[Despite not having gotten to know the man, the casual possibility that any of them could simply disappear without a trace, no explanation given, was alarming. Of course, it made sense. They also seemed to arrive out of nowhere. It begged the question, however, of what might've happened that PathoGen had decided the best course of action was to return the person to their world.
House hunting and the need to find additional furnishings, household items, and groceries were a welcome distraction, though. There was a lot to do, which left less time to dwell on the disappearance.
It's a nice place. They'd gotten lucky. And Kenshi had spent the first few days memorizing the layout, counting his steps, or the slight dip in the floor to know where he was at any time in the house. The place was big enough for Vander to spread out and not feel cramped, but small enough to easily navigate for Kenshi.
And what better way to break in their new house than to cook a meal? Well... he could maybe think of one better way. In fact, they probably should have an actual conversation about what that was, what they were.]
Well... Actually, if you could just make sure I'm not burning anything. Once I can smell it, it's a little too late. Everything should be golden but not browned. [It's a fairly simple stirfry, and while he doesn't mind eating his overcooked meals, he'd prefer not to botch Vander's. It isn't until Vander is closer and he can smell the hint of wine that he tilts his head slightly, smirking.] Is there a glass for me? Actually, would you mind getting me a beer?
You ought to take away my bartending license for not even asking you if you'd like a drink.
[How selfish! He grabs Kenshi a beer from the fridge, twisting the cap off and placing it in his hand, unnecessarily putting his other hand over the back of Kenshi's as he does, just because he wants to touch him.
They should talk about what they are. Vander could at times be a bit too casual about these things, usually content to be in a situationship, because he'd usually shied away from commitment in the past. But he's open to talking about it if Kenshi wants to.]
What a luxury. Our own fridge, our own kitchen. A bed I sort of fit in. Feels good.
[He muses as he stirs the stir-fry. It smells amazing thus far.]
[Kenshi just chuckles.] Don't worry, I won't rat you out. No one will be the wiser. Thanks. [He smirks.
Honestly, the thought of having a drink hadn't crossed his mind until he'd caught the hint of wine on Vander. Dinner and a drink. It sounded really nice actually.]
It's great. And our own bathroom. No wandering down the hall in a towel, hoping that a stall will be open.
[He casually puts a hand on Vander's back, more as a way to keep track of him in the kitchen, but he can't deny he enjoys the closeness.] How's it looking? It smells like it's close to done.
[Attentive of where Vander is standing, he reaches up to open one of the cabinets and get two plates out, setting them out on the counter in preparation.
He suddenly feels a sharp pain on the side of his neck, a burning. His first thought is that it's oil from the stir fry. It's a long way for it to fly, but not impossible. Making a quiet, hissed noise of pain, he reaches up to the spot, but feels raised skin. A scratch?
While he wouldn't be able to see it even if he had eyes, Vander will likely have no problem seeing a word form across Kenshi's skin that will likely not mean much to him 'YAKUZA'.]
You can still wander around in a towel all you like, don't let me stop you.
[He jokes, smiling at the hand on his back. This is nice.]
Looks great, smells great. You've done it again, you handsome kitchen devil.
[At Kenshi's hissing, Vander's gaze snaps up with concern. He sees him holding his neck.]
You okay?
[His brow furrows as he spots a word there. YAKUZA.]
New tattoo...?
[Maybe it still hurts when it's fresh, he figures, though he doesn't know why he didn't notice it earlier-- and then he feels the pain too, down his forearm. Bending it to look, he sees words appear there. ATTEMPTED MURDER.]
Tch [Kenshi makes an attempt at dismissing the idea and acting like he at all disagrees with the thought of wandering around in a towel just for Vander to oogle at, but he fails to quell an amused, if sheepish smile, blushing lightly as he shakes his head. It might as well be a sign saying please don't stop teasing him like that because he not so secretly loves it.]
Well, there's got to be some reason you keep me around. [Is he refering to thw cooking? Wandering around in a towel? Both? Who could say.
