luckless | [RYSLIG] IC Inbox

[The mer that he seeks is, at first glance, nowhere to be found. The konbini is decidedly empty, even at the counter, where human staff might have normally made post. The emptiness might have been a tad bit creepy too, were it not for the bright and cheery music playing throughout the empty store. Could Komaeda have forgotten their meeting time?

Well, if Diavolo is given enough time—which he is, as minutes pass without nary a merperson showing himself—he might assume that Komaeda has forgotten. Minutes more might pass after that thought, until Diavolo might wonder to himself if this is some manner of blessing to get out of his spur of the moment mistake...

But it would be right when he might be considering leaving, that a very loud crash is heard behind a door labeled: Employees Only! Please do not enter :). Well, Diavolo is not yet an employee, and there seems to have been some sort of accident on the other side... Does he dare break the rules and disappoint that smiley face to go through the door? Or is this No Longer His Problem, and leave?]

Edited 2023-01-15 03:50 (UTC)

[His ears are not sensitive in his usual form, but the crash is loud even by human standards. It jolts Diavolo from his quiet wandering, and in the process he nearly drops a neatly packaged sugary confectionery he was scrutinizing. That goes back on the shelf, if a bit more roughly than needed, and Diavolo sets to the source of the noise, static buzzing at his fingertips.

If this is somehow a setup, if the intention here is to catch him off guard — he will not be fooled. He finds the door and the polite message written on it, and he weighs his options heavily. If a threat lies beyond it, he has several ways out. So intently, he considers the potentials and his own methods of escape. What he does not consider is backing down now.

Despite all his thought, it does not occur to him that the noise could ever have been accidental.

So he does not bother to knock. He tries the door, and — slowly, gently, quietly — he opens it and pokes his head in. He still does not announce his presence. Best not to draw attention.]

[The sight that greets Diavolo, at first, might very well be a trap. After all, the room behind the door is just a normal employee break room! There's a small table with three folding chairs around it, a row of tall lockers sitting behind it, likely for employees to put their belongings in when they work or change shifts, and some boxes that...

Oh.

The boxes have very clearly fallen over, and likely are the source of the crash sound. For the most part, they mostly look like boxes full of locally sourced goods: fliers, pamphlets, some specially printed lottery tickets, and so on. All in all, everything looks rather... nondescript.

Until the boxes move and, underneath them, a muted groan can be heard... Whatever could be under them?]

[Diavolo is used to occasional clumsiness — the clatter of objects falling, the thump of a body colliding with the ground, the soft groans of pain that come after. At home, it would not be an entirely unfamiliar sight. So when he sees the scene before him, he quickly pieces together a story.

Oddly, it puts him marginally more at ease. This is something he can deal with, something not far displaced from his usual daily life. Not an interview, not a job, just ... a reasonable interaction, in a room he has no right to be in just yet. Who could fault him, though? Komaeda has not shown his face; it is only fair that he seeks the mer out. Perhaps it is him buried beneath this pile.

Diavolo opens the door wider, moves in with a duck and asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice:]

Is everything alright?

[For a moment, there is no further sound nor rustling from under the pile. Perhaps the wait had actually crushed whomever was beneath those many boxes of assorted konbini goods?

But the sound of approaching footsteps manages to stir them and, albeit weakly, the pile begins to jostle. Whomever is under it is still alive, and conscious, and trying to escape ramen-cup hell. Dramatically, a clawed and vibrantly yellow-scaled hand bursts from the pile, waving wildly in the air for the other to come closer to help.]

Sleepless-san...? I, Is that you?

[He clearly doesn't sound dead, even if his voice is rasping from all the wind knocked out of his lungs. He's still flopping his arm around, trying to find purchase to claw his way out; but the struggle itself seems to only settle the boxes on top of him, rather than knocking them off.

Perhaps Diavolo could be kind enough to lift some of these off?]

It is.

[Closer, still, Diavolo approaches the disarray with a curious expression fixed on his face. So this is the one, then? Nagito Komaeda, the mer who'd so boldly threatened him on the network (and it was a threat, it could not be read as anything but), buried under a pile of the very goods he intends to sell. No wonder he was reaching out for help. Is he here all alone?

A pause, and then, as explanation:]

You kept me waiting. To think I believed you'd been doing it intentionally.

[A stretch down, and he lifts a particularly weighty box with ease. Somewhere near the head, hopefully, lest Komaeda suffocate in his self-inflicted tomb before this meeting can even begin.]

I, I'm...sorry—!

[Comes the apology, before the box is relieved from his back. Once it is, however, Komaeda is able to get just enough leverage to not be crushed, but is definitely still buried, under the pile. It's also enough to bring some air into his lungs; and slowly, he twists and wiggles his way through the cardboard grave until the top of his anemone-like head is poking out, followed by the rest of his fishy face.]

I was doing some cleaning, but while dusting I fell backwards into these stacked boxes...

[He manages to laugh, despite the situation, and the sound of it is bright and cheerful.]

