"Okay, so I'm fully aware this probably can't happen within the bounds of canon. But that's not going to stop me from writing it as if it could!"
~ my A/N for "Windrider", equally as applicable here

Daemons may not be able to feel the cold, but Velvet still hates Meirchio.

Of course, dislike this mild probably doesn't even read on the scale of hatred from herself to Artorius, but that doesn't change that it's too damn quiet to sleep. With only the silent snow piling up outside, and the occasional howl from the wind, Velvet's thoughts seem louder than usual as if to make up for it, more relentless even than the weather—a bad omen for their last fight.

Maybe it's the lateness of the hour, or pre-final-battle jitters, but once Velvet starts mulling over how she got stuck with such a band of misfits… that's where she gets stuck. It isn't the topic that alarms her, so much as her inability to steer her thoughts away from it. Each time she tries to count imaginary stars, remembering all the constellations she has memorized until she sinks into unconsciousness, they form the shape of one of her companions.

Well, supposes Velvet—conceding at last—it's only fair to evaluate how likely each of her companions is to betray her in the end.

She doesn't even want to know what Magilou sees in her mission, so that's the end of that. Velvet has never bothered accounting for her in the first place, so their plans won't be disrupted too much if she turns on them. Laphicet has never told her exactly why he's still following them, but she thinks it's obvious enough, even if she can't put her finger on his exact reason. Then there's Eleanor, a vessel subservient to her malak for once instead of the other way around, so she has no choice but to accompany them; any other motivations she has are irrelevant. And Eizen is out for blood on behalf of Aifread, which suits her fine.

Honestly, the only one who really confuses Velvet is Rokurou—and once her thoughts snag on him, for one reason or another, they refuse to let go. She's never felt like questioning him before, but compared to everyone else (with the possible exception of the ever-enigmatic Magilou), his motivation just… doesn't seem strong enough to carry him through. Shigure is dead, and although Rokurou insists that helping kill Artorius would make him the greatest swordsman in the world, he doesn't seem to have the same drive. In fact, he's as maddeningly easygoing about that as with most things.

Admittedly, Velvet has been paying the slightest bit more attention to Rokurou lately, so it's no real surprise he's the one to aggravate her most. Ever since she caught him looking at her for no apparent reason three separate times in one day, his expression more and more mysterious every time, she's observed him a little more closely. Not that she doesn't trust him to have her back, but he's been spending enough time watching that back that it would be pretty easy for him to slip a knife into it.

Still, keeping a closer eye on Rokurou has a few unforeseen side effects. Lately, Velvet has started noticing lots of little things about him, like the way he looks in certain qualities of light and the nuance of his expressions, that always slipped past her before. That bothers her—that she could have traveled with him for so long and remained so oblivious to so many of his quirks. (And in turn, it bothers her just as much that she harbors no such resentment about failing to notice inconsequential details about almost everyone else.)

Velvet has been telling herself that the reason she didn't pay much attention to Rokurou's appearance until now was because she simply didn't care, but by that logic, if she is more observant now, it must mean she does care on some level. Which she most definitely does not, no matter how well sunset suits him, and no matter how fluidly he fights. Velvet is simply trying, and failing, to assess his true motivation and find out why his reason for fighting seems just a little less selfish than hers and all the others'.

She's never understood his alleged debt of honor, either. Not that she really cares, since it means he won't betray her, but she's beginning to think there's more to it than meets the eye. Much as Velvet hates to admit it, Rokurou has probably saved her life at least once since they started this journey, and that ought to have repaid it just fine, right? But no, even now, he insists that he still owes her something. Not that she's asked lately, of course. But this line of thinking is enough to make her want to ask, and the temptation is overwhelming.

Making an indistinct noise of irritation, Velvet rolls onto her back and sits up, glancing over at the other bed. For one reason or another, Magilou hasn't come in yet—she got stuck with her as a roommate, since Laphicet always ends up with Eleanor—so she won't be waking anyone if she wanders around a bit to clear her head. Not that she's being considerate, of course. It's more a matter of not wanting to cause their concentration to suffer in battle tomorrow while they're covering her, that's all.

See, completely selfish. Why isn't Rokurou more like that? And, for that matter, why is she bringing him into this again? Velvet glances at the window to find the snow coming down thick and fast. She'll have to restrict her walk to inside the inn. Extreme cold is still dangerous to a daemon, even if she can't feel it, and besides, getting lost would just end up being even more of a pain than this infernal insomnia.

Leaving her hair loose and her feet bare, Velvet pulls on her jacket and stalks over to the door without further ado. No need for all her ordinary belts and chains when she's not going outside, and it's not like anyone's going to see her anyway.

As Velvet makes her way down the hall, quiet voices from the lobby tell her otherwise, and she hesitates. But then again, it's not like she's any less decent than she usually is, just a little less heavily laden. Eizen and Rokurou both look up from their drinks as she steps into the lobby, the latter sitting cross-legged in his chair. Both of them seem disarmed at her presence at first, but Rokurou tosses her a grin within a few seconds, and Velvet's heart skips a beat she doesn't understand. It must be the firelight flickering on his face, bringing out the gold in his visible eye.

"Hey," Eizen greets her, his surprise melting into resignation—perhaps annoyed that she unexpectedly interrupted their guy talk. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask the same of you two," returns Velvet, crossing her arms.

"Oh, we never went to bed," says Rokurou jovially, as though it is perfectly normal for the two of them to stay up all night drinking, instead of resting up in preparation for their most arduous series of battles yet.

"You're welcome to join us for a drink, if you want," says Eizen, gesturing toward the jug of sake and bottle of rum. The latter is about half empty, from the looks of things. Assuming that bottle started off full, they must have been at this for some time, but neither of them seem especially drunk. Not yet, anyway.

