Scene #9374: Sip from the Lucky Dish

Owner	Pose
Natsuki Nuki	Natsuki had granted a standing invitation to Calvin to come drinking with her, but there were a lot of places she could be. Texting her with questions hit an automatic away message, at least confirming she was 'out on the town' and off the clock of whatever business she kept. Thankfully, there were other ways to figure out where local figures were. Heading to the Golden Caterpillar is easy, the building the tallest in Sotenbori and the most stylish and modern as well. The tower complex takes up a whole block, an island of territory square within the heart of Osaka, and spotlights beam against the building and its public entrance. Casino, hotel, tourist destination with its own opulent mall, Natsuki's style had started in Concord black and gold and only expanded by her full send into the (life)style of success. The construction of the tower is all the more imposing from up close, an entire complex within itself burrowed deeply into the earth and rising high to conquer skyline in height and breadth with glass and black and gold in swooping curls and segments. A fortress of incredible wealth, it is fully staffed by a mixed collection of humans and humanoid spirits, mostly youkai and lesser place-spirits spawned by such a massive undertaking and habitation. The goons and help trend towards the stylings of Kansai yakuza, collared shirts quarter-unbuttoned and in usually garish colors beneath smartly matched jackets and trousers. Staff-types dress smarter, crisper buttonings and vests, or ties loose and snug depending on role. Each of them wear a pin on their lapel or collar - a one-dotted leaf - and are generally found in mixed groups. rInquiring at the skin-horned door oni in a suit, collared shirt, and pixie cut with longer bangs at the door of the club that had a concierge air with clipboard and glasses, peered at Calvin's inquiries and then flipped through some papers before directing him to the 'Spirit district'. This, necessarily, led into the mild explainer - sensing an out-of-towner, that while Calvin was completely welcome at the Golden Caterpillar, and certainly most of Osaka, 'some Humans' (said with the avoiding-a-lot-of-baggage politeness of a flavor of service goon) 'find the Spirit district too much'. That there was 'Human districts' and mixed districts and 'Spirit districts' might come as no surprise, but the enclaves heavily controlled by Metal Priest clans centered around the ancestral homes or dojos of various groups, and expanded a zone of bigotry that resisted settlement or most forms of interaction. Alike in dignity were the stretches of ancestrally nonhuman zones, the earthly residences of heavenly entities or the places of power and worship of particular beings. Priesthoods that revered and lived alongside the spirits generated a populace that was comfortable with mixing, and the Spirit-traditionalist zones also experienced the migration in of many revealed spirits into society after the revelations of sixty years ago such that there were whole stretches of all-nonhuman habitation with most of the same amenities and some specialized services. The most modern zones, especially the commerce zones of Osaka, affected a different judgement, that of 'modernity' itself: where the traditions waned slightly and the expressions of powers became organizational. 'Cosmopolitan' would be too far - but the Osakan people could be blended in the houses of finance and industry and hard work all in looking outward rather than inward. Armed with a location, Calvin might find Natsuki after some searching and wandering, being sized up by every set of eyes on the street as the walls become too tight for vehicles in little dense alleys-of-shops. One such, smelling of herbal smoke and faint chemicals and alcohol, proclaims itself the 'Lucky Dish', with an icon of a sipping dish almost spilling a golden coin in the faint neon slosh of blue-white off the side.
