Maraschino Cherry [SL](Night, Touko)

The night was going by like a blur, both literally and figuratively. Ritsuko was farther under than any responsible adult would have excuse to be, not that she was one of those anyway. She run a lazy hand down her tired, numb face as she stood outside of Metamorphoses attempting to light a cigarette. It took her a moment to get it right, long enough to cause her to grimace in frustration. She wasn't exactly coordinated at the moment and holding the flame in the wrong place over and over again wasn't exactly productive to the task. After a long line of drinks at the Red Salamander, a few at Kokage, and a single one at Izakaya she was beyond loose. Her eyes swam in their sockets as she stared emptily across the street, unable to focus them on anything as she leaned unsteadily against the side of the club, rocking slightly as she struggled to keep balance even with the support of a wall at her back. She rose a brightly colored sapphire cocktail to her lips in a tall glass with practiced accuracy despite her "condition". Muscle memory, of course. Ritz had lots of practice getting her drink to her mouth when all things considered she shouldn't be able to. The drink in question was one concocted to facilitate at that, a Blue Motorcycle. Filled to the brim with tequila and rum, it was essentially paint thinner colored a pretty neon hue. She couldn't taste it going down, but that didn't matter. None of it was any sort of enjoyable.

It was better to be numb and dumb than vivacious and bleeding from your chest. Bar after bar, drink after drink Ritsuko spent all her time in dark corners shying away from people. Pretending to be friendly wasn't at the top of her priority list tonight, quite the opposite. People could go fuck themselves. Nothing good ever came from interacting with them. All people wanted to do was take you for a ride or stab you in the back or something else unpleasant, it wasn't worth the effort and the heartbreak. They were in it for themselves. The alcoholic resolved herself to trust no one, feel nothing but contempt, and never to let her guard down like that again lest history repeat itself. Something it always did. The tiny Japanese woman set her drink down on the wobbly outdoor table, nearly toppling it over in the process as she had to quickly slam her free hand down to stop herself from falling forward. She awkwardly found her spot on the wall again and began to rub her chilly arms to warm them up in the cool night air. It was pretty frigid outside, the wind from the incoming rain clouds carrying a piercing freeze along with them. The kind of cold that seeped through your skin and into your bones.

But the cold made her alert, and all the thoughts of history repeating itself got her thinking. Not coherent thoughts, but semblances of ideas nonetheless. She recalled her tortured past and the night of the Divide, although it came to her in faded log entries. It was as if she didn't experience them, as if someone had told her what had happened and she repeated it until she thought it was true. Which was why she spent her evenings getting shitfaced around town. During the day, stone cold sober, everything was real. She could remember the way their blood stank upon her clothes, hear the sickening crack of a rending spine all over again. It sent her into a frenzy of terror every time. But she could escape all that with liquor. Her life might've been spiraling down the drain from alcohol abuse, but her personal Hell was much, much worse. She thought about how that might happen again. History always repeated itself, another tragedy was due. Would she even care? ...no, probably not. Something deep inside of her wanted it to happen again. Her entire upbringing was centered around being a weapon, daily life didn't suit her well. If the world ended again... everyone could know her pain, she would be useful and desirable.

...It was grim to think about and Ritz didn't necessarily want to be involved with it, but she wouldn't mind that twisted song and dance. She would be fine, always was. Everyone else would need to learn to adapt to it instead of the other way around. She didn't even know why she was thinking of such things, probably her negativity getting the better of her again. There wasn't anything to be positive about anyway. The irresponsible adult felt like she was wasting her time day in and day out with nothing to look forward to but the next time she got wasted. Ritsuko leaned her head back against the cool brick of Metamorphoses, closing her eyes as she took another puff from her cigarette to keep it lit. If only the world could stop spinning so she could get her bearings, time to reset and change things. But nothing ever went her way.

This evening had been far more trouble than it was worth. Never mind the seductive lure of another paycheck to line her shallow pockets. That was another gruesome and tiresome time of day she hoped would never repeat again. Touko shuddered at the bloody memory that was fresh within her skull. Normally she wouldn't have minded the splash of wet iron here and there. To see the free flowing blood splashing against the walls wasn't anything new to her, especially in her previous lines of work that required her delicate hands to get dirty. But the mess that was left behind was a nightmare of its own when she had to clean the room after the macabre procedure was finished. That bucket pail of water turned a maroon scarlet quickly. It was a good thing she lived alone in that rickety old office with the operating room in her underground atelier. Or else some "upstanding citizen" may have noticed the horrifying pained screaming during the procedure. No matter how hard she tried to convince any neighbor that this was done with consent, she would find herself in bars faster than dropping soap.

But that was all over and done, for better or worse. It was ▅▅▅'s own business on what to do with that thing. Come to think of it, ▅▅▅ acted oddly but what did she care? She gave up on that world a long time ago and left its destiny to its active players. The weight of that burden was on them, not her. Now, Touko just wanted to blow off some steam after this evening's dangerous and bloody task. But mostly because of the grudging clean up afterwards. Come to think of it, she sort of reeked of harsh copper if anyone was close enough. But the Velvet Attendant never gave anything worth a damn at this point. If people had an issue with that, then that was their problem.