Velvet shakes her head. "How many times do I have to tell you—?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're nineteen," interrupts Eizen, glancing momentarily skyward in a gesture of subdued exasperation. Velvet is almost twenty, by now, but her birthday is none of their business. What they don't know won't hurt them, and can only help her in this case. "We know. Just figured I'd offer."

"Hey, Velvet, can I ask you something?" asks Rokurou, half-laughing, almost before Eizen finishes speaking. His words come out clumsy, but his good eye is alert, and Velvet can't tell at a glance exactly how far gone he is. More than Eizen, certainly, but then again, his tolerance is ever-so-slightly lower. (Blame the daemonhood, he always groans, whenever they call him on his hangovers. I used to being able to handle more than this…)

"Sure," says Velvet, more than a little warily.

"You broke out of a prison island, destroyed a bustling harbor city, threatened everyone in this town into evacuation, conspired to assassinate the Shepherd and all his followers, engaged in piracy, committed countless murders and damaged as many livelihoods, and are generally a fugitive from so-called justice wherever you go." Rokurou's enunciation isn't the clearest, but he's at least lucid enough to know what he's saying as he counts off on his fingers.

"Get to the point."

"Why the hell do you care about the legal drinking age?"

Velvet blinks a few times, taken aback. "I… never thought about it like that before," she admits grudgingly, crossing her arms, and looks away in something of a huff. She doesn't like being outwitted like that, especially not by someone as oblivious as Rokurou. "I guess the age thing is more of an excuse than anything else. I just don't like the idea of losing control."

"No offense, but you've lost control in other ways plenty of times," says Eizen, and Velvet raises her eyebrows. Since when does he ever side with Rokurou over Velvet? Maybe it's the rum talking, and he's tipsier than he looks. "I'd say you have nothing to worry about."

"I think this is what's known as peer pressure," says Velvet tartly.

Eizen frowns and opens his mouth, ostensibly to contradict her in some way, but Rokurou interrupts before he can say anything. "Whatever," he says, waving a carefree hand. "More for us. Just come sit with us, at least."

"Sit where?" retorts Velvet, turning to stare him down pointedly. "There are only two chairs, and you're sitting in them."

"True," says Rokurou, barely suppressing another grin. "But there are four knees."

Velvet narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, but as her heart races far ahead of the conversation, she finds it difficult to think of anything to say. I don't like the sound of that comes to mind, but for one reason or another, she can't bring herself to spit the words out. Hopefully, her stern silence and immovable stance will do the talking for her, and be taken as the tacit disapproval it technically is.

Thankfully, Eizen heaves a sigh before the tension gets too oppressive. "Tell you what, I'm going for a walk," he says, and gets to his feet, stretching. "You can go ahead and take my seat."

Velvet raises her eyebrows in surprise. Maybe sensing weird vibes is a malak thing? "Don't get lost," she says, testing her abilities by looking him in the eye. It's a little harder than expected, probably since she's feeling so distracted, but it isn't impossible the way it seems to be with Rokurou. "It's coming down pretty hard out there, and if you get buried, there's no way I'm looking for you. You'll get left behind."

Eizen smiles grimly. "I'm not about to miss our biggest battle yet," he says, pounding his fist into his hand. "I can build a shelter out of rock if I have to, or even hide out in my vessel if things get really tough. But I'll be fine." He jerks his head at Rokurou. "Take good care of this one, though. And don't let him touch my rum," he adds, glowering. "He's had enough as is."

Nodding somewhat hesitantly, Velvet approaches as Eizen strides across the lobby to take his leave, and sinks into his seat just as the door shuts behind him. Wordlessly, Rokurou offers her his sake jug—or, more accurately, brandishes it at her—and, though Velvet is no more fond of either sake or Rokurou since Eizen's departure, she finds the notion of accepting it strangely compelling. If alcohol can numb her nerves enough to let her rest… "Just a little."

"Will wonders never cease," laughs Rokurou, filling his cup, and hands it over to her. Taking a deep breath, Velvet holds it in both hands, staring into the clear liquid, then drains it in one gulp with a shudder. As predicted, she can't taste it, nor can she even feel the cold. There can be no point in drinking more, especially since she doesn't know her own tolerance. That's enough of a risk for one night.

"There," says Rokurou, snatching back his cup before she even offers it, and pours another for himself. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" But Velvet feels that her glare is response enough, and says nothing. For a long time, she simply sits and examines his body language, trying to get a handle on how rational a conversation she can expect from him. His eye is bright, if a little unfocused, and his face is slightly flushed, but that could just be the ruddy firelight…

All these second guesses are beginning to give her a headache, and this is really the last foreseeable time they'll have alone, so it'd be better to discuss his debt now, even if he ends up blacking it out. (Hell, it might be less awkward if he does black it out.) "Listen, Rokurou," says Velvet eventually, and he gives a faint hum, looking up from his sake as though startled that she would address him. "Why are you still traveling with us? Is it just because of your debt, or…?"

"Well, yeah," replies Rokurou, before she can finish, and cracks his neck thoughtfully. "You helped me do what I set out to do, so now I have to help you do what you set out to do." Straightening his head again, he gives her a lopsided smile. "Simple as that; always has been, always will be. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," says Velvet, her thoughts elsewhere. That answer makes sense on the surface—more so than she anticipated—but she still can't shake her original feeling that there's more to it than Rokurou is letting on. Still, she supposes that can wait until after it's repaid to his satisfaction; there's no use in mentioning her suspicions until she can think of how to phrase them, anyway. "Anyway, that's kind of… weird."

Rokurou raises his eyebrows. "Coming from you, that doesn't mean much," he points out, and Velvet scowls. "Weird for any of us is probably something most folks think of as normal, so I'll take that as a compliment."

"You take everything as a compliment," mutters Velvet, but in spite of her exasperation, she's also mildly impressed despite herself. Truth be told, there are times when she envies Rokurou's ability to roll with the punches. As resilient as she may be, he's more adaptable, not to mention more patient. He has an almost magical power to interpret things exactly how he wants, even to the point of willful misunderstanding, so it's notoriously difficult to get under his skin.

