen.

She then watched as Shizuka froze slightly. Aoi furrowed her eyebrows at this.

"Anju-san?"

"Ah" So that was what was bothering her. She had felt the techies presence. Aoi turned her attention to the door.

"Anju are you having trouble sleeping like the rest of us?" She asked simply towards the door where she assumed Anju was outside of.

[Anju Saravati]

Anju slid down the wall and buried her face into the bunched up pajama fabric of her knees. Stupid Sakura, acting all kind and crap. She listened as her charge tended to Lucien. It sounded like he'd burned himself. The flamboyant boy wasn't careless that often and it was obvious the girl wasn't buying it as an accident. Aoi neither. The girl's silence was telling.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Anju twitched at the tone. “Never could use a stove properly. That’s what microwaves are for.” She wanted to smack him for it. Or hold him. Whichever.

"You suck at lying, you know? We're entitled to worry about you. Don't deny me my privileges.” Saks the worrywart. She heard the girl move around the kitchen; the faucet ran. “Here. Use your other hand and apply pressure. Adjust the bag on occasion.” More steps and rustling, before a soft swishing. Anju lifted her head and furrowed her brow. 'Wait..

Did you learn how to do that from Anju? She was braiding his hair. Anju moaned in the back of her throat and sniffed. Stupid, dumb, annoying person. Stupid, stupid, stupid... “A fake smile flatters no one, Darcy. Don’t fear a frown...after all, even the jester cries at times.”

Anju blew out her breath and listened to the girl walk around the kitchen again; a tea kettle whistled, liquid pouring, ceramic clinks. “This is why you’re here, right? Apart from being your source of amusement, I can be a good comfort pillow on occasion. Wanna talk?” Lucien kept his silence and Anju snickered into her knees. Sakura was a bad ass with a short temper and a soft spot. Her charge couldn't care less about people she didn't know, but the people she did she always tried to help. It was nauseating and sweet and hypocritical and endearing and Anju really needed a fucking drink or a hug or both. Stupid girl was breaking her heart.

"Anju-san?" She squeaked and jumped upright, smacking the back of her head against the wall. "Anju are you having trouble sleeping like the rest of us?" Anju winced and rubbed her head, poking an eye around the frame of the doorway. She wasn't wearing her glasses; a blurry red-head was sitting next to another blurry red-head and a blurry blunette was sitting across from them by the counter. The lights were all on; not great for the previously nocturnal.

Anju grinned sheepishly. "Yo. I was awakened by the irresistible urge to attack Aoi's hair." She wiggled her fingers of her right hand at her. "Beware. I can do more than braid."

[Lucien "Ishtar" Darcy]

“You suck at lying, you know?” Lucien turned his eyes away from Sakura then. She wasn’t even going to let him pretend he was okay. Pretending things were okay made them better eventually. It was the rule of the world. Things couldn’t be bad forever. (Lucien wasn’t that pessimistic.) His philosophy had always worked before, but Sakura seemed dead set against letting him use it. The returning rational side of his mind was attempting to inform him that he wasn’t required to use that philosophy anymore. Lucien just hadn’t decided if he wanted to listen to that or not. “We’re entitled to worry about you. Don’t deny me my privileges.” Were they? Technically speaking, Lucien had no ties to them. For all they (or Lucien for that matter) knew, he could be called back to France at any time. Lucien didn’t want that, but if He called him back, Lucien didn’t know if he could refuse Him.

Lucien didn’t crash often. He was usually very good at keeping himself going, but when he did finally crash, he crashed hard. Nothing made sense. Everything went wrong. Lucien lost everything that he needed to define himself. It usually took him a while to put things back together, and while he was trying he had an uncharacteristically pessimistic and cynical. He didn’t like it, but his mind went places he didn’t like it going. Alone it usually took him a few days to put himself back together again. What worried him was that he didn’t know if that would talk more or less time with others. What legitimately scared him was the day that he couldn’t fix himself properly.

“Here. Use your other hand and apply pressure. Adjust the bag on occasion.” Lucien just nodded slowly and did as he was told. It still didn’t feel nearly as cold, and his hand didn’t hurt as much as he thought it should. That just meant that it wasn’t doing what he’d originally intended it to. His back still stung with welts and wheals long since healed. Maybe once that faded, he’d feel better.