Natsuki Nuki	Within the narrow bar, past a doorman on a stool who takes one look at Calvin and shakes his head and fails to stop the brave soul from entering and an intervening curtain that splits bar off from pre-area where mail and packages go during the day, is a little upper attic space that has the feeling of a curio shop mixed with liquor store more than a bar - no sitting space, just a counter and an elderly grandma of indeterminate shape and a nightcap on, sleepily standing at a register. Unless Calvin picks up an object to buy - his COMP can tell him that he's in a store for rare materials and alcohols and even assign magnetite or gem prices to them - granny mostly just points Calvin towards a set of stairs that start wooden as the floor is and switch to metal when the walls go from concrete foundation to metal sided wall. The thump of club music pulses like a heartbeat through the stairs, and in the lower club area, the whole area is lit up in cubes of neon, floor and walls, with dark concrete foundation ceiling. There are some steel-grey flooring - near the downstairs bar, which actually has stools, and a more private area of booths behind the bar. The dance floor is moderately occupied, and almost entirely spirits partying. The scent of liquor in the air is intoxicating enough to steam a contact buzz and the sense of a thirst just on density, though it is of course modern club drink prices - nothing's that free. The fringes of the club space are strewn with benches and cushioned zones to retreat to, but Natsuki isn't in any of those spots. She is, instead, lairing within the semi-private booths behind the bar, sprawled out in the pit of a low table suited for parties of sixteen as nearly the entire occupant herself such that she sits in the interior corner looking out and through the door. Calvin had seen some of this in the Mothman mission, inklings of Natsuki's more-full, more-sprawled state of physicals self-expression but she is more than so here. Wearing her full bipedal 'Lady Nue' shape, dark-dipped and black striped tiger head, arms, and legs, with the deep burnt brown of her Tanuki interior chest that the orange and black of her pelt and sides fell around. Sized as she is, bulked in shoulder and thigh and down arm and leg, she reclines open-legged in large black skirt and perilously few buttoned red shirt not against any cushion but of 'more herself': the absurd unspooling of her serpentine second-self's sprawl. Loop upon loop of thick and chimeric tail alternates spans of segmented chitin with faintly animated millipedal sublimbs and scale-and-spike patterns of varying complexity and depth and scope. The head, the terminal second point of Natsuki, doubles back to rest 'besides' her and and under the nue woman's left arm, where clawed tiger paw strokes and works slowly against the man-sized spade head. The space for large parties almost entirely occupied by 'more Natsuki' is laden with cold appetizers and bottles of liquor, some empty, bunches of smaller fruit or whole apples and pears, and a sometimes-refreshed table service of sashimi.
Calvin Nash	Calvin arrives in manner and dress so different from the opulence of this city island as to near its opposite, if not embody it outright. A truck several decades old by the standards of his world, and at least one by the standards of Natsuki's, pulls up to the public parking spot. If it weren't for the livery of the Demon Marshals on its doors or the familiar light bar straddling its cab, it'd look even more out of place than it already does. Calvin, stepping out, has business here only because he's Calvin Nash, here on invitation. Certainly, his blue jeans, the grey snap-button shirt tucked into them and the square-toed beige cowboy boots that thud purposefully towards the public entrance give no more indication that he is who's catered to here than his truck. He resists the urge to crane his neck upwards. Why would he? To marvel at something like this, to be affected by it, in his mind, is to gawk, and gawking is something done by people with no business more pressing than gawking. Try as he might, he can't stop himself from frowning in thought. What is all of it for? How many people live here? Does anyone, or is this all space afforded for work? And if that's the case, what kind of work could be so involved as to need all of this space? Those are questions for Natsuki, not for her goons and help. Though his clothes are humbler than theirs, they are no less well-fitted; whoever made them did so with measurements in mind, and they render Calvin's silhouette, particularly his arms, in such a way that it wouldn't be hard to imagine him in some sort of Walker: Texas Ranger-esque brawl, whipping out crisply choreographed jabs, crosses, hooks and uppercuts. Despite that, he offers firm handshakes, polite smiles, and bends at the brim of his black cowboy hat on his way past. It's only the door oni for whom this courtesy is more effortfully applied than any spirit or yokai after. Calvin likes most yokai fine. He doesn't like oni. "'Preciate it," he says regarding the advice. "The help and the heads-up." Polite, but curt. "Don't have to worry 'bout me." For anyone else that'd be a conversational aside; the member cities of the Assembly are much like Osaka in the frank acceptance of reality and side-by-side life as fellow citizens with demons. Towards the oni, however, it's as if he's responding to a challenge with 'try it,' laundered through polite exchange. Living in the world that they do, they can tell that he isn't answering them, so much as 'every oni he's ever spoken to.' He turns around and leaves, with his location ion mind. The truck itself doesn't smell of burning fossils like other cars do, nor does its rumble sound entirely the same. The smoke that passes from its tailpipe is less 'exhaust' and more 'the smoke which must necessarily follow fire.' Depending on who's looking, it might smell of the ancestral fire, delivered by chance or divine providence, guarded preciously until its secrets could be divined, or perhaps like burnt offerings, or the faint scent of a flame yet to kiss a candle or stick of incense. Eyes don't bother him, nor does being sized up. The words he'd said were true even if their intent was prickly and unnecessarily defensive. To him, the experience of walking here is like the safer parts of the Expanse. Even in those places, humans don't tread without being observed. What matters is how one reacts to it; even being sized up needn't translate into anything unless the human in question wills it, consciously or unconsciously. His stride is confident, his eyes scanning the names of establishments, nodding at prying eyes who peer at him in the open and paying them the same polite greetings he'd given to all of Natsuki's staff but the oni.