They lapse into restless silence, and Velvet wants to break it again, but for what might be the first time in her life, she can't think of how. It feels almost… intimidating. Even though Rokurou has answered her initial question, something between them still feels uncomfortably unfinished. She's no stranger to ulterior motives, and no doubt Magilou has more than either of them could count—so why does Rokurou's reason for following her bother her so much? It must be the way he's been looking at her lately…

"Hey, Velvet," begins Rokurou suddenly, turning his head to regard her so mildly that she is woefully underprepared for his next words: "You ever had a lover?"

Almost choking on her next inhalation, Velvet stares at him incredulously as she feels the color rise to her cheeks. Where is this coming from all of a sudden? The question makes it as far as the tip of her tongue, but what comes out instead is, "Just how drunk are you?!"

Rokurou rests his fingers thoughtfully on his chin, then holds out his hand and wavers it from side to side with a noncommittal noise. As he picks up his cup again and drains it, Velvet waits for some kind of explanation, or even a hint that he is no longer invested in an answer, but… he seems to be waiting for her to respond. Contentedly, if his expression is anything to go by.

"No," says Velvet eventually, wrenching her eyes away from Rokurou to scowl at the opposite wall. "I have no interest in things like that."

This is not, strictly speaking, true. Velvet may detest the very idea of romance, but ever since she discovered that riding horses was a little more pleasurable than it should be if she sat just right, and figured out how to recreate the sensation alone, she's harbored a somewhat morbid curiosity about sensuality. She's just always been too self-sufficient and skeptical to involve anyone else, except in her imagination.

"Huh," is Rokurou's only response at first, as he pours another cup, and Velvet wonders whether he really believes her. "Too bad. You're missing out. And you don't have to glare like that," he adds, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he notes her suspicion. "The wall didn't do anything wrong, and I was just curious."

Rokurou's voice is casual enough that Velvet almost drops the subject, but as her gaze is drawn magnetically back to him, she notices the glimmer of ironic amusement in his good eye as it flicks up and down her body. As she flushes more intensely still under his unabashed stare, Velvet realizes that this feeling is self-consciousness, alien to her even in her human days, and wonders at its source.

But there are more pressing matters to consider.

"Y-you dirty…!" she begins, clenching her fists as her embarrassment and anger propels her to her feet, but cannot think of a word bad enough to describe Rokurou in the moment. He's gone the entire journey without saying almost anything about Velvet's outfit—he's even been drunk before—and now he decides it's a good idea to get suggestive? "You're judging me based on my clothes, aren't you?!"

She intends to intimidate him, but she's never quite been able to put Rokurou on the defensive, and now is no exception. "Nah, see, if that was the case, I'd just assume the answer was yes and not bother asking," says Rokurou, shrugging in maddening calm, and takes a nonchalant sip of sake.

Yet, as Velvet stares at him in disbelief, he still eyes her with undisguised interest of an unreadable and unnerving kind. She's been leered at before, so she can tell at a glance that his expression isn't quite lecherous. Truth be told, she'd almost rather Rokurou ogle her outright, since at least then she'd be able to read him and react accordingly. As it is, his countenance is mischievous, maybe, or playful, but he looks more intrigued, or even fascinated, like he's studying a stag beetle he stumbled upon unexpectedly.

This ambiguity makes Velvet more nervous than she would have thought possible, considering that she doesn't care what anyone thinks of her in the slightest. Really, she doesn't! It's probably just that she wants to know where exactly she stands with the people who are supposed to be supporting her, that's all. But knowing (or suspecting) that doesn't stop her sudden flood of doubts. Where is Rokurou coming from with all this? Is he really just curious, or is there something more to it, just like his debt? He could easily have checked Velvet out while she wasn't watching, but he'd waited for her to look at him first—why?

Realizing abruptly that she is still staring, and that Rokurou still watching her just as carefully, Velvet narrows her eyes and looks hastily away. "If you say so," she mutters, settling into her seat again, and prays to the empty heavens that he'll let the conversation die. Any solace she may have found upon hearing his direct reassurance of his motivation, however nonsensical it may be, has been completely overriden by even more uncertainty.

"What, you don't trust me?" asks Rokurou, blinking at her in mock hurt.

Velvet looks over at him again reluctantly. "I never trusted you," she points out testily, hugging her arms to herself in as clear a signal to drop it as she can manage. At this point, maybe she should just go back to bed—but then again, she knows better than to think she'll be able to sleep after a conversation like this. One way or another, she needs closure, and she's not one to shy away from finishing things she started—even things she didn't intend to start.

"Ouch," remarks Rokurou, raising his eyebrows, and drains his cup again.

"That shouldn't be a surprise, at this point," says Velvet, half to herself. She's made her feelings as evident as she possibly can to all her companions: she's in this for herself, and their involvement is only a coincidence. Not that she isn't grateful for their support, in a selfish sort of way, but she can definitely carry herself through to the end if need be. That's her creed, as Eizen might say.

But Rokurou only laughs, and to Velvet's ears, it sounds almost as though he's ridiculing her thoughts. For all his drinking, his perception hasn't dulled any more than his tongue. "It was a joke," he chuckles, pouring himself another cup. "No hard feelings, 'specially since I don't have too many of those anymore. After all, trust doesn't really factor into it, does it?"

"Factor into… what?" asks Velvet, scrutinizing his countenance carefully, but can come to no conclusions. (Whether that's because Rokurou's expression is really that inscrutable or her own focus has suffered too much to take it is anyone's guess.)

Rokurou only takes another leisurely sip of sake, a sly smile playing on his lips. He's toying with her, realizes Velvet, and anger flares to life in her heart. Finally, an emotion she recognizes and knows how to process. "Eh, you wouldn't be interested."

"What are you suggesting?" demands Velvet.

