masokaiser: (8|)
[personal profile] masokaiser
[Today has been...interesting, for the both of them.

Well, maybe less interesting on Juudai's end. He's probably used to ignoring Saruyama's scripts and hiding the new deck by now, which is really something that Kaiser should talk to him about. There's going to be serious danger to both of them if this continues.

Right now, though, he's busy picking mangoes out of a pile and trying to ignore his crippling shame.

(He really hadn't expected that to happen in the ring. He'd barely even noticed it, in the state he was in, blended in with the usual sick excitement of the duel. But he had taken a shock and for the first time he was truly prepared for it, ready for it, and...)

He shakes off the thought and turns back to the cart with his bag of fruit.

...There are considerably more cookies in the basket than the last time he checked.]

masokaiser: (wow.)
[personal profile] masokaiser
[Kaiser wakes up far later than usual. He prefers to rise early, normally -- sleep is for the weak and the dead -- but the events of last night were so draining that he slept straight through his alarm.

He doesn't remember them, when he's first waking up. They don't hit him until he glances around his room, still drowsy and blinking sleep out of his eyes, and sees the briefcase -- still missing one cuff -- lying open on the floor.

He sits up and takes inventory.

- Juudai is in the underground as of last night.
- He's a face.
- He passes out at 800 AP.
- Kaiser is responsible for training this out of him.
- He's staying in Kaiser's apartment.

...wait. Right. This means he has...some kind of host duties, doesn't it...?

He slides out of bed, and rubs his eyes as he walks out of the room in last night's clothing to see just what state Juudai's in.]
sternitfortem: (♩sors immanis et inanis)
[personal profile] sternitfortem
[ The pay phone receiver feels tacky in Juudai's hand. He doesn't want to think about what kind of substances it might be coated in. Or maybe it's just the cheap black plastic itself, softening in his hot, sweat-slicked hand. He resists the urge to change hands to wipe his right hand off; there's no point.

and so it begins )


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Random's Musebox

May 2016

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