ukan | IC CONTACT

"- I feel like I should have gone with the blue shirt," Pagan tells Kiryu as he opens the door to 101, Lark's cabin. "Rather than the red. But, well, too late now. Lark!" he calls out, feeling just as ease here as in his own.

"We're here for your fucking dinner party. And I hope you did not expect me to make tea or bring anything because this is extremely late notice and I am a terrible guest."

Never mind that Pagan had been the one to choose the timing.

"You're a terrible guest," Lark agrees, and eyes Pagan. "And you should have gone with blue."

He looks at Kiryu, appraising him next before giving him a nod. "I hope pork is fine for everyone, because it's what I borrowed from the pantry in the kitchen."

Kiryu, on the contrary, has actually bought a small container of green tea as a gift; it's in a small, not-really-fancy tin from the shop, but he'd tried. He's wearing the black and white suit he'd worn on one of their dates (it wouldn't do to wear the birthday outfit again the next day) but he offers the tin to Lark and gives a small nod in greeting.

"Pork is fine."

There's no audible comment to Pagan's concern, but there is a gentle touch to the small of Pagan's back once the door is closed behind them.

"Thank you for having us."

At least one of them has manners. Pagan scoffs. "I don't trust your fashion sense. Either of you. I'd rather ask Alec." He gives Lark a grin.

"But like I said, what's done is done. Pork is fine." He leans back against Kiryu for half a second at the touch.

"What sort of insult would Gordon Ramsay give this meal?" he wonders, then, for Kiryu's benefit, adds: "I'll introduce you to his shows later. Celebrity chef. Very good. Love him. Never could get him to work for me, though, which is a goddamn tragedy."

"Who do you think picks out his wardrobe?" Lark retorts, leading them to the dining room. It overlooks a sunset view of the city on one side, the sea on the other.

"This recipe is Giada De Laurentiis' so if Ramsay would have an issue with it he'd have to fight her." He gives Kiryu a smirk. "You'll love Gordon Ramsay. He's a complete asshole on half his shows."

He takes the tea to the kitchen to brew them a pot. "Sit down, both of you. Enjoy the bread."

Kiryu will nod and will look to Pagan to lead, as he's been in this place and Kiryu very much has not. Lark has always come to his home when they talk, which isn't something he minds, but it does mean that he's unsure of the desired protocols. The furniture is definitely not what he's used to, for the most part.

He has no idea about anything they're talking about. The only chef he knows is Tatsuya Kawagoe, and none of that sounds like something he'd engage in.

"Do you need any assistance, Lark-san?"

"Oh let Lark make the tea. He can do that much on his own," he tells him gently. "Sit here with me." Pagan walks to the table and pulls out a chair for Kiryu, brushing a hand across his arm before he takes the chair beside it and crosses his legs.

"Try the bread, at the very least."

Kiryu is fine with that, and he’ll nod before being led to the chair. He’ll sit, and Pagan knows him well enough to know that despite the faint sheepishness, he rather likes Pagan pulling his chair out for him. Big, intimidating Yakuza legend that he is, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate a little sweetness. On the contrary, that’s one of the reasons it’s even more precious.

“Should we wait for Lark-san?”

"For what? The bread? God no," he tells him softly. He leans back, watching out the window for a moment, one hand resting on his arm just briefly. "Lark's not going to offer just for formality."

He glances to the kitchen. "Speaking of Alec, how is your husband?" he calls out to him. "Keeping out of trouble?"

Kiryu will nod and settle in, taking a piece of bread and offering Pagan a soft smile-like expression. It’s a thank you, but he’ll otherwise focus on enjoying the bread and looking around Lark’s home.

"He's doing well. Pissing people off, no doubt," because Alec creates trouble when he's bored. "He keeps threatening to use you to settle our debates, though."

He comes out to them with a platter of pork marinated in an elaborate sauce. The side dishes are simple steamed vegetables, almost as an afterthought, but who can blame him for focusing on the meat.

Lark's home had once been white on white on white, a daring choice for someone who routinely spilled other people's blood. Nowadays it's bolder colors, red and green, lush rugs.

"How have you two been?"