"What are you suggesting?" shoots back Rokurou.

"Nothing," retorts Velvet, bristling as she sits forward in her seat, but has to stifle a strange sense of relief as she does so. For as long as she has this familiar sense of aggression to carry her through the conversation, she'll be immune to Rokurou's mischief. All that remains is to wonder why it took so long to kick in. "You're the one who—"

"Yeah, yeah, I started it," interrupts Rokurou, taking the words right out of her mouth with remarkable dexterity for someone so tipsy. "I gotcha."

Frowning, Velvet closes her mouth and sits back again as a long silence stretches between them, smothering her annoyance and replacing it with that unnerving unease once more. Why would Rokurou provoke her like that, only to end the conversation himself? Despite prolonging the conversation, he's clearly not invested in arguing, and his lack of small talk leads Velvet to believe he is angling toward something in particular. He's just managed to fluster her too much for her to uncover what exactly that is.

Of course, Velvet is far from innocent; she is well aware that the conversation has taken a turn for the flirtatious. The problem is that for all Rokurou's rash and reckless behavior, she can't believe he'd ever be foolhardy enough to proposition her to her face, no matter how much he's had to drink. He obviously wants her to think that's what's happening; the question Velvet must ask is why. What can he have to gain from teasing her? Is this somehow related to the real reason behind his debt? (Why is Meirchio so damn quiet that she feels the need to overthink things like this in the first place?!)

Several minutes pass them slowly by, during which Velvet finds herself increasingly more agitated as Rokurou seems entirely at ease, until she can't take this inconclusive silence anymore. And if alcohol is supposed to be liquid courage—not that she needs it, of course—then…

She takes a deep breath. "Seriously, Rokurou," she begins finally, swallowing her heart as it rises inexplicably into her throat, but looks him in the eye. "Why did you ask about… that?" Velvet's words don't come out half as assertive as she intends, and she almost winces at the sound of her own quiet voice. Maybe it's the atmosphere, or the sake, or Rokurou himself, but she sounds positively meek compared to her usual aggressive self.

Perhaps that's why Rokurou takes the time to grin and have another sip of sake before responding. "Still thinking about that, are you?"

"Of course I'm still thinking about that," snaps Velvet, realizing even as she says it that she's somehow ended up back on the defensive again. How is he doing this to her? "That was out of the blue, even for you. We've been traveling together for months on end, and now you decide you want to know more about me?"

"Yup, pretty much," says Rokurou, nodding in agreement as if pleased she understands, and Velvet scowls at him mistrustfully. He's apparently determined not to give her so much as a foothold in his thought process, such as it is. "I told you I was curious, and that's the truth."

"And I told you, I don't trust you," growls Velvet, crossing her arms, and taps her bandaged fingers on her bicep in an understated threat. If that doesn't get the message across, nothing will. "What are you really after?"

"Nothing," insists Rokurou, wide-eyed in false innocence as he brushes a stray lock of hair out of his face, although the brief appearance of his daemon eye detracts from his affected aura of virtue. "Unless you want me to be after something?"

"In your dreams," snorts Velvet, rolling her eyes, but has to look away to compose herself. Okay, so Rokurou is definitely trying to be suggestive, but judging from that insufferable smirk, he's only doing it to mess with her. Well, that's fine; she'll just have to bide her time and wait for his motivation to show itself. But his next, offhand words drive the thought immediately from her mind:

"Many times."

Velvet's heart practically stops as she stares at him in utter disbelief. Rokurou is a lot of things, and there are certainly times he denies the truth, but he's not a good liar, and his expression remains one of serene—almost smug—confidence. For one reason or another, he's being honest. "Wh-what?!" exclaims Velvet, once she finally finds her voice, and grips fistfuls of her jacket. "You… you sick pervert!"

But Rokurou only rolls his shoulders in a casual shrug, raising his cup as if to admire the scarlet matte in the firelight. "Hey, if we could control our dreams, you wouldn't be having nightmares every other night, am I right?"

Velvet can only stare at him, her lips still parted slightly, as he downs the rest of his cup. Much as she hates to admit it, Rokurou has a point, but for him to so openly admit to having dreamed about her in such a context is far more personal than this lopsided banter calls for. In fact, the idea makes Velvet's heart pound so dizzyingly she can't even think of a rebuttal.

But this isn't quite anger, so she can't wield it like a weapon and fight her way out like usual. Actually, it almost feels like… fear? No; that can't be right. (Must be the sake.) "Wh-why are you asking me about this right now, anyway?" manages Velvet.

"I was just curious," repeats Rokurou emphatically, tossing a confused frown in Velvet's direction as he pours himself another cup. His last, from the looks of it; scowling in fleeting disapproval, he shakes the emptied jug a few times to get every last drop out. "How many more times are you gonna make me spell that out?"

"I'm asking why you're curious," says Velvet, speaking more forcefully to stabilize herself. "Like I said, your timing is odd. You've never even mentioned this before, but now…" Maybe that's part of this strange feeling, she thinks, trailing off. The shock of being interrogated about something he's never shown the slightest interest in until now.

Rokurou gives an unapologetic shrug. "Eve of the final battle," he says, as if that fragment should mean something. "It's only natural for people to start thinking about finding a bedmate for what could be their last night on earth."

"'People'," repeats Velvet skeptically, raising an eyebrow, and seizes his cup of sake before he can drink from it, almost spilling it all over herself in the process—but steadies it at the last second. He has to be drunk by now, if Eizen is to be believed, and if the secret to his relaxed demeanor is alcohol, Velvet could do with just a little more. Not enough to lose control; just enough that Rokurou can't get to her anymore. "Meaning you?"

Rokurou hums faintly, looking at her appraisingly out the corner of his good eye in a way that makes her shiver for some reason, although of course she can't feel the chill—only the tremor running up and down her spine—before she downs the last of the sake. Here goes nothing. "Mmmaybe. Depends."