As her heels clacked against the asphalt, her maroon hues noticed the neon sign of the Metamorphoses just blinking in this seedy side of Little Tokyo. Funny how the redhead walked all this way. But conveniently enough, she was curious what this bar was like as this was only the few establishments the Attendant never set her foot on in Little Tokyo. She nibbled on the burning cancer stick as she curiously eyed the building as she was in the process of making a judgement whether she should give it a cursory try before moving elsewhere. But soon, she shrugged her shoulders and began advancing inside after flicking the used up cigarette to the side. It was only after a few coy smiles, small talk, and monetary exchange after that she came to find herself out into outdoor seating with a daiquiri, Touko always loved them sweet. She glanced at the only lonely person here in this place as she tried to make a decision where to sit while lighting another cigarette for herself. Looking at said other patron, she was likely inebriated as hell.


She finally sat down at a chair that was a respectful distance away from the other patron and began to sip from her choice of poison as her eyes continued to train on the inebriated patron. If they were all alone here, might as well spend that time trying to make some small talk to pass the time. Perhaps this other drinker here wanted to be alone, but she left it up to Fate to see how they connected. Touko found it hard that there was a lack of smokers here at this time, but anything's possible if you had your reality cherry taken by the supernatural.

Lost in her own thoughts, swimming inside her own sense of forlorn and the intoxication from her myriad of drinks, Ritsuko wasn't fully aware that she wasn't alone. For a while people entered and people left, it was too cold to hang around outside for very long. Even the other smokers would kill their lights early to get away from it and retreat back to the pounding bass and flashing lights that Metamorphoses had to offer. But there were too many people in there. The alcoholic would take the biting sting of the cold over the monotony of social interaction any day. Even their mere existence set her on edge. Their side conversations, inane drunken shouting, and the toxic laugh from their idiotic jokes were too much for her to handle. Every whispered comment she felt was directed at her, every cackling laugh was at her expense. She knew it wasn't somewhere, the world didn't revolve around her, but the feeling was hard to escape. The paranoid creep that everyone she interacted with had the worst in mind for her. Sadly she hadn't been proven wrong yet. Ritz never liked people because they never gave her a reason to do otherwise. The drinking was a different ordeal altogether, but the smoldering hatred she held in her heart would be there regardless. The world had conditioned her to despise it and now nothing could bring her back. There were moments when she thought otherwise, that others maybe didn't want to take advantage of her, but looking back she always shot those down. She justified her abrasiveness with twisted logic and skewed memories. Nicety was a lie, pleasantries were fibs, and human beings were amalgamations of pure bullshit wrapped in smiles. Fuck'em. She didn't need them anyway.

Ritsuko was leaning heavily to one side, her sense of balance as destroyed as she was as she rubbed a clumsy hand up and down her face to bring her back into the moment and away from the total collapse of booze. As badly as she needed to fuck herself up it would be dangerous to completely shut down this far from home. She'd need to be present enough to at least ride the bus without passing out and missing her stop again. Or getting jumped. It'd only happened to her twice but that was two times too many for her preference. A voice had brought her back from the brink, causing her to lilt her nodding head to the side to face whoever felt it was a smart idea to speak to her. Some...one. Some ginger dressed like a carrot. God, milk it why don't you? Something about how cold it was. The irresponsible musician didn't even feel it, along with her teeth and the skin on her wincing countenance. It took closing an eye to see her more clearly, but it was clear that they were the only two out there. Ritsuko snorted loudly, tilting her head as she did so.

"...not like I ffuggin' care..." she slurred with a matter-of-fact tone. She really didn't care for conversation even in the best circumstances, but her inhibitions were lowered and she was feeling spiteful with the need to bitch to people. She'd engage in idle small talk without her filter in place, borne from the desire to tell people what was on her mind. Not pleasant thoughts, of course. Not that she minded. Fuck everyone else if they did. Holy shit she looked like a carrot, didn't she know gingers shouldn't dress to their color? It made her look like a tomato. And she was so old. Like, she didn't look like the type to be hanging around clubs like... wherever she was. Meta, yeah, that was it. Ritsuko took another long sip from her toxin, needing to plant her foot in order to gain the stability to lurch for it and bring it to her lips before awkwardly finding her place along the wall again, resting the guitar along her shoulder along the frigid concrete.
"...sso what'ss an old tomato doing in a playss like thiss?" she mocked with a lopsided scowl, squinting harder at the intruder to her misery, "...y' look like you belong here, but I've never sseen ya."

