thefolder | Beneath your perfume and make-up you're just a baby in disguise.

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Beneath your perfume and make-up you're just a baby in disguise.

Who: Dante and Roze (

fullofthorns)
What: Drunken idiots, flirting and sexual tension.
When: Thursday evening.
Where: Dante's apartment.

Dante would be lying if he claimed he wasn't disappointed the girl he'd talked to was underage. She was hot, spunky, a fighter and few things turned him on like a woman who went for what she wanted. But jailbait was jailbait, and he wasn't going to risk being labelled a sexual deviant just for a pretty face. She didn't look like she could be much younger than eighteen anyway, so he might get his chance yet in this place.

And, of course, none of that factored in to the fact that he had offered her alcohol. His policy on underage drinking was far more lax...okay, it was downright nonexistent. It wasn't his business if someone wanted to get utterly wasted before they hit twenty-one. So, after giving her a bit of time to get settled in, he'd sent her a message asking when she wanted to take him up on that offer.

Now he was lounging on the couch in his apartment, seemingly relaxed except for the heavy broadsword resting against the arm of the couch by his head, within easy reach should he need it. It was a survival habit Dante had picked up from years and years of regular demon attacks: never be unarmed.

Coronamon was lying on the other arm of the couch, dozing. Not that Dante was surprised. The kid was energetic, so it was only natural that he would wear himself out fast. Nor was he disappointed. He didn't care to listen to a bunch of chiding about how much he was likely to end up drinking tonight.

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It didn't take long for Roze to show up, having already been in the vicinity. Staying with Miwako the night before and browsing around locally kept her in range so when her D-T went off, she flipped it open with a sassy smile and arched a cotton-candy brow at Ridiculous-Good-Looking Guy. Dante, she thought his name was.

A few minutes of conversation and she was kissing the screen, snapping it closed and setting off for a new adventure. She'd been sure to drop a few leading comments before ending the feed. Let the man think what he wanted - she liked what she saw, and if the rest of package were as nice as the face, alcohol was just a pretense.

Eventually there was a metallic tapping on Dante's door, the sound of the hilt of Roze's katana creating a tinny echo in the room. She didn't go in without invitation - some rules of engagement she maintained simply to draw invisible lines. Kotemon stood behind and to the side of his partner, glowing eyes maintaining a bland, irritated expression. He didn't like the man on the other side of the door purely on principle. As far as the Digimon was concerned, these two were bound to cause him no end of acid reflux.

He was fairly certain he knew who was at the door, but he grabbed his sword anyway as he stood up. He rested the demonic weapon on his currently coatless shoulder as he walked to the door and grinned when he opened it to see that it was indeed the person he'd been expecting. And he'd thought she was hot over the D-T. He couldn't help looking her over appreciatively, not even trying to hide it as his eyes lingered on her chest and traced the curves of her hips. Oh the things he wanted to do to that body...it pained him to wait. But for now, he'd have to satisfy himself with just looking.

After he finished studying his guest, he stepped back from the door and waved inside.

"Come on in and make yourself at home! Me casa es tu casa and all that."

Arching a brow, Dante was treated to much the same roving appreciation he offered the woman standing with hip cocked in his entranceway. Legs that didn't quit, hips-for-grip, an hourglass figure that kept perfect time and a rack big enough for a clearance sale, the pink-haired woman was the sort of girl men pulled out of embarrassing magazines. She knew it. She flaunted it with a tight leather jacket zipped low enough to serve her puppies up like fresh peaches and what appeared to be a skirt in name more than function.

"Well I didn't plan on standing in the hall all night," she snorted, flicking her long bangs back with a twitch of her head as she swept past, smelling vaguely of hot cotton candy, strawberries and warm pound cake. Kotemon shuffled in behind her without more than a brief bow to Dante.

Stiletto's clicked audibly as she swept in, mint-colored eyes drifting over the surroundings with bland indifference while hands worked the over-burdened zipper over her jacket down. Green leather coat sliding from her arms, a flick of the wrist sent it flying into Dante's hands and face and proved that what she wore underneath was a rich burgundy satin mini-dress kimono. Shaking the sleeves out and turning on one foot, she tilted enough to throw herself onto the couch, arms stretching out along the back of it, long legs crossing at the knees in a squeak of patent leather.