Hands fell on Lucien’s precious braid, and tension spread through his shoulders. They were undoing his braid. Unbraided hair meant a job, a job he might fail. Lucien couldn’t handle that right now. He just couldn’t. No one touched his hair. Lucien gripped the bag of ice in his hand. It was the closest thing to a weapon he had at the moment. He quickly turned in his chair, hand poised to throw the bag of ice, but his hand froze when Lucien identified Sakura’s face. Breath fast with something akin to fear, Lucien stared at Sakura for a bit before slowly lowering the ice back to his burned hand and sitting quietly for Sakura to fix his hair. Seeing her face had helped him calm down a bit again. Nothing was wrong. Sakura was just rebraiding his hair for him since he obviously couldn’t himself at the moment. Gradually the tension left his shoulders and Lucien calmed down.

“A fake smile flatters no one, Darcy.” Lucien’s eyes slid back toward her, but he didn’t move his head. “Don’t fear a frown… after all, even the jester cries at times.”

“Smiles aren’t meant to flatter,” Lucien said quietly in response as he felt her hands move through his hair. “They’re meant to please. Oneself, a lover, a friend, a child… someone.” That was part Lucien’s current cynicism, part personal philosophy. “The jester may cry, but the concubine must embody perfection and desire alone,” Lucien mused, but said no more on the subject. He fell quiet as Sakura finished, but glanced up slightly as she pat him on the head. The lost side of him was wondering what he’d done right to earn the ‘good pet’ gesture. A moment later he decided it was just Sakura.

When she sat back down, Lucien kept his eyes on the ice. He felt a bit bad for almost lashing out at her, and he wasn’t sure how she’d taken it. He hadn’t meant to react that way, and he hadn’t been reacting to her, but he didn’t know how to explain that… or if he even wanted to. He was absorbed enough in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice her move until she returned with hot chocolate. “This is why you’re here, right?” Sakura asked as she set the mug down. It was. Lucien let the ice rest on his palm and dipped his finger into the whipped cream on top of his favorite drink. He licked it off his finger with a surprising display of innocence, not even a hint of the suggestiveness that Lucien would usually have accompany such an act. It tasted good. “Apart from being your source of amusement, I can be a good comfort pillow on occasion.” Lucien paused in bring the mug to his lips. “Wanna talk?”

Lucien didn’t know how to answer that. He did… and he didn’t. Lucien glanced to Aoi as he sipped at the hot chocolate. It felt warm going down his throat. His reluctance had nothing to do with the company. He could talk with either of them, but Lucien didn’t know what they knew. What had Master communicated to the Commander in Chief? If he was just here as an ally soldier, did Lucien want to delve into anything else or did he want to play pretend? Lucien opened his mouth to answer, “Anju-san?” and followed Sakura’s gaze instead.

"Anju are you having trouble sleeping like the rest of us?" Lucien felt a bit better knowing he wasn’t the only one having a rough night. Maybe they’d share first, and he could adjust his story to theirs.

“Yo. I was awakened by the irresistible urge to attack Aoi’s hair. Beware. I can do more than braid.”

Lucien turned the same small smile on Anju as he’d given Aoi and Sakura. “Good morning, Anju.” Technically speaking it was.

[Sakura Shizuka]

"Anju are you having trouble sleeping like the rest of us?" a tiny shriek and a head meeting a wall followed by a groan was soon heard after. A small smile tugged the corners of Sakura’s mouth. Guess she had been right; it was Anju.

The Indian techie soon made herself visible by poking a head ‘round the corner of the doorframe, eyes blinking slightly. "Yo. I was awakened by the irresistible urge to attack Aoi's hair. Beware. I can do more than braid." Sakura’s smile relaxed into that of a more genuine one as she stood up again and headed over to the kitchen stove.

“Black with two shots of espresso, correct?” she said as she hustled about for a few minutes, prepping the coffee for Anju. The woman looked like she could use a caffeine boost. Big time. As she waited for the percolator to work its magic, Sakura’s eyes fell back to Lucien, a worried frown replacing the smile.