He shakes his head when Vander asks if he'd gotten a new tattoo, and it takes a moment to sink in that it's a slightly odd question.]
[He definitely won't stop teasing him. He can tell Kenshi likes it, or at least tolerates it like a champ, and that's good enough.]
There's plenty reasons. [The cooking and the hot bod are only two of the many.
His own words throw him for a loop for a few moments, blinking and furrowing his brow. Is it... Referring to...?
Then Kenshi's question catches his attention again, and the food is in danger of burning, so he quickly turns the burner off and removes it from the heat.
Right. Kenshi can't see either word.]
Yeah. A word. "Yakuza?"
[He figures maybe it's a place name from Kenshi's home...]
[He pales, but tries to buy himself a moment by reaching around the front of the oven to find the dials controlling the cook top to turn it off.]
I'm not sure what's going on... It's not a tattoo. I didn't put it there and I don't think anyone else did either. Was it there earlier? I suddenly felt a pain there. It's here, right? [He asks, tilting his head back to run his fingers along the raised letters, frowning.] I can feel it...
[He can't fight off the small creep of guilt. While he'd never lied to Vander, there had been quite a few opportunities to talk about his involvement with the Yakuza. It doesn't help that Vander had been very open about his past mistakes. Or, at least, he thinks so. It feels a lot like Kenshi has been hiding his past, which... isn't wrong.]
[Vander's gotten the vibe that Kenshi doesn't like to expound on his past- for one thing, Vander doesn't even know what happened to his eyes, yet. He mostly chalks it up to Kenshi not wanting to talk about himself, or not wanting to recall painful memories, not that he's hiding anything, per se. But that's just how Vander sees it.
In any case, Vander shouldn't hide now, either.]
Yup, right there. It just appeared, I think, and so did two words on my arm.
[Though... He isn't volunteering what those words are. Not just yet.]
... Strange. But I'm starving. Let's not let this get cold. Hot pan, heads up.
[They can chat more about this over dinner if they're brave enough. Vander portions the stir-fry onto their plates, half and half (he probably could eat twice as much as Kenshi at the current point, but he wants to be fair). He passes Kenshi one of the plates and leads him to the table with a hand on his lower back. Once there, he slides a hand down his arm and takes his hand, guiding it to the back of the chair so he knows for certain where it is. He doesn't like to be too overbearing with helping him (though he'd definitely assisted him in getting the lay of the land when they moved in), because he doesn't want to emasculate or embarrass Kenshi, but part of this is simply... An excuse to touch him.
And him trying to be something of a gentleman, not that any Zaunite could ever hope for such a title.]
[Kenshi's frown deepens, brow furrowing more. One one hand, it's nice to know he's not alone in whatever is happening. On the other... well, these words don't really seem flattering and it's telling that Vander doesn't mention what the words on his arm are.]
I am too. [He smiles softly. Whatever new catastrophe is occurring, it could wait until they were done eating.
And he can't help but continue to smile to himself when he feels Vander's hand on his back. He really doesn't need to be walked around like this, but he's not about to tell Vander that. It's a great excuse to have him touch him more and he's certainly not going to dissuade that.
His smile turns into more of an amused smirk when Vander's hand finds its way down to his to guide him to a chair. It's an endearingly sweet gesture even if it is a little unnecessary.]
Thanks. [He finds his chopsticks and the plate and begins working on the stir fry. It's not bad at all. And after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he reaches for his beer and tilts his head back a little so Vander can see his neck.] I don't suppose the word has disappeared, has it?
[He knows Kenshi doesn't need it, but most people don't need doors opened for them either, perfectly capable of doing it themselves, but it's still a nice gesture. Removing a small obstacle for someone just to make their day one iota easier.
He considers chancing a kiss on Kenshi's cheek, but decides against it for now. Better they talk about their relationship before assuming that kind of closeness.