Imagine my luck... slipping on nothing and nearly getting crushed to death! Thank you for coming to my rescue, Sleepless-san.

[The merperson Diavolo has spent the most time around is Marco Evangelisti, and, from the brief physical description he received on the network, he was expecting Komaeda to be similar in appearance. Scaled, perhaps, and bright yellow — but still undoubtedly human beneath it all. So when the mer wriggles free and bares all his fangs in a menacing, bug-eyed smile, it takes great effort to keep the initial wave of revulsion from reaching his face. Komaeda may speak gently and have a cheery laugh, but it is impossible to forget for even a moment that he is a monster.]

It happens to the best of us.

[Is this really what he's doing with his time? Entertaining the idea of a job at a convenience store of all places? Too many nights spent alone have driven him to madness. That is the only explanation for any of this. He should have walked out when he wasn't properly met, when he heard the tumbling and crashing of the boxes, when he found his would-be boss helpless on the ground. Is this what he's been reduced to? He doesn't have time for this. It's so far beneath him it's disgusting.

But he can't stand another sleepless night spent with only his thoughts for company.]

"Diavolo", if you would prefer my name.

[There, while Komaeda is still half-buried. If there's a single hint of recognition on that fishy face, it gives him plenty of time to leave unharmed. As always, when he gives it out, he stares intently in search of the slightest twitch of expression. He has far too many enemies, too many people who could have spread his name.]

Edited 2023-01-20 22:18 (UTC)

[Komaeda might argue that this level of bad luck doesn't happen to most people. That his experiences are by far an outlier—but how could he possibly argue first thing with a prospective employee? Even if he is prone to horrible bouts of luck that, quite frankly, shouldn't be possible even now within Ryslig, he isn't about to make that this guy's issue.

Rather, he pushes aside his own hangups with his luck, and instead answers what he could only assume to be pity with the sound of an indolent, humorless laugh.

That laugh is, quite quickly, followed by a smile that looks a bit more genuine at finally receiving a proper introduction. Though it would be hard to tell otherwise, what with the distinct lack of humanoid facial cues to Komaeda's expression, he doesn't recognize the name at all. In fact, more than the name, the more he looks at Diavolo, the more the guy sort of... reminds him of someone.]

Diavolo-kun! It's nice to meet you.

[His reply is chipper as ever, and he doesn't give his name back because, well, Diavolo already knows it!]

Um... I'm sorry to trouble you, but... Do you mind helping me up?

[With no spark of recognition, Diavolo can begin to settle. With the introduction complete, the most unbearable part of this ordeal is surely over. Things can only go smoothly from here. He will ace this "interview", he will prove his worth and then he will never have to spend a night in dreary silence again.

And then Komaeda asks for help up.

The urge to leave returns with a vengeance. He nearly drops the box at the thought — there, right on Komaeda's head. It may not be a fatal blow, but it'd be enough to distract the mer for long enough for Diavolo to make his escape.

But that would be the coward's way out, wouldn't it? He's already come so far, and so he catches himself.

With a tilt of his head to break eye contact and a bite to his lip to disguise his immediate grimace, he takes a moment to neatly deposit the box somewhere it might belong. And then another moment to recuperate and steel himself. And then he turns his attention back to Komaeda.

Very well. He reaches a hand out as boldly as he can given the circumstances. Touch is still an intensely foreign concept to him; though it may not cause him physical pain, he cannot shake the the feeling that mere skin contact might as well burn him or cause him to break out into hives or both. Burning, he thinks, may even be preferable to this. Alas. His arm is stretched out all the way, and, helpfully, he advises:]

You really should be more careful. What would have become of you if I had not shown up?

[Take it. Take his hand so this can be done and over with. It's easier to cope with, at least, if he pretends he is touching a fish and not a person.]

[Diavolo offers his hand with a perceptible amount of measured hesitation, and though Komaeda notices this, makes note of it even, he has no issue with immediately freeing his own hand to take it. The hand that meets Diavolo's skin, however, is not scaly nor is it yellow. It's smooth, cold metal, completely robotic, and has a vice-grip much stronger than Komaeda's would normally be as he pulls himself out of the pile by the connection of their hands.

Once successfully freed from the avalanche of boxes, Komaeda properly dusts himself off and gives his apron a few good pats before immediately turning his smiling face towards the mess at hand. Immediately, he stoops down to, weakly, pick up and restack the boxes.]

I probably would've died, to be honest! [He grunts between lifts, and when he sets one box down, it's with enough pause to laugh.] It wouldn't be the first time, but... It would have been pretty inconvenient.

So I'm glad you made good on your word, Diavolo-kun! You saved me~

[The touch of cold metal to Diavolo's skin is preferable to the slime he imagined. He takes it in stride — there's the slightest wince at the unexpected sensation (he couldn't bear to watch), but otherwise he looks relatively unbothered.