Even in her impaired state Ritsuko could gauge her up and down. Her mannerisms, her attitude, her look. It came across like instinct. She'd acted like she'd done this before, she blended into the bar scene seamlessly somehow. That way she held herself, the coldness that surrounded her, her casual yet guarded demeanor. A little less gone the pathetic musician might've been able to put words to it, but she still understood. She fit, but at the same time, didn't. It was the small idiosyncrasies that caught her along with her own memory. She'd been at Meta's long enough to build up an unspoken reputation, probably because she was often there because it closed later than other places. Most avoided her. The alcoholic would make her shuffling pilgrimage inside to order a drink and then back outside to chain smoke alone until she ran empty again. People long stopped attempting to speak to her after she'd cursed most of them out. But not this one. She'd never seen her before, yet she acted as if she'd always been there. It was curious enough to grab what little attention remained in here.
"Pssh. Be here, dooon't be here, ss'not like it fuggin' matterss 'nyway. M'ss'well get fucked up 'fore you die." With her vague, rambling, ominous statement the delinquent would turn back to her cigarette, attempting to take a drag... and coughing violently from it. The flame had gone out while she was speaking. She turned her body away from the carrot, cradling her lighter close to her face to defend it from the gale as she attempted to breath new death into her death stick.

Her maroon eyes scanned through the girl from top to bottom as she drew out a slender cigarette from the orange carton with the mark of a Taiji symbol. With a flick of her wrist from her pocket and her fingertip popping it open, a small lively flame spouted from her zippo lighter before she allowed its fiery tender licks to light the cancer stick. It was easy to notice, especially from her drunken stupor, that here stood a walking stereotype of someone who heavily dipped herself in the indulgences of hedonism, another millenial rife with that modern gothic rebellious culture. If Touko was a betting woman, which she habitually is, the inebriated goth was also someone who probably had a chip on her shoulder. Given the state of Endymion, conversing with said drunkard may be worth her time. But hey, if anything, she can just watch a drunk make an ass out of herself and laugh it off.

"Tomato? Well... can't say that's entirely new, but I'll give it a pass," Touko raised an amused eyebrow as she puffed from her newly lit cigarette, "Oh I came here just like everyone else. To get sloshed up and enjoy the rest of my pitifully ephemeral evening as such. I'm a very simple person, as you can clearly see."

She allowed a hiss of smoke to leave her lips, allowing a billow of smoke to begin wafting in the air. Her back leaned against the chair as she was getting comfortable with a leg crossing over each the other. Lately her days have been very bland. The company of Gabriel, her first Guest of this Cycle, and the recent visit from an old friend had been to some degree enjoyable to break up the monotony of her recent life. But that didn't mean her hunger for interesting things was sated, no, far from it. Touko's lips curled into a Cheshire smile, "Perhaps I'm just a figment of your drunken imagination. Floating in and out of your inebriated consciousness, here to make you question your life's decisions. Maybe I'm just a ghost drifting here and there, without any opportunity of eternal rest..."

Poor her, Touko had a rather mischievous streak with the drunk when she had that urge come up. Originally coming here to wind down with alcohol, making inane small talk with a drunken goth wannabe was found to be an alternative. There was a kind of pettiness in the redhead and she relished it when she could get an interesting response. As the gale came by to sweep away the burning embers in the cigarette, the Attendant only fiddled with the filter between her fingers as she watched the embers beginning to die out as the smoke viciously swept back and forth from the wind.

She found herself raising an eyebrow at her last remark after sipping from her daiquiri. There was a faint expression of interest, "Oh? Facing the inevitability of the end, dear? Regrettable, you have my condolences for your tragically short life."

Judging by her behavior, Touko felt a kind of vibe from her that was far more genuine than a bunch of wannabe millenial and teenage goths that wanted to surround themselves in the inane and obnoxious facsimile of death. Such a group warranted derisive laughter, they never actually knew what life had to offer, both good and bad. But she seemed quite different from those. Yet, any stories she may provide, might just be the same as others that she had met. But it wasn't like Touko was going anywhere anyway.

The intoxicated Japanese woman narrowed her eyes at the carrot top in a confused, empty glare, grimacing slightly. Her cigarette lay long dead within her own fingertips, she'd given up trying to re-light it. She expected a different reaction to be sure, the stereotype of the "fiery red head" was often pretty accurate. A little more hostility was certainly anticipated and she was a little stunned that it never came. Ritsuko would have felt a tiny bit chagrined if she wasn't currently in one of her less cognizant states of mind. The maturity that came from the older woman, why she was here, to drink like everyone else of course. It pointed out exactly how pathetic she was for trying to insinuate something in the first place. But instead of taking her backlash, backing off, and shutting her mouth, the alcoholic felt offended instead. Oh joy, someone else who that she was fuckin' better than her. No shit everyone was there to drink, but there were different reasons to drink, she could've answered the damn question instead of being an uptight bitch about it. Ritz was there to drink because that's the only way she could function throughout the week... she'd bet the ginger was there to pick up younger guys. She certainly gave off the vibe in any case. Why else would an older woman such as her be hanging out in back alley clubs with college students at... whatever the fuck it was at night. Or morning. Whatever, it was late as fuck.