It worried her. A half hour had gone by since she saw him and still no perverted comment and/or action. Not a good sign. An un-pervy Lucien was just not natural. It just wasn’t…and not to mention, his actions earlier…they only increased her worry. She remembered the look he gave her when she was about to begin to braid his hair. It was one of fear. Complete and utter fear. She hadn’t flinched when she saw the icepack about to be used as a weapon against her. If he had launched it, odds were it wouldn’t have done much damage to her if it made impact. And if it did, well…she wouldn’t have gotten angry. Lucien wasn’t himself right now. He was not to be blamed. “The jester may cry, but the concubine must embody perfection and desire alone,” Sakura leaned against the kitchen counter, her head bent slightly as she bit her thumb in thought. What the hell was up with guy, all of sudden talking cynically? She was the sarcastic bitch, not him! Her eyes flew back to Lucien before returning back to the tiled floor. What the hell…

‘Now that I think about it…I don’t know Lucien that well at all…’ Sakura thought to herself, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. Sure she knew the man’s habits and overall general behavior (having being the victim of it many a time), but she didn’t know him. She didn’t know anything about his past, whether it be his family or how he even ended up joining the Black Knights. All that she was told when Lucien arrived was that he was from France and that his unique character would prove to be beneficial to the BKs. Nothing more. And she had never pressed on the matter; after all, all that was important was whether or not this guy would be useful. She was told he would be. She need not know anything else.

But now…things were different. Her current relationship with the playboy was different from that of when he first set foot into Base. She wasn’t exactly best friends with the man, but they were more than the everyday acquaintance. Before she never thought about searching into Lucien’s history, but now…the idea was tempting.

Sakura mentally slapped herself. No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. How could she go and snoop into Lucien’s history like that? No…if he wanted to talk, he would talk. If he didn’t, she would respect that. But still…

Sakura fought back the urge to groan as she pinched the bridge of her nose slightly. A habit whenever she felt a headache approach.

The sound of the percolator snapped Sakura out of her thoughts. Heading over, she poured the drink into Anju’s favorite mug and headed over to Anju by the door, handing the woman her drink. “Here you go, Anju-san.” she said, giving the woman a smile before she started to head back to the stove. She had yet to make her own tea. “Good morning, Anju.” Sakura stopped halfway, the smile fading slightly as green eyes flew over to the redhead. Fake. The smile was fake. Sakura sighed slightly.

Turning on her heel, Sakura walked over to where Lucien was sitting. One hand on her hip, Sakura eyed him for a few seconds before promptly flicking him on the forehead. “Snap out of it. Baaaka” she said simply turning her attention back to his hand. “C’mon…lemme see.” she knelt down so she was balancing on the balls of her feet and took a hold of his hand, removing the ice pack. Well, the swelling had gone down, which was good. Sakura turned his hand over, inspecting it entirely. “See? You’re fine. It’s just a little scar that’ll fade away after a few weeks. Nothing major.” She patted his cheek twice, a comforting smile on her face, before standing up fully. The worrywart side of her was still nagging, begging to know what was on the redheaded playboy’s mind. But the other side of her won. The side of her that sympathized with Lucien; clearly something was troubling him and he was finding it difficult to talk about it. So rather than pressing on the matter, Sakura decided that it would be best to just let it go for now. He would talk when he was ready.

Sakura gave Lucien another brief smile before turning her attention over to the Indian techie by the door. “Anju-san? Can I get you something to eat? Or are you good for now?”

[Aoi Akuma]

"Yo. I was awakened by the irresistible urge to attack Aoi's hair. Beware. I can do more than braid." Though she extremely doubted that was why Aoi smiled at the thought before clutching a strand of her wavy hair.

"I don't think so. It's wavy enough thanks to your braids." She said in a somewhat mock fear.

“Black with two shots of espresso, correct?” So Shizuka was getting her coffee. She shrugged her shoulders and kept her mouth shut. Anju just didn't seem like the person who would drown her sorrows in coffee.

The bluenette smiled slightly before her thoughts drifted to Lucien. Eyes glazed over slightly she glanced at him. Those words he had spoken. “Smiles aren’t meant to flatter,”“They’re meant to please. Oneself, a lover, a friend, a child… someone.” “The jester may cry, but the concubine must embody perfection and desire alone,” She believed in similar words at one time. Still did albiet slightly. As well as although people might think they know you based on habits or mannerisms they barely know you at all. And Aoi didn't feel like Lucien's past needed to be pryed open. Just like she thought about her own. They would share when they would see fit. And she highly doubted tonight would be fit. And...there was another thing that bothered her. When Shizuka had begun to undo his hair he had tensed up. Froze in fear. She had seen him about ready to throw the ice bag at her before stopping himself. That specific look of fear. She tensed at the thought of it for she had had the same look in her eyes those nights she had relived in her dreams.

