Chaotic Elements » Places

         

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"Mixed drinks,
Like mixed feelings,
Are a confusion to the soul.”
~George Carman”
"Not trying to change your world,
Just bring you into mine, babe.
Flower girl, is it your season?
Flower girl, won't you open up for me?"

Mafuyu Speech Code ~ #7f9f91 | Mafuyu Thought Code ~ #bb7e8c

Iphianassa Speech Code ~#045AD6 | Iphianassa Thought Code ~ #06A8AB

Relax Your Soul ~ As you read

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With his permission to guide them - did she really care if he consented to her leading the way though? Maybe, but probably not - Iphignea drew in one last deep breath and smoothed out her skirt, finally having freed it from its tangled state. It was only then that she began to walk, mind wandering just as much as her body was. She still felt frazzled, and undoubtedly would even while she slept later - if she managed to sleep at all - but the presence of someone who surprisingly didn’t set off immediate alarm bells inside of her was … Comforting.

That wasn’t to negate the odd air he held, something that she couldn’t quite put into words but was definitely there. Thick, noticeable, palpable; foreign, unrecognizable, yet disconcertingly present. Something that generally would be more reason for her to keep her distance. Given the circumstances though, and her interactions with Orako leading up until that moment, she hesitated for a second. The weird vibe that he gave off wasn’t threatening per say, just not entirely normal.

Pfft, like he’s some sort of alien or something. The thought gave her pause; what if he was an alien? She couldn’t stop the side-eye that the idea resulted in, suspicion riddling her stare. That would explain a lot. Maybe he is an alien. But then again … Nah. Waving off the silly line of thinking she was going down, she suppressed a snort at her own musings. Aliens didn’t exist, and Orako was a human.

Able to set aside her concerns, at least for the moment, and simply enjoy the fact that for the time being she was free of Riku and his leering stare, Iphignea felt her shoulders loosen. Even if that meant lowering her guard for someone who was, to be blunt, a stranger. And a strange stranger nonetheless. But his association with Yuzuki and therefore Tora gave her some relief, because if Tora was willing to put up with him then he had to at the very least be a decent guy, right? She found the weariness of the last year in the lingering tightness that had settled as a dull ache between her shoulder blades. It was hard to name when the last time she slept soundly was, as even while away she hadn’t been able to get a full nights’ rest, the anxiety of returning to Japan plaguing her every moment, sleeping or waking. Undoubtedly tonight would be much the same, with frequent tossing and turning, kicking of the sheets, ending with the eventual restless pacing throughout the house. Maybe if she felt safe enough, a seat on the swing she had put in on her front porch, if one could call it that.

She couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped her over the idea of it. Life was just so exhausting, was it even really worth it? To keep going, trudging along slowly while continuously being pulled back by the weight of the mud at her feet, sucking her deeper and deeper with each passing trauma. It really was beginning to seem less worth the energy of fighting, and more worth the lack of which it took to simply give up.

A shake of her head. Daisuke … Yua. The names of her younger siblings resonated in her brain, just enough to pull her from that thickening sludge, wrenching her from the budding quicksand that threatened her very soul. Their cherubic faces, innocent and happy, tugged at her heart. A tactic that she had found that almost always worked when she was about to slip over the edge. The times where it wasn’t … Well, things tended to not go very well.

She couldn’t do something like that to them.

Finally able to focus - at least she didn’t zone out as badly as she used to - she found that they had reached the exit from the park, leading into a paved lot that by then was a little under half-full. A majority of the festival-goers had been families and teenagers, leaving the later celebrations for the older crowd. Undoubtedly the next night would be full of students and older teens, young adults and lovebirds alike, as the Saturday of the festival was always considered to be more ‘lively’ one could say. She found the idea of it nauseating; lovesick couples cooing over each other while attempting to get the best photo to post on their social media pages with the hope of becoming the next ‘it’ couple. What a giant waste of time.

As feet met pavement, the soft padding of her steps were drowned out by the chatter of a nearby family of four. The younger child couldn’t have been more than five, but she barely took notice of whatever it was that they were doing. They were loading up a van, readying themselves for the journey home, which left only a few vehicles in the lot. It was when she took notice of the family actually leaving the lot that the idea of a car washed over her.

Well, shit. She had basically abducted the poor guy, so who knew if he had one? She hadn’t really given him much opportunity to speak, something she internally winced at the realization over. Her stride came to a halt, at which point she half-turned and tossed a look at him from the side. ”Did you drive here? Or are we walking? Not that I care either way. I’d just rather not abandon your car,” she said with a shrug, trying her best to play at nonchalance.

Iphianassa is largely quiet for their walk out, lost in thought. Not that it bothers him; she clearly has…a lot on her mind, and he's not about to interrupt if she needs the time and space to sort through them. He's fine with the time to think and observe as well anyway; her ex hasn't found them again as far as he can tell, something of a relief. Sure, the guy isn’t after him, but Solaris is hardly content with the feeling of eyes following someone next to him either, hates that sensation of being followed. He can't imagine how Iphianassa has dealt with it for so long. At this point Mafuyu there’s no way he wouldn't have done something irreversible, being the constant victim of a trashy stalker like that.

Besides the discomfort over the idea of it all, he does spot Ophelia and Kazutora a long ways off on their way out; his eyes certainly make it easy to find them in the crowds even from what should be much too far away. She seems happy, as does he. And, of course he hasn’t missed the fact that they're holding hands. He's confident he'll get plenty of stories out of his sister when she eventually arrives home tonight if they’re already making moves that quickly.

He's glad that things are going well for them, at least.

When she speaks again is when he's finally drawn out of his own thoughts, blinking once down at her as his head tilts slightly, glancing around the parking lot with a small, "ah." They've made it here faster than he’d expected. Maybe he should have been paying more attention.

It's not nearly as full as it had been when he'd arrived earlier, and the lack of crowds is a bit nice at this point. Sure, there’s still the scents of all the stands and anything else lingering around, but at least it isn’t nearly as overwhelming now. Surely it would only get better once they actually left too.

"I didn't walk, no," comes his response after a few moments of quiet, finally spotting the bike a little ways away; hopefully she won’t mind this form of transportation rather than a car, "I parked my motorcycle just over there," his hand vaguely gestures over to the black vehicle parked a little ways away, "are you alright with riding one? I know some people aren't really a fan of it, but…"

’Motorcycle’? Iphignea visibly winced at the mention of one, Mafuyu's brows furrowing at the sight. She had been able to move past her issue with the machine enough to tolerate driving a motorized scooter of her own - thanks to a certain stalker, it was necessary - but to ride an actual motorcycle was entirely different. It was intimidating, anxiety-inducing - much too bothersome to deal with. Not to mention the fact that despite her own personal preference for standing her ground against something deemed ‘wrong’, the years of being told that such an activity ‘wasn’t meant for girls’ warred against it and unfortunately won out.

’You know you don’t belong in front. Just lightly sit on it and look pretty, Iana. See? You’re always such a good girl. Listen well and if you’re lucky I’ll take you out on it later.’

Another grimace, this one much more obvious. The echo of Riku’s words, often the same and said more times than she could possibly count, resonated in her head. Motorcycles were for men and make-up was for women. The only reason he let her continue MMA was because it was the only thing that she refused to back down on. He’d tried to get her to quit, with many times that the argument bordering physical, but she’d held true to her love for mock fighting. He’d never given up on getting her to quit, though, even until a few days before she broke up with him.

She had never been great with a poker face, her scowl a constant presence, and she didn’t really bother to hide her emotions at all. She found her pace slowing the closer she got to his bike, as black as the night sky outside of the city. Thankful for the dim lighting in the lot - only one of the streetlights was on while the rest of the area was lit by the lanterns - it was just shadowed enough that she felt her face to be comfortably hidden, shrouding the worried clench of her jaw, the furrowed brows of concern. What if she broke it somehow? What if she tripped and knocked it over, or scratched the paint in some way? What if when she sat down, a bolt came loose? There was no way she could afford to fix it, and then everything Riku had said about women would just be proven to be true, and -

Stop. Riku is a narcissist. Nothing he said is true. Nothing.

A little breath of courage and she forced herself to draw nearer, her entire body stiff with concern over possibly damaging the vehicle. She had to admit that it was sleek though, beautiful even. It glinted in the dull lights of the lanterns as it caught their glow just right, and Iphignea found herself wishing to touch it, to sit on it, to ride it without any worries over possibly breaking it or looking like a clown. The feel of the wind in her hair would probably be soothing, not to mention the sheer exhilaration of going so fast, but she knew better than to even lightly graze it. Undoubtedly she would do something to damage it and that was the last thing that she wanted, both because of her financial status as well as a preference to avoid doing that to something of Orako’s. He had actually been nice to her so far, as much as she hated to admit it. She really didn’t want to ruin the possibility of her finally making a friend other than Tora.

The longer he watches, the more it seems as if there really is a struggling battle going on inside her, the shifts in her expression, the hesitation, the winces and grimaces that keep crossing her face. Because of…a motorcycle? Maybe she really just doesn't like the idea of riding one? Or maybe she doesn't want to be stuck on one with him? Or…is it something else? He wouldn't be surprised; she seems to have far more going on than one might assume in a single glance.

She hasn't completely backed off though, and he takes that as her not being completely against the idea of riding it with him. So the helmet he'd left on the bike is in his hands before he turns towards her, intent on making sure she wears it for the drive. She needs it far more than he does, after all.

Hesitation lined her very being, as she wasn’t doing well at hiding her worries, especially when they finally reached the beast and she found Orako expectantly holding a helmet out to her. Iphignea merely blinked at it for several moments before she fully registered what it was that he was doing. He was trying to give her his helmet? A glance at the bike revealed no other, so it was clearly the only one. To her?

But why?

”But what about you?” The concern for his machine now replaced with the possibility of him getting hurt, she found her head shaking, hand moving out to try and push it away, though he doesn't let it budge. She might’ve been a lot of things, but careless over the well-being of someone else wasn’t one of them. ”No, I can’t take it. You won’t have one if I do, and it doesn’t matter if something happens to me.” Not entirely a lie, she doubted very many people would care if she did end up as roadkill. Tora definitely, her coach as well, but only because it would cost him a competitor. Probably Riku, in his own sick way. Her brothers and sister, maybe her dad if she was lucky. But those were only possibilities. Undoubtedly they all found her to be troublesome.

