agoodyarn | for crab_rangoon: romantic? cabin snowstorm same world au option 1

He considers ignoring it. Feet crossed, fireplace roaring, it's not exactly something that he wants to do. This is supposed to be a vacation. No one knows he's here. He had security. He paid people for the privilege of being alone!

It could be anything.

Maybe a branch.

Maybe -

Ugh.

He stands up from his comfortable chair and his spiked drink and wanders to the door, pulling it open.

What's he doing here? Well, life's been very odd since he became a ghost and entered the employ of the Japanese government. Or rather, a small section of the Japanese government that'd made a deal with him but it's all the same to him. They protect his family, they protect the Tojo, and they know better than to give him a mission that he wouldn't agree with.

This mission is simple: he was supposed to find the reclusive ruler of the country of Kyrat and he was supposed to try and observe him. Before the stupid snow storm, he'd been planning to come in with the servants and laborers. But his handler had given him a firm deadline and they knew that if anyone could make it, it would be him.

So when Pagan opens the door, what he sees is something he probably wouldn't have expected: Kiryu Kazuma, dressed in a heavy blue coat, frost in his hair, boots on his feet, a chill buzzing through him.

This isn't exactly what they wanted but... fuck it, he'll do it this way.

Of course, given the cold and the wind and the climb? He practically falls into the doorway. Not his finest moment.

Pagan steps back quickly out of the way, holding his drink out of the way. Protecting what's most important, of course. "What the fuck?" comes an abrupt sort of tsk and he considers taking a drink before he realizes exactly what he's staring at.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" It comes out a little more accusatory than he had planned on it, but there was a whole facet of his life that he was leaving behind. This was supposed to be easy. A clean break.

There weren't supposed to be strings.

He can't help it. The startled shout actually shakes him out of being, effectively, frozen half to death and has him shooting out a hand to catch himself on the doorway. He looks up, stumbles his way in, and tilts his head back to the door.

"Close the door," he says with a low grunt as he throws his weight to one side. It's only as he leans against the wall and looks over towards the man in the... pink? suit that he realizes what he'd said.

Thankfully, they'd taken the time to teach him English before sending him out. It's still not great, though.

"The storm... I got... caught on the mountain."

Pagan's quick to close the door behind him, latching it closed again. The cabin is large, warm, and inviting, though Pagan's still staring at his form in shock, lowering the temperature a good thirty degrees.

Even as he takes a long drink of the chocolate that's spiked heavily with booze, he keeps his eyes on him.

"Oh, I know that, my boy. But here. In this place. What the fuck are you doing...here? In this place? With me?" he purrs.

And speaking real English?

He turns his head and looks at Pagan in deep confusion. ‘My boy’? Weird.

“Sent here to talk to you. The storm was… unexpected.”

He’s not really shivering. But it’s clear he’s recovering for a moment or two from the cold. Really, he should be dead but what else is new?

There's no recognition in his eyes. No warmth. No - nothing. Pagan's suddenly wary, suddenly a little more reserved. As much as he wants to take him into his arms, he doesn't. He just takes another drink.

"Well, take your coat and shoes off and go sit by the fire before you fucking freeze. I'll make you a drink. I sent all the help home before the storm, so I'm afraid we're on our own here."

He pauses, blinking a little at the words since honestly? He's surprised the man hasn't pulled a gun on him. It's what he'd expect from what he was told. But he's never been one to push aggression when kindness is shown, which is why he pulls off the coat. Beneath is a white t-shirt that suits him only in the sense that it settles nicely over the muscle he carries and it's damp enough with chilled sweat that the unique dragon tattoo on his back is visible as he turns to hang up the jacket. The boots are pushed off as well, dutiful and complacent, before he makes his way to the fire to warm up.

He almost reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette before he looks at the other man and pulls his hand away to just appreciate the fire.

"Thank you."

"You can smoke if you want," he says. He knows that gesture because he knows everything about him. He knows exactly what he looks like without that t-shirt. He knows what that tattoo looks like. He knows the way he walks, the way he talks, everything. It's a little disorienting, and that is the only thing keeping Pagan's instincts at bay.

Because he wasn't lying. They are alone.

And he is armed.

The cabin's living room and kitchen are open to one another, so when Kiryu sits, Pagan wanders to the kitchen and inspects the bar, taking out something good enough, and pours it into a glass on the island.

"You said you were sent here to talk to me, Kiryu-san?" he wonders, the taste of his name strange on his tongue again. Especially that name. Especially when he knows he didn't introduce himself.

"You aren't doing much talking."

There's a long pause, silence from him, as he takes in the details. The scent of the fire blocks out the smell of the whiskey but he can tell the color and the glass. The question, though, that he can't miss.

"You were expecting me?"