"Not exactly a man-castle but I'm sure it'll grow on me..." she drawled, picking at the couch fabric with a lazy smile before adding, "...like a fungus."

He caught the jacket easily with one hand and flicked it to wrap around his wrist even as he took a deep breath, noting with fondness that she'd brought with her the delicious scent of strawberries. It was probably the most subtle of the scents she was wearing, but personal bias made it stand out far more than anything else.

He tossed the jacket onto a coat rack, where it landed next to his own red leather longcoat and incidentally giving her a glimpse of a pair of monochrome handguns hanging from the back of his pants, the black one on his left and the white one on his right. Coat dealt with, he then turned back and dropped down onto the couch next to her, setting his sword down so that it was once again propped up in easy reach.

"Just gimme some time, blew most of my starting cash on a pizza party so I ain't had much of a chance to replace my old collections. Hopin' to get my hands on some music equipment. But that's for later. So, does the Ridiculously-Hot Chick I'm about to go grab some booze for have a name or am I just gonna have to call you Sweet Stuff from now on?"

Shifting slightly to adjust herself when Dante sat, Roze ran her fingers over the exposed hilt of her katana propped on the opposite end of the couch from her new friend's sword, eyes drifting over the dark red leather making up the grip. Glossy nails run in muted clicks over dips and rises in the braiding.

"Roze. Ichishi Roze. Ridiculously-Hot Chick works. Sweet Stuff. Nurse. Sex Bomb. Legs. Sugar Lips. I was debating between calling you Sexy or Handsome. I'm leaning more towards Sexy. Handsome seems like a weak word when you describe genuine, rugged masculinity," she drawled, sliding her eyes side-long to catch his gaze peripherally. "Unless you have a preference. I mean, proper names always work, too, but I'll have to hear your name spoken pretty low, just to make sure it....sticks."

"Sexy works just fine for me. I've always been a big fan of truth in advertisement."

He tapped a finger casually on his sword's hilt, acting as if he didn't even notice he was doing it. It was a very deliberate attempt to draw attention to the not inconsiderably sized blade without being overt or heavy handed.

"So then, I'm guessin' you're a fan of strawberries?"

"Hm? Why?" she asks, turning slowly and arching a brow. She looked genuinely curious about the question, head tilted just that fraction that suggested she had no real clue why he would ask.

"My hair is more pink than red, really. And its natural so...I mean, not to say I don't like strawberries. I love them. Just not sure what made it apparen--That...is a very impressive tool," she drawls, losing interest in talk of fruit in favor of weaponry.

"Do you mind?" the girl asks, gripping the katana and bringing it about in offer of trade. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"You smell like 'em. People don't usually wear scents they don't like."

His eyes shifted to the weapon under his hand when she asked to hold it. The dirty comment sprang immediately to mind, but he reluctantly and with great difficulty kept it to himself. He'd save remarks like that for later, when she was no longer painful jailbait.

Past that was the kneejerk reaction to cling to his weapon, especially since everyone who'd gotten their hands on it in the past had used it to run him through and pin him to something. Add to that its significance as a family heirloom and his inheritance from the father he'd learned to respect and he was incredibly reluctant to part with it. But her holding her own weapon out read as an offer of trust, and he wasn't insensitive enough to turn that down.

"Alright, but only as long as you're gentle. You wouldn't want to mishandle such a fine piece of equipment."

...Well, so much for keeping the dirty remarks to himself.

"No? Interesting. Didn't take you for the delicate type. Note to self: Ridiculously Good-Looking Guy is a sensitive vanilla type," the pink-haired girl grunted, cocking a brow his way and shoving her katana into his hand, gripping his sword in return.

Normally it would have felt hot. Hot, writhing and alive under the hands of someone else. In this strange world it was dormant, though it still had a sense of 'soemthign else'. Not just a sword.

It was a long, elegant weapon, the metal of the blade a glossy metal with a faint blue sheen to it, smooth and clean enough to reflect Dante's face. It was old, obviously. Very old. The red leather around the grip did not appear to be dyed and was made of unfamiliar reptilian skin, the saya was made of a thick wood with a natural reddish sheen and lacquered to a deep cherry finish. instead of the normal sageo is was wrapped with a length of black leather cord with enough slack to loop over one shoulder. It was obvious she tended to carry the weapon in her hand; whether out of protectiveness or paranoia was Dante's guess.

