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Aguni's staring again.
Last Boss once said that he's like a cat, attention forever caught by a canary he cannot reach; Niragi'd smothered laughter into his beer as the other carried on, waxing poetic on their fearless leader for a full minute. At the time, he'd thought the analogy accurate.
But the truth is, Hatter isn't out of reach, even sat in the open, surrounded by sycophants. Slip something in his drink, stumble into him with a poisoned needle. Say 'fuck it' and shoot the bastard, kill everyone. What would be lost, truly? Completing the hunt is so very doable—that is, under the assumption death is the desired outcome.
Niragi wouldn't quite classify love as a biological mistake, but he has used it to corner human prey; it's not advantageous. For Aguni, love has been devastation.
He no longer eats with them. He no longer leisures in the lazy afternoon, maybe reading in the garden, maybe cleaning guns at Niragi's side, his quiet strangely peaceable. Better, they would train, whereas now Aguni just sics Last Boss on him.
At last Hatter disappears from view, presumably returning to his suite, and for the first time in twenty minutes Aguni's free to meet his gaze.
Choking envy scares the breath from his lungs. A gentle, grounding hand grabs onto his forearm, and though he sways into the touch, Niragi maintains the picture of easy confidence: brow cocked, smirk wide, eyes bright with predatory gleam. They're stood close; Niragi makes a point of ignoring personal space, and Aguni generally doesn't care enough to so much as comment. So, he feels his heat. He scents his musky aftershave. He sees puzzlement in the downturn of his mouth.
A vision comes to him: Aguni splayed out on his bed, hands bound to the headboard, dazed by a combination of alcohol and lust. Tank top rolled up to his armpits, leaving the swells of his belly and tits on display. He wouldn't submit easily, but when has that stopped him? Niragi could make it so good for him.
Won't, not wouldn't. Will, not could.
Niragi wets his lips, tongue flicking out far to shine his piercing in the dim light. Aguni's eyes narrow; he knows the action belies naughty thinking.
Niragi kinda wants to suck his cock.
“What's got you fired up?” Aguni wonders, tone deceptively lazy. In truth, he's ready. Always ready for Niragi to make a move.
Just not in the way Niragi actually wants to take him; he surprises himself with the revelation it's now the only way.
“Excited for a regime change,” is the answer Niragi finally gives, a lie merely by omission. “Watching that bastard strut around...”
“Don't get antsy. I don't want to lose anyone useful.”
Which means Niragi if he fails, and a room full of high-flying players if he succeeds. Alas, being (potentially) valued can't make up for the fact it's ultimately Hatter Aguni's protecting.
“Relax, Boss; I'll be good for you.”
“Can you?”
Niragi mock-pouts, feeling playful even though part of him resents the implication he's ever not been good for Aguni. (He definitely might've been, but he still doesn't appreciate the question.)
“Said I would, didn't I? Are you insinuating I'm a liar?”
Aguni's quiet so long Niragi assumes the conversation's died. He goes back to triple-checking the math on the militants' supplies—inventory's hardly his job, but like hell is he trusting some random loser to keep the numbers straight. Guns they've plenty of, ammo not so much.
“You don't know what I want, Niragi.”
The words are defiant, the tone drained. It takes a moment for Niragi to really process them, brows furrowed, pen still scratching paper, but when he does, he scoffs and sneers. Annoyingly, it's only his posture that's defensive: Niragi's hunched up, Aguni's straight-backed and open.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Aguni just looks at him.
Niragi tosses pad and pen on a nearby table, groping for the rifle strapped to his back—he wouldn't dream of using it on his superior, of course, but he's feeling so damningly threatened it's reflexive. He's more settled with it in his hands, dangerously casual despite the implicit threat behind the motion. Aguni knows him well enough not to take it that way.
A good number of folk in the lounge don't. Niragi watches them scatter like the vermin they are in his peripheral vision; they're not worth the full weight of his consideration.
Aguni spares them a glance, then gestures with his head for Niragi to follow.
And follow Niragi does, out the hotel and into the militants' house. Aguni grabs them each a beer, and he sips his obediently. It's quiet in the kitchen area, comparatively. No pounding bass shaking the walls. The distant sound of their people going in and out, talking in hushed murmurs, is all that troubles them. Since they're theirs, Niragi doesn't mind the mild racket; each is utterly disposable and not worth knowing personally, but at last his guard relaxes. Somewhat.
“What do you think of Hatter's plan to escape this place?”
Niragi frowns. He doesn't see how this question relates to Aguni's bullshit statement a few minutes ago. He plays along anyhow: “I don't.”
Aguni nods, unsurprised. “Well, I have thought on it, and I'm unsure if his source can be trusted. The game wouldn't be winnable if its clear conditions are as he's been told.”
“You don't think he's just lying?”
“No. His intentions are pure...We should wait to see what happens when the deck's been completed, so we don't take the brunt of any possible negative outcomes.”
Even when discussing revolt, Aguni defends Hatter. Annoying.
“Is this what you meant when you said I don't know what you want?” Niragi needles. If so, that would mean...
Aguni's face darkens, mouth pursed in dismay. He again avoids by admitting, “I despise things as they are, but we must be cautious.”
Niragi can believe he doesn't like Hatter as the boss. Unfortunately his natural charm instills a pervasive loyalty in his followers; they would not accept another while he lived. Would he be kept as a secret pet, then? Unrealistic.
Or maybe killing Hatter would itself be a way of protecting him. It's a little convoluted, but Niragi can believe this, too. Even if it seems oddly out-of-character. Oddly, for he's unsure how he comes to the conclusion it would be.
Most of his brain fascinates itself with the alcohol shining on Aguni's lips, instead.
To some degree, he knows his next action to be incredibly inadvisable at the very least. Niragi kisses Aguni anyway, because he is overflowing with bitter resentment and jealous lust. Because he is every bit the fool Chishiya accuses him of being.
Aguni kisses him back, then retreats. Was the reciprocation instinctive, or indicative of some hidden desire?
The older man dares try to turn away. Niragi grabs his arm-
And finds himself delivered unto the fridge, pinned against its cold, steel surface. Niragi snarls, struck with a panic alien to him since he became a veteran of the games, and bites.
The pressure leaves, though Aguni still holds him. They're frozen like that, Niragi's teeth embedded in the meat of Aguni's forearm. Blood floods his mouth.
He'd prefer to be the one dominating, but this is kinda hot nonetheless. If only he hadn't lost his cool like that...The reaction can be traced back to exploitable weakness rather easily.
Niragi swallows what he's taken, then gently detracts his teeth; he hopes his pained grimace serves as apology enough. Last Boss is lurking in the doorway, drawn by the noise. How mortifying. What must he think of this?
Aguni, too, notices the intruding presence.
Looks like the fun's over. For now.