Besides, considering the numbers, did it really matter? She knew she didn’t care - if anything she’d probably take death gratefully - so why would he when she was a complete stranger to him? ”Plus, aren’t you worried I’ll get it dirty? Or make it stink?” Also a legitimate worry, since she had spent a majority of her life being told how unclean she was. Even at that very moment she felt herself fighting the urge to double check with a quick whiff of herself, because when she’d be told she stank and had immediately done a sniff test, she’d still been unable to pinpoint what they’d been talking about. No matter how much she washed or anything she used, they were convinced that she was filthy, despite her not smelling anything.

So with another shake of her head she pushed at the helmet, urging it back towards him. ”No, I definitely can’t accept it. I’ll be fine.”

"I- What?" He finds himself staring at her in shock, confusion over her words. It doesn't matter if something happens to her? She's worried about getting it dirty? Making it…smell? What in the world is she-

Does she really think of her life as worth so little? Why? What in the world had happened to her to leave her reacting like this over every little thing? The bare minimum of niceties, and…offering her a helmet for the ride? He doesn't even really think of that as nice, it's just what you should do if you have someone going along with you on a motorcycle.

The self-deprecation and devaluing of her own life leaves a sensation of anger burning underneath, his grip on the helmet tightening as he tries to keep his brows from furrowing too much. What had brought her to the point of thinking this way? Or, who? The psycho ex? He doesn't doubt that's part of the problem, but something tells him it's more than just him, even if he might be a large piece of it.

Ignoring her hand still out to block and push away the helmet, Mafuyu moves it around before taking a step forward, readjusting the helmet in his hands to easily get it on her head once he's closed that small gap. It's lifted over her head with a, "no, sorry, I'd really prefer you do wear it."

The movement caught her off-guard, as she was so entirely absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed his approach. It drew her back to the real world, an inadvertent flinch to go with it, and she found herself attempting to take a step away. She was somewhat successful with a small half-stumble; anything to get away from the foreign sensation, as the only time someone other than the few that she was close to would attempt to get so near was when they were an aggressor. Even some of those she had thought she could trust had ended up being a problem. It was a simple instinct, a protective measure she’d developed over the years.

She realized rather quickly that what he was doing wasn’t harmful, though, and instead found the previously rejected helmet to be making its way over her head. He's careful with the motion, hands pressing to slip it over her head and hopefully not mess her hair too much, or cause any discomfort. It made her pause, escape attempt halted for the moment, the slide of the inside cushions soft, comfortable against her cheeks. It smelled musky inside, although not badly so. A mixture of trees and soap, but in such a way that the first thought in her mind was that this was what a man smelled like. Where Riku had been pungent, reeking of cigarettes and booze, sweat and cars, Orako seemed to carry with him nothing but clean, crisp aromas, pleasant ones. Where Riku had been tainted, Orako was pure.

His hands move over the helmet for a moment, making sure its positioning is correct, that it's not too big, that he didn't put it on crooked and leave her feeling unbalanced or uncomfortable in the process. It's just a slight shift, thumb pressing into the open visor where blue eyes look back at him, though he's still too busy checking over the helmet to make eye contact. "First of all," comes his words as he pushes down on the top a little more, and he's confident he's got it right then, "I don't know why you're worried about getting it dirty, or making it stink. You don't need to be." He finds her scent pleasant anyway, finally able to pick it out of the air now that they aren't surrounded by hundreds of other people and stalls full of food. It's one that feels almost familiar, something he's always liked. What's the word for it, petrichor? Like rainfall, fresh and clean, though saying that out loud might leave him looking like a creep and that's the last thing he needs. "I'm far more worried about it smelling bad because I've been wearing it so often." Being left on for as long as it usually is while he rides, surely he's left some sort of scent within it, and the thought of it being unpleasant or reeking because of that almost makes him feel self-conscious, "so…sorry if it does."

The shield that concealed the eyes was retractable and open, leaving her nothing else to look at other than his soft fluff of blue hair and those mesmerizing orbs the man before her called ‘irises’. It seemed that each time they’d made their way to hers she found herself drowning more and more, her breath hitching longer with every glance. They seemed to carry with them a depth of emotion and memory not often seen in someone so young, but something she’d witnessed more times than she cared to count in her endless years of experience with adoption and foster systems.

Thankfully, he seemed fairly focused on ensuring that the helmet was on properly, so she hoped against hope that he wouldn’t somehow notice the uncontrollable quickening of her pulse, the way she did her best to not meet his gaze, or the subtle heat that steadily grew in her cheeks. His words brought her an odd sense of amusement despite everything, as he mentioned how he more than likely had already caused the helmet to have an odor. If anything, it was to the contrary. The little whiffs that she got on each inhale were good, which did little to calm her concerns over her own sanity, because who in their right mind enjoyed the smell of someone else like that?

The only men she’d let near her like this had been the few she considered trustworthy, but even so, this felt entirely different than it had with them. With them all, aside from Riku, it had been a calm, familial-like affection with which she’d allowed them to be within reach. Riku had been intimate, of course, but even so it hadn’t felt like this. Nerve-wracking, riddled with uncertainty and confusion, yet something more, something that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It felt exciting, an emotion she’d thought long-lost over years of trauma. Riku had once made her heart skip when they first met, the fervent glances met with shyly averted eyes giving her the flutters over the possibility of a first love. But even with him, she hadn’t found her interest to be as piqued, her attention so enraptured. She couldn’t even bring herself to utter a single sound.

Am I getting sick? Or just losing what little is left of my sanity?

His hands move down the edges of the helmet then, one taking hold of the strap there while the other searches blindly, "and second, but just as important," more important, really, "it does matter if something happens to you. So you're wearing this helmet, because I don't want you getting hurt if something goes wrong. I already sort of did get you hurt earlier today, like a goddamn idiot," his fingers finally find the other strap, and he leans in a little closer to try and see if he can get a better view of the awkward angle to latch them, "and if I did again somehow, I think the guilt really might kill me."

For the briefest of moments Iphignea found herself to be at a loss for words. Everything that came out his mouth, every single piece of it had been something that she had only heard from those she saw as obligated to feel such a way. Some were even foreign to her, because instead of blaming her for the accident when they first met, he was blaming himself? Of course she had seen it as being his fault, but if it had been anyone else it would’ve been spun around and the script massively flipped. But instead here was Orako, stressing over a past injury and calling himself an ‘idiot’ of all things. From what she’d seen so far, he was definitely not stupid. The frustration of the word alone was enough to finally push a few words out of her.

”Not … An idiot.” It was quiet, but she somehow managed to get it out, hoping that it was just loud enough for him to hear. She was about to say something else - a part of her found it irritating that he would say that about himself - but the sudden soft graze of his fingers as they accidentally traced against her neck sent a small jolt throughout her. It was something that she had been far from prepared for, and luckily for them both he had finished clasping the straps at the exact same moment, because she couldn’t stop the immediate step she took back and away from him. It was more of a jump, as though she were trying to put as much space between them as possible with the one movement. It wasn’t intentional, but instead an instinctual response, having had far too many negative encounters with both drunk patrons at her bar as well as Riku and his friends, attempting to touch her in ways that with many other women would earn them a good slap. If it was any other man, she would be right along with those women, but something about Riku made it so much more difficult to lash out, to simply fight back. Was it because she still cared about him? Maybe a little, if she was truly honest, because after so many years it was hard to fully rid herself of those feelings. But the fear he instilled in her was so overwhelming that it basically wiped out any remaining love that she might’ve had. Undoubtedly it was that fear that stopped her from entirely fighting back, and she found it pathetic that she was afraid to admit to being afraid.

A bit sheepishly, she lowered her head and muttered, ust loudly enough to make sure that he could hear, ”sorry … Can’t help it,” before she forced herself to take a step, and then another, until she had made her way back over to the bike and by default him as well. Grateful that the helmet would hide her shame from view, she slowed when she finally reached the side of it. Even as he climbed on, she still found herself staring at it, almost as though it were an actual monster. Unfortunately, Riku had been somewhat successful in implanting in her the belief that women were inadequate in comparison to men in many ways, and the fact that women didn’t belong on motorcycles was one of them.

He blinks once at her suddenly moving away, unease far too clear, and wonders if he's crossed too far again by getting as close as he has. Would she be upset with him again? Yet, she apologizes. Says she can't help it. An instinctual response? It reminds him of Ophelia, the way she always tenses under touch or flinches away. There's so much to Iphianassa's past left to his imagination with it, but he's not particularly thrilled over any of the potential paths it tries to take.

"No need to apologize, you're fine." He shrugs as she steps away, and he follows soon after, longer legs allowing him to catch up with her easily enough as they close the distance to the bike again. "Anyway, just keep the helmet on and it'll be fine. I promise I'm a safe driver. And, I've got a hard head," he lightly knocks a lazy fist against his head in a somewhat humorous show, "so no need to worry about my safety either." Sure, he'll be in for a hell of a lot of pain if they do wreck, but he wouldn't die. Probably. He might just wish he had.

It would’ve been funny, had she not been so concerned over the current predicament. The bop he gave his head was charming in a way, but it seemed like Orako as a whole was exactly that - charming. Suits him. Still, it wasn’t enough to distract her, as wary attention moved back to the issue at hand.

”Um,” she paused, hands wringing together before her and picking lightly at the skin on her knuckles, “”are you … Sure that you want me to touch your bike? You’re not worried that I could break it? Or make it worth less?” It wasn’t that she wanted to second guess him or his intentions, or even somehow coerce him into looking at her in a certain way, but the genuine concerns she had over doing anything remotely bad to his bike were almost enough to send her into a panic attack. Just shy of it though, she managed to maintain most of her composure, but her uncertainty and a few insecurities had found out how to weasel their way through. They revealed themselves in different ways, this time opting for a worried approach.