How else did he know his name? He certainly hadn't introduced himself. Which meant either there was some sort of leak of information (unlikely) or they'd adjusted their plans and hadn't been able to talk to him to tell him.

"Hm," he grunts, coming over to sit down on the opposite chair, setting the drink in front of him.

"If I had been expecting you, I wouldn't have been so startled to see you." He leans back, crossing his legs.

He watches him, unable to keep his eyes off of him. "Then again, you could have just startled me with your incessant banging and being late." He waves a hand. "What do you think?"

He reaches out for the drink and takes it, sipping at it thoughtfully as Pagan goes through the options. He's not really sure. Him being here during the storm was certainly surprising. But the man had looked at him-

The man had looked at him like he hadn't ever expected to see him again.

"I think you know more about me than you should. And I don't know why."

Very matter of fact. Not even threatening.

Pagan takes another drink and considers refilling his glass. But he needs something stronger if they're going to have this conversation. He laughs, but there's really no humor in the sound.

"Ah. Well. I know quite a bit about a man named Kiryu Kazuma, the Dragon of Dojima," he says mildly. "But I'm not quite sure that man is you."

There's no reaction to that, no shock or pause. After all, he'd already heard the man call him Kiryu-san. The title has been synonymous with his name since he was twenty years old. The question is-

"Kiryu Kazuma is dead. He died in Hiroshima a year ago."

A pause.

"Whatever you want from him, you're out of luck."

Pagan laughs. "You came here to find me. So, I'd say that you want something from me," he points out.

"And I know he didn't die. He was given a shitload of money to say he was dead to protect his family. But if that's what he wants to say, then I won't take that lie away from him." He stands up.

Definitely going to need a stronger drink.

"So what do I call you?"

Kiryu, for his part, is very confused, and very very worried. There's only a few options for him in this moment, as he looks across the way at the other man. There's a warmth to his presence, some sort of appreciation for him that he count discount; that hasn't stopped people from trying to hurt him or use him before, it just means they're going to feel worse about it. But knowing all of that-

"Kiryu," because he's not going play games. If they both know what his name is, they should use it. Why come up with something else? He continues, "But you don't look into someone like me for no reason. What do you want, Min-san?"

"Right now? I want a nice glass of scotch and a very relaxing evening," he says, unscrewing the top from the bottle and pouring it into a glass with ice. "But you've decided that I can't have the second part."

He tilts the glass towards him.

"And I didn't look into you," he says. "I'm not going to tell you how, but the man I knew told me all of this himself. He has a daughter he loves fiercely who has a lovely voice. She has a child, a son, that he would move heaven and earth for. He had an orphanage for a while. But, of course, all of that is easy. I could have gotten that from anywhere." He sits down again.

The comment on what he’s allowing the other man earns him a small frown that only deepens as he continues. Some of that could be easily obtained but most of it has been out of the public eye as much as possible.

“I’m here on behalf of certain representatives within the Japanese government.”

But he doesn’t want to ask more or say more. Not about that.

“Who was this man? The one who told you… that.”

A drink and he shrugs. "And what does the Japanese government want with me?" he wonders. "Great lot of help you lot were when I needed actual assistance. But here I am in the middle of a vacation and you bust through my fucking door, demanding an audience."

He huffs.

"You're fortunate I'm reformed."

He pointedly ignores the question.

"That was the question," he says as he shakes off some of the cold and sips more of the drink offered to him. He likes having it in his hands, likes having something to hold, but his eyes easily rise to meet Pagan's.

"They're the government. They don't like when people do things they aren't expecting."

Like being reformed with no visible factors to bring it about.

"Ah, they're wondering about the transfer of power," he says. "And why it happened."

He waves a hand. "I'm retiring," he explains. "And with no heir, it seems only right that the power should return to the people."

Kiryu nods, and it looks like as far as he's concerned, he has the answer he needs. Nothing about what the man has said, nothing about how he's handled him, has made him nervous or worried about being given a snow job.

Which is the first time one of his assignments has been so.

"Anything you'd like me to pass on?"

Since he's not exactly pleased with how this has been handled.

Pagan glances to the windows as the wind picks up, hearing them rattle slightly. He takes a drink. "No. I'm retiring, if you haven't already heard. I'd rather be left alone."

He hesitates.

"Though this company I don't mind, strangely enough."

Pagan will watch the way his eyes move, his head tilts, in a faint, mildly amused disbelief at the mention of 'retiring'. Yeah, buddy: good luck with that. He's never managed it, and he didn't have a whole country.

The last thing he says has him sitting back a little.

"The man you mentioned?"

That would be the reason, he assumes.

"The man I mentioned," he agrees, giving him a grin and gesturing out. Retiring. This is the first step. Vacation.

Next step. Permanent Vacation.

"He was a good man."

for crab_rangoon: romantic? cabin snowstorm same world au option 1

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject