[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
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@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...
@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)