He sits and eats, and while he tries to be polite, he's too hungry for what he's doing to be considered anything but scarfing it down. He doesn't personally make the connection that it's how a dog would eat, but somebody easily might. He especially savours the meat, making a small moan of satisfaction.]
This is delicious, Kenshi.
[He looks up from his food to squint at Kenshi's neck, then his own arm.]
Nope, still there for both of us. So... Who, what, or where is 'Yakuza?'
[Kenshi can't help a small chuckle at the compliment paired with sounds that suggested Vander was devouring the meal.] It's just stir fry. But I'm glad you like it.
[His smile falters, expression turning more grim and serious.] I guess it's a mix of who and what. Yakuza is a group where I'm from.
... Organized crime.
My clan, so my family, has been part of the Yakuza for hundreds of years now. When I was old enough, I dropped out of school and followed the path expected of me.
They're not good people. I wasn't a good person... [And he's certainly not proud of it. He purses his lips, toying idly with his food.] You said you ended up with something on your skin as well?
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House hunting and the need to find additional furnishings, household items, and groceries were a welcome distraction, though. There was a lot to do, which left less time to dwell on the disappearance.
It's a nice place. They'd gotten lucky. And Kenshi had spent the first few days memorizing the layout, counting his steps, or the slight dip in the floor to know where he was at any time in the house. The place was big enough for Vander to spread out and not feel cramped, but small enough to easily navigate for Kenshi.
And what better way to break in their new house than to cook a meal? Well... he could maybe think of one better way. In fact, they probably should have an actual conversation about what that was, what they were.]
Well... Actually, if you could just make sure I'm not burning anything. Once I can smell it, it's a little too late. Everything should be golden but not browned. [It's a fairly simple stirfry, and while he doesn't mind eating his overcooked meals, he'd prefer not to botch Vander's. It isn't until Vander is closer and he can smell the hint of wine that he tilts his head slightly, smirking.] Is there a glass for me? Actually, would you mind getting me a beer?
[How selfish! He grabs Kenshi a beer from the fridge, twisting the cap off and placing it in his hand, unnecessarily putting his other hand over the back of Kenshi's as he does, just because he wants to touch him.
They should talk about what they are. Vander could at times be a bit too casual about these things, usually content to be in a situationship, because he'd usually shied away from commitment in the past. But he's open to talking about it if Kenshi wants to.]
What a luxury. Our own fridge, our own kitchen. A bed I sort of fit in. Feels good.
[He muses as he stirs the stir-fry. It smells amazing thus far.]
Honestly, the thought of having a drink hadn't crossed his mind until he'd caught the hint of wine on Vander. Dinner and a drink. It sounded really nice actually.]
It's great. And our own bathroom. No wandering down the hall in a towel, hoping that a stall will be open.
[He casually puts a hand on Vander's back, more as a way to keep track of him in the kitchen, but he can't deny he enjoys the closeness.] How's it looking? It smells like it's close to done.
[Attentive of where Vander is standing, he reaches up to open one of the cabinets and get two plates out, setting them out on the counter in preparation.
He suddenly feels a sharp pain on the side of his neck, a burning. His first thought is that it's oil from the stir fry. It's a long way for it to fly, but not impossible. Making a quiet, hissed noise of pain, he reaches up to the spot, but feels raised skin. A scratch?
While he wouldn't be able to see it even if he had eyes, Vander will likely have no problem seeing a word form across Kenshi's skin that will likely not mean much to him 'YAKUZA'.]
[He jokes, smiling at the hand on his back. This is nice.]
Looks great, smells great. You've done it again, you handsome kitchen devil.
[At Kenshi's hissing, Vander's gaze snaps up with concern. He sees him holding his neck.]
You okay?
[His brow furrows as he spots a word there. YAKUZA.]
New tattoo...?
[Maybe it still hurts when it's fresh, he figures, though he doesn't know why he didn't notice it earlier-- and then he feels the pain too, down his forearm. Bending it to look, he sees words appear there. ATTEMPTED MURDER.]