Calvin Nash	Stepping past the doorman of the Lucky Dish. "Hi, granny," he says, after his ascent into the upper attic space. There's no telling what the Understanding does with his accent; maybe it just sounds like an Osakan dub over the original audio. What isn't dubbed over or imposed, or anything but Calvin's action of his own volition, is the polite bow at the waist he offers, palms on his thighs. This is spirit country; so there's a fair chance granny's a spirit herself. Bringing souvenirs is a favorite thing to do. Smiling faces are a wonderful thing, and there are some people he knows who could use some more reasons to smile back home. Flipping open the bulky wrist computer on his right arm, he peruses the inventory. His blonde brow lifts when he spots a rare spirit. "That whiskey you got there's got a beautiful color. There's a barkeep where I live that'd love to have it." After confirming the price with her, he nods and passes his hand over the counter. Purple vapor rises briefly from his body, then rushes down as if pulled by a vacuum towards his palm. Clumps of purple metallic crystals coalesce on the table, beautiful in their dark color and their expression of a contrast between the order of the hard geometric shapes and the chaos of their haphazard intersections with one another. With the transaction over, and directions towards Natsuki given, he adds, "Thank you much," before the spirit (alcoholic) is stored in his COMP. The haze of a nightclub isn't entirely unfamiliar to him. While it's a far cry from the Last Resort back home, this isn't his first time in something at this tempo. If anything, it's more friendly than the one in that world devoid of detail and ouvre. By the time he reaches Natsuki's booth, Calvin has worked up an appetite for drink still overshadowed by Natsuki's, but not for lack of spirit. At the sight of her, his expression goes from the pleasant curiosity of wandering a new locale with an open mind to the broad grin of a friend meeting another in a casual context. "Guess I got some catchin' up to do, don't I?" he jokes, stepping into the booth and taking a seat opposite her. His hat is removed and placed upon its crown in the seat beside him, within grabbing range of Kodoku given the state of Natsuki's sprawl. "You look a little bored, but I figure we can fix that quick," he inadvisably states. "What can you recommend for a new boy in town?"
