windfall | unfortunately, like a fool, i said, "it's not like i want to let you go"

[Date?]

[Aki accepts the box without hesitation, but her eyes widen when she explains what she plans to use it for. A date? She seriously thinks she's going on a date with Makima?]

[But then she says it - to the movies - and Aki's expression forcibly relaxes a little. Movies, right. Makima likes movies. He's always talking about them if he asks Aki what she did over the weekend and Aki asks him the same. He goes to the theater all the time, but it never seems to be to see something specific. And so what if he's never invited Aki to go? But inviting Denji - that's fine. It's probably nothing that serious. She's a kid, anyway. So why would he have any desire to go on a date? It's probably just a friendly thing. Maybe he mentioned his plans for the weekend and Denji invited herself along. Yeah, it's got to be something stupid like that.]

You're going to the movies in something like that... Seriously?

[She hasn't seen the outfit, but she can only assume it's something flashy. Something idol-like. Hopefully it doesn't have a big poofy skirt.]

You'll be in the dark, you know. ...Have you ever even been on something like a date before?

[ So what if it'll be dark? They'll still be meeting each other in broad daylight… And there's always dinner afterwards, too!

That Aki makes no attempt to mask her disbelief provokes Denji into squeezing her outfit closer, lips popped out in a prominent pout, her chin scratching against the bag. Of course. Always that weird equilibrium to her — when Aki bothers to do something nice for Denji, she immediately has to balance the scales by being an ass.

Maybe in that respect the two of them aren't so different from each other, after all. ]

I've dreamed about it plenty. Holding hands, kissing, having sex under the stars and stuff. [ It's a little roundabout, but it's still a virgin's answer. It sticks at her pride to reply with a straightforward no, for some reason. Like if she admits to it that directly, she'll be giving more fodder for Aki to belittle her with. Even though this way isn't much better. ] That counts as having a bajillion times of experience.

[ Stopping at a waiting crosswalk, Denji pretends to watch the speeding traffic. ]

…You look like you've been on tons of dates with guys.

[Why does it advance so fast in her head?? She doesn't seriously think Makima is going to have sex with her, does she...?]

[But Denji makes her guess about Aki having had a lot of dates and she rolls her eyes as they come to a stop at the light.]

Yeah. Tons.

[Said in deadpan. She isn't really willing to discuss her high school dating life with this idiot.]

You know none of that is going to happen, right? He'll probably watch a flick with you and then send you home. He's not the kind of person who goes on dates with his subordinates.

[Because he hasn't with her.]

Just enjoy the free movie. [The light turns and she crosses, not waiting.] You'll end up disappointed if you build it up too much. Wear something cute for once and leave it at that.

But I'm not just his subordinate. I'm…

[ She doesn't have to think too long to remember what Makima told her; she's spent too many nights thinking about the words before bed, a ritual no different from prayer for her. ]

I'm his pet. [ By the way she's bragging, no one would ever believe that her first reaction to being told how she would have to live her life from then on was indignation. Resentment. ] A dog that only answers "yes" or "woof"!

[ Ignoring her handler's skepticism, Denji rattles on like a blushing schoolgirl proudly sharing the story of a reciprocated love confession to a supportive audience. It's the sort of communion she's never experienced, and maybe having to rush to tail after someone to force them to listen about this good thing that happened to you isn't the same, not really, but it's closest she's ever going to get to it. ]

And he said I was his type when we first met. You might not believe this, but no one's ever said that sorta thing to me before. It was so awesome. Thought I'd actually died and gone to heaven.

[ Anyway, she's telling Aki this to drive home one thing: ] So I can't just treat it like a free movie…

[So she recognizes that Makima views her as a dog, as his pet, as nothing more than a yes-girl, but she's still excited for the idea of going to see a movie because she truly sees it as a date...?]

[It's... depressing, honestly. She can feel herself cringing. Especially at the idea of him telling her she's his type. Seriously, a dumbass sixteen year old who talks about dicks and boobs all the time, who barely weighs enough to turn on the airbag in the passenger seat... Denji actually believes that?]

[But she just sounds so hopeful. So serious. Wishing it's real. So she stares forward, not responding for half a block. Not until they reach the convenience store and she stops her, motioning her inside.]