Aoi didn't realize her eyes had gotten a glossy look and that her grip on the bottle had tightened considerably until she heard a large crack. She glanced emotionlessly as she saw a large crack in the bottle on her thumb was sliced open. "Damn" Placing the bottle on the table she watch as the red liquid ran from her thumb down her arm.She placed her mouth on where the liquid ended and followed it up to the wound. She sucked on the wound until the blood ran less fluidly. Picking the bottle up she saw the wine leak out onto her hand. She faced the trash can and threw the bottle into it. She heard it land with a loud crack. Aoi cleaned her hand from the wine and turned her attention back to the group.

She saw Shizuka flick Lucien on the forehead and shook her head.

“Anju-san? Can I get you something to eat? Or are you good for now?” Realizing she had been ignoring the techie she turned her attention to the door. Aoi nodded towards her.

"Morning Anju."

[Anju Saravati]

Anju stepped into the doorway, wincing at the brightness. She grinned a little at Aoi. “Bah. As your elder, it is my sworn duty to make sure your hair is nice and healthy. And the best way to do that is through playtime.” He nodded to the red blob she assumed was Lucien and leaned heavily against the door frame.

The blob that looked more like Sakura stood and headed to the kitchen counter. “Black with two shots of espresso, correct?” Anju blanched behind her back and reached out half-heartedly. Dear Shiva, please no coffee. Caffeine was the last thing she wanted right now. Give her a shot glass and a corner and leave her alone. Of course, Sakura missed it and kept playing barmaid anyway. She sighed and took a better look at her seated compatriot.

And raised an eyebrow. Dismal eyesight aside, the frog looked less then Luci. He was the anti-Luci. Normally, the boy was a hopping bundle of hormones and batting eyelashes and the person sitting before her… wasn’t. Quite frankly it was a bit disturbing. She didn’t know much about the boy, wasn’t going to pretend she did. If there was something wrong with him, he was just going to have to get over it and pick himself right up. She winced and scrunched her nose. Shiva, cynical much?

Sakura finished and gave her a steaming mug of black goodness. Ug. “Snap out of it. Baaaka.” Anju started, before realizing the girl was talking to Luci. “C’mon…lemme see.” She knelt down and took his hand, turing it over and scrutinizing it carefully. “See? You’re fine. It’s just a little scar that’ll fade away after a few weeks. Nothing major.” She smiled and patted his cheek, looking to Anju. “Anju-san? Can I get you something to eat? Or are you good for now?”

Anju shook her head. “M’ fine.” She played with the mug in her hands before pushing off the door frame and plopping bonelessly into an empty chair, sulking. There was no way she was getting shit-faced any time soon, not with everyone else here. She sighed.

Then jumped, looking at Aoi. The girl was inspecting a suddenly broken wine bottle, which she unceremoniously dumped in the trash. The blunette stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Anju blinked for a second and sighed, waving at the girl. “Oi. Blue-jeans. Stop that. That’s not healthy and it’s gross. Get over here.” She hooked a finger around the napkin dispenser on the table and pulled it over.

[Lucien "Ishtar" Darcy]

This was fine. Listening was probably better than talking. Would talking help him more in the long run? Maybe, but that wasn’t what Lucien was worried about right now. Right now, all he was worried about was shaking his dream, locking the memories back in his little black box, and putting himself back together with the pieces he wanted to keep. All three things required him first sifting through the scattered puzzle pieces he had spread across his mind. He didn’t exactly know how long it would take this time. It seemed to take longer every time he did it. (There were always more pieces.) And he didn’t think anyone could really help him with it. Not the actual puzzle itself anyway. Just the company of others though, seemed calming enough to let him work on it at his own pace and not get frustrated when something didn’t fit right.

“I don’t think so. It’s wavy enough thanks to your braids.”

“Bah. As your elder, it is my sworn duty to make sure your hair is nice and healthy. And the best way to do that is through playtime.

Hints of a softer, more sincere smile tugged the edges of Lucien’s mouth. It didn’t light his eyes any, but it wasn’t such a hollow smile. One of the pieces he ghosted over whispered all sorts of things he could do with Aoi’s hair. A French braid would become her, but Dutch braids were Lucien’s favorite. Playtime with Anju and Aoi’s hair could be… fun.

