How…unexpected. A gentle easing of the dark-haired man’s brows met with the perplexity that filled his face, soothing away any frail lines of worry and rubbing out the gleam of ready submission that touched his eyes. ‘As usual.’—that should have been his thought. Yet no such claim to expectancy had graced his mind and what he now faced was the perpetual irrevocability of the Wutain heir’s good nature, shown just as abruptly as her high-strung demands, and just as undeniable. What magic had her humor worked, what longing had it roused in him, that the raised brows fell just faintly into knitting, and the surprise faded from his eyes into crystalline warmth, hued with awkward awareness of his own state. Even within his face, the gentle tilt of the head in a faint angle to one side, cast the entire look into the dubious mess of paths he now had to weed his way cautiously but firmly through. To underscore it all, a slight smile glanced across his lips, and remained there, just touching the corners until they were fuller than he had expected to claim them.
Finally, thoughts filtered through. Had she…just refused to give him what he had asked, politely and genuinely, even after it had been offered? Abruptly enough that it caught him too off his guard, a soft full laugh escaped from him, redoubling in the moment following as a warm ream of mirth playing in the low tones of his voice. ‘Free privileges,’ she had said, he thought now, watching the springy Wutain girl settle herself before him on the tabletop in smooth comfort and clear usurpation of the power structure. Indeed, his eyes rang with silent notes of humor-hued consideration and a genuine grasp of her game-making. Though the weariness still edged his features, it was subdued to an unclear mist over his countenance, etched noticeably into his features without remaining prominent except for those who looked for it. Now, it had become secondary.
He sat still, his arm falling comfortably back onto his thigh, and rested before her, listening attentively to her demands and their elaborations. When she finished, he remained gazing at her silently, hands loosely clasped, and spoke at last. “I see,” he said clearly, his voice filled with regained calm, only a hint of humor tingeing his words. He had not missed the glint in her earthen eyes. Now they would be changed.
Smoothly, of a sudden, he leaned back and unclasped his hands. As one arm remained in repose, the other shifted to a pants pocket and removed from it a slim, black leather wallet. It was flipped open with ease and deftly a thin card was slipped from its folds before it was again clasped shut with a tight flip, and placed away in his pocket once more. Openly, no other motion made, the Leader of the Turks leaned forward, holding out the slim plastic card and placed it within the grasp of the female ninja’s hand. As he sat back once more, making himself imperceptibly comfortable, he spoke. “I hope this suffices for your pay. You will have four hours until the card is cancelled and all further purchases will be incapable. Of course, to provide for your satisfaction, the time limit will not be initiated until you leave my sight. Once you are either firmly behind a door you will not pass through again, or down a hall which you will disappear, the time limit will be initialized, then ended, by the very second.” The smile that fell across his features now was not smug, not submissive, but rather curious, as though he had a thought that was captured in it and sought to breach itself by being voiced. Within a moment more, it did.
“It’s interesting. You bargain more like a Turk than a Wutain heir or ninja, Kisaragi.” The smile, and the look, persisted.