Let me grab a beer. [Beat.] Get what you want.

[Once she has a fresh six pack, she passes through the aisles on the way to the front to wait for Denji, then pauses. Debates while studying something, then finally plucks something off the rack and brings it to the counter with her: some concealer, closer to Denji's shade than her own.]

[ Throwing the garment bag across her shoulders, Denji weaves in and out of the different aisles, even though she knows she won't be getting any laundry detergent or beer at her age. She just likes looking; it always feels strange that she's allowed to. For a long time, she'd get run out of places like these, for loitering too long without buying anything, trying to stay cool during the summer heatwaves.

Denji grabs a few rolls of onigiri, a new flavor of potato chip she's never had, and — she pauses at the magazine stand. There's a gorgeous girl who looks a bit like Aki on the cover, just with poutier lips and fluffier hair. She's wearing a tight-fitting, cropped vest and bikini bottoms, an arm stretched high above her head, a hand coquettishly propped against her neck, her back arched just right to make her breasts nearly bulge out of her top. The magazine slips between her other items.

When she joins Aki again, it's in the queue line. Denji peers around her, trying to look at what she's decided to pick up. ]

All that booze for you? You act so stand-up, but you're just like that old stitch-face, huh?

[ Stitch-face. Who else could she possibly be talking about? ]

[Aki isn't paying attention to what Denji sets down, too busy getting her ID out of her wallet and the proper amount of coins, holding the former up to the cashier to scan. Thanks to that, the magazine is approved with the beer and Aki doesn't notice until she's bagging up their items.]

I'm not as bad as her, I just ran out when - Hey!

[She reaches out and grabs the magazine sitting below the items, revealed as the clerk places the beer into a bag.]

I'm not covering your porn habit - I'm sorry, please remove this one, she snuck it in. [She lowers her head slightly in apology as the cashier nods, typing something on the register.] Go put it back. You pay for your own smut.

What — that's not porn!

[ A fist-sized crinkle explodes across the cover as Denji defensively clutches the magazine to her chest. As unlikely as it sounds, she's telling the truth. The model on the front is pretty and all, but she's never gotten off to… to other girls! God, how the hell could Aki insinuate that? Face oven-warm, she shakes Aki's shoulder, like a dog pawing at someone's lap. ]

This is for research and dating advice! C'mon, please, please, just lemme get it!

[ But she knows this is Aki she's dealing with. So after a few seconds of indignantly staring her down, she huffs, trudging on back to the magazine stand and returns it to its rightful column. It looks almost as if she may make a beeline out of the corner store, but she comes to sullenly regroup by Aki at the counter with crossed arms. ]

Stick up her ass…

[ Their items bagged, change received, the cashier sends them off with a, "Come again soon!" Then, begins to tend to the next customer in line. Not making eye contact with Aki, she grumbles at her: ] Seriously, I wasn't gonna do anything dirty.

You don't need dating advice. You're not dating anyone anytime soon.

[Given their age difference, Aki hopes the cashier just thinks she's her older sister, but in truth she knows she just sounds like a mom. Taking the bag and shaking her head at Denji's continued whining, she heads out the door and down the path leading home.]

What they say in magazines isn't true, anyway. You shouldn't believe that kind of crap.

[It pisses her off for some reason, that Denji thinks she's going to be dating anyone. She's so annoying and bratty and stupid and flat, why would anyone ever? She's lucky Aki gives her the time of day. Aki huffs and shakes her head.]

You got your outfit, and I got you something to cover that zit by your nose. That's all you need to waste your time on.

No way? You're joking…

[ She momentarily leaves Aki in pursuit of verifying this by staring at her reflection in the window of some closed storefront, squinting into the murky deepness and angling her face one way, then the next. …Honestly, she can't tell a single thing from how dark it is. Realizing that, her expression pinches, and Denji hurries after to catch up with Aki, hands patting at her face. Which, of course, is probably the worst thing you can do with acne-prone skin. But Denji doesn't know that. ]

The date's in a few days, [ she agonizes, because it is a date. No matter how many times Aki refuses to acknowledge it as one. She shakes at her superior's arm. ] Hayapai, Hayapai… [ Time to turn up the charm — ] Show me that thing you got! I'll put it on right now!