Mafuyu's pulling his hair back into a small, messy ponytail when she speaks again, leaning against the bike before turning to look back at her. He can't hide the furrow in his brow this time, hands dropping back at his side once the tie in his hair is done. "Iphianassa," his arms cross over his chest as he settles a little more against the bike, head tilting slightly, "I'm sure, I promise. You aren't going to break it just by touching it. If that's all it took, then this thing would have been wrecked ages ago. And you aren't going to- I- why would you make it worth less? I really don't think that's possible." He can't figure that out, why she thinks that, where it's coming from.

A physical jump in surprise, Iphignea felt almost guilty under his gentle chastising. He made it seem ridiculous for her to have thought that way, but what else was there to think about herself? It was all true - it had to be, given how many had told her as much for so long. A pang hit her chest at the words, the reassurance that she couldn’t make it lose value by her mere touch. Don’t get cocky. You know where you stand. The inner hatred spoke from the corners of her mind, casting doubt on anything that Orako said to her. ”I- No, I can always just walk home. It’s really not that big of a deal.” Even as the words left her mouth, Iphignea could feel how much of a lie they were. It was a big deal to her. If Riku found her on her way home, after disappearing with some guy …

She shuddered to think about what he might do. Another tossed glance over her shoulder back towards the festivities, despite how blocked her vision was by the protective gear and terrain. Where was he now? Still wandering around where they’d left him? Was he looking for her somewhere else? Did he leave to go wait for her outside of her house? So many possibilities, but who knew which one was the answer? No matter how she saw it, the worst of the four was the last option, so she sincerely prayed that he didn’t try to go to her home.

And then she's trying to back out again, saying she'll walk home. Mafuyu stares for a moment, standing up from his spot fully, "come on," hands take hold of the motorcycle, kicking the stand back and then swinging his leg over it to mount, key in his left hand before he shifts himself to look at her, right hand held out as if to try and draw her forward, "I told you I'd take you home, didn't I? And we still need to go to that diner you told me about. Promise there's nothing to worry about, I swear this dumb thing won't break or fall apart underneath us. And even if it does for whatever reason, then I just got unlucky and bought a shitty bike, and that's on me, okay?"

His … Hand? He wasn’t afraid to touch her? She’d already taken too many liberties, forcing him to be physically close to her, pushing him into allowing her to touch him, even though it had really only been twice her fault so far. Why would he willingly …?

But then he’s speaking again, urging her closer, and for a moment, just a second, she was unable to stop herself. It was as though something had been cast over her, a spell of sorts, the image of him on the bike too enticing to resist. A heat gathered at the base of her neck, her thick hair intensifying the fever that was budding. Definitely sick. His encouragement, the consistent reassurance that there was no possible way that she could break it, was the final push that she needed and with her resolve to argue completely gone, she found herself moving forward. Not necessarily ignoring his hand, she was simply too embarrassed over her own response to him essentially just existing to force herself to take it. As tempting as it was, she would rather avoid giving him her germs on top of everything. In all honesty had it been almost anyone else, the hand would’ve been slapped away before he could’ve even extended it fully in her direction. But something made her not want to do so. It made her want to be … Nice? The idea of it surprised her. She wasn’t unkind by any means, mostly to those she saw as innocent - children, the elderly, animals - but she was generally less than welcoming to anyone else. Clearly something was wrong with her as well.

Mind made up to take some medicine as soon as she was home - clearly she needed it - she slowly brought her leg up and over and just as gingerly lowered herself onto the seat behind him. He gives a soft laugh at that, letting his hand move back to take the keys and get the bike started.

For a moment she just sat there, hands raised in a way that they hovered on either side of him as he settled in before her. Afraid to move and unsure of what exactly to do, she bit her lip. She knew where to grab, of course, but was it okay? She wasn’t so sure and the question of it was enough to stop her from being ballsy enough to just go for it. Instead, her hands made their way to the lower back of his robes, grabbing hold there so lightly that it was almost unnoticeable.

Quiet settles for a bit, Mafuyu getting himself comfortable in his spot as he waits for her to take hold. And waits. And waits. And she never does.

His heel brushes against the gravel of the parking lot as he turns to look back at her from his spot, brow shifting slightly in confusion. Her arms are up, but her hands are barely holding onto the fabric of the kimono he's wearing, a featherlight touch. There’s no way she’ll stay on top of the bike that way.

"…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable Iphignea, but I don’t want you flying off the back of the motorcycle once we get going either." Slight frown stays in place, worry tinging his voice. "You can put your arms around me. I promise I won’t say anything; it’s just for the drive there, that’s all."

The insistence alone wouldn’t have been enough to convince her, but paired with the worry that seemed so genuine and the soft lilt in his voice that drew her in concerningly easily, she found herself unable to argue. He hadn’t asked anything of her really so far, so when the words of concern slipped past those distracting lips, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. Better to have a bit of discomfort than for her to go flying off of the back, she supposed. It took a few more beats for her to gather the gumption to do so, but finally with enough courage built up she managed to release her hands and move her arms down, hovering and not quite touching but wrapped around his waist nonetheless. Her hands floated in the air, but not for long, because before she could fully prepare herself he tossed her a quick warning - "hold on tight, yeah?" - and the bike roared to life. A thrust and it lurched forward, not exactly fast but definitely quick enough to nearly take her off, had she not had her arms where they were. They instantly tightened around his waist, a squeak of surprise escaping her - When the hell have I ever made that noise? - and her hands clenched in the front of his kimono, pulling her snug against his back. He can't help the somewhat content - perhaps slightly amused - smile that finds its way to his lips when she tightens her hold on him, silently grateful she can't see his face from her position. Was that a squeak too? Ha, cute.

It had been a while since Iphignea had last been on an actual motorcycle. Other than the few times that Riku let her onto his - only while he was driving it, of course, and only for the aesthetics of it all - he had essentially forbade her from even getting close enough to one to touch it, whether or not it belonged to him. He told her that women weren’t meant to ride motorcycles, but instead were there to add to the visual appeal of the machine as a whole. It wasn’t surprising that the feel of it wasn’t exactly something that she was used to, a bit of fear washing over her at how exposed they were, moving across the roads and weaving through traffic. Orakos’ control only proved his skill over the monster. It screamed potential should it be taken on a long stretch of open tar, and she found a part of her yearning to see how something like that would feel.

The focus on the ride itself only lasted so long, because rather quickly Iphignea realized that she had practically clung onto Orako. Of course there was little that she could do, considering if she loosened her grip she feared she’d go flying off, but the sensation of him, or rather his abdomen to be exact, was a lot. Definitely works out. The hard feel of it beneath the soft folds of his yukata wasn’t lost on her. It sent a new heat through her stomach, the previous fervor having been washed away by the whipping wind. This one wasn’t going away though, but instead seemed more than ready to settle in for the ride.

On top of it all, he wasn’t trying to get her to touch him as little as possible. Whereas Riku had forced her to clutch only the back of his shirt, Orako seemed rather alright with it, or at least from what little she could tell from behind. A glimpse of the side of his face at most; he didn’t seem annoyed or disgusted, put off or frustrated by her mere existence. Her head moved back down, neck relaxing a bit despite the tension still holding the majority of her body. Tears stung her eyes, a bit of a surprise settling alongside the ache that had never truly left her chest over all her years of ‘safety’. It was weird and foreign, the kindness he was showing her, and she didn’t understand nor know how to take it.

Why … Why are you being so nice to me?

The ride itself wasn’t long, and he didn’t drive too quickly since they were still in the confines of town. It was still enough of an experience to give her a taste of what the freedom of it was like. When they finally began to slow, the slap of wind around them gradually gentling, the jitter in her muscles remained. Something akin to how one felt after using a massage bed, she couldn’t help the little vibrations that continued in her body. Both from nerves and the ride itself, they continued even as the two came to a stop and she managed to dismount from the beauty that was the beast between their legs.

A small stumble as she attempted to regain her footing. The shakes had thrown her balance off a bit, and she found herself once more using Orako as a means to prevent herself from falling. She didn’t want to touch his bike anymore than she already had, the fear of doing something to harm it too much to overcome, so instead opted for the lesser of the two evils. A hand rose to grip his arm through the sleeve of his kimono, only then taking note of how exquisite the material was, the fabric like satin between her fingers. Even more distracting was the sensation of hard muscles under her fingers, something that she’d be lying if she said was unpleasant. Her embarrassment only rose - it seemed like that was all she’d ever feel around the guy - as she forced herself to straighten and take a few breaths in an attempt to steady herself, both physically and mentally. He's quick to keep his arm stable in return, a slightly worried look crossing his expression at her clearly shaky footing. Should he have slowed down? He hadn't thought it would really get to her; she seemed like the type to like this sort of thing, didn't she?

Finally somewhat composed, Iphignia forced herself to focus on their current mission: food. Her stomach still flipped from the lingering adrenaline. Even when Riku had taken her out on his bike, it had never been nearly as fun as it was just now. Despite the overwhelming concerns that had plagued her, Orako had somehow managed to make the experience an enjoyable one. What had once been terrifying was now just a bit less so, her gaze through the shield lingering longingly on the machine..

When it moved it was up the leg that was in the process of unmounting from the beast. Further up it went until it reached the face of the man that only moments before she had been forced to press herself up against, closer than she would like to be to anyone. She could feel a small bit of the heat of having been so near to him sprinkled into the areas that had touched him. His body had been cooler than hers was, but it was nice to the touch and brought with it the aroma of lush, dense forestry. It carried along the memories of the few times she’d managed to sneak free and run rampant in the Grecian wilderness, the smells of dirt and trees and so many different things all melding together to create its own unique, comforting scent.

It would be a lie though to say that she hadn’t enjoyed being close to someone new, for once able to feel somewhat comfortable around a practical stranger. Besides, who wouldn’t mind being pressed up against a literal Adonis? This time, despite the annoyance she instantly felt over the thought, she chose to ignore it and didn’t bother to chastise herself. At least he was nice to look at, she supposed.

She’d also be lying if she said that the whole experience hadn’t been pleasant. It had been more than that if she was being honest. It had been … Fun? The word felt a bit foreign, as the most fun she’d had in years had pretty much solely been with Tora, but after a moment of thought she settled on it. Fun, huh? Who would’ve thought?