Regardless of the weight, the way Roze handled Dante's weapon was surprisingly respectful as she slid it across her lap to rest on leather-clad thighs for closer inspection. Glossy nails trailing over the decorative guard, she nods in approval and interest. For a moment, innuendo and jokes were set aside for a serious appraisal. She could behave very maturely when it suited her, and weapons were no joke - especially ones as important as their own.

"Her name is Ikebana. Hm...she'd like this..." she remarks, wrapping both hands around the hilt of his sword and squeezing experimentally. Yeah...too big to be comfortable to wield for her.

"Protective would be a better term. His name's Rebellion, and he's something of a family heirloom. Used to belong to my old man."

Rebellion, much like Ikebana, had an odd sense of being not entirely normal. The weapon seemed like it had been cast all in one piece, although the shape of the horned skull with its hollowed, fanged mouth made a mold stiff enough not to deform under the weight impossible. It was perfectly balanced despite the guard that should have been far too heavy for the blade, as if it was made of a lighter material. The entire thing was polished so that the blade could be used as a mirror and had a razor edge, so sharp that it seemed as if it couldn't have been used since the last time it was honed.

While Roze was examining Rebellion, Dante was doing much the same with Ikebana. It reminded him of his brother's sword in some ways, both impossibly perfect and meant to be carried rather than worn. With careful, skilled wrist movements, he turned the blade around, testing the balance and the heft. His motions with the blade made it clear that despite his apparent preference for Western style swords, he was very familiar with katanas as well.

"Rebellion? Hm...quaint. Then again, Ikebana means "flower arrangement". She's a bit of a priss. So your dad used to own this?" she asks, pushing herself to standing and taking the sword, leaving the point down. She was just checking the length and had no intention of trying to heft the blade.

"This is definitely impressive. And you carry it comfortably? Don't brag, just be honest. If you can swing this thing like a normal weapon, that's bad-ass. Where I come from, you've got to be a demon to handle something this size."

She pauses, cocking a brow and folding her arms around and across the guard, resting her cheek against the hilt.

"Are you a bad boy, Mister Sexy? I know you're a horny devil but are you a devil with horns?"

He slid the katana back into her sheath, clicking the weapon into place with a very slight hint of tension.

"Spikes is more accurate. Ain't had real horns since the days when I had to borrow power from a weapon to transform."

He stood up as well, watching her carefully while keeping his pose casual seeming. She didn't sound accusatory or threatening, but he knew how fast that could change when something like that went from joking to serious.

"Back home, I could swing that thing around one handed even without using my demon form."

"That's pretty hot," she replied with ease, ignoring his discomfort and filling the atmosphere with her own relaxed lack of concern. Turning her head and kissing the hilt of Rebellion lightly, she flicked her wrist and spun the sword, admiring the flash of the blade before stopping its rotation and tilting it in Dante's direction.

"Back home, I'm pretty much demon police. Demons and spooks and shit all over the place have a tough time dealin' with humans, and vice versa, so its my job to kinda mediate. sometimes I gotta beat up a demon. Sometimes I gotta beat up a human. Not as much though, since most humans are pretty much just really retarded bystanders."

She gestured vaguely to Ikebana, cocking her hip and raising a slender brow.

"Gotta have a pretty specific heritage for things like her. Really good Guardians are never pure human, these days. Only the Vatican puts out pure humans, and they're always bad news. That strawberry smell? You like strawberries, so I smell like strawberries. That comes from my mother's side. LOTS of demon on my mom's side. Tengu, Kitsune, Oni. I think the smell is a Kitsune thing. Great Gran could change her hair color and eyes to be more interesting to targets. I'm pretty much a subtle throwback. No horns or anything. Got a nice ass though."

His tension vanished instantly as soon as she failed to react with fear or disgust. He casually reached out to grab his weapon's hilt and hefted it onto his shoulder with some mild difficulty as he held the katana out to its owner.

"Bein' half demon makes the lineage pretty damn obvious when I ain't in my human form. Scales and glowing red eyes don't exactly point in many other directions. Gotta say, though, can't recall ever meeting another true hybrid that wasn't part of my own family.