Pagan visibly preens at the idea of settling their debates. Mostly because he likes when his opinion is cared about. But also because he likes causing trouble. It's a way of life for him. Creating a little chaos here and there.

"Any time you need my esteemed advice," he tells him, waving a hand in his direction. "I'll be sure to pass along my wisdom." He glances to Kiryu at the second question.

"And you know my every fucking move, Lark. That's a stupid question to ask." He gives him a dramatic sigh.

Kiryu watches Pagan, a soft, faintly amused expression on his face as he preens and answers. He dips his head in acknowledgement before he offers his own answer.

“Pagan-san picked out a gift for me for my b-birthday,” he says quietly, “and planned a lovely evening. It was very nice.”

Lark has come to know Kiryu as direct and well-considered and confident. That slight stutter would seem like a simple thing, except that Lark can smell emotions and hear a heartbeat.

He takes it in stride, though. He isn't here to try to increase tension.

"I could know your every move if I had nothing better to do," Lark scoffs. "But I think we're both happier giving you plenty of room to create havoc. What did you get for his birthday?"

He can't help glancing to him at that, a slight smile, an indulgent smile, and he reaches under the table to place a comforting hand on his leg, just once. He's not exactly trying to hide it from Lark - he can't hide anything from Lark - but he doesn't want to draw attention to it.

"Ah, well, you see I dug around for the best suit I could find from the wardrobe that would look good on him. You know, the only thing I have access to other than construction paper and safety scissors?" he tells him with a playful sort of tilt to his words. He's keeping it light. Despite his initial hesitation at the meeting, he's not feeling as patronized as he thought he would.

He isn’t quite blushing but there’s definitely a certain amount of sheepishness to him. The touch to his leg gets a hand gently patting him in return to let him know that he’s all right and he focuses a little more on Lark as he answers.

“I haven’t changed my look for a long time,” he admits with a fond look over at Pagan, “but I liked what he picked.” There’s a soft huff of a laugh. “It’s what I probably should wear. I never got used to that kind of suit.”

"What color is it?" Lark asks, one eyebrow raised in genuine curiosity. Pagan has a definite flair that is hard to picture on Kiryu.

"Black," Pagan says, feigning offense. "Black and red." He folds his arms across his chest. "Do you think I'd let him go out looking like an asshole? There are certain colors I can pull of that other people just -- cannot."

He glances over. "And it is something you should wear more often. What's the point of rank if you can't look the part once in a while, hm?"

Kiryu does not, at this juncture, point out some of the other suits he’s worn over the years. ~~Especially not Ono Michio. Pagan must never know.~~ Instead, he shakes his head mildly at Pagan.

“I like it. I’ll wear it. But if I never hear ‘yondaime’ again, it will be too soon.”

Edited 2021-06-19 04:42 (UTC)

"That is very true," Lark nods at Pagan. It takes not only a certain coloring, but also a very particular attitude.

He glances at Kiryu, head tilted ever so slightly. "I'm afraid I don't know much Japanese- yondaime?"

Pagan's own Japanese isn't top notch, which is why he had taken Kiryu up on the chance to teach him, but even he knows this one. But he stays quiet for once, letting Kiryu explain the intricates of the Yakuza for Lark.

He’s a little more on even footing as he explains.

“Fourth chairman. Chairman is, effectively, the highest rank one can reach within a yakuza organization, the leader of a group of families. He directs the various patriarchs and sets the path for the group as a whole.”

A short beat.

“It’s a term of respect, but it usually means I’m about to be pulled into trouble. Or asked to clean it up.”

"A bit like a 'cleaner', then?" But it seems to have more authority. Kiryu seems to have more authority than Lark has seen in anyone who wasn't in a high position: named partner in a law firm, politician, gangster.

Pagan tsks at that a bit. "In a reductive sense," he mutters. "But it isn't as if you wanted all of that anyway."

Which is just something he will never understand. For Kiryu, yes. But in a general sense? No.

“A ‘cleaner’ who commands 30,000
men,” because he wonders if Lark knows the scale of these groups. He assumes Pagan will.

“Even though I only held the position for a day, I’m still considered a pillar of the clan.”

And a legend among yakuza, the man to beat, the strongest among them. It’s why Izumi went after him, after all.

Dinner Party!

Re: Dinner Party!

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