Once he was sure Iphianassa was stable, he was careful to make sure the bike was stable in place with its stands, keys pulled out and shoved away before swinging his leg back over the body of it and finding place on the asphalt. He's turned back towards Iphianassa a moment later, the woman having kept the helmet in place. Was she nervous she'd fall over or something?

She certainly looked cute with it on, not that he'd mention that out loud. No need to set her off again.

The sight of Orako through the helmet was darker than she had expected, but not so much that she couldn’t make out his features. She took a step closer to him as he stepped off of the cycle, hands moving up to fiddle with the straps that connected the insulated plastic protecting her skull. Intent on returning the piece as quickly as possible and not wanting to dirty it anymore than she probably already had, she tried her best to undo the link near her throat. With the shakes still racking her body, she found her fingers trembling as they picked at the clasps, unable to get a full grasp. After a few moments of struggling Iphignea let out a frustrated sigh, and with a small stomp of the foot she turned to face the man beside her fully, arms already raised to cross her chest defensively. It was the last thing that she wanted to do, ask him - or anyone really - for help, but she didn’t seem to have a choice. Clearly she wasn’t able to get her shit together long enough to take off a freaking helmet.

She really was a joke.

He'd watched her fiddle with the helmet out of the corner of his eye all the while, a slight tilt of his head showing when she stomps her foot, a brow raising with it. Struggling a bit? He hadn't thought it would be difficult to get it off; he'd never had difficulties himself after all, but… Well, her hands are still shaking a bit. Or maybe it's jammed? He had been extra careful in making sure it was locked in place when he'd first got it on her, just before they'd left the festival parking lot.

He does his best to stifle the laugh at the sight of her pouting, but Mafuyu is sure it shows in his smile when he leans against his motorcycle for a moment, keeping his gaze in her direction, "Need some help with that?"

Orako’s amusement over her plight was clear, and despite how annoying it was that he found such joy in her struggles, she couldn’t help the small rise of her own levity in response. Undoubtedly she looked ridiculous getting upset over something so silly, but how she hated relying on others for, well, anything. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t see how absurd she was behaving, probably something akin to a brat. So with chagrin lining her shoulders, she took a step nearer to him and lifted her chin. Barely able to see his eyes, she was sure he could hardly see hers, so for the briefest of seconds she let the harsh lines in her face soften. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. Until her hands decided to stop shaking, she was either stuck in the helmet or at the mercy of his assistance.

”… Unfortunately seems like it.” A pause as she attempted to sort her rattled mind and form a rational sentence. She bit her lower lip in uncertainty and frustration, trembling fingers now clenched at the front of her skirts. ”Would you mind helping me?” Seriously? Is it really that hard to say the magic word?

”… P- … Please?” The word is uttered so quietly that she can barely hear herself speak, but for her to have said it at all was an improvement whether or not he realized it. By then the heat in her face had reached a new level, burning away in the protective layers, and she wanted nothing more than to just hide away and never come back out.

It's a half grin that makes its way to his face then, a quiet chuckle as he watches her before shifting forward, hands taking hold of the sides of the helmet before moving down to the strap, the little latch found soon after. "Sure," it's a slightly teasing tone as he unhooks the piece, "since you said please," and it's lifted off her head before he holds it beneath one arm, his other free hand moving out to lightly brush back some of the sections of her hair that had been forced out of place without a second thought. The little thrill that hit her from the action brought along a slight wave of nausea, her nerves uncertain of how to react. Wha-Wai-Why? The move had been so casually intimate, something that one did when familiar with the other. Not an entire stranger, and a dirty one at that. How could he be so nonchalant? As if he wouldn’t get filthy just by touching her? Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked rapidly to fight them back and out of view as he turned away. One hand moved up to touch lightly at the spot he had last grazed, bafflement riddled across her face. "I think I might have a brush in my bag somewhere if you want it, sometimes the helmet can make a mess of your hair," he offers with a shrug before moving to put it back on the bike, letting it hang off the handle for now.

It took a few more beats of stunned silence, especially so after being offered a brush. His brush. Why would he do that? Did he plan to throw it away? Did he hide itching powder in it? Despite all of the kindness and at times indifference he’d shown so far, she found herself questioning all of his decisions. Did he not realize who - what - she was? But the possibility of his offer stemming only from kindness and kindness alone threw her, because it seemed so incredibly unlikely.

Iphignea gave a slight shake of the head. Best to just refuse and deal with it later. ”I’m alright, thanks.” Given her tangled locks it would take a while to properly brush anyway - it always took her at least twenty minutes in the morning, and that’s only when she braided it before bed - so even trying to do so right then wasn’t worth the effort. Instead she gave herself a few light pats and called it good. It wasn’t like she had anyone she wanted to impress.

With a spin and only a half glance back at him she began towards the diner. The festivities of the night had left it basically barren, with only four cars littering the lot. She knew the diner well, having frequented it in the early mornings before practice and late at night after work as it was one of the few 24-hour eateries near, well, everywhere she would need to go, be it school, work, home or the like. The food was decently priced and surprisingly good, hard to beat for the savings one could get from it - not that a rich-boy type like Orako would care - and the staff was pleasant enough. The owner was usually there all day alongside his wife and three daughters, leaving the overnight staff with just two, his son as the cook and daughter-in-law as the server. With how slow it tended to be, the couple were more than enough, and as the duo passed through the front door, sending a soft ting throughout the dining area, a head popped up in the window separating the counter and the kitchen. It was the cook, and when he ducked back down out of view, she could hear the not-so-soft murmuring between him and what she assumed was his wife.

A cursory glance over the eatery revealed only three patrons; a middle-aged couple in a booth near the front, currently plucking away at their meals, and an older gentleman on a stool at the counter, immersed in a copy of the latest towns’ newspaper. It was styled in a way that was a mixture of both Western and Eastern culture, with booths lining the walls similarly to what she had seen in her excursion to the States. There were also a few Horigotatsu in the center of the building, giving those who preferred the floor the option. The counter itself was lined with about ten or so stools, providing a variety of seating choices to the customers. A window separated the back of the counter from the kitchen, with an open archway hidden by a beautiful tapestry that led to the back of the restaurant. The curtain suddenly swished open, revealing a young woman only a few years older than Iphignea, pretty and with a kind smile but clearly either tired or irritable, something that wasn’t common from her own experiences with the woman.

The place is about what he expects. A twenty-four hour diner usually isn't the fanciest anyway, and they're just here for something quick too, though all-in-all the place is comfortable enough. It's quiet, that's for sure, but perhaps that's to be expected with an event - with food - going on and the hour of night it is. Less people means he can breathe a little easier, though.

”Welcome, please have a seat wherever you like. I will bring water in a few moments.” The smile wavered a bit, eyes lingering on Orako before she spun around and disappeared back into the kitchen where the quiet bickering resumed, just loud enough to be heard but not enough so as to be understood. Iphignea gave the still-swaying curtain a raised brow, which she also tossed in Orako’s direction, one he returns with a faintly unsure smile of his own, but with a shrug of indifference she led the way to the booth that sat in the farthest corner of the restaurant. A force of habit as she took a seat with her back to the wall, able to see the majority of the building from the spot that she chose. Best to keep an eye on the front door. Never know when that asshole might decide to make an appearance. Even when she was ‘safe’, she never truly felt as much. Arms crossed over chest, left leg followed suit as it did the same to the opposite limb, and she found herself unable to meet the man’s gaze as he took his seat across from her. Embarrassed over how she’d handled herself around him as a whole it was impossible to bring herself to do it. Her eyes wandered over the different pieces of artwork littering the walls, a few depicting similarly styled nature scenes, a couple portraying some sort of animal; there were only so many that could be seen from where they sat, so that was quickly written off as a distraction.

The menus, already placed on the tables before the patrons ever arrived, were a good enough excuse. Taking the opportunity, she plucked it up and with a soft tap held it on the table in such a way that she could only just barely see him over the top of the laminations’ edge, something that she went out of her way to avoid doing. She knew the options more than well enough, but suddenly the item descriptions became immensely fascinating, as though she had never read them before.

Quiet again, it seems. He tries to stifle another laugh when she hides behind the menu, a not so sly attempt at staying out of view, but he won't judge. Maybe she's still embarrassed over the helmet, who knows. Or she's just really sick of me, comes a less kind thought, or she's being shy, that one is a little better, and he lifts up his own menu to hide the content smile behind.

The silence, though, was too much. While she preferred the quiet, something about the lack of noise in not only the building, as it was hushed enough to hear the clink of silverware to plates from the couple nearby, but also just simply between them - it was disconcerting. Still, she never moved the menu. Instead she went so far as to hunch down just enough so that she could only see the top of his hair from the angle that she was at. Anything to hide from those piercing eyes, or at least that was the reasoning she gave herself. It’s definitely not beca-nope, shut up Phi.

Besides, it wasn’t like they were doing anything weird. They were just a man and a woman on an adventure to find something to eat. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yeah, a man and a woman at a diner late at-dammit, Phi, get it together! The internal chastising brought her back to reality and with an awkward clearing of the throat, she steeled herself enough to at least mutter some form of a coherent sentence. ”Shogayaki. Have you had it?” At that point she finally peeked over the top, her gaze moving up and down for a moment as she took in his appearance, what little of it she could see. ”I’m assuming they don’t have much Japanese food where you come from.” Not so much a question but more so a statement, she could tell by his sisters’ accent that she wasn’t from Japan. His, however, was very much Japanese, so to say she was confused was an understatement. They were siblings but had different accents, and looked like complete opposites other than their otherworldly appearances. How was that even possible? Adopted maybe? Well, not that it was any of her business anyway. The fact that she was even remotely curious threw her a bit; why did she care?

"Shogayaki…?" He dwells for a moment, brows furrowing slightly. "Mm…maybe? Ages ago, I can't remember." He really can't; sure, he's probably had it before, but when he says ages, he means it. Who knows when the last time he'd had Japanese cuisine was other than the last few months, but he hadn't had shogayaki yet. "Did you want to order some?"