What the devil?
Well, there's got to be some reason you keep me around. [Is he refering to thw cooking? Wandering around in a towel? Both? Who could say.
He shakes his head when Vander asks if he'd gotten a new tattoo, and it takes a moment to sink in that it's a slightly odd question.]
A tattoo? Is there a mark on my neck?
There's plenty reasons. [The cooking and the hot bod are only two of the many.
His own words throw him for a loop for a few moments, blinking and furrowing his brow. Is it... Referring to...?
Then Kenshi's question catches his attention again, and the food is in danger of burning, so he quickly turns the burner off and removes it from the heat.
Right. Kenshi can't see either word.]
Yeah. A word. "Yakuza?"
[He figures maybe it's a place name from Kenshi's home...]
I'm not sure what's going on... It's not a tattoo. I didn't put it there and I don't think anyone else did either. Was it there earlier? I suddenly felt a pain there. It's here, right? [He asks, tilting his head back to run his fingers along the raised letters, frowning.] I can feel it...
[He can't fight off the small creep of guilt. While he'd never lied to Vander, there had been quite a few opportunities to talk about his involvement with the Yakuza. It doesn't help that Vander had been very open about his past mistakes. Or, at least, he thinks so. It feels a lot like Kenshi has been hiding his past, which... isn't wrong.]
In any case, Vander shouldn't hide now, either.]
Yup, right there. It just appeared, I think, and so did two words on my arm.
[Though... He isn't volunteering what those words are. Not just yet.]
... Strange. But I'm starving. Let's not let this get cold. Hot pan, heads up.
[They can chat more about this over dinner if they're brave enough. Vander portions the stir-fry onto their plates, half and half (he probably could eat twice as much as Kenshi at the current point, but he wants to be fair). He passes Kenshi one of the plates and leads him to the table with a hand on his lower back. Once there, he slides a hand down his arm and takes his hand, guiding it to the back of the chair so he knows for certain where it is. He doesn't like to be too overbearing with helping him (though he'd definitely assisted him in getting the lay of the land when they moved in), because he doesn't want to emasculate or embarrass Kenshi, but part of this is simply... An excuse to touch him.
And him trying to be something of a gentleman, not that any Zaunite could ever hope for such a title.]
I am too. [He smiles softly. Whatever new catastrophe is occurring, it could wait until they were done eating.
And he can't help but continue to smile to himself when he feels Vander's hand on his back. He really doesn't need to be walked around like this, but he's not about to tell Vander that. It's a great excuse to have him touch him more and he's certainly not going to dissuade that.
His smile turns into more of an amused smirk when Vander's hand finds its way down to his to guide him to a chair. It's an endearingly sweet gesture even if it is a little unnecessary.]
Thanks. [He finds his chopsticks and the plate and begins working on the stir fry. It's not bad at all. And after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he reaches for his beer and tilts his head back a little so Vander can see his neck.] I don't suppose the word has disappeared, has it?
He considers chancing a kiss on Kenshi's cheek, but decides against it for now. Better they talk about their relationship before assuming that kind of closeness.
He sits and eats, and while he tries to be polite, he's too hungry for what he's doing to be considered anything but scarfing it down. He doesn't personally make the connection that it's how a dog would eat, but somebody easily might. He especially savours the meat, making a small moan of satisfaction.]
This is delicious, Kenshi.
[He looks up from his food to squint at Kenshi's neck, then his own arm.]
Nope, still there for both of us. So... Who, what, or where is 'Yakuza?'
[His smile falters, expression turning more grim and serious.] I guess it's a mix of who and what. Yakuza is a group where I'm from.
... Organized crime.
My clan, so my family, has been part of the Yakuza for hundreds of years now. When I was old enough, I dropped out of school and followed the path expected of me.
They're not good people. I wasn't a good person... [And he's certainly not proud of it. He purses his lips, toying idly with his food.] You said you ended up with something on your skin as well?