Natsuki Nuki	Attitude towards the Oni gets a mixture of steam from hotter collars bristling that must be levelled off as it does almost-bored acceptance in the form of professional goonery. The door oni, manages to treat it like a game, fighting sass with smiling sass until the air crackles between their Impeccable Manners... And then he's off, through streets he mostly knows how to walk. Certainly, he's not far off about the nicer parts of the Expanse -- there's as much an incursion of the modern human as the traditionally spiritual, and it's familiar enough to yankee boots and confident denims. There's no clear marker if the granny at the counter is supernatural or merely a member of the working elderly, but she smiles and creaks out a greeting and rattle of laughter at the praise with a curl of fingers on the counter and a slow working of the register with a richly real brrrring of the bell when the drawer opened. Hersccepting the currency after eyeballing it for only a moment and nodding at the apparent value, granny takes exact change and nods back in rattled-out breath that hit the notes of return-diction without quite vocalizing, and Calvin's down in the club. While the bar area has some light air conditioning and area to cool off, most of the club is a hot pulse of music and motion, and the warmth permeates like the alcoholic haze does. Flashes of color from the walls and reflections on clothes and bodies, thumps both sonic and kinetic in nature from motion to the beat, the center of the club's cauldron is a mesmeric rave and the outskirts turn and cycle in and out to the edges and the bar. The downstairs bar serves as much water and tonics to revive tired dancers as they do further alcohol - because it keeps people in the process. Calvin, of course, has a private booth to attend. Entering, Calvin is framed in the door and stared at by two sets of eyes, one with serpentine slits and black sclera that gazed in cool appraising-hunger, and one with more intricate patterning in the iris and white sclera warmly interested in the man's approach. "You've got so~oo much catching up to do, Calvin." Natsuki flutters into a throaty birdsong warble as a smile spreads across her dark lips, while Kodoku flicks out a long black forked tongue to sense Calvin through the air, expelling breath and shifting from beneath the Lady Nue's left handed sprawl of stroking to adjust and close around the table inquisitively. At the same time as Kodoku moves, Natsuki's rising left hand beckons Calvin closer into the table, rocking back in her 'seat' against herself and showingly lifting right leg to half cross over left, flashing thick ruffled sock perpendicular as ankle rested near knee. "I've been soaking in the vibes here for the afternoon - it's one of my preferred places to unwind, drink, eat, and relax. Kodoku's flanking shift skips the hat to loop around behind Calvin and settle on the 'far' flank of the Marshal, staring up and barely-not-touching with a second air-tasting. More tails shifts about in part muscular motion, part legpoint scuttle, Natsuki's tail intentfully hooking around Calvin like a confidently draped arm around shoulder tight and close ... just, across the table, such that they were immediately intimate and close, and the thuds of music and dancefloor were ablated by a cushion of chitin and scale and muscle. "Calvin," Purrs Natsuki, more and more pleased as she settles in around her new drinking partner, leaning in to finger forward at clawpoint a clear glass bottle of a beautiful amber brown interior liquid. "You're in Osaka, which means you have to start by chasing me down this bottle of whiskey. Strong and velvet smooth both, it'll find the bird in your throat, that sake will never pull out of you." She insists, and uses the retreat of her hand to pluck a piece of sashimi off a plate and bring it to a snapping delight at jaws.
Calvin Nash	Calvin scoots closer as bidden, moving his hat aside to the opposite side of himself to do so. "Well, I sure do like the sound of that," he chuckles, reaching for the bottle and pouring himself a shot. Kodoku draped around him from across the table doesn't seem to bother him at all. After all, as he recalls, that seems to be just a 'her' thing; something which she can be counted on to do with those she feels friendly towards. He's no stranger to the pleasant burn of whiskey, which he savors as much as the taste itself. "Mm," he utters after, nodding his approval. "It damn sure will," he chuckles, lifting the shot glass towards her. "Couple more of those and we got ourselves a ball game." The next shot is had just as casually, with very little wait between them; he had, after all, stated his intention to catch up. "So whatcha been up to? I see your sister all the time, you know, on account of work, but I ain't seen you in a good minute." The third shot he allows for some time between, for the sake of conversation, but it's still made with the kind of timing of someone intending to get drunk. To his credit, he does savor the taste and the burn of each. "Hoo-whee," he exults. "You know, I picked up a bottle of whiskey from that nice little ol' granny upstairs?" Calvin grins. "Little souvenir for the lady that runs the bar back home. If there's more of the same to look forward to," he continues, gesturing towards the bottle with a nod, "You can bet your ass she'll send me back for more."