At that point, the waitress appeared with a pitcher of water alongside two glasses, and before she could say a word, Iphignea held up two fingers. ”Oolong Hai and we’ll start with two, but don’t be a stranger. Also, an order of Yaki Onigiri and Tsukune to start us out, and I’ll take a side of hot pepper flakes, too, please.” The woman simply shrugged in response, more than accustomed to Iphignea’s straight-to-the-point tactics, and wandered off to the back once more.

Blinking once at Iphianssa's sudden order - the waitress hadn't even said her opening lines yet - he listens to each of them, trying to recall what they are. He's had plenty of onigiri; it's an easy snack. Tsukune isn't something he's had yet, though. Something new to try is always nice, he supposes, though it stops there, ah, guess she doesn't want shogayaki after all. He leans back into his seat more, glancing up at the waitress as she walks away with the order. And alcohol? He's not sure how strong whatever she's just ordered is, but at least he's a heavy-weight. He still needs to get her home from here, after all.

"You must come here a lot if you know exactly what to order like that," he says, setting aside the menu, "I thought maybe it was your first time here too, the way you'd been studying the menu earlier."

How he called her out, inadvertently or not, on her hiding tactics a mere few minutes before caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected the bluntness since it was rare for her to find someone as straightforward as she was. Something about that fact, that he was plain-spoken and frank, brought her respect for him up just a little. It was already at a higher point than most, well, anyone, since it was rare for her to legitimately hold someone in esteem, but it was enough to bring just a bit of that guard down that she refused to let go of. If he was willing to be so to the point, then who was to say that he would try and deceive her? It was reassuring, the knowledge that he seemed to choose honesty over protecting feelings, something she did as well. What was the point in protecting someone’s emotions if it would just end in heartache for her?

There was no point.

But then again, he could be holding some sort of ulterior motives. Playing another game alongside their classmates like it was funny to mess with her. She might as well play along; she was tired of fighting it.

Still, it was impossible to stop the small flush that rose to her cheeks at effectively being called out. She refused to let him see, face turned back down to the menu once more in an effort to hide it. Just more ammo to later shoot her with, whenever he decided he was tired of her. Undoubtedly the real reason why he was here, to gather new information for their classmates on ways to make her life hell.

Besides, she didn’t want to spoil his meal with her unappealing face. It would no doubt kill his appetite to have to stare at her while trying to eat. Food was important since it was nourishment, and it was even more important that it taste good.

Having chosen to just ignore his question - not that it was really a question - Iphignea propped an elbow on the table, chin dropping into her hand, face turned to the side to eye the bar. ”You know, you’re pretty nosey for a talking blueberry.” Once again she had spoken without thinking and a visible cringe followed the words. She was being mean again, and for no reason. Her therapist would be disappointed in her.

Mafuyu blinks once at her words, the tone carrying a bit of a bite to them. Nosey, she says, and he supposes he can take that. It's a little true, after all, even if he tries not to be. But that's not really what catches his attention.

"…Blueberry?" He echoes, before a laugh suddenly escapes him, one he tries to cover with his hand, but it's obvious enough anyway, "I don't think I've ever been called that before. Do you normally come up with such fun nicknames for the people you know?" He almost snorts, "or am I just special?" He knows it's likely more of a mocking nickname than anything, but why should he care? It's amusing to get something like that at all from Iphianassa.

The amusement caught her off guard, having entirely expected an explosion, anger, anything negative. But instead she was granted with a laugh, something that he had done only a few times before, but this one was heartier, more real. It sent her toes curling it was that alluring, and she mentally slapped herself at the thought. What the actual fuck, Phi? He’s one guy. Get your shit together. She opted for honesty, because what did she have to lose at that point? He’d already gained enough ammo to make her life a problem, so what was he going to do with such useless information anyway? Everyone already knew she wasn’t exactly Miss Socialite.

Head lifted and hand returned to her lap, this time unable to meet his eyes out of guilt over being rude. ”I … Sorry, I …” A pause as she hesitated to continue, wanting to make sure she worded it right. Why did talking to someone she barely knew have to be so damn difficult? But she wanted to at least apologize since he’d been nice to her so far. Even if the kindness was fleeting, it still warranted somewhat of an apology for her being so crass.

”I’m not … ‘Good’ … With people.” It took her a while but she got there all on her own, a couple of physical air quotes thrown in. Even if he thought she was weird - honestly, if he didn’t already think that then there was definitely something wrong with him - it was worth it. One step closer on the ladder of self-improvement.

”Nicknames are … Personal. I don’t have enough ‘friends’ to give them one. The few I do have … Well, I guess I do, but theirs tend to be more ...” A pause as she pondered how to phrase it, but with a shrug she continued, ”Theirs tend to be more normal. I’m willing to admit that I was … Teasing you, I guess you could say. I mean, you wanted to stand out, right? That’s why you chose such a bright color?” An assumption, but it was probably true. No one as pretty as he was would willingly change their appearance that much unless they wanted to be noticed, and he’d definitely been successful. It seemed everywhere they’d gone - albeit only a few places, the festival and the diner - eyes had followed him, enraptured by his otherworldly beauty in the dim lights of the festivities. Even the waitress and the woman at the nearby table hadn’t been able to stop their wandering gazes. She’d felt nothing but annoyance and disgust over the stares, and it returned at the recollection.

Was that all people cared about anymore? Physical appeal? Did they not care that he was a person, more than likely uncomfortable with the constant leers? Clearly not, and she’d been sure to toss a few subtle glares in their direction. ”To be honest, I have mixed feelings about ‘blue’. Major love-hate relationship we have going on.” It was true; despite her love for the beauty that many things of the hue held, she couldn’t help the burning hatred that hid behind it. ‘Blue’ had done nothing but cause her problems, starting with her birth parents weaponizing her oceanic eyes against her. It was hard to fully love something that had played such a role in her unending pain.

Not many friends? He supposes he could have gathered that easily enough; with how closed off she seems to be to others, holding a clear apprehension towards basically anyone who spares a glance at her, he figures she probably isn't one to want to open herself up to many. Still, his head tips slightly, a somewhat content look settling in at her words anyway, "Oh? Then if you gave me one, does that mean you consider me a friend?" Probably not. She's been quite firm in her stance of keeping them strictly "acquaintances," but hey, it doesn't hurt to ask, right? Or, it won't hurt so long as it doesn't piss her off again.

Still, he shrugs slightly at her later question, "I guess? I don't know, I mean…I just like the color." He hadn't really thought much about gathering attention - it isn't like his natural color is any better - though in the same way he hadn't really cared about being inconspicuous either. The only ones they were trying to hide from were their parents and the stars, not mortals. "Guess you're not much of a fan of it, though." a love-hate relationship with a color? He's not sure he's ever met someone who has a seemingly strong opinion over something like that. To each their own, he supposes. Who was he to judge the quirks and opinions of a human he's just met?

It wasn’t really the question that made her pause, inner arguments interrupted, so much as it was the face Orako had made while asking it. Not necessarily excited nor upset, but more so a satisfied, almost hopeful expression was held there. The hell? Did he actually want to be considered a friend of hers? Her? Was he insane? Yeah, and pigs fly. A shake of the head, but he was already continuing on, addressing the actual root of his supposed new ‘nickname’. When he mentioned her own views on the color a subtle amount of disappointment seemed to linger, sending a new wave of guilt through her. Had she hurt his feelings? She hadn’t meant to; she just couldn’t help but say how she felt. Foot, meet mouth.

A quick wave of her hands, her embarrassment evident in her hurry to cover any possible offense. ”It’s not that I dislike how it looks! I just …” How would she even begin to explain, without telling him? Not even her psychiatrist knew the full extent of her familial history, and she wasn’t about to unload that to a relative stranger. Hands slowly lowered to her lap again, twisting in the fabric there. ”It’s complicated. It’s … A nice color, for the most part.” As for his earlier question she bit her lower lip contemplatively, because it was such a loaded one that she didn’t really want to answer. How would she anyway? Friends? With her? He didn’t want that, and she knew he’d realize it eventually. She preferred sooner rather than later. Monday … Come Monday, he’d learn.

Mafuyu pauses at her suddenly taking back her comments over blue, the shift in demeanor before he lets out a small laugh, "aw, are you worried you've upset me?" It's slightly playful; sure, he'd been a little worried. Is blue a bad color? For hair, anyway? Does it look bad on him? But he hadn't really been…that upset, honestly. He really does like the shade, and he feels like it looks nice on him. It…does, right? "You're fine, seriously. You don't have to like it if you don't want to. I'm not that insecure."

It seemed like he had done nothing but reassure her over the last hour or so. It was annoying, being unable to control the fact that she felt so much hatred for not only those around her but herself as well. Usually she could at least hide her own self-deprecation behind a wall over aggression, but after the day that she’d had, she found herself wanting nothing more than to just relax and let it all wash over her. Of course, she’d never let that happen in front of someone she barely knew. She’d already given him way more than she would’ve anyone else in his position. His teasing brought forth a bit of embarrassment though and she once more found herself looking away. It was difficult to meet his gaze; something in it tried its best to make her react beyond her control so she’d rather avoid it entirely. ”I don’t dislike it … On you.” A fresh flush over the implication of her words, not realizing how it sounded until after it had left her mouth. ”Just …” a pause as she gathered her thoughts, ”a complicated history, that’s all.” He seemed to care about her opinion, at least a little, but why was beyond her. Maybe it was because of the whole ‘friends’ thing? But that was another loss to her - why he would ever want to befriend her of all people.

When a long sigh finally escaped her she moved her eyes to his, narrowed slightly as though in a challenge. ”How about we make a deal?” With crossed arms and a quirked brow she gave him a small smirk, leaning back in her seat. ”A week from today. Friday. If you can make it the entire week and still want to be friends with me, I’ll answer that question.” Hand plucked up her cup once more, raising it to her lips.

"Hm?" Brow raises slightly, Mafuyu's gaze back on her before a grin of his own makes its way to his lips, eyes rolling, "what, a week? That's nothing. Why would I change my mind about things anyway?" A laugh, "count on me still pestering you in seven days then, Iphignea. Make sure you hold up your end of the deal too, though."