“Snap out of it. Baaaka.” Lucien started slightly and dropped a few of the puzzle pieces he’d been working with at Sakura’s voice and her flick to his forehead. Hadn’t she been getting coffee? Dull green eyes blinked slightly and saw that Anju already had a steaming cup in her hands. Lucien gave no vocal answer to Sakura, just turned his eyes back to the table and his own mug. He would snap out of it. Eventually. He would. He had to…

“C’mon… lemme see.” Lucien found the pieces he’d lost and nodded slightly, removing the ice pack and letting Sakura take his hand. “See? You’re fine. It’s just a little skar that’ll fade away after a few weeks. Nothing major.” Nothing major, at all. Lucien was used to little scars, and they did in fact usually fade away. Some would take longer than others, but most of them would. Most. Lucien would never say all, not even out loud.

Sakura patted his cheek and Lucien tilted his head slightly into her hand before it slipped away as she stood. Lucien dropped his head onto his arm then, resting his cheek on his upper arm as it laid on the table, once again holding the ice pack in his hand. The hot chocolate was helping. It felt warm, and the warmth was slowly spreading through Lucien, soothing him as it went and helping him calm down. It was helping, but his hand was starting to hurt. Technically that was probably helping, but one of Lucien’s puzzle pieces thought it was backwards. It was what he had wanted though, wasn’t it? It was why he’d put his hand on the kettle in the first place.

His much was empty now, and Lucien lightly rested it against his other cheek for its lingering warmth as he continued working on his puzzle. Green eyes widened, and Lucien was instantly alert to his surroundings at the dull sound of shattering glass. He didn’t raise his head, but his eyes sought the cause. “Oi. Blue-jeans. Stop that. That’s not healthy and it’s gross. Get over here.” Anju? Lucien glanced toward her then to Aoi. She was nursing a wound. Where was her wine bottle? Lucien didn’t see it, and decided that must have been the cause of the sound. He wasn’t sure how Aoi had managed to cut herself (He presumed it was before the shattering glass simply because he didn’t see any pieces of the bottle.), but Anju was going to see to it more properly than the younger girl was at the moment. Lucien let out a breath; the sound had scared him, and he’d lost some more pieces. Everything was okay though. Everything was fine. Well, everything except the fact that he was out of hot chocolate.

[Sakura Shizuka]

“M’ fine.” Sakura frowned slightly but nodded. Perhaps later on Anju would feel hungry…it was a little early for breakfast, now that she thought about it. ‘But still…she doesn’t look all that ok…’ Sakura thought to herself, worry etched on her face. There was something off with the Indian techie. Just seemed…out of it, for lack of a better phrase. Maybe she had a bad dream and that was keeping her up? She had made certain not to make too much noise when she was doing her research, so Sakura was confident that she was not to blame for the Indian’s inability to rest. She bit her lip slightly in worry but quickly shook her head clear of any thoughts. If there was something bothering Anju, then Anju would speak when ready. No need to pry.

Sakura glanced at the clock in the kitchen. 4:00AM. She raised an eyebrow. An hour had passed already, huh? She rubbed her temples tiredly, the faint throbbing of a headache beginning to make itself present.

Her eyes widened slightly. That’s right. She never made herself her tea. She blinked twice, a somewhat surprised look on her face. She had been so occupied with Lucien and Anju that she had forgotten to make her tea! No wonder she was getting a headache. ‘Well, pulling several all-nighters in a row doesn’t help either I guess…’ Sakura thought dryly to herself. It was all that ass’s fault. Anderson. Her hand clenched into a fist at the thought. Oh how she was going to kill him one day…

Sakura was about to make herself her cup of tea but stopped slightly as she saw Anju fiddle with the mug. Immediately her eyebrow rose. What was this? Was the coffee not to her tasting? Usually Anju chugged her coffee as she did her booze…so why the hesitation? Sakura looked at Anju for a few seconds, her mind wracking for a reason. Perhaps Anju wasn’t in the mood for coffee? But Anju always was in a mood for coffee. Sakura had yet to come across a time when Anju refused her caffeine. She mentally shrugged. First time for everything, she supposed.