Quit touching your face...

[Aki pauses as Denji examines herself in the window, then continues on as she rushes up - Only to groan when she starts shaking at her arm that isn't carrying the bag.]

I'll show you when we get home. You can't put it on here. You need a real mirror.

[And not a car mirror or a reflective sticker. Ugh, she's not going to drop the idea that it's a date, is she?]

You've never used anything like this before? Any kind of make-up, or powder...?

Uh, well… I found this box with different types of red paint in the dumpster once. It was kinda crumbly but basically good as new, so I took it home.

[ It would be clear to anyone else that the blush palette was past expiration… ]

I tried putting some on the next day, and around the usual time I used 'ta get called out to run a devil job, I come out — you know what the first thing those yakuza jerkwads said when they saw me? They said I looked like the Clown Devil! And they start laughing! What the hell, right?

[ Denji gnaws on a thumb as she gripes about the memory, like she can still here them jeering at her as they drove her out. …Though when she'd stolen a look at herself in the rearview mirror, her entire face looked like an abstract painting. That is, if abstract painting were made completely with cake batter.

Warily, she asks: ] That thing ya got — it's not gonna make me look ugly, is it?

["Kinda crumbly but basically good as new." Uh huh. That she calls it red paint has Aki truly unsure if she found blush, lipstick, or actual theater make-up, but either way the story is a typically depressing Denji story of her childhood with yakuza. She's ready to leave it there with no response when she suddenly asks that and has the nerve to sound actually nervous about it. Like Aki would fuck her over like that.]

No.

[She could have actually dragged Denji over to make sure the shade matched, but she's seen the girl enough with and without dirt caked on her face to have a good idea. Walking up the stairs to the apartment, she talks over her shoulder.]

Make-up's about highlighting, not changing. That's all it's going to do.

[Which, inadvertently, says that Denji isn't ugly, but she isn't trying to make any deep statements here.]

Didn'tcha say it was gonna hide my zit, though… I don't wanna highlight it.

[ Like a film reel that keeps going and going, the night pans past them as they turn off from the stairs, into the walkway belonging to their floor. She lags behinds her, staring off into the thousands of lights beaming in and away from the train cars and buildings and taxis, not paying close enough attention to Aki's words to read between them. Sometimes Denji can't help taking it and getting distracted in when the city blinks its eyes at her. It's prettier than the grass paths she used to always walk back home by herself with Pochita.

If only she were in better company. ]

Whatever, guess it'd be lame if I got there and Makima couldn't recognize me, [ Denji says, kicking her shoes off to side. She gets a few steps away before she pauses, then scurries back to turn her shoes out to face the door. Better to stay in her good graces if she's going to be helping her with her makeup. ] So as long as I don't look like I belong in circus or somethin'…

You won't look like that.

[Seriously, it's almost insulting how she thinks Aki is going to make her look stupid. She's not an outright bully, of course she wouldn't do something as cruel as that. Glancing back when Denji doubles back to correct her shoes, Aki doesn't comment - but the lack of comment is almost as positive as actual words of thanks would be from others. So that's something.]

Go wash your face, first. You're probably sweaty. [Does she get sweaty in that helmet...? Is her head even in that chainsaw? Questions Aki doesn't actually want the answer to. She settles down in the living room, unloading the bag and pulling the small bottle of concealer from its box.]

[ Isn't Aki just as sweaty? Well, forget it. ]

'kaaay! ~ ♫

[ There's a cosmic shift to her mood with the promise that Aki really will be helping her clean up, and she cheerily trots into the bathroom. Though they've been through enough together that some of her more outrageous judgments regarding the devil hunter have mostly lifted, it's true that she still has some lingering, let's call them, preconceptions.

Abandoning her possessions on top of the washer, she lands in front of the sink, quickly dunking her face close to the water spout as she splashes herself. Bouncing out, she loosens the top few buttons of her blouse so that she can more easily tug her collar up to wipe at the water dripping down from her cheeks. It clearly doesn't help dry her off, because the front of her bangs are still sticking down to her forehead when she sits down directly to Aki's right. ]

Tell me what I need to do! I'm ready!