Yeah, we’ll see if you’re still saying that in a week. The question of why brought a more sour look about, momentary smirk gone. ”Don’t hold your breath.” A hand moved in his direction, stretched above the table. ”I always honor a deal.”

Clearly there's more to things than she's letting on, Mafuyu doesn't miss that sour look after all. "You really don't think I'll make it. I'm a little hurt." A slightly sarcastic response before he reaches out to shake her hand, "have a little faith in me, yeah?" His cool palm in hers, the first time they’d touched hands while actually having the opportunity to do so, surprised her in its chilly softness. She could feel that his fingers were long, slender - perhaps a musician? His request for her to believe in him only made her doubt more evident. As she pulled back her arm, she couldn’t stop the shake of her head in response, a dry laugh escaping her, but it was void of any actual humor.

”You have no idea.”

Finally the waitress returned, cutting off any opportunity for further discussion on the topic. Beverages on a tray balanced atop one hand and a couple of plates, steam still coming off of their contents, held on another tray in the opposite. As she went about setting everything on the table, Iphignea watched carefully to make sure that she hadn’t missed or forgotten anything, and once she verified that everything looked alright, she tried her best to ignore the blatant stare Orako received, and gave the woman a polite yet strained smile. ”Thanks so much. I’ll take the Shogayaki along with two Nikuman, and make sure I get a side of beef Kushiage as well as some Kiritanpo.” Best to get the woman away from them. She knew it could be difficult to digest while being stared at - thanks Riku - and figured the woman would take the hint. He might’ve wanted attention, but even while eating? Doubtful. She intended to share the sides with him, as a sort of way to thank him for his help throughout the day as well as an extension of her apology, but the entrees? Those were all hers.

Well accustomed to Iphignea’s eating habits, the woman nodded and scribbled everything on a piece of paper, ending it with a glance at Orako. Her voice grew a bit deeper, just enough so that it was noticeable, and with a light tuck of hair behind her ear, her smile grew … Predatory. ”And for you, sir?” An eye roll of disgust was all these actions garnered from Iphignea; was she actually serious? A married woman, in her husband’s families’ shop?

His distraction with everything she orders - he's not sure he's ever been with someone who wants nearly that much in one meal, but who is he to judge? It all sounded quite good, anyway - is broken when the waitress turns her attention on him, and he pauses with an, "ah," though the pause lasts slightly longer than he'd like. It's impossible to miss the look in her eyes and smile, and despite himself he subconsciously shifts in his spot, barely putting himself back a little further from her before forcing a smile and glancing back at the menu. Ugh, leave me alone. Iphianassa had been a nice break from that treatment he supposes, enough that he'd almost forgotten what had been a near constant for the last two months. It isn't as if he's ever completely hated attention, but this amount, and the particular way it seems to always go - stares and touch, he's even been grabbed, and often such obvious intentions - it's beginning to get to him.

The menu is barely even glanced over in a hope to get the woman on her way quickly, Mafuyu simply giving the first thing he sees with a, "just a Tonkatsu Curry is great, thanks."

She spent little time dawdling, none of her actions getting much of a reaction, and after collecting their menus made her way once more back to the kitchen, leaving them relatively alone again. Iphignea hadn’t missed the faint wiggle of discomfort Orako had made, the cause of it more than evident, but the woman had been too quick to leave to offer much of an argument. Discomfort was something that she was more than familiar with, enough to recognize the little signs people tended to make here and there. The lack of menus left her with nothing else to hide behind so she was forced to settle with her drink, of which she downed half off-bat, a small face following the guzzled liquid. It warmed her, something she needed as it gave her a familiar sense of relaxation. Despite this, her azure orbs made another trail over the interior of the building, as though doing so would reveal something brand new. When her efforts proved fruitless, she resigned herself to the fact that she’d unfortunately gotten herself into this situation, so she’d have to suffer her way through it.

The things I do for Zu-zu.

Gaze finally falling to Orako she figured it best to start somewhere, anywhere, because anything was better than the weighted silence hanging between them.

”I don’t think we ever had a real introduction, considering how we met.” It was true; other than a grumbled name, she hadn’t really fully introduced herself. Better late than never, she supposed. ”Iphianassa Lykaois, but I’m usually called Iphignea by anyone who cares enough. And before you ask, I’m Greek. Not a Japanese bone in my body.” She preferred to not talk about her past so she hoped he wouldn’t pry any further. If he did, she would definitely shut him down immediately.

Iphignea mulled over the conversation starters her therapist had suggested, settling on the idea of sharing a little bit about oneself to open a doorway to possible common interests. ”Twenty-one and currently doing a few general courses with a couple of electives thrown in. Not sure what I want to do in life. I just got back into the country from America after being gone for a few months. I travel a lot for MMA.” If none of that was enough to start a conversation then she had no idea what would be.

It seems she's given up on avoiding conversation at least. Mafuyu relaxes more comfortably into the seat as she speaks, the keys on his person jingling quietly with the movement while he listens to her talk again. Reintroductions, something he doesn't particularly mind. They really had barely had a chance to actually do so. The first time they'd met he'd essentially run her over. The second time had been unexpected and in front of his sister and her "friend" - they're certainly about to be more, he's confident in that fact - and even when they'd had a moment alone together again, it had been interrupted by a stalker.

Her name is given once more, so clearly Greek as if her accent and appearance don't already give that away. Yet before he can really ask, she's shut that path of conversation down, the tone of her voice and the way she quickly shifts away from it telling him it's not something to try and pry open. So, he won't.

The mention of MMA catches him a little off guard, but with how in shape she seems to be he probably should have guessed there was a reason for it. Still, a trained fighter like that? Definitely not someone to wrong too much, he thinks.

When she's gone quiet again, looking expectantly at him to continue the talking for now, he gives a small shrug before leaning a little into the table, an elbow propped onto the surface before he rests his jaw into his palm, "It's nice to properly meet you then, Iphignea." He offers a smile, "I'm Mafuyu Orako, I've been called Mafu or Fuyu, and well, now I've been called Blueberry, so I guess we can add that one to the list too." He laughs lightly, "twenty-one as well, and…I guess I'm still sort of in general studies. Can't decide between art and music, or science." It's true; he's been taking classes from both majors, but he doesn't feel like what he ends up doing matters in the end. "Mm…I've got a dog and a bird, I like to garden, I play…a lot of instruments…" He shrugs lightly again, "though I don't think any of that is quite as interesting as MMA. What got you into fighting like that?"

Iphignea worked on the rest of her special ‘tea’ as he talked about himself. Usually when others spoke she found herself bored, often staring off into the unknown, but something about Orako made her want to listen, even against her own will. So we’re the same age. And a musician, too. The mention of a dog and a bird piqued her interest and she straightened when he brushed past the topic. Onto music, and then finally questions about her, which she hadn’t expected. If anything she had been prepared for him to go on and on about himself and essentially forget her existence, but he wanted to know more? And about MMA nonetheless? Riku had only ever talked about fighting with her when it involved him and his own competitions. Any time she’d try to talk about hers, he’d brush past the subject and turn it back to himself and what he’d done that day.

Flush back, she downed the rest of her tea, this time the heat hopefully from the alcohol working its way through her system. Iphignea waved to get the waitress’ attention as she checked on the other table, and without having to come over she nodded at the two fingers on the younger woman’s hand before scurrying off to fetch her more. The liquor was helping, relaxing her a bit and making it easier to speak. A great pick-me-up, of which she would slow down now that she’d had one but wouldn’t be stopping at only two, that was for sure.

Figuring it best to answer his question first, and in an effort to hide her surprised blush, she grabbed a pair of chopsticks and began moving some of the appetizers onto one of the spare plates the server had given them. The rest she left for Orako, even going so far as to nudge the plates towards him with one of the sticks. He blinks once at the offer before offering a faint smile in thanks and picking up his own chopsticks, letting them rest in the crook of his thumb as he tries to decide what in the world to try first.

How to answer it was easy enough, even without going into too much detail, but the weight behind her response was almost back breakingly heavy. A fleeting ache; when would the pain entirely fade? Probably never, and she should be prepared for that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

”I got tired of being weak.” The answer was simple enough but spoke volumes to her. It was true, too; she’d grown exhausted of being so easily pushed around, of being constantly rejected for things that she couldn’t control. MMA had helped her confidence as well because despite everything she did know that she had a fit body, even with her deformities. She had worked hard for it; the value that one put into appearance was immeasurable, and she was definitely lacking in many areas when it came to that department. This would need to make up for her disfiguration, should she ever want to find someone to love her. After all, who would love damaged goods?

Mafuyu blinks once. It's such a quickly shot out answer, but it seems to carry far more weight than the six words can really convey. Tired of being weak? What could have led her to feel that way? And what was it that spurred her to try and change that? The stalker ex? Or something else? For her personality and behavior, Mafuyu's confident in saying that there's far more to her life and past than meets the eye, but…that's not something he'll get any view into for a long while at this point, if ever.

”It’s really not that interesting. You just punch and kick a few times, and you either win or you lose. If you lose, you get back up and try again until you succeed.” It was a motto that had been drilled into her time and time again over the years, her coach’s words echoing in her brain each and every time she’d be in the depths of a fight. Not only during her competitions, but in her everyday life as well. It was a constant battle just staying alive, and his mantra, whether philosophical or not, helped her more than he’d ever know.

"Eh? What do you mean not interesting?" He raises a brow, "of course it is, that's professional fighting. I don't think I've ever met someone who does something like that." A small laugh at her simple way of explaining it, he leans a little more into the palm of his hand, "sounds like you're pretty competitive, though. Guess you'd have to be with how intense those competitions sound. Got a good handful of wins under your belt?" He's never paid much attention to MMA or any sort of "fighting" sport like that, really, but perhaps it's time for him to keep more of an eye on it. Would she let me come watch if there were a local competition sometime here? A genuine thought, a sense of curiosity to see her play, but… …Mm, I doubt it.