Velvet frowns, setting Rokurou's cup down on the table. Or at least, she tries; it slips from her grasp with a clumsy clatter the last centimeter or so, and she jumps at the noise. Her motions have grown uncoordinated, her body already separating from her mind. Her second serving of sake seems to be kicking in more quickly than she anticipated. "On what?"

"On who," Rokurou corrects her.

"On whom," Velvet corrects him, glowering. Normally, she's not one to get hung up on semantics, but if Rokurou's going to contradict her, he'd better get it right the first time.

"On youm."

"On… me," repeats Velvet disbelievingly, suppressing the instinctive (if incorrect) final consonant. She knows exactly what Rokurou is getting at, more and more unmistakably, but that is hardly a comforting realization. In her quest to discover his real motivation, Velvet can't help but give him exactly the response he seems to be looking for, and that just makes matters worse. It's just as destructive as the cycle of malevolence, the only difference being that Velvet actually has experience in dealing with malevolence.

Rokurou nods earnestly. "Yeah, on you," he repeats, leaning back in his seat and watching Velvet's expression just a little too closely for her tastes. "You're a little slow tonight. Been drinking or something?"

"I'm not stupid, Rokurou," growls Velvet, feeling herself turn a shade closer to the sake cup—still as unbalanced as she has become. "I know what you're asking, and you're wasting your time. There are a few more important things to think about right now. And in any case," she adds, more hastily still, "this isn't going to be our last night on earth. I'll make sure of that."

"Good," says Rokurou, stretching in place, and Velvet can't help but observe his muscular form, even under his… what does he call it? A kimono. Damn this sake; it's messing with her priorities. "But I still think it'd be fun."

"I think you're full of it," scoffs Velvet.

"If 'it' is this, you're absolutely right," agrees Rokurou, flicking the empty jug with a hollow ceramic sound. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Velvet sighs, tapping her fingers restlessly on the arm of the chair. "Are we even talking about the same thing?" she asks, glancing at him sideways. If she wants to know what Rokurou's really after, he has to be the one to say it. Or so she tells herself, anyway; maybe she just doesn't want to do it.

Rokurou tosses her a roguish grin, blinking lazily, then frowns as if taken aback. "Oops," he remarks, so blithely that Velvet wonders if he even made a mistake in the first place. "I forgot winking doesn't really work when only one of your eyes still has a lid. But that's beside the point." He tilts his head, still smiling. "No way to know for sure unless one of us comes out and says it."

"W-well, I'm certainly not going to be the first," says Velvet, leaning back to level a determined stare at the ceiling. The sake has made her shy and awkward, just like the village girl she used to be. She was always bold and oblivious, and tended to come across flirtatious when she was only trying to be friendly, but the moment she realized anyone was interested in her, she'd turn beet red and shut down. Unfortunately for her, it seems that tendency hasn't really changed. She's just had fewer opportunities to embarrass herself.

"Scared?"

It's almost as if Rokurou is reading her thoughts; Velvet's heart skips at least one beat for at least one reason. How can he smile like that at a time like this? Where is all that infuriating confidence coming from, and how can it detract from hers?! She's the Lord of Calamity, for gods' sakes! Liquid courage, she reminds herself, summoning her own. She may have had less of it, but it should be just as effective. "No," snaps Velvet, rising to her feet. "And if you tell me to prove it, so help me—"

"Whoa whoa whoa, no need to go full daemon-lord on me," says Rokurou, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and eyes her left arm somewhat nervously. "You know, you're giving off kind of mixed signals here. And before you start yelling at me about how this is your first drink or something, I'm not talking about tonight. I've seen you looking at me these past few weeks."

"Yeah, and that's all because you started looking at me first," retorts Velvet, crossing her arms. "I didn't feel like ignoring that and getting double-crossed, so I decided to return the favor before I got a knife in the back."

"You should know me well enough by now to know I don't stab anybody in the back," mutters Rokurou, looking distinctly sullen. "Where's the fun in killing people if they don't even see it coming?"

Velvet rolls her eyes. "The point is that you have the wrong idea. The only reason I was keeping an eye on you was because I was suspicious. That's all."

Rokurou nods sagely as Velvet talks, as if in agreement, but bursts out laughing as soon as she stops. "Suspicion looks a little different on your face than it used to. Your eyes get all unfocused the longer you stare, and then you get this little confused frown on your face. Sometimes—just like now—you turn about as red as your… uh, shirt, I guess." He smiles somewhat reminiscently, but it does not reach his eye. "Just looking at you in those moments, I'd never guess you're the Lord of Calamity."

"Just what is that supposed to mean?!"

As Velvet's voice rises uncontrollably, her face crimson as much in anger as embarrassment, Rokurou's visible eye flashes in alarm. "Shhh!" he hisses, leaping to his feet as well, and as silence crashes back down on her, she remembers abruptly that at least some of her companions lie sleeping in adjacent rooms. Besides, the city is full of Tabatha's agents and pirates fond of gossip. It wouldn't be a good idea to draw attention to this altercation even if it wasn't after midnight.

Waiting with bated breath for something to happen, Velvet and Rokurou stand together in tense silence for several still seconds before the latter lets out a faint sigh of relief, sinking warily back into his seat. Velvet looks him up and down, narrowing her eyes as she observes his lithe motions. "You're pretty lucid for someone who's been drinking all night," she growls, stepping forward until she stands directly in front of him. "Care to tell me what that's about?"

It's a rhetorical question, of course, but Rokurou just shrugs off her implied threat with a faint smile. "Like you always say, there are more important things to think about right now. So let's talk about us." Judging from the expectant expression on Rokurou's face, almost ardent already, he's not even trying to be coy anymore. Well, that's just the way Velvet likes it; maybe he'll be a little more forthcoming now that she's onto him.