"As for me, I'm kinda like a demonic detective. Demons stir up trouble, I put 'em down. And sometimes the piece of shit humans that willingly share their bodies along with 'em."

"Oh man, possessions are the worst!" she groaned, shaking her head and turning to fall back into the couch, propping Ikebana against the furniture once more.

"Stupid little prick demons getting all in the business and then...THEN...you add a really fuckin' ignorant-ass human into the mix and you've got some asshole walking around with too much power, not enough restraint, a torch to burn and personal motivations that make about as much sense as fuck-all."

Sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose she shook her head in commiserating frustration.

"You get a lot of material possession transfers? We have those all over the place, especially in Japan. A katana or kimono, a lantern, a scroll. Loads of demons passing from owner to owner and starting mischief. Humans tend to destroy those things if they find out, which tends to make matters worse. Man...there was a witchboard. A uh...Ouija board? that was going around Europe for ages and then showed up in Japan all of a sudden. That was the first time I ever dealt with a European demon. Nasty, nasty, nasty. At least Japanese demons tend to have personal codes and shit. This guy was a real douche. Ate a girl at my school. I mean like...ATE. With teeth and all. Like a burrito."

"Yeah, some demons'll do that. A lot of the weaker ones are no better than animals."

He tilted his head but refrained from sitting back down.

"Didn't think humans could destroy demonic objects, though. I've seen a few of 'em in human hands. Usually it ain't much trouble, but sometimes...had a guy who found a possessed bell once. The thing let demons cross into the human world if you rang it and it nearly got him killed. And remind me some time to tell you the story about the demon crafted gambling charms. Enchanted objects can be a bitch."

"No shit. That stuff is ridiculous. Honestly, my least favorite work. At least corporeal demons have some fuckin' perspective, y'know? When you spend all your time as an umbrella you don't really have a good grasp on reality. There was a demon in an amulet some guy bought from Romania. Entitled prick. Catholic's got that one though. They thought it was part of Dracula's Raiment. I didn't bother disabusing them of the nothing. Because if I got a piece of that, I'd keep it."

She coughed and cleared her throat, cheeks coloring as she stuck out her tongue in a grin.

"Gotta get the occasional souvenir, and Drac was a class act. If I'm gonna have spooks hanging around I'd rather interesting ones. Mom has a fan that belonged to Elizabeth of Bathor--wait. Do you even know who I'm talking about?" she asked, drawing a leg up onto the couch and wrapping her arms around it, chin resting on her knee. Just a brief flash of lace panties past the hem of her top. Pink roses.

His eyes immediately went down to her skirt and an eyebrow quirked just slightly. Roses. He liked her style.

"Not big on pokin' into human legends. Most of the time they don't even know what the hell they're talking about. Same with religion, really."

He shrugged, noting with annoyance that the weapon on his shoulders made the gesture a lot more difficult than it should.

"Can't tell ya if Dracula's real or not where I come from, though. Bit before my time. But I hear ya on the souvenirs. Heh, you oughta see my collection of Devil Arms back home."

"So, what's a Devil Arm?" she asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind one ear and arching a brow, chest plumping as she rested against her leg for support. If she wasn't trying to flirt, she was hideously good at being alluring on her own merit. The gestures certainly didn't look like mere affectations, the were smooth and relaxed. Natural.

"Dracula was real where I'm from. Elizabeth of Bathory, too. We have to watchout for a lot of urban legends, too. Bloody Mary stuff. Kids chanting names into mirrors and not realizing just what they're doin'."

"A Devil Arm's somethin' like Rebellion. The soul of a demon turned into a weapon. You might be impressed how many of 'em you can collect when the entire demon world is out for your head."

"So, not that different from mom's fan, really. Bits of demons left over and influencing an item," she remarked, nodding slowly.

"You gonna to stand around posturing and looking awkward or take a seat? Scared I'm gonna bite?"

A cocked brow and crooked smirk flaunted her humor. She was amused at Dante cooling off, while she had no intention of doing so.

"Chicken shit."

"I sit down, I ain't gonna want to get back up again. And someone's gotta go get that booze I promised."

He grinned, gesturing back toward one of the bedrooms. And it was entirely true. If he sat down, especially with Roze there looking so pretty, he knew he'd make himself comfortable and then it would be tempting to just wake Coronamon up to get the drinks. But then he'd just have to deal with his partner being a worrywart about his drinking. Again.