This carefree air ... it's an unusual attitude for the owner of a business. Komaeda fails to meet any of his expectations, but instead of being off-putting, it's almost a relief. This, he thinks, is vastly better than having orders barked at him or being treated like a simple, mindless employee-to-be. This sort of menial work may be undignified for someone like him, but he assists with the boxes regardless. He hefts them with ease.]

The most humiliating deaths, I find, are the ones that sting the hardest. "Inconvenient" is quite the understatement.

[He does not know what a kun is and he is not about to ask. He just averts his gaze, hoping it that the sentiment isn't anything overtly-familiar. From the tone of Komaeda's voice, he fears that it might be.]

Of course. I would not have backed down on my promise.

[A complete and utter lie, but Komaeda does not need to know that.]

[Komaeda would deign to sympathize with Diavolo's statement, but the fact of the matter is that humiliation is hardly a feeling felt so much as it is one that is comfortably there at the back of his mind, like a shadow looming. Overwhelming self loathing easily dwarfs any humiliation he might experience, and for the most part, dying is hardly shameful for him. Almost every death he's endured has been for a purpose, even if that purpose wasn't one of his own making.

But it wouldn't be right to foist his feelings on the matter right onto the shoulders of a guy who both hardly knows him, and just helped him out of a rather dangerous predicament. That, and he's still doing well to remember Riley's advice of thinking before speaking.]

It makes me happy to hear that, you know! The ability to keep your word is an admirable trait in an employee... [He laughs again, short and sweet,] saying something like that really makes me sound like a business owner, huh?

Still, I appreciate you showing interest in our little store. It's not much, but this was my friend's hope, so it's important to me to have the right people working here.

[Komaeda grunts as he hefts another box up, and honestly, it's questionable whether monster strength might really be a thing for him or not. He seems to struggle with the same capacity as an unathletic human. When he sets it into the stack, he pauses for a moment and turns to look back at the nephilim, one finger hooked into the collar of his shirt to flap some air through it, and cool him down.]

I can already tell you're a good guy, Diavolo-kun!

[That bit of praise floors Diavolo, and all he can do is glance away so Komaeda does not see the look that crosses his face in response. "A good guy?" That is not remotely how he would describe himself — but he will maintain the illusion as long as he can. He has nothing to lose from it, after all — aside from perhaps a bit of pride. But that had crumpled to pieces long ago, hadn't it? Long before he set foot inside these walls...?

Regardless. It is nice to be appreciated, and Komaeda's words bolster his ego. He finds himself relaxing more, stretching his wings out instead of holding them protectively against himself. The work is tedious and it's disturbingly mundane, but he continues on. Another box, and another, and another. It occurs to him, for a moment, that he is not actually employed here, at least not yet — but first impressions are so vital.

He is already succeeding at this impression, but there's no harm in sweetening this conversation and turning it further in his favor. Some respond so well to compliments. Doppio certainly does. Those come easily sincerely; what Diavolo says next is far more forced, but, again ... Komaeda does not need to know that.]

Your network post drew my attention. Your enthusiasm was palpable in every reply you wrote. This clearly means a lot to you.

[Another lie. The post only caught his eye because he was out of his mind in solitude and boredom and it struck at precisely the right time. This sort of work seemed nonthreatening enough to pursue — not like other businesses in search of security or bodyguards or the like. Here, at least, he can cling to hope that the wrong person will not wander in and he will not one day find himself reduced to a smear on the floor in the line of duty.]

It's truly admirable.

[It's a convenience store.]

A friend's hope, you say?

[Steering the topic to something more comprehensible...]

[For all the success Diavolo has gained throughout this interaction, just by being a decent and good guy, he'll find that direct praise seems to put an awkward air between them. Komaeda stiffens, just a bit, as he continues to stack boxes in silence. He isn't sure what to make of such kind words, or how genuine they might be. Something like this is only natural, he thinks, when you want to honor a friend's memory.

He did it for a year and a half at Insert Coin, and he's doing it again, as if it were nothing. Mukuro, too, minded the Kit-Tea-Kat cafe in Lila's absence, who only ever took it over from Regulus.]

I don't think it's admirable. [Komaeda interjects, with his words firm but his tone passive, and without looking in the other's direction.] In Ryslig, that's just what happens. People come and go, and what they leave behind is taken care of by others...

When you have friends, or people you love, it's only obvious you'll want to hold onto what was important to them. In case they come back, or... if they never come back.

[Either way, it's something that feels necessary. It's nothing admirable, nothing so chivalrous. It's just what you do.]

I'm sure if one of your friends left Ryslig, Diavolo-kun, you would want to hold onto their things too. It's like... a physical memory of them. It's just sentimentality.

[RYSLIG] IC Inbox

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man what IF he just left. #bye

Komaeda wouldn't even hold it again him tbh

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sat here wondering if diavolo would know anything about japanese honorifics. he would be offended

Komaeda calling an adult man by kun is peak friendship in his own book ok

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, NAGITO KOMAEDA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 004.28.777.00 * MrBrightside has joined 004.28.777.00 <MrBrightside> Hello there! This is Komaeda. <MrBrightside>** I'm grateful that you want to talk to me.