Natsuki Nuki	The loop-about continues to deepen, Kodoku shifting while simply rotating head to continue to shift-scuttle about, meeting scale to scale at the other end and crawling over itself. Natsuki's preference isn't just an intimate sit-forward and coil-about inclusion but a private cauldron of herself, a shoulder surround of Calvin while he's sitting that's piled up in the back behind the sunken table and Lady Nue herself in an sprawl otherwise. It holds in the breathed-out haze of alcohol, pools the eddies of hot breath and concentrates the humidity of liquor between them, just as it holds in body heat and sound. Kodoku is briefly interested in the hat, inspecting it from high and low, 'smelling' it with a close flick of tongue, and then resumes tucking in like a sleepy great cat near Calvin, throning behind Calvin to provoke the same left-handed stroking and spade-head attention Natsuki had been administering herself previously. Even at this scale - the 'friendly' dominance show of demanding basal application of attention was clear enough. Leaning as she reaches for fresh bottle of whiskey, Natsuki lifts a claw-curled thumb to the cap and flicks it off in a single motion lifting bottle to mouth and tipping the bottle back with a faint twirl to allow swirl force to assist the pouring. With a 'gulp' at an eighth of the bottle, and deep drams dropping loudly down her throat, Natsuki takes four and halves the bottle before placing it between herself and Calvin on the table, still shiny at the top. This, now, was most likely how the first bottle was produced: and why Calvin was behind. "You won't catch me drinking from my cup, Calvin. Grab your own," Her breath hangs with the rich burn of brown liquor, rolling as a mirage, spreading between them. Her finger points dismissively at a gaggle of extra bottles, mostly whiskies and some sake. "If you want to try to match me," She tweetle-chirrups, accusing and challenging. Could he? Would he have to come up for air, or would he double down on the intoxicating air building in the cauldron of their conversation? "When I'm not doing charity work and special services for my fellows, I'm pursuing more assets - more power, Calvin. I thought you knew that about me?" She asks, innocent as a dove with a tiger's smile. "If you'd like to offer me a session with your shadow pastor, I wouldn't mind trying a fusion myself, either. Though, that'd be a question of 'with what' - I'd not want to water down my legend." Natsuki laughs, tapping the table with her fingers and glancing at the whiskey. "My sister has more time because she's following her own 'ninja way'. If you're interested in more whiskey, Calvin, I'm sure we could make quite the trades. And what are you working on? Anything that needs in~vest~ment?"
Calvin Nash	Calvin laughs at Natsuki's challenge, not to dismiss it, but seemingly to express his enthusiasm to be so challenged at all. "Is that how it is? Well, hell," he says, grabbing his own as so bidden by Natsuki. "I knew I did right comin' to see you on a Friday." Much as she had, he grabs a fresh bottle with one hand, popping the top off with his thumb and tipping it back one-handed. His other hand finds Kodoku's head and pets it. In Calvin's mind, snakes are closer to cats than dogs, so he goes for the approach he uses for cats--soft, slow and steady repetitions rather than firm, hearty pats and mussing motions. "I'd be right happy to," he says on the subject of arranging a fusion for Natsuki. "I'd wanna make sure it's somethin' worth your time, too." He's drinking from the bottle casually now, almost like punctuation for his statements. "I got a few ideas." On the topic of what he's been up to, Calvin frowns. "Bad business," he says. "Somebody's stirrin' the pot, back home. Pokin' hornets' nests and seein' what flies out, you know what I mean? I'm shippin' out soon, out west to Canaan," he adds with some distaste, "To get to the bottom of it before a lot of people get hurt." He waves the bottle dismissively. "Anyway." One of his favorite words, an air freshener to spritz into the conversation. "I'd rather not talk work when we both got a day off. You know? Just remind me to get at you about them demons, okay? I think we could help each other out." Halfway through his bottle, his mind drifts. He shifts in his seat, only to find that Kodoku has made all but a little cage around him and Natsuki. Somehow, getting him drunker doesn't lower the inhibitions that she's probably hoping for; though she doesn't know it, there are two demons back home that would love it if that were so. It does raise others, though--"I got a couple of friends back home who like to touch and hug on me like this." He's surely just as oblivious to their intentions as to hers. "Gandharva and Apsaras." She may know their legends; two lovers, husband and wife, elementals of the water and the earth, who share their music and dance with the heavenly court. "When I first met you, I figured, maybe it's an Osaka thing, but then your brother and sister don't do it neither, or anybody 'round town. Then I wondered if it was a legend thing, but..." He shrugs and takes another swig. "Didn't seem that way. I ain't seen you do it to anybody else we know. Granted," he continues to pontificate, "A lot of the people out there couldn't find their ass with both hands. Whatever it is," he says, like it's some big mystery, "I'm glad we get along so good."