[She's like an eager puppy. Like a pomeranian. Especially when her hair is a mess like this. Aki turns to face her, studying her face for anything else she may have missed. Just the zit, she thinks.]

Hold out your hand. [She uncaps the concealer, pulling the application wand from the liquid.] This is used to cover up stuff. If you get a zit, or red spots, this is what you use. ...Your skin is so smooth. [Said with a mix of surprise and annoyance as she really takes her in, seated this close. Damn teenagers who haven't been poisoned by alcohol and cigarettes and devil killings yet.] Anyway - You want to make sure it matches your skin color. And the back of your hand is a good match.

[She swipes the applicator across the back of her hand, examining the color before nodding.] See? It matches. You're darker than me, so the one I use wouldn't work. Get it?

[ Aki's the same as always. No outward difference in intonation between instructing her to hold her hand out and telling Denji to keep a devil off the backs of nearby civilians — objectively, she's treating the lesson as she does anything. So there's no reason for Denji's gaze to so keenly stalk what she's doing, the shine in her eyes making it look like she's witnessing the secrets behind a magic trick. The twist of the cap, a wave of her makeup wand, and — there it is. A smear of the liquid concealer gliding up the back of her hand.

Instantly, her brows raise. ]

Woahhh, it's sticky. And you're right, it's the color of my skin! How'd you do that?

[ She turns her wrist back and forth, watching the light shimmer off the streak with a sense of wonder. Then, she wipes her hand clean across her face, leaving a line dragging from one end of her cheek to the other. She doesn't even hit the spot where her zit is. ]

So I just put it on like this?

[...She should have known not to leave her to her own devices.]

No, not like that - You need to mix it into your... [Sigh. Aki frowns before leaning forward to grab her hand again.] Look. You can see it, right? Here. [She dabs a fresh splotch on her skin, beside the part where the previous one was all but wiped away.] You can see it's shiny, right? So you need to blend it in. Don't move your hand.

[With her middle and ring finger, she rubs circles over the concealer on the back of Denji's hand, blending it outward until the patch is only somewhat shiny, mostly matte in texture and faded into her skin.] Like that, you see? Now you can't see it anymore.

[ Ah, Denji really can't see it. The blended spot gives the illusion of waxiness to her hand as Aki spreads out its coverage, hiding even the faint green of her veins. Usually when she's made to stay in place, it kindles this coiling compulsion to retaliate with force (especially, if it's someone creepy holding her down, which, truth be told, applies to most men outside of Makima) or ricochet herself far, far away. But watching Aki and her fingertips, manicured as they are — uniform, and not quite as sharp as her tongue, watching her slowly brush out her skin is…

She dismisses the word that comes to mind with a shake of her head, and, from the way she abruptly freezes, realizes that body language is kind of counter to what she wants. So very quickly, before Aki can make any assumptions: ] U-Uh, yeah! I'm seein' that I don't see it!

…But you're gonna keep going, right? I mean, do I just rub it in the same way you're doin', but on my face? I dunno how, so you better show me that, too.

[Okay, good. Denji gets the concept of blending. But she's still demanding help for her face, too, so Aki sighs and leans a little closer.]

Don't move, then. ...Your hair's in the way. [She pushes it back, swiping her palm back from her forehead, but it doesn't stay put, fluttering back down from how damp it is. Aki frowns and reaches for her own hair. She strips it from its high ponytail and stretches the elastic between her fingers.] This is just for demonstration. You should comb your hair better. [And with the hair band, she wraps up Denji's bangs and pulls them up and out of the way, securing the elastic so her skin is left clear.]

[...She looks kind of funny like this, but Aki doesn't pause to laugh at her. She was already freaked out enough at the idea of her making her look stupid, so no need to tell her that she does right now.] Okay, hold still. [And she leans forward to dab the applicator over the small zit near her nose, then a few other spots where her skin is reddened.] You just put it wherever your skin's looking uneven, or discolored... Get it?

[ Her eyelids had scrunched closed as Aki fussed with her bangs, sweeping a cluster of her stubborn hairs into a tie. Less a ponytail and more of a pony-tuft, it somehow manages to stand on end in defiance of gravity, rather than flop back. She's a few seconds from arguing back at her — Don't lie! There's only one way to comb hair! — when Aki tickles at her face with the cold tip of the wand, and an indignant sound skips out of her.