Even as the thought crosses her mind, something occurs to her, and she glances aside, biting her lip. If she wants to gain the upper hand here, she's going to have to turn the situation against Rokurou somehow…

As a sudden idea takes shape in Velvet's head, her heartbeat slows as though trying not to draw attention to itself. She'll have to lead him on until he shows his hand, giving her some kind of hint about why he's really doing this. Maybe he'll ask for information, or try to seduce her into a favor—but either way, damn it, she has to know why. In her current state of mind, exhausted and possibly tipsy, finding out that truth is a mission on par with her original goal.

When it comes to subtle manipulation, Velvet is hardly as adept as someone like Magilou, but Niko did teach her the ropes all those years ago, back when she first went boy crazy. Taking a deep breath, she musters her conviction and looks Rokurou stonily in the eye. "There's nothing to talk about," she says, speaking a little more slowly to avoid tripping over her tongue, and prays she sounds sensual. "I always heard actions speak louder than words."

To her bewilderment, Rokurou's smile widens slightly, but he does not otherwise acknowledge her shift in behavior as he rises slowly to his feet. He's only a few inches taller than her, but Velvet still feels a strange impulse to take a step back. Yet he makes no moves; he simply looks her dead in the eye, the faintest hint of a smirk playing about his lips. For one reason or another, he's finally decided to issue an obvious challenge—daring her to back down.

Trying to lead Rokurou on is much more intimidating than anticipated. He seems in careful command of himself, whereas she's completely out of her depth. Caught between indulging her pride by taking him on, and maintaining the apathy toward her companions she has so carefully cultivated over the months, Velvet chooses to clear her throat faintly and persevere, at least for a little while longer.

"W-well?" she demands, crossing her arms in discomfort she hopes is endearing. "What are you looking at?"

Rokurou's expression softens so that Velvet can no longer meet his eyes. He has no business looking that affectionate. "You," he says simply, his voice just the slightest bit husky, and she swallows convulsively, but can say nothing. "So, are we doing this or not?" He speaks quietly, but a little more quickly than usual, and Velvet frowns at his anticipation. Why is he being so direct after teasing her for so long? Is this the equivalent of a predator moving in for the kill, tired of playing with its prey?

Evidently, Rokurou sees her questions, because he smiles. "Whatever you decide, better do it quick. There's a chance someone heard us, and if that's the case, I'm not sticking around too much longer."

"Scared?" returns Velvet scathingly, looking sharply up at him, and he raises his eyebrows. "It's not like you to be shy, Rokurou." Privately, she doesn't think he has any reason to be—but crushes the thought instantly. It's just the sake talking, she tells herself, taking as deep a breath as she dares under his scrutiny. It has to be.

Rokurou gives a deep half-chuckle. "If you're going to call me out, at least call me out for the right thing," he says, raising his hand to brush Velvet's face, and she flinches away from his touch instinctively. "I'm not being shy, I'm being considerate. I don't care what anyone says about me, and you say you don't either, but… if our buddies are the ones spreading rumors, I get the feeling your patience might wear a little thin." He closes his eye, grimacing. "I for one do not want to be on the receiving end of that."

"I can't figure you out," mutters Velvet, dropping her gaze to stare at the floor—recognizing her façade shattered on the tiles below. She's too scattered to keep her act together any longer, so she may as well be candid, and pray Rokurou does the same. "Why you're doing this. Why you're so curious. And… what this has to do with your debt." She looks up at Rokurou again with all the ferocity of her confusion, demanding an answer. "What do you want from me, really?"

"The hell kind of question is that?" asks Rokurou, cocking his head so that his daemon eye is partly exposed. "The same thing anyone who swings your way would want from you, no strings attached. So, if you'd just see fit to honor me with your consent for the night, O Lord of Calamity—"

"Is getting me into your bed so important to you that you'd compromise my consent to do it?" interrupts Velvet, grabbing Rokurou by the neck and shoving him back into his seat (suppressing the urge to let her arm transform), and relishes the feeling of him recoiling beneath her fingers. Finally; control. "You let me drink! You offered me a drink! Otherwise, there's no way we'd be having this conversation right now!"

Rokurou laughs low in his throat, and Velvet's hand relaxes as if the sound triggered some enervating arte. "Only alcohol I drank all night was Eizen's rum, and you haven't touched a drop of that," he says, and the vibration under her fingers sends a shiver through her body: her arm drops limply back to her side. "If you could taste anything other than blood, you'd be able to tell that so-called sake was plain old water. This is all you, and I'm all yours." Rokurou lifts a thoughtful hand to his chin. "For the night, anyway. If you want me."

Velvet opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, and she only stares down at Rokurou helplessly. Now that he has made his intentions clear once and for all, Velvet understands that all his trickery was leading up to this, instead of the other way around as she suspected. For one reason or another, this was his endgame from the beginning. Yet, though she knows she should be furious, all her emotions seem to have gone numb… but, as if to compensate, her physical sensitivity has heightened so that their proximity—even without its associated heat—is dizzying.

Perhaps to draw her out of her thoughts, Rokurou reaches up to grasp her chin with strong and gentle fingers; Velvet jumps at the contact, knocking his hand aside automatically. He doesn't seem surprised, but a faint shadow of almost childlike disappointment falls across his face all the same. At the sight of his crestfallen countenance, she smothers an awkward explanation that it was only reflexive, or perhaps an irrational apology. Surely she doesn't regret preventing him from touching her?

"Look," sighs Rokurou, "much as I like this side of you, I'm not cut out for drawn-out mind games." He gets to his feet once more, and Velvet stumbles back this time, bumping against the low table behind her. "I'm not gonna force you, and I'm not gonna beg—so if the answer's no, you can go ahead and walk away." There is a guarded glint in his good eye that Velvet meets and matches much more easily than before, although she almost frowns as she recognizes the contrast within her. All her self-consciousness and uncertainty seem to have vanished in a haze of… hunger? No, that can't be it; it's not her belly that feels hollow this time…

The only thing Velvet initially wanted from this conversation was closure, and by revealing what he wants in no uncertain terms, Rokurou has technically granted it. Yet this foreign sensation, apt but agitating, compels her to stay and explore the possibilities—not only to step into this new territory but to conquer it. The realization that she is in complete control of their actions tonight sends an inexplicable rush through Velvet's veins, intoxicating as the sake she's never had, and she can't help but chuckle.