Natsuki Nuki	The challenge is Calvin's to take or leave, but Natsuki doesn't make anything easy by doing something so king as stopping. No, as Calvin reached for a new bottle the Lady Nue casually shifts her arm to reach for her halved bottle. Gripping at the neck with a fingercurl that left pinky out, Natsuki lifted her bottle in time with Calvin, enjoying her single sips more as he tries to keep up, amused to add a pace or two ahead for every two or three drams Calvin places down his throat. Between them, the conversation spills more of the rich fumes, and mirages with the hot sight and scent of intoxicating distortion. If she couldn't get him good and drunk to work down his barriers then she always had other methods. "You could come and see me any night, Calvin." She rolls in interest, intense as she leans in. A promise, that she was expecting him, expecting something of him, hung in the air, as luring as her beckoning hand but chemically triggered. "I was so hurt to hear you disregard me, and so happy that you made right with me because of how much you. . ." Her voice takes special pleasure and care in the pronunciation and emphasis on the word. "~Respect me.~" Her eyes hold Calvin's as she speaks, Kodoku arching and leaning into the proper sort of smooth-to-scales stroking that appealed to the Nue's second self. "That you appreciate me, isn't that right?" She drinks in a gamely tip, lifting bottle high to continue to intensely side-eye and drowsily up-stare both, as Calvin speaks on his happiness to help her achieve fusions. The idea had delighted her since she had heard of it, and now she was endlessly hungry besides thanks to Angela's donation of the King of Greed EGO so there was a craving in her eyes as soon as Calvin made his promise of care to see to proper choices in fusions. "It's something I've wanted to try, to delve deeply into, because, Calvin, I've undergone many fusions the hard way to get where I am." Natsuki admits, low, eager-voiced. "I formed Kodoku, my partner and tail, from the fusion of many poisonous animals, spirits, and yokai. And then, the Nue, my legend now, I assumed through another sort of fusion - filling the shape and merging with the spirit, so now," Natsuki's idle hand lifted and closed, flexing arm, then opening it to brush against the inside of her neck-fuzz and down her front. "There's no distance at all between us. So, can you tell why I'm excited about what you'll offer me?" She asks, interested, gazing fully at Calvin again with a toothy curl of dark lips and a hazy snort of alcohol-laced breath. "I hope your bad business brings you back to me, I'd be so hurt if I had to navigate the process a~lone." She insists, sympathetic. If he'd like her help, well, he could ask! But she wanted something other than his help. "If you'd rather not work, please, by all means," Natsuki sweeps out her hands, discarding the empty bottle she had created off to the side in the process, palms up and claws curled in. "Grab another bottle on me, or, come closer, and you can grab whatever else you like." She grins, cheeks flushed faintly, as if inviting him to any of the treats on the table, but also... 'come closer'? Calvin drifts as he drinks, thinking. Natsuki leans in and lets down her half-crossed leg as she does with a thunk to lean and elbow-prop herself to listen, nodding in recognition of the pair, and now, how clear she'd have to be to walk this horse to the river and push its head down before it found the stream.
Natsuki Nuki	"When you first met me, you took me to a place where they unified souls in a burst of energy and asked me what I thought. I decided right there I was going to benefit from one of those fusions - from as many as I could have, from that feast you showed me, and bring them together into my legend in form and power." Natsuki explains in plain language to Calvin, from her perspective, how that went down. "And I've been wondering when you'd show any more interest in me, seeing as what you offered." She explains patiently, framed with a little laughter, and the motions of her other arm to pluck a fresh bottle and thumb off the cap. The shift in Calvin's seating had caused the whole throning coils behind him to adjust very slightly, a little snugger, a little warmer, a little higher on the neck in stack. "It's a me thing," Natsuki agrees, nodding against palm, fingers raking through platinum blonde bangs. "-but only with those that I think have something I want to receive, or enjoy. Only who I want to touch." She decides. "Do you not find me attractive, Calvin? Or are you sated entirely with just slow palm strokes?" Natsuki brazenly asks, scraping index claw across the table surface while still leaning against propped hand. "By now, most people would have climbed across the table, I'll admit. Getting lost in me, searching for the sashimi."
