[ The premise of their assignment was like this: Guard the rising idol, Emi-chan, and investigate her recent stalking case. More unique from their usual, but the orders were simple and clear enough. Usually this wouldn't fall under Public Safety's purview, the matter typically left to a partnership between the celebrity's own private security agency and the police, but after the young woman narrowly escaped an attack after rehearsal one evening for her upcoming concert, the crime scene gave them reason to believe a fiend was involved. And, being the daughter of a well-known Diet representative, some special allowances were naturally provided.
Once Makima briefed them, Denji could barely contain her excitement, because — wow! A real-life famous person! Maybe she could give her free stuff and tips on how to walk in heels, or something. But she soon realized…
Emi-chan, the idol, was cute and delicate for the cameras, sweet and caring to her fans.
Emiri, the person, was driven, excellently media-trained, and scary serious about shaking off the tabloid focus on her after the incident, especially with talk show hosts and journalists alike beginning to dig up her past work history as a glamour model. She — not her manager, not her father — impressed upon them from the first day that this thing needed to be resolved quickly and with as little spectacle as possible. When Denji asked for an autograph, it'd earned her a sharp smile and a promise that a special gift was definitely in cards if they made sure her fan-turned-fiend died on their knees. Again, scary serious.
So they put their noses to the grindstone, or at least Aki did, and worked, disrupting another attack on the idol in time and sniffing out that her stalker planned to strike again the first night of her tour. Of course, security personnel was packed all over the complex, but somehow they'd managed to slither their way in through the crowds of concertgoers and vault onto the stage during the opening track. Instruments, LED lights, sound equipment, all of it tore ear-splitting notes of cacophony through the air. From the moment she and Aki stepped in to when the fiend finally dropped dead, bloodied and legs lopped at their knees, slumped in a slop of their own fats and acids, the audience seemed to eat the show right up, ignoring yells to evacuate the area.
Afterwards, when they were back in Emi-chan's dressing room, making a pit stop to nurse the worst of their wounds, her stilettos clacked across the red-tracked floor in a hurry to personally thank them before she would have to be ushered out to provide a statement to the news outlets. Denji, tattered from the head-to-toe and slurping from a blood pack poked through with a bendy straw, interjected immediately with, "Hey! Where's my special gift?!"
To which Emi-chan paused at the door frame, chuckled into a fist, and swung around to peck them both on the cheek. Leaving behind a smear of lipstick on opposite sides of Denji and Aki's faces. Instantly, heat splashes her face and drums inside her skull, the pressure of Denji's embarrassment threatening to create a spout at the top of her head. "Take whatever you want from in here~ ♥ Consider that my gift. You, too, Miss Hayakawa."
Which explains how Denji winds up shoving an entire bottle of perfume into her pocket and hefting a mysterious garment bag in with her into the bureau. They're there to finish writing up their report, much to her chagrin. Sitting hunched over at Aki's desk, because she technically doesn't have her own being part-devil, she scratches her scalp with the eraser end of her pencil. Her lips purse. ]
So do I have 'ta include in my report that another girl made out with us? I really don't want Makima to find out…
[Aki has had to complete a lot of missions that she's found to be, in the grand scheme of things, a waste of time. Protecting an idol from a fiend is one such mission. She'd like to say that it's good publicity, that it heightens her own status within the department, that being able to work on high profile cases like that of the protection of Emi-chan is worthwhile if only for her own promotion within Public Safety. After all, if she can handle paparazzi for someone of her calibre, then surely something more sinister, more... high-caliber, can also be entrusted to her.]
[But being rewarded with a peck on the cheek and a suggestion to take whatever they like from her dressing room - It's not like she even wanted a reward other than the reward of having killed another devil, but it's still kind of annoying. This is like private sector level work.]
[She didn't even know who Emi-chan was before this whole thing. Aki doesn't follow idol shit.]
She didn't make out with us. Don't use words you don't know the meaning of.
