03-09-2023, 08:53 PM
“We learn much in defeat.”
She glanced in Kiyohito’s direction for the first time but did not meet his eye. Acceptance was gracefully met, and she wouldn’t press further. Maybe she was relieved. Kōta would watch what he needed to, but with any luck they would see neither Kiyohito nor the brother he was looking for again. It was a resolution she was at peace with.
Kōta accepted the thanks with rote formality. He seemed bemused by the manner of Kiyohito’s entrance, and looked like he was about to say something he probably thought humourous, at which point Eido stood. She did not protest Kiyohito’s decision to leave through the bar below, but she did not wish for her brother to be seen with him should he take it upon himself to be a gracious host. The bar frequently hosted Moscow’s underworld, and as Kiyohito himself had pointed out, information was currency. Eido’s escort, on the other hand, would be perceived as something quite different.
“Of course,” was all she said. She paused to don her shoes at the threshold, and gave him time to do the same. In the meanwhile, Kōta’s farewell and magnanimous offerings of good fortune for Kiyhoito’s search were as booming as his greeting had been.
No conversation accompanied the route back down, though her silence was not an uncomfortable one. In the heat and noise of the kitchen no one looked up. The people here were good at averting their eyes. It did not mean they did not see.
Eido led him through the narrow corridor that adjoined to the bar, not the flapping service door used to deliver food beyond. She scanned from the shadows, out of instinct not concern, and did not pause on any of the faces of the patrons she could see from where she stood. A hand gestured Kiyohito was free to take his leave. “I wish you well,” she said. She intended on returning to her brother, sure he would otherwise slip away back to whatever business she had pulled him from before they had a chance to speak.
She was aware of Gus in her peripheral; he usually worked the bar, and she knew his shrewd gaze would be the first to consider whether this was a problem that needed addressing. Eido sidestepped neatly away from where he tried to steer her shoulder, though there was scant room to manoeuvre. Glass clinked where her heel brushed the boxes of bottles behind her step. Gus frowned like he always did when she reacted that way.
“If that’s what you’re doing up there, Eidolon, then I expect a cut.”
She glanced in Kiyohito’s direction for the first time but did not meet his eye. Acceptance was gracefully met, and she wouldn’t press further. Maybe she was relieved. Kōta would watch what he needed to, but with any luck they would see neither Kiyohito nor the brother he was looking for again. It was a resolution she was at peace with.
Kōta accepted the thanks with rote formality. He seemed bemused by the manner of Kiyohito’s entrance, and looked like he was about to say something he probably thought humourous, at which point Eido stood. She did not protest Kiyohito’s decision to leave through the bar below, but she did not wish for her brother to be seen with him should he take it upon himself to be a gracious host. The bar frequently hosted Moscow’s underworld, and as Kiyohito himself had pointed out, information was currency. Eido’s escort, on the other hand, would be perceived as something quite different.
“Of course,” was all she said. She paused to don her shoes at the threshold, and gave him time to do the same. In the meanwhile, Kōta’s farewell and magnanimous offerings of good fortune for Kiyhoito’s search were as booming as his greeting had been.
No conversation accompanied the route back down, though her silence was not an uncomfortable one. In the heat and noise of the kitchen no one looked up. The people here were good at averting their eyes. It did not mean they did not see.
Eido led him through the narrow corridor that adjoined to the bar, not the flapping service door used to deliver food beyond. She scanned from the shadows, out of instinct not concern, and did not pause on any of the faces of the patrons she could see from where she stood. A hand gestured Kiyohito was free to take his leave. “I wish you well,” she said. She intended on returning to her brother, sure he would otherwise slip away back to whatever business she had pulled him from before they had a chance to speak.
She was aware of Gus in her peripheral; he usually worked the bar, and she knew his shrewd gaze would be the first to consider whether this was a problem that needed addressing. Eido sidestepped neatly away from where he tried to steer her shoulder, though there was scant room to manoeuvre. Glass clinked where her heel brushed the boxes of bottles behind her step. Gus frowned like he always did when she reacted that way.
“If that’s what you’re doing up there, Eidolon, then I expect a cut.”
![[Image: cherry-blosson.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/cherry-blosson.png)