Calvin Nash	"This is some strong stuff," Calvin chuckles, still under the illusion that Natsuki's intentions end at the same kind of carousing hooliganism he likes to indulge in when he's drunk. The empty bottle clinks awkwardly on the table, his clumsy hand nearly tipping it over. That, and maybe also the haze, is doing its job, at least. "Ms. Natsuki... to be honest," Calvin says, "I brought up what I did, where I did, because... because I didn't even figure them morons into it. And I don't mean that in a disregardin' kinda way. I mean it in the... there ain't nothin' those people can do to you, 'cause you're always two steps ahead... kinda way." "I shoulda just said that, instead of pushin' the same way I was goin'. But I've respected you, appreciated you, the whole time, and that's how come I knew I had to apologize. Most of those people I could care less about. But not you." 'Grab whatever else he'd like' gives him pause, a look of drunken philosophical thought crossing his face. The man is irritatingly stupid. Surely, no one can be that to this degree, and yet, here he is, all but asking out loud 'what did she mean by this' as if she'd uttered a zen koan. Even a broken clock may be right twice a day, for however slim a margin. One that runs slow may lag behind, but as the march of time goes on, briefly, for one footfall, they're in lockstep. Does Calvin find her attractive? That stuns him out of his listening, draws his chin from its resting spot on his knuckles, and pauses his petting of Kodoku. The room starts to spin as memories break the surface of the still waters of his mind, dragged violently to the top by the life jackets Natsuki's question fastened around them. But as someone who talks about wrappers, it'd be easier to say you just like how I look. I'm proud of that, but in a different way. Be specific. Well. I do. Like the way you look, I mean. More memories; of her knuckles dragging intently down his chest. The weight of her lean upon him. Ms. Natsuki seems pretty... fond of you, Calvin. Boy, you got to be thicker than an elephant's ass.
Calvin Nash	"Oh," he says, as if he were just corrected about a minor piece of trivia, like the precise number of square miles of some quiet Bavarian village. "So that's what that was about." The play clock is rapidly running out. Will there be motion, or will he lose yards for delay of game? "...Yes ma'am, I do." He scoots closer after his last-minute hike. Now what will he say? That he didn't realize the feeling was mutual? That couldn't be more obvious. That he was getting mixed signals? Surely, the ones he sent were so mixed they could be taken for static on the airwaves. "So... if you don't mind..." He doesn't climb across the table. But he does place himself within reach of her arm, his hand gingerly leaving Kodoku's head to turn her chin towards him. He leans in to press his lips against hers, while the cool metal of his COMP brushes slightly against her waist as the other hand reaches for her hips. The fingers of his right hand press into her fur as his lips part, and he goads her into his lap with the gentle pressure of his encroaching hand.