The musician attempted to roll her eyes, rotating her head a little as she did so before she realized how poor of an idea that was. She placed a few fingers up to her face as she became dizzy, wilting off the wall as she swayed in the breeze. The numbing cold swept through her extremities, a tingling sensation crawling through her with the chill and the alcohol. Good. If anything it'd help her focus a little. She turned her head from her counterpart and spit twice before going for her drink again, the bitter taste sliding across her tongue fresh. Tequila had a pretty shitty aftertaste but it got the job done. She spit on the table once but didn't notice, and even if she had she wouldn't have given a shit before speaking up again.
"*Phtup...phtup...* Ffuck you, yer real, I w'ldn't've imagined a ginger wearin' or'nge anyway, y'look like a ffuckin' traffic cone," she sniped back. Screw her for tryin' to mess with her, she was twisted, not stupid. This wasn't her first night drinking herself to death, she wasn't some green-assed college student ordering White Russians. If that was the way she was gonna play Ritsuko could show that she had the ability to play along. Gingers weren't the only ones without souls. She gripped her drink three more gulps to kill it before setting it gently upon the outdoor table with clumsy hands. The alcoholic turned to light her cigarette again and succeeded fairly quickly compared to the last time. Guess all it took was not holding your lighter upside-down.

"...Pfft, ghosst my asss. Why th' ffuck are all you weirdoss ghosstss or ssomethin'? Iss that like ssome kind've sstupid joke I'm misssin'? Whatev'r, I bet you're here to pick up ssome of the sstupid younger guyss." Truth be told she was the second person to try to call herself a ghost that day. Like, what was with that? Was this some weird kind of pseudo-cultural shit like the people who thought they were dogs and used dog pronouns or whatever the fuck? Ritsuko hoped not, she'd already taken her daily dose of crazy, all she wanted to do was catch up on her backfill of "fucked up". The anti-social delinquent had her arms crossed and a scowl pointed out into space with an empty gaze before the older woman's latest comment asking her questions. She allowed her arms to drop to her side after taking a final puff of her dying coffin nail, dropping it into the slowly melting ice of her poison as she spewed toxic fog into the air.
"Tsssh, fuck yoooou. Ev'ryone'ss gonna die, no oness gonna giv'a sshit. There'ss ffuckin' monssterss an'... crazy motherfuckerss that ssumon demonss an' sshit, I don't fuckin' know. World already ended, Rapture didn' 'appen, no oness gonna giv'a sshit."

Ritsuko meant it and whole-heartedly believed it when she claimed that mankind was on its way out. She knew better than that. It was history, not human, but further. Extinction events. The Eternal Divide was one, just like the Ice Age or the Triassic volcanoes. Demons were the next step in the food chain, they were better in every way. That's why she existed in the first place. The next big advancement in human evolution. Fuck'em. Her misery was all their fuckin' fault. You couldn't stop history with money and science, change was gonna happen whether you liked it or not, just fucking die and get it over with already. She tilted off the wall with a wobbly step, holding out a hand towards the table in case she fell, but kept upright.
"I don' regret sshit, I didn' ffuck me up. They ffucked me up, i'ss all their ffault! Ffuckin' asssholess." The tortured musician rose two fingers to her lips and opened her eyes in surprise, forgetting that she'd already put her cigarette out as she looked down to the nothing in her hand. Whatever, wasn't worth getting another one anyway, she'd need to head in soon to grab another drink before Metamorphoses closed. She raised a surprisingly aware eyebrow to the woman with a dull spark in her eye.

"...you ever sseen ssomeone get ripped in half...? Like, ssplit down the ffucking middle. Cuz I fuckin' did an' I'm sstill here an' they're all fuckin' deeeeeeeaad. Ffuck you, tryin' tell me it'ss my ffault, yer ffuckin' sstupid," Ritz slurred. She drew quieter at the end as the gravity reached her. She could start experiencing it again, what she drank to run away from. Nobody should ever make a scream like that, it was still fresh as it rang in her ears. Her skin was sticky, she could smell the copper in the air. Bile worked it's way up to the back of her throat before she swallowed it back down. No... no none of it was here. Her skin was sticky because she sweat when she drank, the blood was the smell of the rain. No one was shrieking here, it was just a thought she had, a very unpleasant thought.

...fuckin' Christ... it was about time for more numbing comfort.

She giggled and then laughed lightly, but not harsh enough to begin spilling her personal poison.

"Jeez. You really are brutal with all this slander. You must get along fine with your friends." The curl of her smile gradually became more amused than the last second, she was starting to feel the fibers of her facial muscles were beginning to reach its limit. But soon they relaxed as she composed herself. Meeting drunkards and watching them become an evening's amusing embarrassment was nothing new for Touko. If anything, it has become such a commonality after each visit to a local pub that it was an accepted part of the environment. But this inebriated chick here was a little different compared to other drunks. All these insulting comparisons caught her whimsical attention. Never for once had she ever thought about it, but to think her own sense of fashion would be criticized in this manner. It was actually pretty funny, in all honesty. But come to think of it, that pissant did look like this one guy with a top hat from a movie on a chocolate factory.

"Eh? You're telling me I'm not the first to try that? Damn, here I was hoping to be the only one," the redhead sighed and she shook her head in mock disappointment before taking a sip of her glass, "Truly, I am beginning to slip. Ah well. Aging sure is scary..."

