[ Tomura has been waiting well over an hour. Not because this… new contact (potential) is late, but out of an abundance of caution, arriving early so no one has the chance to get the jump on him without him noticing. After the debacle in Kamino, he can be certain that the pro heroes are pulling every possible string to get a trail on him, and getting a call from the No. 3 smells like a rope of sausage dangled in front of starving dogs. He supposes he'll find out if he got baited, but he's taken every effort to make sure they can't reel him in tonight.
An hour before the meeting time, their middleman should've called Hawks up with a change in location. They'll be making contact at a nightclub now, in a VIP room under the name of one Hirabayashi Sayaka, whose identity is being borrowed by Toga. He's counting on the ruckus of the club to interfere with anything—bugs, the hero's Quirk, even with the sound dulled by the walls—and there are Doubled clones on standby if needed. Hopefully, the crowd will be discouragement enough from doing anything that would put them in danger. If Kurogiri were still here, that would be another layer of insurance, but…
Tomura won't think about that now. Keep his eyes on the prize, on the clock as the minutes go by.
Everything seems to be going all right. The pounding music, the hum of indistinct voices remain consistent, and Toga hasn't come in with any observations of unusual activity. Still, it'd be going too far to say that he could relax; what he does instead is drink from a bottle of fizzy-sweet liqueur to give himself something to do. A few empty bottles are already sitting on the table, next to a half-ice-half-water bucket containing more of the same, only unopened. He's gone through just enough to keep himself entertained and the staff from prying, but Tomura is otherwise alert.
When the door opens, his gaze flies up to meet the newcomer. Tomura had let himself into the venue in civvies: a loose black T-shirt and black jeans, a jacket tossed over the back of the couch, the family hidden away, hardly anything distinguishing for anyone who doesn't know his face. If the hero were clever, he would've managed to slip in the same way—unnoticed and anonymous. Might be on a slightly harder setting though, when his uncovered face has appeared on the front page of a dozen magazines. Oh well.
Now that the guest of the hour is here, Tomura twists his hips slightly to pocket his phone, not bothering to move his legs from where they're propped up on the low table. ]
How nice of you to show up, No. 3. Or I guess it's No. 2 now..? [ He points at the bucket of alcohol. ] Want a drink? Help yourself.
[ The offer is nowhere near as friendly as Twice or Toga could make it—coming from Tomura, it just sounds slightly artificial, like an angler's lure. But he supposes that's what this is, isn't it? A waiting game to see who will bite first. ]
( Working for the Commission, taking care of the work they won't do themselves... It's not the most glamorous job. The cheerful, smiling man he is in photos and during interviews is a joke. There's nothing to smile about when he's cutting someone down - especially around pro - or making sure someone who didn't agree with the Commission disappears without a trace.
He thinks he might have been able to grin and bear it until that day came he'd been asked to take out another pro over an argument. An argument. The Commission had called him a villain sympathizer when he'd told them that maybe things could really go somewhere if the Commission actually stopped to listen and understand the plight of the people they've locked away. That violence and murder could be avoided with a bit of compassion and understanding towards the struggle of those who are different, pushed to the outside of society simply for being what they are. It's something Hawks understands deep down. A sentiment he's considered more than once. And because of it, he'd put a man in the ground. A well respected hero who'd always been kind and understanding to anyone regardless of their 'alliance', quirks, or appearance.
He can't stop the thought that it's only a matter of time until others follow. The worst part is, Hawks knows he's backed into a corner. The Commission will never understand his concerns, will do away with him as well if he ever brings them up, and most of the heroes as well... They'd look down on him for being worried. For having any sympathy for them. It leaves him in a familiar position where he's alone and stuck with his own thoughts, forced to hide them behind his usual mask.
But then it happens - he meets Twice. Maybe it's just a coincidence or perhaps a twist of fate, whatever it is, Hawks finds himself with a scared and confused Twice being pursued by a pair of sidekicks. Twice is innocent, Hawks knows as much based on the accusations the pair are hurling at him. Blaming him for attacking some woman when Hawks had seen the man walking out of a bar in an entirely different direction, smelling of cigarette smoke and some dish he must have been eating. What the commission would want is for him to take Twice in, put him away while they questioned him. But instead, Hawks helps him run off while he distracts the sidekicks. And after some huffing and puffing over his supposed escape, they're gone.
Hawks tries not to think too much on it. But he knows a few days later, he finds himself skulking in some of the darker parts of cities to find the right people. Chasing whispers and leads until he finds the right person to leave a message. He wants to meet with Shigaraki. To talk about this whole situation. He doesn't expect to get a call back, let alone an invitation. But it's too late for cold feet and Hawks agrees. So he braces himself for whatever might come. It might be a trap, he can't say for sure, but he endures the change of plans and the noise of the club when the meeting day finally comes.
For a guy with wings, he doesn't stand out much in the club. There are all sorts here, some larger than him, others almost entirely inhuman in their appearance, and even someone else with a feathered appearance. It's easy enough to slip through and talk to the right people who lead him into the room. Hawks thinks he should feel something, should be worried. But he feels surprisingly at ease. His body falls into familiar habits of watching and listening for anything unusual, but Shigaraki himself seems non-threatening where he sits.