Natsuki Nuki	Calvin might be drunk on her spirits and the haze that swims between them, and Natsuki might share in that tipsiness, but it is his eager supplication and restatement of his fault that Natsuki hangs between the faintly disapproving 'why are you bringing me this' mixed with the indulgent interest of 'go on. . .' dripping from the attention of her eyes, and the neediness of Kodoku under arm. The tail, among this interaction, was the least involved, as it was getting what it wanted without all this human interaction, and would soon get more of what it wanted simply by continuing as it was - a perfectly acceptable relationship. Still, both were heads of the same creature, and they both wanted the same thing: Calvin to catch a clue through the haze and finish falling for her. With the thick ones it was always a work to ensure they were properly set up before being asked directly or they'd twist out of the way. "It might not matter to me personally, Calvin, but I'm a brand and a person both, and a brand can't tolerate marks on it. And you're right!" She chirp-giggles, huyu-huyu-huyu deep in throat. "I am at least two steps ahead, es~pecially of you, [My Yankee]," Natsuki purringly appreciates, propping fingers shifting against face and tightening as she smiles broadly. She lets that, and her question, percolate like rich coffee through a bubbler pot as Calvin is led finally to the reality. It's amusing to watch, making the chimera woman sit up and show off just a bit of her full profile to the man across to remind him what he was appreciating, throwing in some flexing with a muzzle-licking laugh just to watch Calvin's reaction to his own appreciation. She's rewarded with an 'oh' in the middle of her showing off in the alcohol haze and bursts out flushfaced laughing, all the way to 'I do'. "Fi~~~nally." Natsuki drawls, full Kansai country with a birdsong curl to her native accent. "You fucking figured it out." She breathes out, a puff of alcohol-rich haze, and extends her arm out to take across Calvin's outer shoulders and hook him half into her side while his hands tried to find their grips. Confident, Natsuki drops her head to press lips to lips, then leans up and lolls out her agile tongue to lick up across Calvin's face to chase him as he searches for leverage on her lap. Surrounded by Kodoku, caged from the start, the head of the snake drags across Calvin's belly like a belt or harness and parts the wall of coils behind while the whole of the mass starts to cinch tighter against Calvin's belly and back until they're both shifted together. Her breath still stinks of whiskey as they look at each other face to face, caught in a warm and palpably alcoholic haze concentrated down as the crucible shrank. Deciding to be gentle with her current favorite Yankee idiot, Natsuki lifts hands to Calvin's cheeks and ears, soft palms brought together to cup around Calvin's head such that he was mittened on both sides by her and her claws lightly touched points at the back-base of his scalp. There, she stares down her long, flat nose into Calvin's eyes and lets the moment linger, before declaring: "I've gotten annoyed waiting, so make up for it." and dropping in for another kiss.
Calvin Nash	It's more than the whiskey that warms Calvin's face, a hot rush overtakes him as so many more interactions are brought into the light and reexamined. His heart races, and with Kodoku pulling taut over him, she can feel it going. He figured it out, and every second that passes feels like it does so at blinding speed, for the way he has to figure 'now' out as it happens. At some point, her hands cradle his head, her tongue drags hotly across her face and he huffs a shallow breath laced with equal parts whiskey and excitement. Eye contact between them fills him with something clear and instinctively understood as it surges down his spine. Suddenly, time passes more slowly. 'Now' seems to make more sense, even if it can't be put into words. She can see the gears turning in his blue eyes. "Yes ma'am." He finds his purchase with one hand, and lets the other lower. Were they standing across from one another, Calvin would have to look up to make eye contact. With Kodoku, or with her hands, she could crush him. He isn't bothered by that at all, and certainly not by the swell and fade of muscle both his hands explore. The other hand finds its purchase, too, and Calvin makes his bravest move yet, attempting to lift Natsuki and put her squarely in his lap. There's a grunt of effort, but he's really going for it, his back straining against Kodoku, his biceps tensing enough to define themselves in the sleeves of his shirt. His fingers dig in, half due to what physics dictates should happen and half due to what his own heart desires. Even when she's sat there, and he looks her in the eyes, chin tilted up to meet them, he still appreciates her with his hands, sliding down her thighs to feel the way they flex. One travels up and backwards, across the expanse of her back, pressing in not only to admire her hard work but to bring her closer. His kiss is hot and eager and forceful, his other hand clawing as it slides up her thigh, because he knows she'll give as good as she gets; because she asked him to make up for it. Breaths of air are scant, purposefully so that he can keep his obligation. When he came here, he'd imagined some boisterous carousing, a night on the town and a wind-down that'd need to last through Saturday to have him ready for work on Monday. As it stands, Calvin imagines he'll still need a rest period, for entirely different reasons he minds even less than his first imagining.