"Well then, I'd say you were wasting time standing back on your heels, hot stuff. You owe me drinks. I made that raincheck and I came back before you had to cool off too much. Heck, I didn't even string you along. Couch is gettin' cold," she drawled, moving her leg to cross them again and lean back once more with her arms across the couch.

"Who says you won't wanna get back up? You wouldn't be the first guy to panic in the face of a proper challenge."

"I ain't the one that panics, Sweet Stuff. I'm the one that sends the newbies runnin' pink."

He gave her a wink and a grin before turning on his heel and walking off toward the room he'd gestured towards.

She watched him go, bearing her teeth just slightly and clicking her tongue as she murmured a low sound of approval. Stretching with a groan, Roze scratched the back of her head and debated letting her hair down. Probably too much trouble to bother with though, in the long term. She didn't have anything to fix it back up with later and she had a bad habit of getting tangles when drinking.

"Running pink," she muttered to herself, rolling green eyes skyward. Sort of a an unfair jab at her, really, considering her hair. She'd get him back eventually.

When he came back she was still sitting on the couch, though now she'd taken to twisting the green bead resting at the hollow of her throat on its red satin cord. There wasn't much doubt to what she was thinking when she looked him over with a lazy half-smile.

He was carrying a bag with three bottles when he returned and dropped onto the couch. Rebellion once again found a resting place within easy reach as he crossed his legs casually. He'd sat much closer to her than was generally considered polite, so that his bent knee was resting on her lap.

Her hand toying with the necklace initially drew his gaze, but it quickly drifted downward and he took a moment to re-appreciate the nice display of cleavage before giving the bag in his hand a light shake.

"I think you're gonna like what I got saved."

She didn't mind at all, shifting slightly to accommodate the position, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knee and sniffing at the bag.

"Don't hold me in suspense. Its not like I need an excuse to play dirty, but I'm about to the point where if I don't feel a good burn somewhere I'm gonna start flippin' tables," she grunted, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes at the sack.

"Just tell me you're not a strictly whiskey kinda guy."

"Whiskey's for when you wanna get smashed and don't care how. This is for havin' fun with it."

He opened the bag and showed her a bottle each of strawberry vodka, strawberry schnapps and Xuxu.

"Got the stuff to make a hell of a Bloody Mary, too, if you like that kinda drink."

"Oh my gawd, you're a fruit-drink guy?" she asked rather loudly, eyes darting up to his face, teeth bared in a brilliant grin. It was evidently not a judgment. Slapping the inside of his thigh a little roughly the girl laughed delightedly.

"Un-fuckin'-believable, there's no way the world has half that kinda luck. You're stupid hot, drink excellent shit and I'm willing to bet when we fight - because we're gonna fight - you're totally gonna give me a run for my money. And if you win? Not that you will, but if you win? Huh, I bet its worth losing. Man!"

She barked a harsh laugh of disbelief, leaning back hard against the couch and shaking her head, a hand over her face.

"What are the fuckin' odds I'd get sucked into the Twilight Zone and end up on the fast track to awesome...my mom would shit."

Edited 2013-08-25 01:58 (UTC)

"I wouldn't count on me losin' just yet. Two and a half decades of demons on a guy's tail is a hell of a motivator to learn how to kick ass and take name. But I'll tell ya what...if you can give me a fight worth having, I'll give ya a nice treat."

He leaned in just close enough to suggest he might kiss her, but stopped short. The look in his eyes said that he wanted to, but the promise would lose its effect if he gave it to her already.

"And when you're a bit older, I'll give ya something really nice."

Edited 2013-08-25 03:44 (UTC)

Her eyes widened briefly, scalp tingling with the momentary crackle of excitement and full, glossed lips curling in a slow grin.

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep. I don't take rejection. Not that I don't take it well, I just don't take it at all. You'll regret it til the day you die..." she finished in a whisper, leaning close enough when she spoke that their breath dampened their lips.

A quirk of her mouth and the smile devolved into a smirk as she sat back again. Not before brushing noses, of course. As she slid back one of her hands that had snuck up while closer dragged along his arm and closed about the bag, pulling it out of his grasp.

