week three | dates

[showhost]

You worked up your courage and asked someone out on a date! Good job!





Now you have to hope the producers are kind re: where they send you.

Comments

[hgeegh]

A-ah . . .

[He's not hallucinating, is he? Doesn't she find him gross? Then again, the match ceremony was such a blur. He hasn't had the chance to sit down and really talk to her until now. The last time he made the mistake of not doing that, Asa wound up in a lot of pain. He won't allow that to happen again—can't process much of anything with her so close to him—so he lets himself be led in a daze with his free hand slapped over his nose, face red.]

[warhawks]

[ Too easy. A waste of her talents, really. Compared to Asa, she's nothing short of a master of seduction.

Carelessly tossing the bouquet of flowers on the table, she pulls out the chair closest to the partition screen and navigates Sanji towards it with a hand on the small of his back. It's not completely private like she'd requested, but they're at least sheltered from view, and away from the cameras for the few moments this will take. ]

Please, sit. [ Despite the "please", it's definitely more of an order than a request. Not that she thinks he needs the extra motivation. ]

[hgeegh]

[As far as Sanji's concerned, she is indeed a master.

His back goes numb under her hand, and he all but drops onto the chair like the insignificant sack of flesh he is, legs as jelly at the tone of her voice. He swallows, momentarily dropping his gaze before looking back up at Asa with wide, curious eyes. This is good, right? Despite his faults, she's looking at him.]

Ah, Asa . . .

1/2

[warhawks]

[ It's time.

The moment Sanji drops into the chair, whatever was left of her human mask falls away. The War Devil puts her hand on top of his head with open bloodlust in her eyes, a triumphant smile splitting her face. She's Napoleon declaring victory at Austerlitz, a lion standing over its fresh kill, a matador bowing to the crowd. ]

Sanji spinal cord sword.

[warhawks]

[ Absolutely nothing happens.





After a few seconds, she starts just. Furiously slapping her hand down on his head over and over, like hitting a computer to make it work. ]

Sanji spinal cord sword. Sanji spinal cord sword!

[hgeegh]

[Here's the thing: Sanji has known the look of bloodlust before he was even eight years old. It's strange to see it on Asa's face, but he recognizes it for what it is the moment those dainty lips curl into an inhuman smile—a cold joy that thrives on the subjugation of an inferior being.

He drops into a dumbstruck stupor, expression frozen in a slack-jawed smile of his own even as she strikes him on the head over and over again. What is she doing, and why is she saying that? "Spinal cord"? He and swords aren't compatible, never have been. What has she been doing and saying this whole time? His mind races to make sense of the hand carelessly striking him, leaving his body motionless yet sensitive to everything she's giving him.]

[warhawks]

Sanji spi—

[ ... No, she's humiliating herself at this point. Just like with Denji.

She yanks her hand away like she's been burned, scowling. Only Asa could have a strike rate of 0 from 2 with the most pathetic men Yoru has ever seen. ]

I screwed up. That foolish girl... your feelings for her were never sincere.

[hgeegh]

[His heart skips a beat, fear flooding his system at the possibility that he's somehow hurt her. He's halfway out of his seat to ask if she's all right when her words give him yet another pause.

Never mind his feelings—the pieces are all starting to fall into place. Rising to a stand, he levels an apprehensive stare at the woman in front of him.]

You . . . What did you do to Asa?

[warhawks]

[ Normally after a failure like that, she'd just leave... but the look on his face makes her change her mind. Hurting him emotionally won't help her cause, but it'll make her feel better. That, and teach Asa a lesson about relying on anyone else. ]

What are you talking about, boy? I am her. That's why I know what she's thinking right now. [ A shrug. No more point keeping up the act. ] I have to say, you've done a better job hurting her than I ever could.

[hgeegh]

[His hands ball into tight fists at his side, though that does little to stem the tremors racking them. He knows that. He knows that he hurt her in some way, and that he's still running around in the dark. It's an effort to remind himself to breathe, to exhale and inhale deeply.]

What are you talking about . . . ?!

[warhawks]

I'll let you figure that out. Don't worry, she'll be back soon enough. Though whether she'll want to talk to you after this... who can say?

[ With the damage done, she goes to leave, walking past the very confused camera crew making their way over. ]

[hgeegh]

[Just like that, she's gone.

Sanji moves to go after her—but then what? He has no idea what's going on. Asa didn't tell him anything. It's not a strike against her: This could very well be what she was trying to protect him from before, in which case he's screwed up again by diving in thoughtlessly.

Is it true? Has he hurt Asa that much? What does he do now? When can he see—will she want to see him again? Is Asa okay?

"Your feelings for her were never sincere."

Is that what she thinks?

Huffing, he loses the battle against his wits and runs his hands harshly through his hair.]

Damn it!