It did make her wonder who could have possibly tried to put up such a farce. But given her inebriated state, anything could happen under the girl's chaotic and angry whims. It was smarter to simply ride out this chaotic wave and see what she would do. But Touko wasn't exactly that kind of woman, at least she wasn't in that mood right now. While knowing prudence, the Attendant was an offender of wanting to be active at the most inopportune moments. Yet in this evening, she wanted to wind down a little. Working at an operating table for a straight five hours tended to take a lot out of you. She shrugged at her while snorting, "Oh come now. Is my explanation for a drink so hard to accept? What kind of strapping young man would find an old hag like me attractive anyway?"

Touko was no stranger to the norms of attraction in a seedy bar full of loose people. She was well aware that while many came here for a good time while making very horrible decisions, but also some tended to lurk in an establishment's less known corners to hash out suspicious deals. The Attendant shook her head again and sighed at a more recent memory when a duo of Psyche Terrorists had just shot up a bar when their trade for goods didn't go so well. It made Endymion stay interesting, but nevertheless it wasn't enough to keep her occupied for long. Perhaps it was time to meet that Foreigner again and see what he has in store.

She continued to listen to the girl as she drank and smoked, listening intently at her complaints. Five years sure have passed quickly in Endymion. It was oddly strange that a city like this was able to pull itself together within five years. But that said a lot about the Queen's ability. Nevertheless, many people have lost so much in that eventful tragedy. The release of demons and the rise of Persona Users have been the starting markers of a person's journey, especially Gabriel's. But for Touko it was just the beginning of a new show to watch with a pair of opera glasses as she enjoyed a glass of whiskey and a dish of chocolate-covered orange slices.

"Sure, many times. Gorey times," she nonchalantly answered as her smile began to draw in a sinister air, "Cut in half, both sides fall and spill open like a clam. The rest of those organs spill out all the same. Almost like a butcher forgot to tear out the offal and draining the blood before cutting cattle in half. But tell me..."

Relevant Strength:

The alcoholic crinkled her nose at the older skank. She didn't appreciate her haughty attitude or being fucked with like she was. Sarcasm was the lowest form of insult, yet Ritsuko genuinely felt insulted that she had the need to stoop so low. Granted she was completely trashed, but still, it was nothing more than childish mocking. She was better than that, she didn't need to take that shit from some ginger slut Ritsuko was typically quiet when she became this far gone, wallowing in the pity party she would throw for herself, but she was different. The old hag had a worse mean streak than she did, and the alcoholic was not one to be outdone. It was rather tempting to just chuck her drink at the bitch but it was just that, a temptation. She wouldn't actually do it. That'd warrant police attention, never a good thing. Besides, the motor coordination wasn't exactly allowing her to do so at the moment. She sloppily drew her cigarettes from her guitar case, wobbling slightly as she attempted to bring flame to the filter as the end of her cigarette sat in her mouth this time.

"Y'know if you've got sshit to ssay you can jusst ssay it, yer not bein' clever by bein' ffuckin' coy or ssome sshit, I know yer ffull'a sshit," the tiny woman insulted, tending to the wrong end of her fag. Part of her had wanted to agree with her to continue their little game, but honestly at this point it was annoying and trite. Ritz couldn't understand why people just couldn't be upfront with her, she could see straight through whatever bullshit they pretended to mean. The games were beyond her, at least for the moment, no matter how great it would feel to carte blanche verbally abuse someone who wouldn't fight back. Tch, what did she think, she was taking the moral high ground? Like she was in control? People read into shit like that too much, they loved to play mental gymnastics instead. It was what it was, the musician would berate the ginger and the ginger would smile and nod. None of this "I'm refusing to stoop to your level" shit, that's what losers thought to justify to themselves that they weren't as pathetic as everyone else believed them to be. Yet as cathartic as that would be it wasn't making her feel any better about herself, the irresponsible young lady found it irritating.

And then Ritsuko's blood ran cold, and not just from the icy chill on the wind. Frozen in place, eyes widened and breathing heavily with a thumb locked motionless on her lighter. The stranger's grisly language brought her memories to bear, as if she were there again. Her stomach lurched and flipped as she experienced it once more, breaking out into a cold sweat and growing pale. Through her hazy mind it was a blurred mess but it played out regardless like a film on a reel, regardless if it skipped scenes or not. The crimson paint all over the floor... all over herself... the strong scent of blood... cracking bone...

They're leading me by the hand, I've got my medical gown on and I'm not wearing shoes. Everything happened____________________she's crying, she's crying and he's screaming at her but I know________________The lights go out, I can hear them. They're here now. It's all red, the emergency lights_______________________________"Keep playing Ris-chan! Never stop! Never stop playing, never stoaaAAAAAAAAAARGH!!"____________________His intestines are dragging on the floor, he's still moving, he's still screaming, make it stop! Shut up, shut your fucking mouth!__________________________"Ahaaahaaaa!" *CRACK* "Hehehehehaaaahaaaa!" *THWACK*_____________________I'm outside, I've never been here. It looks like the movies I watched. There's glass in my feet, I don't think I c_____don't remember how many times I______His eyes. They begged me to sto________

"*Huh!* Haaa... haaaauuuuuuuUUUUUUUUURK! *phtup*"

Ritsuko heaved violently over the short railing of the beer garden they were occupying. She didn't even remember turning around to do so. As the redhead had given her own experience, she had calmly, blankly, emptily tucked her cigarette between her fingers and slowly rotated to spill her guts into the street. The musician spit multiple times into the street to remove the taste of gastric acid from her tongue, but it refused to be removed. White-knuckled fingers gripped the frigid metal, supporting her woozy frame as she emptied herself a second time onto the pavement.