She wants to move, badly. But Denji forces her spine straight and focuses her gaze down the slope of her nose — at first, then as the concealer is dabbed elsewhere, she stares forward completely. The magazines she flips through are all obsessed about facial symmetry and balanced proportions; she's never seen that when she looks in the mirror, but when she looks at Aki that's all that takes up her vision. A long face, dark blue eyes, a mouth that always sits in a perfect line and never smiles at her.

…Oh, but there is one thing.

Though the case may be that Aki doesn't have any zits, she does have a dark lash dusting the peak of one cheek.

In lieu of an affirmation to her question, Denji says nothing before blowing warm air directly at Aki, dislodging the lash and making a few hairs framing her face brush back against her chin. ]

Got it.

[ How to use concealer to hide her blemishes or what was on Aki's face? Of course, she provides no explanation. ]

By the way, how do you know so much? You don't look like you put on a whole lotta makeup… or care about this sorta thing, ever.

[Denji blows in her face and it's not a rough enough blow to dislodge her concentration, but she does have to stop herself from smacking him upside the head or something. She still has no idea what she even did that for, but luckily before she can demand that Denji distracts her with a question.]

I used to watch my mother, I guess.

[The truth is, she couldn't say why she knows this the same way she can't say why she knows how long to cook an egg for a rolled omelet. She just does. She grew up with other girls, she had a mother at one point, she went to high school. At some point it was just as normal to know as it is normal to know how to put on clothes. Aki caps the concealer and begins rubbing the concealer with her fingers again, blending it into her skin until it's even across her face.]

It's just the sort of thing you pick up, after awhile.

[And the sort of thing that, sadly, doesn't really surprise her that Denji didn't, now that she actually thinks about it. Someone who never went to school long enough to learn about fiends definitely never had a chance to learn about something like make-up.]

...You didn't have a mom, right? I guess most kids learn from them first. But mine died before I ever wanted to put any on, myself.

[ She tries to imagine it behind closed eyes: A dark-haired girl about the height of her knee staring up at a woman whose appearance is identical to hers as she pats out her face with a fluffy cushion. Asking questions, following the drawn contours blend across the edges of her jaw, up her cheeks. No, Denji doesn't have that experience, and because of that, she doesn't feel any true absence for it. Or she didn't, until this conversation. ]

Your mom… She was probably really hot, I bet. [ No homo. ] I remember always gettin' told that I look more like my old man than whoever lady I came out of. But I always hated hearing that — not that I wish that I looked more like some stranger I dunno… I just didn't like feelin' as if I owed the guy that part of me. Used to think that if I grew my hair out, folks would stop saying that crap, but then it'd just get in the way whenever I had a job to do. Gah, there's no winning!

[ Timed to her groaning outburst, she throws her hands back, braced outward, one of her legs suddenly stretching out from its crossed position and nearly hitting Aki's knee. For all that, though, her eyes are still shut. ]

Say… Do ya ever look in the mirror and kinda see her in there? Your mom? Or when you put this stuff on, does it feel like you're watching her do it again?

[She thinks her mom was probably attractive...? Aki frowns, but doesn't say anything as Denji continues on. Her annoyance fades into a type of pity, listening to that. Telling a girl she looks like her dad is probably an insult of some kind, but Aki can see it even without knowing the man. Her flat chest, ratty hair, wiry frame... She won't say it, but she can imagine it. A younger Denji pulling on her hair in an attempt to make it longer.]

[Maybe because of that she doesn't scold her for nearly kicking her in the knee, capping the concealer instead and rubbing her fingers together to blend out the make-up that's still on them. She glances up when Denji speaks again, then frowns. Considers just answering, No. But wouldn't that be a lie?]

I think about her hands, sometimes. [She sets the concealer on the table, closer to Denji's side.] I used to watch them the most. When she did her make-up or cooked or folded laundry. So sometimes I wonder if our hands would look the same, when I get older.

[But probably not. Because hers are stained with blood, and her mother's were... Clean. Neat. Trim. She stares down at her hands, her nails. Clean, neat, trim. Maybe it's just been too long since she saw them.]

...You could always put your hair up, if you wanted to grow it out.

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