For all this is hardly meant to be a friendly meeting, Hawks chirps a greeting as he moves to sit across from Shigaraki. )
It'd be rude to turn down an invitation. ( But he shakes his head at offer with a polite thanks. It's not personal. Hawks doesn't take drinks offered to him first on principal. ) It's probably best if I don't drink and fly. Looks bad, you know?
( He leans in slowly, perching his arms on the table near the other man's feet. But he seems perfectly non-threatening with the way he tilts his head. )
I'm surprised you'd invite the Number Two hero out here, but I guess it helps when you ask nicely.
[ after that exchange, he's sulking. if anything, the fact just annoys him more, making him snappish whenever anyone tries to pry too hard. that's what happens when shit gets dragged out into the gc, dabi, but he's the one who gets to take the prodding and the accusations, to be made into the wrong when he talks back? all of it pisses him off.
so, obstinately, he decides he isn't gonna smooth jack shit over this time. he does what he has to with everyone else, neon sign against nosiness going off at the flip of a switch to warn them off any other questions. if they care about where dabi is or what's going on with him, they can find him and ask him themselves.
as for tomura, when he retires to his room, he's not waiting up. too bad the insomniac tendencies keep him up late anyway, he'd rather be sleeping and not giving a fuck, but instead he stays awake and on his switch. whatever, this is routine for him too. he'll tear down and rebuild his island until he feels tired, and dabi can rough it outside for all he cares. ]
( like most things in life, it all goes wrong. he isn't particularly surprised that the conversation turned into a stalemate, or that tomura hadn't been willing to out himself in the group chat; he hadn't thought that would work, or that it would turn into anything but a petty argument, but he hadn't expected it to go so far, or more importantly, to take such offense to one of tomura's pointed comments. amusement is one thing, and their catty arguing is something he almost finds pleasure in, given that both of them usually know where to stop. maybe he pushed too far, though he won't admit it: maybe tomura just knows how to get under his skin better than most people.
unlike you, I don't put my business everywhere.
salt on a wound of his own making, probably. he doesn't even care what the league thinks, doesn't care if they're all wondering now if they're fucking or fighting or some combination of both. it's more that the statement buries down beneath his skin: the whole crux of his own damn existence, at this point, is to do precisely that. tomura doesn't know it yet, but even so: it hurts, somehow, in an unfair way, holding it against tomura even though there's no logical reason for it.
normally he would fuck off for a week, refuse any calls, go out and do his own thing, murder small-time villains who refuse to join 'their cause' just to relieve some tension. no one's been quite brave enough to even ask him anything, except for spinner telling him to cool off and come back when he's ready. he really hates when that guy is right, and he's usually always right when it comes to tomura, so he relents. it's the middle of the night when he comes back: he doesn't take the couch, himiko is crashed on it already and he isn't that much of a heartless bastard. instead, he goes right to tomura's room like he belongs there, knocking on it with his elbow before he opens it without asking. )
Figures you're still awake. ( in a rough whisper, as he comes inside--without asking--and shuts the door behind him. no one needs to hear what they're talking about, for now. if they start yelling, well: then everyone can eavesdrop if they want. ) Make room.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@redfeathers
An hour before the meeting time, their middleman should've called Hawks up with a change in location. They'll be making contact at a nightclub now, in a VIP room under the name of one Hirabayashi Sayaka, whose identity is being borrowed by Toga. He's counting on the ruckus of the club to interfere with anything—bugs, the hero's Quirk, even with the sound dulled by the walls—and there are Doubled clones on standby if needed. Hopefully, the crowd will be discouragement enough from doing anything that would put them in danger. If Kurogiri were still here, that would be another layer of insurance, but…
Tomura won't think about that now. Keep his eyes on the prize, on the clock as the minutes go by.
Everything seems to be going all right. The pounding music, the hum of indistinct voices remain consistent, and Toga hasn't come in with any observations of unusual activity. Still, it'd be going too far to say that he could relax; what he does instead is drink from a bottle of fizzy-sweet liqueur to give himself something to do. A few empty bottles are already sitting on the table, next to a half-ice-half-water bucket containing more of the same, only unopened. He's gone through just enough to keep himself entertained and the staff from prying, but Tomura is otherwise alert.
When the door opens, his gaze flies up to meet the newcomer. Tomura had let himself into the venue in civvies: a loose black T-shirt and black jeans, a jacket tossed over the back of the couch, the family hidden away, hardly anything distinguishing for anyone who doesn't know his face. If the hero were clever, he would've managed to slip in the same way—unnoticed and anonymous. Might be on a slightly harder setting though, when his uncovered face has appeared on the front page of a dozen magazines. Oh well.
Now that the guest of the hour is here, Tomura twists his hips slightly to pocket his phone, not bothering to move his legs from where they're propped up on the low table. ]
How nice of you to show up, No. 3. Or I guess it's No. 2 now..? [ He points at the bucket of alcohol. ] Want a drink? Help yourself.