The inquiry stirred a primal fear within her. She could feel the malice dripping from those words like venom, the threat clear as day in her voice. The small alcoholic peered over her shoulder with a panicked expression, catching sight of the stranger's sanguine smile. Her heart dropped into the soul of her boots, Something about it was... dangerous. Predatory was closer to being right. She could feel the fear grip her as her mind began to race in tight circles. Ritsuko's hand reflexively flew up to grasp at her guitar strap, anticipating a fight, as she took a step backward and nearly fell over the railing behind her, planning to flee regardless.

Relevant Strength:

She knows. She knows she knows she knows she know she knows. Is she a cop...? Oh fuck, she looks like a cop! I-I...! I-I c-can't...! I-I...!

...I can't run. No, I can't run, running isn't a good thing to do right now, maybe she's not a cop and I'm just... I'm just scared! No, it's...! I don't know what it is, but I can't be here, I can't answer that! I-I can't tell her anything close to what actually happened!

On the edge of hyperventilation the alcoholic felt as if she were on the verge of tears. Something about the mysterious woman set her off in the worst way, the red flags her instincts presented waving wildly in front of her face. But there wasn't much she could do. She was too wasted to fight or run and it'd put her in danger anyway. She had to rely on lies instead.
"...eh...e-ever'one I know iss dead..." she stammered in a distressed slur, "...ev'ryone I knew from back then iss ffuckin' dead! You got ssomethin' to ssay about it!?" Her confrontational accusation came across in a desperate shriek, her face reading more of shrinking terror than anger as if pleading for her to accept that answer. Ritsuko had mentally done the same. Her tiny hand squeezed tightly at the strap around her shoulder. It'd be messy if she had to resort to what came naturally to her.

Oh man, the cheek of this brat. She's like the gift that keeps giving, but all good things do come to an inevitable end. This was getting utterly tiresome at this point. One could only enjoy a good roast from time to time until it gets boring and it just ends up being first-grade tier of insults and intelligence. It becomes tiresome in the end. Touko's smile continued to spread across her face, as if knowing it was unnerving her. That was the funny thing about smiles. Usually they were accepted as a kind of expression of good and happy things, something that was used to share joy. But there was a conflicting characteristic smile achieved under specific circumstances and performed by disturbing eccentrics.

”Little girl, I know you’re inebriated and all. But you need to start relaxing and stop taking things too seriously. What’s the point of being drunk if you can’t do that?” Touko sighed as she decided to get more comfortable by switching her legs by folding the other over another, ”I’m just here for small talk. Don’t you get real bored here all alone? I would. C'mon. You can believe in me. I'm a mostly good person, ha ha ha...”

That wasn’t exactly quite true, no matter what dubious claims she made. Her background was far from the cleanest in many regards. There was a good reason why her recent guest from the last day had been so cautious of Touko. She couldn’t really blame for the child from doubting her either. The World was an unforgiving and irrational place to live in. This was heightened further with the introduction of the supernatural to the common people. The Eternal Divide had left such a mark on the many, in exchange for the lives of those who weren’t fated to see the next sunrise. But she wasn’t so naive to think there were lives that continued to be affected by the Divide. It’s just that they weren’t so visible within the public eye, for good reason.

She carefully sipped her liquor and recognized those signs: the widening of eyes, the heavier breathes, and the paleness of her skin setting in. Oh, something has been flipped. Perhaps, she stepped on something interesting here. It required a bit of delicacy to try to swipe away those defenses to see what she was hiding. Touko had the courtesy to wait for the girl to empty the contents of her belly, and she was quite aware it wasn’t just from partaking too far with the libations.  There was a memory, a horrible one lurking deep inside her alcohol-ridden cranium. Why else would she spend her time wasted here? Watching her getting so defensive, it only served to give her away even more. But what was the point of hiding when your vomiting alone did it for you? "As I said before, you should start relaxing. Wouldn't want to ruin this nice evening with the authorities at your heels, don't you?"

The girl may try to use violence or force all she wanted, but from Touko's instinct, she likely didn't want to have the Cadets on her. The Attendant knew this girl, regardless how drunk she was, wasn't stupid. She continued to study the girl. Was she a Psyche-Terrorist? Odd. Normally, they would summon their soulbound weaponry if they wanted start a fight. While this place wasn't quite ideal to summon a Persona if you wanted to avoid the Cadets, a soulbound weapon was innocuous enough to avoid detection better than that ghostly apparition. And seeing how there weren't Shadow Selves here lately either, it was at least safe to say she wasn't one either. If she relied on a guitar or whatever was inside that case, then perhaps she's one of those... Strange Then again, it's not like they never existed in other realities. But, that may be too early to tell.