For the first time since she’d met him, she allowed herself to feel flattered, even if it was only a little bit. The small ego stroke was seemingly all it took for her to become a bit more confident. If there was one thing she was proud of it was her fighting abilities, and not even Riku had managed to make her think less. He’d made her feel ashamed for being stronger and less feminine than other women, but not once did she lose her pride in her skills. So for the first time since she’d met him, a sparkle of excitement entered her, something she didn’t want to stop from showing in her face. A small smirk pulled at the edges of her lips, a mixture of amusement and genuine passion. ”I’m probably one of the most competitive people you’ll meet, so there’s that. As for wins? I mean, you could say a few.”

That was an understatement. She’d been to more than enough national competitions, if that was any indicator of her success rate. Last time she’d checked, her win-to-loss rate was ninety-eight percent. The few times she’d lost had been to highly skilled competitors from other countries, and as of the current time, she was ranked near the top of her weight class for Japan. But that wasn’t something she went around boasting; in fact, unless someone were to extensively follow the world of MMA, they wouldn’t even be aware of who she was, let alone be able to match her name with her face. To most anyone, she was just another nameless face on the street, and she preferred it that way. ”I’m on rest since I just got back from intensive competitive training, but I do have another match in about a month. Right before vacation actually, now that I think about it.” She would have to start training again in a week or two in order to give herself enough time to prepare, but the person she would be going up against wasn’t someone that she was particularly worried about. They’d fought before a handful of times and she’d yet to beat Iphignea, so her concern was minimal. She definitely gave her a run for her money, but nothing to lose sleep over.

This time when she picked hers up, now empty, she motioned at him to urge him to drink up, using the fact that hers was gone almost like a taunt. A light clatter stopped her from saying anything further as the fresh drinks were delivered, the quietest of sighs escaping Iphignea over the woman once again flicking interested glances at Orako. Really? When he’s trying to eat? And with your husband not even forty feet away? A not-so-subtle glare shot at the server which was almost instantly caught, sending a look of embarrassment over her face. She scurried off to the kitchen to undoubtedly hide unless needed by the customers, practically tucking tail.

He's snapped from his thoughts when he catches her sudden glare, though. Eyes almost widen, a slight panic that maybe he's said something wrong and made her mad again until he realizes it's not directed at him. Instead, that sharp gaze turns on the waitress for the briefest moment, seemingly scaring the woman away. Mafuyu blanks.

Did she just…? Had she just gotten rid of the waitress? Was it… For me…? The woman hadn't exactly been sly with her looks at him, but… Why would she…? Or is he assuming wrong? Maybe the woman had done something else to make Iphianassa irritable? Surely that's the case. She'd been firm in keeping distance after all, and well, he shouldn't assume-

Once she was gone Iphignea turned a narrow-eyed look on Orako, essentially ignoring what happened, empty glass swapped out for the fresh one. ”You’re not gonna make me drink alone, are you?” Was that a tease? If it was, she’d just blame it on the alcohol.

At least she was having fun.

The thought caught her by surprise. Fun. Was that what she was having? Fun, with this random guy who she’d barely known for twenty-four hours? Apparently, because she couldn’t stop the amusement she felt while thinking over her day as a whole. It had been a bit ridiculous, even frustrating at times, but overall it hadn’t been terrible. One of her better days if she was being truthful. It was almost enough for her to crack a grin - almost.

"Wh-" He's broken out of his confused cycle of thoughts when she speaks again, and it's almost playful, the words and tone catching him off guard once more. "Ah- or, sure, yeah, I'll-" What the hell, Solaris? You sound like an idiot. His throat is cleared a moment later, an attempt at dragging his composure and control back. How stupid of him to be left so shocked over something so simple. This isn't like him.

The drink is lifted into his hand, something solid against his fingers as he relaxes his shoulders again, lets out a small exhale and an airy laugh with it, "I guess one drink won't hurt," before it's tipped to his lips.

Even though he’d tried his best to hide it, the discomfort in the way he held himself whenever the waitress had been around spoke enough volumes for her to hear it. Up until those moments he had been carefree, at least for the most part, but the way that he would tense under her gaze was more than explanatory. He may have wanted to stand out, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be harassed. A small twinge of sympathy pinched her chest. Do I seriously feel bad for this guy? Nah, there was no way. But then he was stammering out a response, another first for him, at least to her. Up until then he’d radiated confidence, albeit with emotions thrown in, but not once had that self-assured air dropped. It was almost weird to see him so thrown off, but also-

Cute. The red that entered her face at the thought was intense, but the buzz of the liquor helped quench a good portion of the embarrassment she would’ve felt, had she been entirely sober. She shook her head in an effort to rid herself of the thought, forcing herself to think of anything else, and found herself curious over the things that he had revealed, something she didn’t feel often with others. ”What instruments do you play? And how does someone go from the arts to science as a major? They’re so different from each other.” Although still listening, she started to nibble on the appetizers, fighting a moan of delight over the flavors of each snack.

The glass is placed back onto the table as she speaks, chopsticks retrieved once more as he glances over the appetizers he's been offered again. He's had a few bites of everything now, and he's liked each one; it seems Iphianassa has good taste.

A hum leaves him at the questions, and he tips his head slightly. Too many instruments, he thinks, "well…there's a handful." He shrugs slightly, lifting up some of the tsukune he's been slowly picking at. "Piano, the drums, violin, cello, guitar, the harp… Ah, I took up the guqin a little while ago. There's some others but…those are the ones I've used the most lately, I guess." Strings and percussion, the music he's always had an ease of learning. The sounds that had practically filled the silence of his room back with sun and moon and the stars. Long, quiet days and nights all on his own.

Another drink is taken from the cup of Oolong Hai before he touches her next question, the refreshing flavor a pleasant addition to the food they've been eating, his portion of the offered appetizers nearly gone by now. "I guess arts and STEM don't really seem like they mix, you're right." He laughs, "it's just botany and horticulture I'm looking at, though. Nothing that crazy, I think." He glances out to the area of the diner around them shortly after, swaying slightly in his spot as he thinks, "I've just always liked gardening, so I thought it might be fun to try out something involved in that. Maybe it'll help me with growing and maintaining the things I do grow, too." That doesn't really matter; he's spring. Nurturing plant life is basically second nature for him. While mortal beings need science and the like for these sorts of things, Solaris is a god. He's perfectly capable of overriding what might be "science" by his will alone half the time.

So many. It almost seemed like he’d never stop listing what he played, and by the time he had finished, one brow was held at a high arch in surprise. He continued on, though, with the different reasons why he enjoyed both sides of the spectrum. Despite everything, she found herself interested and actually listening, instead of feigning excitement like she so often would when Riku droned on about things she didn’t care about. When he finished she blinked at him, surprisingly impressed by everything he’d just told her. ”A jack of many trades, hm?” She paused, long enough to toss back whatever remained in her glass.

When it clinked to the table she couldn’t stop the intrigue that made its way across her features. In an ideal world, we probably could’ve been friends. How ironic. Arms made their way across her chest, not so much in defense anymore but more so for comfort of familiarity, and she stared at seemingly nothing in particular. The next words out of her mouth surprised even her; maybe it was the liquor talking, lowering her inhibitions. ”Flowers …” she hummed the word a little, ”are pretty …” Another flush as she realized what she’d said, but she passed it off as an effect of the alcohol, even though she knew it was because she’d admitted to thinking something so stupid. It made her no different from the stuck up bimbos she was constantly forced to be around. Such a joke.

"I guess you could say that." The drink tips upward again, a short drink before Mafuyu lets it rest in his light hold, absentmindedly swaying it. The ice clinks against glass, though eyes are back on her at the mention of flowers, a somewhat brighter look making way to his already present smile. "Yeah, flowers. They are pretty, aren't they? Do you like them?" The drink is placed back on the table, ice falling still again, "I've got a decent flower garden going now that the weather's finally started to stay warm. You should come by sometime and see it." It's a little bold, but whatever.

He must really like them. The excitement Orako held seemed to amp up at the mention of the topic, going so far as to invite her to see his garden. It was an offer that caught her off guard - he seemed to be doing that to her a lot - and she couldn’t stop the flabbergasted look that crossed her face. Clearly the jubilation had gone to his head, because he wasn’t thinking straight. ”You want me to come to your house?” A beat then a dry laugh escaped her. She couldn’t help her pessimism. ”Yeah, okay,” she ended on a scoff, neither agreeing nor rejecting the idea but instead refusing to play into whatever game he had planned. She’d go along with some of his acts, but she wasn’t about to let him get her isolated at his house. Who knew what kind of things he was capable of? Either that or he hadn’t realized she wasn’t exactly someone that was just invited over.

Mafuyu stares for a bit at that, glass cup pressed to his lips with none of the drink making it to his tongue. Was that a wrong move? Too bold already? He can never tell how she'll respond; it feels different every time, yet the same in some ways too. Always angry, bitter, sarcastic. "I mean," the drink finally tips up enough for a small sip, though he sets the glass down on the table soon after, gaze staying trained on it instead of Iphinassa, while his thumb absently rubs the condensation that's built up against the glass, "I do, but…you don't have to if you don't want to. Just thought it might be fun."

She pushed away the dark turn of thoughts, preferring to move on, but a small part of her couldn’t help the thrill over the idea. His willingness to invite her so casually, and with excitement to boot, threw her off and gave her insane thoughts that never could happen, even if she waited for a million years. Being invited to someone’s home was … Intimate. Not necessarily in a sexual way, but at the very least an emotional one. She would know, since she let next to no one inside her own house. For him to invite her over … She shook her head, tried to rid herself of the thoughts, and forced herself to move onto another topic. ”It’s impressive … That you can play so many.” She wasn’t lying; she was thoroughly impressed at the expanse of his abilities. ”All I know is the guitar, and not even very well,” she snorted at the end, amused at her own lack of talent.