[They're not supposed to smoke in the offices anymore but she's ignoring this rule right now, puffing on a cigarette as she speaks. Having Denji around to help with reports when the idiot can barely write her own name makes her want to ignore every rule in Public Safety. Because one of the rules is you can't beat the shit out of your junior, apparently.]
You need to add in whatever you took, too. Even if it was a gift, it needs to be reported for bribery and corruption records.
[She pauses. Looks over at the mysterious bag sitting in the corner of the room.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Once Makima briefed them, Denji could barely contain her excitement, because — wow! A real-life famous person! Maybe she could give her free stuff and tips on how to walk in heels, or something. But she soon realized…
Emi-chan, the idol, was cute and delicate for the cameras, sweet and caring to her fans.
Emiri, the person, was driven, excellently media-trained, and scary serious about shaking off the tabloid focus on her after the incident, especially with talk show hosts and journalists alike beginning to dig up her past work history as a glamour model. She — not her manager, not her father — impressed upon them from the first day that this thing needed to be resolved quickly and with as little spectacle as possible. When Denji asked for an autograph, it'd earned her a sharp smile and a promise that a special gift was definitely in cards if they made sure her fan-turned-fiend died on their knees. Again, scary serious.
So they put their noses to the grindstone, or at least Aki did, and worked, disrupting another attack on the idol in time and sniffing out that her stalker planned to strike again the first night of her tour. Of course, security personnel was packed all over the complex, but somehow they'd managed to slither their way in through the crowds of concertgoers and vault onto the stage during the opening track. Instruments, LED lights, sound equipment, all of it tore ear-splitting notes of cacophony through the air. From the moment she and Aki stepped in to when the fiend finally dropped dead, bloodied and legs lopped at their knees, slumped in a slop of their own fats and acids, the audience seemed to eat the show right up, ignoring yells to evacuate the area.
Afterwards, when they were back in Emi-chan's dressing room, making a pit stop to nurse the worst of their wounds, her stilettos clacked across the red-tracked floor in a hurry to personally thank them before she would have to be ushered out to provide a statement to the news outlets. Denji, tattered from the head-to-toe and slurping from a blood pack poked through with a bendy straw, interjected immediately with, "Hey! Where's my special gift?!"
To which Emi-chan paused at the door frame, chuckled into a fist, and swung around to peck them both on the cheek. Leaving behind a smear of lipstick on opposite sides of Denji and Aki's faces. Instantly, heat splashes her face and drums inside her skull, the pressure of Denji's embarrassment threatening to create a spout at the top of her head. "Take whatever you want from in here~ ♥ Consider that my gift. You, too, Miss Hayakawa."
Which explains how Denji winds up shoving an entire bottle of perfume into her pocket and hefting a mysterious garment bag in with her into the bureau. They're there to finish writing up their report, much to her chagrin. Sitting hunched over at Aki's desk, because she technically doesn't have her own being part-devil, she scratches her scalp with the eraser end of her pencil. Her lips purse. ]
So do I have 'ta include in my report that another girl made out with us? I really don't want Makima to find out…
no subject
[But being rewarded with a peck on the cheek and a suggestion to take whatever they like from her dressing room - It's not like she even wanted a reward other than the reward of having killed another devil, but it's still kind of annoying. This is like private sector level work.]
[She didn't even know who Emi-chan was before this whole thing. Aki doesn't follow idol shit.]
She didn't make out with us. Don't use words you don't know the meaning of.
[They're not supposed to smoke in the offices anymore but she's ignoring this rule right now, puffing on a cigarette as she speaks. Having Denji around to help with reports when the idiot can barely write her own name makes her want to ignore every rule in Public Safety. Because one of the rules is you can't beat the shit out of your junior, apparently.]
You need to add in whatever you took, too. Even if it was a gift, it needs to be reported for bribery and corruption records.
[She pauses. Looks over at the mysterious bag sitting in the corner of the room.]
What did you even take...?
no subject