"You drinkin' outta cups?" she asked, arching a brow as he eyes drifted to inspect the contents. "I prefer straight from the source. Always tastes better with your hand wrapped around a long neck."

He licked his lips as she pulled away, hands itching to pull her back towards him. That kimono looked so easy to open...if only she was eighteen, he'd probably already be finding out if she'd let him try.

He forced his eyes from her lips to the bag and reached over to grab a bottle out of it.

"Prefer straight if I'm not mixin' it with something. Cups just slow ya down."

"Agreed..." she replied casually, taking a second bottle from the bag and setting the last aside.

"You know. In Japan, a popular belief is that if you share a drink with someone," she cracked open the bottle and sniffed the contents, "...its the same as kissing."

A soft snort and she pressed her lips to the mouth of the bottle, tilting it back and swallowing hard, throat moving twice with a heavy gulp. Pulling away with a gasp and soft cough she tilted the bottle towards Dante after running her tongue over the glass and clearing away the last bead of fluid.

"Unless you really want me in a bad position, I hope you have something to eat laying around. Drinking on an empty stomach does not a pretty lady make."

He smirked as he took the bottle from her, making sure his fingers brushed against hers. He hummed to himself thoughtfully, then tilted the bottle back for a gulp of his own. He took his time before lowering the bottle, drawing his tongue slowly over the edge and inside of the rim and savoring the thin film of liquid that had clung there while keeping his eyes on Roze.

"I think I prefer the more direct version, no offense."

He offered the bottle back to her, reaching down with his other hand to grab Rebellion.

"You're not gonna take offense if I offer ya leftovers from dinner, right?"

"Tch, people who can't eat leftovers or turn their noses up to anything that isn't spoiled piss me off," she answered, snagging the bottle back from him with a faint scowl.

"And you're the one with all the rules, Princess. I don't mind pussy-footing around the details and taking the time but until then I'm gonna take what I can get."

She tipped the bottle against her head by way of toast and salute before taking another swig, eyes at half mast as she imagined she could taste the saliva there, eyes fixed on Dante as she did.

"Got the rules for a reason. But if you're real nice, maybe I'll consider giving you a preview of what I've got planned if you manage to impress me in battle."

He gave her a suggestive smirk as he stood up and walked off again, hefting his sword onto his shoulders in a motion that made his hips move just enough to call attention downward.

She chuckled at that, tongue flickign over her bottom lip before teeth closed on it as her eyes roamed down, then back up. Yes, she was behaving badly. Yeah, it was probably a little defensive behavior, railing against her apparent abduction and celebrating her sudden freedom from the oppression back home.

Was she going to regret it?

Taking another look at Dante's hips and backside, she decided the answer was 'no'. Chances were pretty good that by the end of this, she was going to be absolutely free of regret. Although she did enjoy mulling over the promises he made. Not of the rewards, but of the fight. It had been a long time since she'd had any good competition and even longer still since anyone was fighting to get in her skirt. Of course that was her father's fault.

Shit. Talk about Daddy issues.

Muttering a low curse to herself she stretched out on the couch, resting her head on one arm, one foot over the other arm. The second foot bent at the knee and rested on the floor over the side of the couch, putting her in a broad and comfortable sprawl in the man's absence. Meanwhile she explore the contents of the other bottles finding herself pleasantly surprised on all counts.

"Know any good ways to get quick cash around here?" she called out, capping one bottle and opening another. "I'll treat next time. Well...unless they've got laws against purchase under a certain age. Then I'll just fork over the money I suppose..."

Coronamon rolls off the arm of the couch and onto Roze's leg when she raises her voice and mumbles something in his sleep before curling up.

Dante waits to respond until he's on his way back, carrying a cardboard box the right size and shape for pizza and half a box of strawberries.

"Some guy said somethin' about jobs that give decent pay."

She sat up slightly when Coronamon rolled, smirking and reaching over to tug him gently up, resting him in her lap. When Dante returned she sat up enough for him sit where she could rest back in his lap.

"What kinda jobs? K-man says I ain't supposed to fight or somethin'. Like my tactics and weapons are pretty useless against the locals? That's some shit. Man, pizza. I love you."

Edited 2013-08-26 07:35 (UTC)

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Beneath your perfume and make-up you're just a baby in disguise.

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