Exodus

Confidence oozed from her pores, not in an arrogant way but more in the fashion of a woman who knew why she had come and what she had come for; long story short she had planned to get drunk. Dressed comfortably although it was fair to say that comfortable meant a different thing to the Yakuza then it did to most people, a black suit with pastel blue tie tugged loose. A flowery pin in her loose, wind blown and dark hair. Heels; her favourites, the ones she could quite easily run in if she had to thanks to a lot of practise. Hey, but she wasn't here to be eye candy (although such a label would no doubt be questionable at best by the majority of the Japanese population). Arm in arm with a few 'brothers' from the clan, she had declared with a soft and motherly tone that she would get the first round. Pleased to be called Reo-nee by them whether she was thanked or not and had practically pranced up to the bar with smooth and confident strides to get served. Busy, it had taken a few minutes to get the barman's attention. Thing is, she hadn't really been paying much attention the first time or so. Simply asked, paid, wandered off with her drinks while having her ear chatted off by her companions. They were all much more experienced then her when it came to fieldwork. She almost regretted having been sheltered and schooled afield.

Oh, but, at some point of other- possibly when it had gotten less busy and subsequently the bar wasn't being constantly assailed with requests for drinks- there had been some sort of familiarity. Some click of recognition as time passed and it left her leaning across the bar surface, leaning on one elbow, as she smiled softly. "Hm~ I'm having the strangest sense of déjà vu you know?"

{♜} -- It had been a rather slow day, compared to the other days. It was on particular days like these that gave the young bar owner a sense of foreboding of a surprise that life was about to spring at him. Surprises that weren't necessarily that of the good kind. And it was when the group of people that had strode in through shaded doors was his premonition proved correct as ever. It took him almost no effort to identify the newcomers as members of the Yakuza, the mere thought of the single word enough to send anger boiling through his veins once more. However, anger was quickly smoothed away with that of a neutral yet professional smile that didn't reach his eyes as Nijimura greeted his customers in silence, the only thing giving away his emotions the hand that was gripping the glass cup he was polishing in his hands with more force than required.

Fingers worked deftly at every given order, and in times that there were no one to serve, he busied himself with the polishing of already sparkling clean glasses. All to distract himself of the impending rage that boiled within him. However, the thought of the single feminine face that kept returning to him disturbed the young bar owner -- it seemed awfully familiar, yet not at the same time.

The next of her returns did nothing to solve the perplexity that was gnawing at him, his stares starting to linger longer with every time she came back to him with a new order. He had not intended to question her identity despite his curiosity -- work ethics, he told himself before allowing her to leave once more. However this time, she did not.

"Really." He spoke in a disinterested tone, setting yet another polished glass on the counter. "So many have said under the influence of alcohol, Miss."

"I suppose, except I'm not drunk yet." Replied with a sanguine smile as she continued to gaze at his face thoughtfully. Something about his eyes... Not to be cliche; her thoughts were anywhere but romance right now. "...You really are... Familiar though." Tapping a finger to her lips as she considered what to do. "...Can I get your name? If you don't mind that is." Names were harmless right? --Sort of, depending on who you shared them with. Resting her face on one hand, propped up where her elbow had settled on the bar surface. Ignoring the hollering of the guys from the table who wanted their drinks with a dismissive wave, halfhearted rude gesture all in good sport.

{♜} -- Setting the last of the freshly polished cups upon the display rack, Nijimura raised his gaze to finally take a good, close look at the lady who had been boring holes into him with the unwavering stare of hers. With no other activities requiring his immediate attention, the information broker took his time in scrutinizing the girl he assumed to be Yakuza -- after all, he did notice the company she came in with.

"I believe it would be dangerous, given the nature of both our work." He replied smoothly, keeping his words vague. "After all, I could be easily...compromised."

She fell silent, scrutinising the others stern expression. It really was familiar... "You didn't go to a boarding school did you?" She asks, trying to narrow things down and it's moments later with a startled expression she dares to coo softly; "Shuu-Chan?" The face... His voice... No it definitely had to be. She didn't have an iota of doubt, abruptly lunging across the counter for a hug and pulling up short halfway because-- Well- He might think he was being assaulted (close enough). "Shuu-Chan! You've been here all this time? I was really upset to come back and find you gone!" She has dropped the lifting of her pitch, her voice is a little rougher and more stern-- but no less effeminate just. Upset and happy all in one. "First Miya-Chan and now Shuu-Chan... This is a lot of nostalgia."