She's back on instruments soon after though, and Mafuyu gives a soft hum in response, "it was kind of my escape for a while, I guess. I probably spent more time with all of them than I should've." It's true, really. It had been his escape, especially in the last fifteen years. He probably had spent too much time with it all, but how could he not? Home had always felt rather quiet and cold to him back then. Sun and Moon were always more focused on their own responsibilities, or Ophelia. The stars were always busy - well, Pavo had always tried his best with him at least…probably the only reason he hasn't completely lost his mind at this point. Ophelia had been the only one in the home that truly made if feel like one, but…

"You should give yourself some credit," he says after a bit, "learning any instrument is difficult." Then, it's a little playful again, though after the last reaction he wonders if he should just stop, "guitar, though… Hey, want a lesson or two? I could teach you some of what I know if you want."

Something about the way he responded hit a chord. It reminded her a little of herself, or rather her earlier weighted answer when it came to MMA. It almost seemed like there was more behind it, hiding away and refusing to peek out. But it wasn’t her place to pry; there were plenty of things she’d rather not discuss. Another offer, though, caught her by surprise, which should she even be shocked at that point? She didn’t know how to feel, in all honesty. She was a mixed up jumble of emotions and felt like a snow globe that had just been shaking. His almost teasing nature threw her off, because while she desperately wanted to shoot him down, another part of her screamed yes. To take him up on his offer and to possibly make a new friend, or maybe -

No. She was getting too far ahead of herself and caught up in a fleeting moment. Her eyes hooded, she turned her gaze down to the lightly moving liquid still remaining in her glass. ”Mm … Maybe.” She couldn’t bring herself to say no, but also couldn’t allow the agreement to escape her, so she settled for somewhere in the middle. If she was lucky, he’d learn his lesson before the week was over, and she could go back to her mundane life where she only existed to others when it pertained to misery. Her eyes wandered the remainder of the appetizers, not entirely seeing the contents. ”You really shouldn’t try to make plans with me. You’re not going to end up wanting to keep them within a few days.” A truth, as she felt she owed him as much. She tossed back the rest of what remained in her glass, only then fixing her gaze on his, and she ended it with a shrug. ”But as a stubborn person, I won't stop you.”

Oh? Is that a little success? It's not an outright no, though it's not exactly a yes either - he needs to avoid getting his hopes up too much, at the rate things are going. "I'll take that 'maybe,' then. The offer'll stand for you if you ever want to make it a yes." A pause, "I'm sure I'll still be around if you ever do, even if it's in a few months. Or years." A smile. She's more stubborn about trying to tell him what he'll think and feel in the future for whatever reason than he thought she'd be.



It was then that their main dishes arrived, steam coming off of them in waves. Iphignea was more than excited, the pre-dishes barely enough to hold her over, and as the waitress left she was happy to notice that she went out of her way to keep her gaze anywhere but on Orako.

They ate in relative silence, the only real sounds of note being the soft music of the restaurant and the occasional inquiry of how the others’ meal tasted. By the time that they had finished, Iphignea had downed two more teas along with a glass of water. When the waitress delivered their bill, she gave her no chance to even put it down, instead snatching it from her almost as soon as she arrived. She seemed more than okay with that, clearly frazzled still from being caught earlier, and scrambled off to do something else while they sorted out payment.

A quick glance over the paper and she slapped it down in the middle of the table. A few seconds later she'd withdrawn her wallet with enough money to cover everything that she’d ordered, including the appetizers. The smallest of tips was added to it, but only because she adored the owner and his family. The woman had definitely irritated her, but not enough to jeopardize the livelihood that she and her husband were working so hard for.

He's pulled out his own wallet when the woman brings the bill over, though Iphianassa is quick to grab it away, Mafuyu watching in quiet as she pulls out the money from her wallet to place it on the paper now left at the center. She's covering her things it seems, which leaves just the curry for him, and his brows furrow slightly, blue-green eyes turning back up to her with his wallet open in his hand, "I can cover the bill, Iphignea. Or at least let me get the appetizers since you shared them with me." He knows money is an important thing for humans, but for him it's not much of a big deal. Wouldn't it be easier for him to just take care of the costs of things?

Eyes narrowed, Iphignea didn’t know whether to be offended or impressed by his offer. She was more than used to paying for whoever ended up going with her, be it Tora or formerly Riku, because while she wasn’t well off she did have family to fall back on in the worst case scenario. Spending a little of her money here and there on others wasn’t major, but it did cut into her monthly salary. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurting for it right now, but the fact that he’d offered left her conflicted. Did he mean to insinuate that she couldn’t afford it? Or was he genuinely trying to be fair? Or was there another, more nefarious reason?

Iphignea shook away the thoughts; he’d shown her nothing but kindness so far. She might as well put a little bit of faith into his character. Besides, the constant conflict was starting to give her a headache and in her tipsy state she’d rather avoid that possibility entirely.

”It’s fine. I ordered it, so I expected to pay for it. I’m not in a bad spot right now financially. I’ve had a couple of good months money-wise. It’s the least I can do as a thanks for putting up with me.” It was true; it wasn’t like she was the easiest to deal with. A head tilt and she gave him an unreadable look, bordering on distrust. ”Besides, I don’t like owing people.”

He purses his lips at her words, thumb pressing into the wallet a bit more. "I haven't had to 'put up with you,' you know. I wish you'd stop talking like being around you is a chore." A small sigh, he pulls out enough to at least cover the curry he'd ordered, pushing the money towards the paper receipt, "but if you're really sure, then I won't fight you on it."




Tab settled, she gathered her things and as they rose began to undo her bow-like ponytails. It was a relief to have her hair down, and it bounced down to her back in tangled waves. As they stepped outside into the cool night air it was like a wave of refreshment over her heated face. The alcohol had done its job, having relaxed her enough that she had to fight the urge to giggle at even the simple art of walking. She wasn’t drunk by any means but was verifiably tipsy, and honestly? She didn’t care at all anymore about how she came off to this man who she barely knew. It wasn’t like it would matter in a few days anyway; he’d eventually find everything out about her and make his separate way. A little stumble as they made their way down the two steps but she kept her footing. She wasn’t a complete loss, after all.

A deep inhale of the cool night air lets Mafuyu relax a bit more once they've paid for their food and are out of the diner, but his attention stays on Iphianassa all the same, the woman half stumbling as she walks. Clearly the drinks were getting to her, but at least she seems able to keep upright. Not that he isn't ready to catch her if she does topple over. The last thing she needs is more bruises and cuts after the ones she's already gotten from their crash this morning.

The motorcycle is right where they left it, the helmet still resting on the handle. He doesn't take long to swing his leg back over the bike, lifting the helmet back up into his hands before turning back towards her, the protective gear kept out in expectant waiting. Hopefully she'll be less reluctant to take it and get on for the ride home this time.

The soft crunch of gravel could be heard as they approached the bike. This time she was a bit less hesitant in doing so, but the wariness still prominently showed in her face. When Orako swung his leg over, entirely carefree, she eyed the helmet he held out with the same uncertainty that she’d had before. Despite everything that screamed within her to not take the helmet, to not join him on the bike, to just walk home and risk Riku trying to approach her, she found a part of herself doubting everything she’d ever been told. He’d been right before. She hadn’t done any harm to it, and if anything it ran just the same as before she’d ever touched it. The rush that the speed had given her, along with the warm comfort of being close to another person - it warred against her natural urge to say no, to tell him not to bother and to leave her alone. The concern of Riku wasn’t just for herself. Who knew what he’d do to Orako if he thought that something was going on between them?

An internal scoff at the idea. As if he’d ever want that with me. Come Monday, his true colors would be shown when their classmates told him everything about her, which would inevitably lead to her further ostracization from everyone. He’d probably end up dating someone like Mei - pretty, popular, smart, but most importantly, not a disgustingly disfigured monster. If she was honest, she’d rather he have that anyway. Being tied to her … Would just cause him pain.

Yet still the worry for the possibility of Orako being hurt because of her remained. Although the alcohol of the night had done its work when it came to making her confused, she couldn’t help but stress over the idea of it. Something about it just made her extremely … Uncomfortable.

Hands slowly reached out to take the protective gear and only then did she notice the slight tremble in them. It wasn’t like her to get so easily worked up, especially over something that should be so simple. Was it her nerves, frayed from constant unexpected stabbings? Or could she blame the alcohol? Cool plastic slid under her fingers as she lifted and placed it over her head. A little wiggle and it dropped down, but when she went to clasp it together she found her fingers to still be shaking. We’ll just say it’s the alcohol. It didn’t seem like she was going to be able to do this anytime soon, and undoubtedly Orako would get tired of her drama quicker than she could get comfortable with riding a bike. Which was fine; at least she was able to have fun while it lasted.

But at the end of the day, he hadn’t seemed to mind before. If anything she’d just tell him it was definitely the liquor. So a bit less stubborn this time, Iphignea turned and tilted her head up just enough to reveal the straps and her neck. Her voice was still uncertain though, wavering a bit at her request. Did she have the right to ask? ”Can … Ah, can you help me again, please?”

It's clear she's struggling again, and he watches quietly from his spot while she does for the time being, giving her a chance to try. Is it nerves again? Or is it the alcohol this time? He sort of hopes it's the latter, that his reassurance from an hour or two ago had been effective enough to get her to stop worrying about anything with the bike or him. At least she isn't trying to convince him to just leave her behind this time, or asking if she'll damage it. That's a step in a good direction, right? Could it be called progress?

He's half leaning against the front of the bike by the time she seems to give up, his gaze turning towards her, though this time he keeps the amusement clear of his expression. She's making an effort. He should treat it genuinely.

Leg swung back over the bike, he pushes himself back to standing as he makes his way over with a, "sure, give me a second," before his hands move back under the helmet, finding those straps again with careful fingers. That closeness is back, and he silently hopes he's not making her panic a second time, only briefly making eye contact - or so he thinks - through the dark visor of the helmet and offering a smile. There's that hint of blue behind it, a color he finds pretty against the shades of her hair and skin, but…what was it she had said before. That she has a love-hate relationship with blue? Does it apply to her eyes too?

It's not long before it's latched, briefly hooking a finger beneath it to make sure it's still cinched in as tightly as it had been before. And then he's pulling back, one hand moving to give a light push to the top of the helmet before falling back to his side once more. "That should do it. Feel secure?"

Turning back to the motorcycle, he moves himself back over it and turns his gaze back to her, hand offered out once again if she needs it. "Let's get you home, yeah?"