Rokurou frowns warily. "Did I say something funny?"

Velvet inhales musk and sake, inexplicably enticing; exhales fire or ice, indistinguishable from one another; and half-smiles as her path unfolds before her. "So you're not going to beg, huh?" she says, swaying a little closer, and raises her right hand to caress Rokurou's face. He twitches as if he too feels the impulse to shrink away, but stands his ground. Good. Velvet has always liked a challenge, at least when she's the one to issue it. She may not be well-versed in the mechanics of seduction, but even going in blind, she's confident that she can feel it out as she goes. How hard can it be? He literally asked for this.

"Uh-oh," mumbles Rokurou, his apprehensive tone a stark contrast to the gleam in his eye, and Velvet pulls him into her first kiss.

Something shifts inside her the instant their lips brush, as if reacting to his touch. One of his hands comes to rest heavily on her shoulder, the other tucking itself around the curve of her waist. A new instinct has awakened in her like Innominat, and it's just as insatiably hungry. It may be sudden, incinerating the last shreds of her resistance, but apathy is Velvet's specialty. After all that, she couldn't care less, and all is once again right with her world.

But it isn't just her newly awakened desire that drives them forward. In fact, Rokurou's appetite seems just as voracious as hers, lust consuming them both as they clash in newfound passion. "Oh, thank hell," groans Rokurou between kisses, although Velvet does her best to shut him up. "That little talk took—every—damn—ounce—of my self-control."

"Better save some—for later," pants Velvet, and Rokurou tries to interrupt her, but she rests her bandaged fingers on his lips. "I… I refuse to give my virginity to someone like you." Not that she sets much store by such things, but if she's just using him as a momentary distraction, there's no sense in offering him more than is warranted for a single night's intimacy. Especially since he's clearly been down this road before, and she'd hate to throw her real first time away.

"Eh, there are—a few alternatives," says Rokurou, breathing hard, but grins playfully all the same; evidently, he's not in the slightest disappointed or surprised at her request. "I'm flexible. Now—let's take this back to my room before things get messy." And, before Velvet can even nod her agreement, Rokurou sweeps her off her feet, leaps effortlessly over the table, and charges down the hall to his room as if both their lives depend on the pleasure to come.

By the time Velvet awakens the next morning, Rokurou is still asleep.

She wasn't sure about staying in his bed overnight for a number of reasons, not least because she's reluctant to get too close, but exhaustion—and the desire not to hear Magilou's snide comments upon returning to her room—won out in the end. Of all her companions, Eizen is the one whose commentary Velvet is least keen to avoid, so while sleeping with Rokurou in a literal sense as well as figurative might not be her first choice in theory, it's the safest option overall in practice.

Not that Velvet has regrets! Far from it. Last night gave her a taste of what all the fuss is about, even if it still isn't something she needs. But Rokurou made an excellent point when he told her that if her allies were the ones spreading the rumors, it would wear her down faster. It'd be best if Velvet avoided subjecting herself to their judgment until after this is all over. Particularly as she's still wearing Rokurou's kimono (which shouldn't smell nearly as comforting as it does, she thinks with some annoyance).

As Velvet stirs in the beginnings of a stretch, she realizes that her back is pressed against Rokurou's, and—as she opens her eyes—that he has practically pushed her off his bed overnight. Still in an alarmingly good mood thanks to his nimble fingers and skilled tongue, Velvet struggles not to smile in the after-afterglow as she swings her legs over the edge and sits up.

Glancing quickly around the room, Velvet finds the other bed blissfully empty, and heaves a sigh of relief as she lets Rokurou's kimono slide off her shoulders so she can assess the damage to herself and her clothing. He hadn't been joking about using up all his self-control before they even began. Thankfully, her shorts remain intact, but the remainder of her leggings are shreds scattered around the floor, and the clasp of her top has ripped so that it can no longer hold the fabric together.

And as for her own body, still humming from all the sensation… Velvet raises her hand to her throat, following the trail of bruises down to her breast. That's going to be hell to explain to the others, she groans inwardly, raising her leg to check one more thing. Yes, the tiny soon-to-be-scar on her inner thigh is still visible from where he nipped her when she pulled his hair.

Velvet takes a deep breath, pulling Rokurou's kimono tighter around herself again. She'll never admit it to anyone except herself, but all these tiny downsides are nothing compared to the sense of overwhelming calm and triumph sinking into her soul. Letting out her aggression in battle is useful enough, but she never thought indulging long-suppressed lust could be just as cathartic. She expected to revel in being served, but to hold the power of pleasure or lack thereof in the palm of her hand provided an unexpected satisfaction of its own.

Of course, Rokurou never did reveal the source of his desire, but Velvet discovers that her own curiosity has been sated all the same. This was supposed to be no-strings-attached, after all, and to inquire after any further motivation would be to attach some strings.

As she reflects on the events of last night with some satisfaction, Rokurou stirs behind her, stretching with a faint whinelike noise in the back of his throat, like a tired puppy. Velvet turns around to discover several fresh scratches scored across his bare back (although his hair, loose and disheveled like a mane around his shoulders, partially obscures a few of them), some even stretching below the waistline of his… what are they called… hakama. It looks like she did some pretty significant damage to him, too, although his clothes will conceal it better than any of hers.

"So, what did you think?" are the first words out of his mouth, and he tosses a grin over his shoulder, evidently sensing her stare. His voice is pleasantly hoarse, and Velvet suppresses a shiver as she remembers what it sounded like in her ear. "You figure that counts toward repaying my debt?"