The sound of a bottle being smashed followed by a soft "Damn" caused Sakura to whirl her head over to the bluenette sitting across from Lucien. She had cut herself. “Oi. Blue-jeans. Stop that. That’s not healthy and it’s gross. Get over here.” A faint chuckle escaped Sakura’s throat. That Anju…well, what she said was true. Sucking ones wounds wasn’t exactly the best form of aid. A gentle smile made its way on to her face as she saw Anju tend to Aoi. As crazy of a nutjob she was, Sakura supposed that Anju would forever retain a somewhat maternal nature, no matter how many years past since she lost her daughter.

Her eyes fell back to Lucien. His head was resting on his arm, a somewhat lost look still visible in his eyes. A soft sigh escaped her mouth. Well…he certainly looked better than five minutes ago, but still…looked like some lost puppy.

Turning on her heel, Sakura strode over to one of the cabinets and pulled forth a first aid kit. Walking back to the table, she placed the box on the table and took her seat in between Lucien and Anju. “Napkins are only good for so long. Best to get it properly cleaned up before it gets infected.” she said simply, giving Aoi a crooked smile. “Second Division can’t have anything happen to their Captain, can they?” she half joked. She knew that Aoi would be fine; this cut was nothing for the bluenette. But still…it was a wound and ought to be treated as such. She decided to let Anju treat Aoi as she was already sitting by the Captain and chose to turn her attention back to the redheaded playboy beside her. “And as for you…” she flashed another glance at his hand. Her face crinkled slightly in thought. “I don’t think it needs to be wrapped up, but…” her eyes flew over to the mug in his hand. Empty. An eyebrow raised slightly. Finished already? That was fast…

Sighing slightly, Sakura pushed herself up from the table and took a hold of Lucien’s mug, and headed back to the stove. Returning after a few minutes with a full cup, Sakura placed the mug back in front of Lucien and, without saying anything, sat back down.

Sitting with her arms across her chest, Sakura eyed Lucien for a few seconds, her eyes going between his face and his hand. It must hurt. The burn…odds were it stung. Sakura had had her share of burns to know what they were like. And while Lucien’s wasn’t serious or anything, it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Problem was there wasn’t much one could do with a burn…just apply ice or anything else cold. But even then after a while, the cold became useless.

Memories of when she was seven flashed through Sakura’s mind. It was the first time she had gotten burnt. It had hurt a lot. In order to help her, her father...

Sakura's arms slowly unbent themselves. She took a hold of Lucien’s wounded hand and removed the ice pack, one hand holding his while the other’s thumb began to rub his palm in a gentle, calming manner. “My father…” she began after a few seconds.

"…he used to say that holding a person’s hand helps with the pain.”

[Aoi Akuma]

“Oi. Blue-jeans. Stop that. That’s not healthy and it’s gross. Get over here.”

Aoi skimmed her eyes towards the techie as she ran her mouth over the wound. The bottle had managed to slice the side of her thumb from near top to near bottom. Not so deep that it was serious but deep enough that it would bleed for a while. She glanced at Anju as the techie got the napkin dispenser.

"It's not like I haven't tasted my own blood before." The bluenette muttered darkly before walking over to the techie and sitting on the table. She glanced at the napkins and then back at her wound. She doubted that would keep the blood from seeping for very long.

“Napkins are only good for so long. Best to get it properly cleaned up before it gets infected.”Cerulean eyes glanced over as Shizuka sat in between Anju and Lucien. She placed a first aid kit on the table.“Second Division can’t have anything happen to their Captain, can they?” She smirked at that. Like this would do anything to her fighting. But still she took the kit and placed it on her lap. Opening it with her non-wounded hand she pulled out some disinfectant. She was more than capable of doing it one handed but it didn't seem wise to do it at the moment. Even if she skipped over being drunk and went straight to blacking out she still got slightly dizzy. She looked at Anju and calmly placed the kit by her. She gave her a questioning look towards her while placing her non bloodied hand on her head. The universal sign for a headache.

Aoi then turned her attention back towards Lucien. He still had that clouded look on his eyes. She gave a small smile towards him as she felt a slight empathy wash over her. Shizuka gently placed a hand on Lucien's.

“My father…” she began after a few seconds.

"…he used to say that holding a person’s hand helps with the pain.”

Aoi looked at Shizuka as the red head spoke. She had heard vague words about the girls father. None of them ended well. But she decided to keep her mouth shut about it. She'd learn from experience that people would talk about a subject when they wanted to. Not when somone pryed for it.

She bit her unwounded thumb as thoughts of the past ran through her. Damn she was gonna need another bottle soon if this kept up.