Her head was swimming in both literal and metaphorical cocktails, fear mixing with the adrenaline pumping into her bloodstream along with the alcohol. Expelling the poison from her stomach did precious little to help the sinking pit tugging of dread tugging at it from within. Ritz wasn't in any state of mind to be in the situation she was in and knew that. The ginger's face was hard to focus on, hazy and swirling with her contorted vision, yet the message was sent clear enough. Her sinister smile was unsettling, there was a viciousness to it that unnerved the tiny woman. While difficult to make out... it was the eyes. Her eyes were lying. They were cold and calculating like a rattlesnake's, they didn't give any warmth to her grin. Some would say that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Hers was dark and empty and dangerous. The panicked alcoholic wouldn't believe a word she said, all of it was bullshit. She wasn't a good person, Ritsuko had experience with that. It took one to know one and a good person she was not, not with that predatory attitude. People like that couldn't function without giving into the itch to hurt someone else. These were the people her defenses were developed around, the ones that wanted to take something from you. That's what frightened her the most. She didn't have too much left to take.

Her heavy breathing caused her to heave and sway slightly on her unsteady feet, her hand still tightly wrapped around the strap of her guitar case. An uncoordinated hand reached up to wipe her mouth on her sleeve as she panted anxiously. Every fiber of her being was prepared to fight, run, or die from a threat that... wasn't... coming. Her head dipped into her hand as Ritsuko tried to get a better grasp on her breathing, the lack of vision dulling her senses a bit. She was paranoid, that much was true, and the nerve-calming toxin she kept trying to kill herself with wasn't 100% effective at controlling her outbursts... not to mention the lack of control over how she acted. It still couldn't shake loose the thought that whoever this was didn't have her best intentions in mind, but she wasn't special. No one ever did.
"Don' ffuckin' ssay that sshit...!" complained the musician to the redhead in a gasp, "You're gonn' get me in trouble, sshut up!" The color began to filter back into her face even if her sense of presence never returned with it. The small, irritable drunk woman swallowed hard, her body still trembling with the rush that left her gears spinning on momentum that brought her there.
"Tha'ss one lesss ffuckin' thing I need..." she grumbled, running her hands up her face in an attempt to calm herself. Her skin was cool and clammy in the chill of the night, despite how she could no longer feel it. Autonomic response tended to do that.

It had never occurred to the pathetic drunk how the situation appeared. That she, a stumbling plastered mess was accosting a calm and innocent bystander by screaming in her face. Ritsuko was the victim in her eyes, or she very well could be. In keeping with that defensive mind set her head would never tilt more than a few degrees outside of facing her "drinking buddy" again, nor would her swimming eyes leave her for very long. If she tried something the musician wouldn't have a lot of reaction time, there wasn't any reason to shorten that. She placed the small of her back to the railing to lean on it, wobbling as she nearly fell over the damn thing again while sliding her guitar case a bit off her shoulder to allow for that. With one hand still on the strap she'd reach for her cigarettes again. Not like chain smoking was something she made a habit of but the stress and alcohol gave her a craving to still her nerves and the impulsiveness to seek that in flaming cancer sticks by the handful. Ritsuko furrowed her brow, both at how endless flicking of her lighter wouldn't breathe flame to it without a free hand to shield it from the wind and the question that was posed.
" 'm not yer little girl," she seethed, taking time to think. She didn't want to hand her name out to someone she wasn't sure would or would not follow her into an alley and rob her or something. Ritz was sure she wasn't a cop anymore, cops didn't act like that, but it didn't make her any less uneasy.
"............Kaitlynn," she lied. But it didn't matter either way. If she was going to rob her it wasn't relevant, if she planned on tracking her down she wouldn't find anyone with that name, and if she saw her again? ...not likely. Endymion was a big city, Ritz never counted on seeing anyone twice.[/color]

Paranoia and fear were all Touko could see in the woman's eyes. They were a familiar sight, far too familiar as significant failings of human nature. It was one of the greatest motivators of human action and the greatest functioning cog in the law of causality. She calmly observed the girl, making nonchalant notes to herself of the exhibited behaviors with her lips sipping from the glass again. People driven by these emotions tended to be the irrational, yet interesting kind. There was a kind of desperate depravity for self-preservation that the Attendant enjoyed watching, there was something very entertaining to watch usually.


Kaitlynn, that was her name. But judging by "Kaitlynn's" behavior, it was transparent to Touko that it wasn't her real name. But she didn't mind enough to call her out on it. A desperate animal, when cornered, can and will attempt at irrational and unpredictable actions. Given that they were in Endymion, crawling with Cadets and Psyche Terrorist alike in this evening, it would normally be wise to not attract any attention to either of themselves.

Yet, there was something interesting about her. The redhead smirked and then began to rummage through her pockets before drawing out a small card. It was pure white and had detailed writing on it. She handed it to "Kaitlynn". It was a business card, complete with Touko's details. It also included her address and phone number. There was even a small map in the back with a red star to show where her establishment was located at.


Touko drained the last bit of her liquor and left it on the nearby table. The chair screeched as the weight began to lighten from her standing up. "If you wish to come and talk to me, it is up to you. I can see there's more to you than meets the eye. But, I will leave it at that tonight. May causality bring us both together again, Kaitylnn."