"Y-you're the one who's obsessed with that thing, not me," points out Velvet, clearing her throat in the hopes of sounding at least a little stronger. She's an expert at keeping quiet even in overwhelming conditions from all her years in Aball—she couldn't risk waking Arthur, and especially not her brother, with her alone time—but all that heavy breathing still took its toll.

"Either way, color me impressed," laughs Rokurou, methodically cracking his back and neck and each of his fingers twice. "You got a few more tricks up your sleeve than I'd expect from a newbie. Never thought you only being able to taste blood would work out in my favor like that." His smile becomes lopsided as Velvet turns scarlet. "But I think you might've grazed me, so for all I know, it really did taste like—"

"I'll graze you if you don't shut up," interrupts Velvet. Forget her companions; she'll probably never hear the end of this from Rokurou, either. As she speaks, she cracks her own knuckles in as obvious a threat as she can manage, but the effect is ruined as his kimono gaps in front and she has to hug it around herself again.

"So… round five?" asks Rokurou, his eyes fixed unabashedly on her chest, and Velvet opens her mouth furiously to ask what exactly no strings attached means to him—but four knocks break into their budding argument. Velvet and Rokurou exchange a glance and turn toward the door, but neither of them have a chance to say anything before it swings open and admits Eizen.

For a few silent and incredibly awkward seconds, the three of them all stare one another down, until finally Eizen closes his eyes, shakes his head, turns his back, and crosses his arms. "I see you survived," he remarks sardonically, ostensibly addressing Rokurou. "Congratulations."

"You could stand to sound a little bit happier about it," says Rokurou.

"I'd be a little bit happier if you hadn't practically broken my bed."

"Rokurou!" hisses Velvet, wide-eyed. Had he seriously brought her to the wrong bed? Not that it particularly matters, since Eizen hadn't even gotten the chance to sleep in it before Rokurou got to it, but it at least meant that Velvet could have stayed in the other bed without any repercussions.

"Sorry, not sorry," shrugs Rokurou, and Eizen lets out a brief growl-like sigh of exasperation. "Little hard to think straight in the heat of the moment. You know how it is." He pauses, frowning at Eizen's back as if something has just occurred to him. "Unless you don't. Even though you've lived about fifty times longer than me."

"I hope you know I'm going to kick your ass," mutters Eizen, dodging the issue entirely.

"Oh really?" yawns Rokurou, evidently unfazed, and scratches his head nonchalantly. "Looking forward to it."

Eizen makes a faint 'tch' sound, pacing forward again, but pauses at the door, glancing back. "Eleanor slept through all that, but I didn't sleep a wink, and you woke Laphicet. I had to tell him stories half the night to get him to go back to sleep, because he was convinced you two were fighting. So I'll forgive you for hijacking my bed if you swear not to put the rest of us through that again."

"No promises," says Rokurou.

"Speak for yourself," shoots back Velvet, glaring at him, and finds herself once again grateful for her anger. The more petty annoyances she can blow out of proportion in the moment, the less likely she is to inadvertently let herself start thinking of Rokurou as someone special. He was just a bedmate for a single night, that's all, and she's sure he feels the same way.

"Wait, are you seriously cutting me off?" asked Rokurou, staring at her incredulously, and Velvet has to swallow a smile at his astonishment. It's the most surprised she's seen him in a long time, and they've been through a lot of unexpected situations. "You liked it! Don't try to lie. You didn't curse at me like that because you hated it."

"Be that as it may, we still have bigger things to think about at the moment," points out Velvet, crossing her arms. Their problems haven't exactly vanished just because the two of them had a little unforeseen fun.

Eizen snorts. "You gonna take that, Rangetsu?"

"Shut up, Eizen," growls Rokurou, his carefree attitude gone in an instant.

"I wasn't talking about—!" begins Velvet, eyes widening as she realizes their misinterpretation, but cuts herself off, shaking her head and looking away from them both with a faint noise of disgust. Men. "You're so immature."

"Well, I think that's about all the snappy banter I can handle," says Eizen, resting his hand on the doorknob. "I'm going straight back to Laphicet before the witch takes the opportunity to tell him tall tales about the sylphjays and the rhinoceros beetles, because I'm pretty sure she at least knows what you've been up to. I'll do what I can to keep her quiet, but only for my own sake."

"Hey," says Rokurou, the expression in his eye turning serious. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh… yeah," says Eizen, giving a sigh of resignation as though he would rather not remember, and rummages around in one of his pockets—perhaps stalling for time. "Here's your hundred gald." He throws a small pouch over his shoulder so that it almost lands in Rokurou's lap. "I should've known better than to gamble with a curse like mine."

"Hey, your curse is the best wingman I've ever had," says Rokurou, and Velvet stares at him in dawning comprehension. Just how powerful is the Reaper's Curse? "We should do this again sometime," he adds, but Eizen does not dignify him with a response in words. He only shakes his head and proceeds out the door, shutting it sharply behind him.

As he does so, Rokurou looks at Velvet warily, clearly realizing the impact this revelation might have on her, and she can't help but smile at the genuine spark of fear in his eye. Wager or no wager, her will was her own. The curse only encouraged her to act on impulses she might not even have recognized if not for those two. But of course she can't tell Rokurou that, so she lets her grin take a turn for the sinister. If Eizen's curse can really be manipulated like that… well, the possibilities for retribution are endless, and Velvet's had a lot of practice with revenge.

If he knows what's good for him, Rokurou had better watch her even more closely in the days to come.

Author's Note: Wow, this is trash. I am trash. I originally wrote it on the pattern of "Windrider", down to calling this one "Daemoneater", but… Rokurou's 20/1 vision compelled me to change the title, if not the spirit. I honestly have an OT3-5, but RokuVel is the main branch, and I love this ship enough that I couldn't resist writing a little something about it. Sorry for any OOCness—still getting the hang of the characterization, even after beating the game—and I hope you enjoyed!