[ The offer is nowhere near as friendly as Twice or Toga could make it—coming from Tomura, it just sounds slightly artificial, like an angler's lure. But he supposes that's what this is, isn't it? A waiting game to see who will bite first. ]
KICKS DOWN DOOR... i am here...
He thinks he might have been able to grin and bear it until that day came he'd been asked to take out another pro over an argument. An argument. The Commission had called him a villain sympathizer when he'd told them that maybe things could really go somewhere if the Commission actually stopped to listen and understand the plight of the people they've locked away. That violence and murder could be avoided with a bit of compassion and understanding towards the struggle of those who are different, pushed to the outside of society simply for being what they are. It's something Hawks understands deep down. A sentiment he's considered more than once. And because of it, he'd put a man in the ground. A well respected hero who'd always been kind and understanding to anyone regardless of their 'alliance', quirks, or appearance.
He can't stop the thought that it's only a matter of time until others follow. The worst part is, Hawks knows he's backed into a corner. The Commission will never understand his concerns, will do away with him as well if he ever brings them up, and most of the heroes as well... They'd look down on him for being worried. For having any sympathy for them. It leaves him in a familiar position where he's alone and stuck with his own thoughts, forced to hide them behind his usual mask.
But then it happens - he meets Twice. Maybe it's just a coincidence or perhaps a twist of fate, whatever it is, Hawks finds himself with a scared and confused Twice being pursued by a pair of sidekicks. Twice is innocent, Hawks knows as much based on the accusations the pair are hurling at him. Blaming him for attacking some woman when Hawks had seen the man walking out of a bar in an entirely different direction, smelling of cigarette smoke and some dish he must have been eating. What the commission would want is for him to take Twice in, put him away while they questioned him. But instead, Hawks helps him run off while he distracts the sidekicks. And after some huffing and puffing over his supposed escape, they're gone.
Hawks tries not to think too much on it. But he knows a few days later, he finds himself skulking in some of the darker parts of cities to find the right people. Chasing whispers and leads until he finds the right person to leave a message. He wants to meet with Shigaraki. To talk about this whole situation. He doesn't expect to get a call back, let alone an invitation. But it's too late for cold feet and Hawks agrees. So he braces himself for whatever might come. It might be a trap, he can't say for sure, but he endures the change of plans and the noise of the club when the meeting day finally comes.
For a guy with wings, he doesn't stand out much in the club. There are all sorts here, some larger than him, others almost entirely inhuman in their appearance, and even someone else with a feathered appearance. It's easy enough to slip through and talk to the right people who lead him into the room. Hawks thinks he should feel something, should be worried. But he feels surprisingly at ease. His body falls into familiar habits of watching and listening for anything unusual, but Shigaraki himself seems non-threatening where he sits.
For all this is hardly meant to be a friendly meeting, Hawks chirps a greeting as he moves to sit across from Shigaraki. )
It'd be rude to turn down an invitation. ( But he shakes his head at offer with a polite thanks. It's not personal. Hawks doesn't take drinks offered to him first on principal. ) It's probably best if I don't drink and fly. Looks bad, you know?
( He leans in slowly, perching his arms on the table near the other man's feet. But he seems perfectly non-threatening with the way he tilts his head. )
I'm surprised you'd invite the Number Two hero out here, but I guess it helps when you ask nicely.
@skinstitch
so, obstinately, he decides he isn't gonna smooth jack shit over this time. he does what he has to with everyone else, neon sign against nosiness going off at the flip of a switch to warn them off any other questions. if they care about where dabi is or what's going on with him, they can find him and ask him themselves.
as for tomura, when he retires to his room, he's not waiting up. too bad the insomniac tendencies keep him up late anyway, he'd rather be sleeping and not giving a fuck, but instead he stays awake and on his switch. whatever, this is routine for him too. he'll tear down and rebuild his island until he feels tired, and dabi can rough it outside for all he cares. ]
no subject
unlike you, I don't put my business everywhere.
salt on a wound of his own making, probably. he doesn't even care what the league thinks, doesn't care if they're all wondering now if they're fucking or fighting or some combination of both. it's more that the statement buries down beneath his skin: the whole crux of his own damn existence, at this point, is to do precisely that. tomura doesn't know it yet, but even so: it hurts, somehow, in an unfair way, holding it against tomura even though there's no logical reason for it.
normally he would fuck off for a week, refuse any calls, go out and do his own thing, murder small-time villains who refuse to join 'their cause' just to relieve some tension. no one's been quite brave enough to even ask him anything, except for spinner telling him to cool off and come back when he's ready. he really hates when that guy is right, and he's usually always right when it comes to tomura, so he relents. it's the middle of the night when he comes back: he doesn't take the couch, himiko is crashed on it already and he isn't that much of a heartless bastard. instead, he goes right to tomura's room like he belongs there, knocking on it with his elbow before he opens it without asking. )
Figures you're still awake. ( in a rough whisper, as he comes inside--without asking--and shuts the door behind him. no one needs to hear what they're talking about, for now. if they start yelling, well: then everyone can eavesdrop if they want. ) Make room.