She then began to leave, allowing her some measure of space and freedom. Someone who was raised to fear her surroundings and to take extreme levels of precaution of her self-preservation usually are slow to trust. It's fine for Touko. She has all the time she wants, who cares if she had to wait for another decade? A century is nothing to her, after all.

She bought it. Good. Although that didn't matter much at all what she called her, Ritz would've declined to give her name if she saw that as realistic. As long as the ginger didn't have the real one. Not a lot of female asian guitarists named "Ritsuko". Not a lot of female asian guitarists period, at least not anymore after the world ended. But that still wasn't any better reason to give away her name. The less information on her out there the better, Ritz was content to fade into the background as she suffered through work during the day and drank herself to death at night. She'd come to Endymion for a purpose, a sort of calling, but maybe it was better to just be left the fuck alone to her own slow socially acceptable suicide. It was a thought that crossed her mind often. What is it all for?[/color] It didn't matter to anyone, no one but her, it was her life and she'd live by her own choices for better or worse. Every single time she chose to keep fighting, the reason she was still here in the first place. Both literally and figuratively. If she hadn't lain down and died already she'd take her chances in the Wasteland rather than being in this rat-infested city, at least there she could have the freedom to live how she wanted instead of by the Queen's rule. Stuffy bitch. Couldn't even handle music as a freedom of expression. On what kind of thin platform did you have to be propped up on to allow not even the slightest of grievances in your name? It was a sign of a fragile ego, a weak character, and Ritsuko wouldn't be bossed around by such a flimsy cunt with a crown.

She kept her eyes on the red head as she tried and failed and failed and failed again to light her cigarette in the breeze. Too bad. There wasn't a force in the world that could get her to drop Aoide in a pinch. Not threats, not nicotine withdrawal, not anything. Frowning deeply, her head would lilt to the side as she tucked the unlit fag behind her ear, taking a grand total of 3 attempts to get it up there. Her shaky eyes still did not leave the potential threat... or, rather, the general area of the potential threat. The drunken young lady had trouble focusing her vision in one specific spot for long. She'd assume that her "drinking buddy" was rifling through her pockets for another cigarette, but she'd find no help there. Ritsuko wasn't the sharing type, smokes were expensive enough as it was besides how large her personal space bubble was. Across the beer garden. Where she could keep a safe eye on her. But instead she produced... a card. The teeny alcoholic wouldn't approach even as she held it out, wobbling on unsteady feet as she kept her distance and hopefully her posture against the railing. Getting closer to an adversary wasn't something she felt up to, and besides, it would promise things. If Ritz had taken her card it would be a sure sign of future contact. That wasn't up to her. She'd make her own damn choices.

The small Japanese woman swayed and wilted in the cold and the chilling breeze as the orange lady instead found the table where she placed her drink a better place for the card. The young lady would freeze as the screech of chair legs graced the ground, finding sudden sobriety and gritting her teeth as she mentally prepared for anything. An attack, a snipe, a complaint, but none ever came. Just more talk. Promises of contact. Ritsuko was against that for self-preservation and anonymity reasons, but information was king on this battle ground. The more you knew, the more powerful you were. It's why the Psyche Terrorists were "persona non grata" right about now. Demons were understood. People? People could be frightening. People were unpredictable. The alcoholic guitarist didn't like them very much, she'd take Demons over other human beings any day of the week, that way she'd know what she was getting into. It's what kept her unfailing guard up, nobody could get an inch and she was down to her last mile. Even now, shitfaced and stupefied, Ritsuko's basic instincts and training and life lessons focused everything into her continued survival over acting like a plastered fool. It didn't matter if she couldn't think straight, keeping herself safe was muscle memory.

Her body stiffened when the red head pushed her chair back to stand. It was such a simple, innocent little action, but it left Ritz's chest heaving in anticipation. She couldn't know what to expect and it scared her, even if they were in public one couldn't be too careful. Not much for the antagonistic type, the ginger gave her some distance as she left with her parting message of meeting again. Ritsuko liked nothing about the situation but that wasn't news. She continued to stare lopsided daggers at the woman until she left her site.
"Tch, ffuck offf..." she'd mutter to herself, retrieving her stored cigarette from behind her ear and finally releasing her grip from her weapon to light the flammable bastard. Exhaling through her nose, she stumbled up to the card wedged firmly under her cocktail glass. After picking up th-... damnit, after picking up t- FUCKING HELL. After fucking finally picking up the goddamn slippery piece of hardback Ritz would inspect it and come to an important conclusion: she couldn't read the damn thing. Her eyes wouldn't focus long enough to actually take in letters and turn them into words. Effective Ortho? The fuck was that? In any case she'd hold onto it, not like it was going to hurt. But she'd been there long enough as it was. The night would be over soon, Metamorphoses already threw out its last call.

Ritsuko would wait a bit, smoking and sobering up some before attempting to head home. Besides, the streets were increasingly dangerous the more people were in it, everyone else could leave first. She'd stick around for a few. Getting jumped in an alley wasn't on her list of things to do that night.

Touko of The Hanged Man and Zayausu Ristuko of The Hermit have formed a Social Link.