swordhardy | NOCT OVERFLOW

[ Ah, yes ... the deadly twunk, out here in the neon wild. The glare doesn't seem to bother the swordsman—it earns a twitch of Rokurou's mouth, thin lips slanting with a crooked grin out of habit. Challenging, even when there isn't even a clear challenge to begin with. ]

I don't know yet. [ something he proclaims with far too much idiot's confidence, ] But I always pay my debts.

[ So there's that. And now that it's obvious that this guy's spit is doing the trick, Rokurou's not about to let him get away without finishing the job. Saliva sheens across his abdomen, a single drip trickling between the contour of his muscles—physical sensation especially sharp, the feeling has his eyebrow twitching in quick reaction.

A few more good wipes should do the job and wipe the cartoon dick out of existence. Encouraging, Rokurou leans into the touch of the stranger's thumb, a roll of hips that has his shoulders pressing back against the wall. ]

Family motto and all.

Uh huh.

[Noiz is a little skeptical, possibly, but he does keep up his end of their bargain that is still pretty poorly defined. It's not like it mattered much to him at that point, and he can't say the effect is totally bad once he finishes wiping it off and Rokurou's chest is.

Glistening. Like that.

Huh...

He ends up just grabbing Rokurou's forearm to pull him back toward the bar. He was almost of drinking age, after all, so maybe he could get this guy to get him a drink. Seemed kind of fair.]

Buy me a drink.

[To start, maybe. A drink was definitely less of an imposition.]

[ What he lacks in emotional response he makes up in physical—a daemon meant to thrall on the battlefield, touch is something he’s hypersensitive to. Fingers glide over his chest, saliva swiping away neon as easily as raindrops from a glass window. Skin prickles, with fine goosebumps running along the length of his arms as the ghost of fingerpads remain even after Noiz wipes the cartoon dick away.

Distracted, he’s surprised when fingers wrap around his forearm to drag him toward the bar. He’s easily pulled into the crowd and toward clinking glasses and popping bottles, blinking back to attention. ]

Huh? Ah, yeah, alright. [ his hands hit the bar once they reach it, ] What do you want?

[ But before he can flag the bartender there are shots gliding down the bar, courtesy of someone very drunk and apparently pretty rich. Shots for everyone is the cheer; Rokurou shrugs, passing one of the small glasses to Noiz. ]

Hope you like lemon drops.

[ He’ll go ahead and shotgun his own, tongue peeking out between the crease of lips to sweep away sweet-bitter remains. ]

[Noiz doesn't really know what that means (the phrase "lemon drop", that is, he gets whatever else is going on), but he frowns at it a little before downing it.

To his credit, he doesn't spit it out. But he also appears a bit disconcerted by the flavor. Sweet, sour, and definitely still bitter... it was a little more complicated than what he'd been consuming for the last long while. Not that it took much to be more complex tasting than delivery pizza... clearly.]

Gonna have to come with something else, then.

[He eyes the empty shotglass.]

Since you didn't return the favor.

[...Since Rokurou hadn't paid for it. Noiz was being picky as fuck here, but he also always wanted to see how far he could string people along.]

I'm a man of my word, I'll buy you a drink.

[ Right after he's done looking amused at Noiz's reaction to the shot. On his end, he rather likes the contrast of sweet to bitter—a blend that sits well on his tongue. But since it doesn't seem to have hit the spot, maybe something simpler is better. ]

Did you want me to surprise you with it, too? I can pick one.

[ His taste is pretty great, if he doesn't say so himself. Which he will, actually, given the first opportunity to do so. Now that the cartoon dick is gone, he's in a really good mood (and the lemon drop already sinking to the pits of his belly doesn't hurt that one bit). ]

What's your taste? Sweet, sour, just plain strong?

[Noiz has to use every once of restraint to stop himself from glaring at Rokurou. There wasn't anything funny about him! Or the fact that he was clearly still a baby about things like the way alcohol tasted. It was all very serious.

He settled for a bit of an eye roll. He was still buying Noiz a drink, after all. Even if it was in repayment for ... wiping some paint off with his finger. He didn't think about that part super hard, mostly because it didn't feel that weird to him.

Pretending that he liked something strong or sour probably wouldn't do him any favors, so—]

Sweet's fine.

[ Yes, all so very very serious. Rokurou smiles even at the eyeroll, pleased to have gotten an answer before leaning up against the bar with a hum of consideration.

Decision made, he orders with the bartender who whips it up pretty quick. Once it's finished he hands it over to Noiz. Deep orange on the bottom to lighter orange ombre on top, garnished with cherries and mint. ]

A screwdriver. My debt is repaid.

[Noiz eyes the drink a little dubiously... the color looked okay, at least. Why he's acting like some sort of expert on alcoholic beverages is a mystery, considering that he literally knows nothing at all about it, but he also can't be caught not knowing about something.]

Is it?

[He takes a sip of the screwdriver— it's not bad. Definitely sweet. And he can't complain.

He takes another look at Rokurou's chest, and whatever paint is still left.]

Guess if you just wanna keep looking like that.

[Not like he can talk, he's pretty damn over-painted too.]

[ .... well, of course he looks down at his chest when Noiz gives him a critical eye. The magical cartoon dick may mostly smudged off, but he's still smeared in shades of neon. Messy neon, no rhyme or reason to the prints that spackle across chest, collarbone, and stomach in untalented artist's spackle. ]

What? You sayin' I don't look good?

[ I am handsome no matter what I look like, sir. ]

Though I guess blue isn't really my color ...

[ And that's a large part of the neon, isn't it? Decisions, decisions. ]

If you want me to take all of that off it'd take a while.

[Noiz is very pointedly staring at his chest now. The way he's looking is almost... analytical? Like, maybe he thinks he looks good, maybe he doesn't, who knows? Maybe he's trying to calculate how much of the paint is actually blue.

He could be.]

You'd have to pay me back another way.

[He continues sipping on his drink while his eyes wander up to catch Rokurou's. He raises an eyebrow. Noiz is still willing to leave this to interpretation, honestly.]

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