interstellar5555 | party rock is in the house tonight

Entry tags:

party rock is in the house tonight

Who: Osamu Dazai, and YOU!
What: A man about town being a man about town, i.e. various prompts and excitement where our intrepid rescuer sets himself up to be an intrepid hot mess.
When: 3/28-3/31
Where: An alleyway, a bar, and snooping around some music stores.
Warnings: Alcohol and possible discussion or use of drugs. Possible suicide mentions. As always please fill out this content warning post with regard to that if desired. Thanks!!

alley cat blues
Dazai is the sort of guy who can be subtle or not, and switch with such ease that it's almost scary. This is one of those more subtle days. He's been surreptitiously tailing anyone he finds interesting, and succeeding grandly at looking inconspicuous and like he's just there, not following at all. How about that? Although this time, he might (deliberately) get caught near one of the other rescuers, around whom he's much less cautious. Why them? Well, he's a pinch hitter right now until he finds his own target for rescuing. Sure, it's a group effort, but none of the musicians are interesting on the surface. He has to figure them out, whittle them down to what's real and what's imagined. Fun stuff. No, seriously, he thinks it's fun.

Musicians may get a little taste of what seems like a fan who simply seems too shy to ask for an autograph. This is the Dazai laying in wait. And looking kind of cute in his fedora and loose shirt and hole-y jeans. What's up with the bandages on his neck, chest, and arms? He'll never tell!~

barring disaster
Okay, so this one's a little less subtle in intent. The same Dazai, same week, can then be found in the later evenings at a different bar each night. One night, class and charm turned on in the glittering establishment for those post-work cocktails, where he'll compliment you gently with a soft smile and interested eyes.

The next, a little honky-tonk kind of place with dancing and loud music. He only participates in the line dancing once, but it seems to amuse him to no end, and he makes a valiant attempt to shove you out into the fray. His eyes sparkle with mischief and dullness at once.

Another night, and he's at a bustling, small place, loud and smoky and god knows what's going on because it's so chaotic. Here's where he'll shout that your fly is unzipped, whether true or not, and hand you a beer for no reason. Careless and jovial, there's still something about the way he looks at you that says he's watching every move you make.

The last night. The crazy night. Loud again, but in a place infamous enough that one wouldn't suspect a guy like him to even be let in. He's all scruff and carelessness, and they're all the cream of the crop when it comes to throwing money at nothing. Who knows what goes on in the back? For now, he's at the bar, poking around a weird residue on the counter while looking visibly intoxicated. Maybe you're about to get herded to the back for a talk.

disc jockey
If there's anything Dazai loves, it's music! Okay, not necessarily--some of these bands are really shitty in his opinion (sorry folks!). He stands around at the music store, or listening to various people's music--he's pulling headphones off heads and tuning in for a second before excusing himself and taking them back--sampling the wares, as it were, of each famous group. He's settled on his weird favorite, of course, but it's generally considered good form to get to know the brainwashed folks' art form. Maybe he can start unraveling things from there. With all the appearance in this case of a cloud cuckoolander, there's little one can do but stare. Or have your headphones absconded with for a brief moment.

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It makes sense, he is a musician in his world still. "Fitting in well enough." He rubs the back of his neck, "Back before I started recording," but the faces and names are all a blur. "I guess it's a hobby now. Kept me out of the house, fed, and clothed before the label started covering that stuff." He plunges his hands into his pockets, "how do I know you're not going to plaster this in some tabloid?" He doesn't seem to actually be that worried. He'd given Dazai enough material already that it doesn't matter.

"Because I did a line and a half of cocaine with you--yes, I know you shorted me, I forgive you--and I'm simply not the literary type." Trust him, if he wanted to ruin anything he'd do it so quickly, efficiently, and ruthlessly that the involved party wouldn't know what hit them. Well, they would, but they might be scarred for life. All he does is keep an eye to their sides to make sure no one is coming.

"If you like it, fine, but you're so thirsty, it's kind of sad. I really thought you had it in for me for a second, there." There's a long silence as he looks Shin over. There has to be a way he can figure this out... "Where're you originally from? That's slipping my mind."

He's about to answer smoothly, but the name gets stuck in his throat.

He tries desperately to grasp for the name of his home town, but is slammed with a throbbing headache that made it a lot more frightening to be able to feel his heart racing. He puts a hand to his head, confused by the pain.

Why can't he fucking remember where he's from? Something with a To... he thinks. Maybe.

Well, Shin looks... maybe he's half? Dazai settles on that; his world is a little fussy itself with such things, but the kid's pretty clearly mixed something. It's a hint, a clue. He files it away.

"Careful. Don't hurt yourself." In the alleyway, his voice echoes, even as low as it is. He knows they could very well be followed at any minute, couldn't they? By label flunkies, he's noticed, that follow them all from time to time. If that happens, he'll either have to casually flee, or cause problems. Meh. Annoying.

"Where's your family from?"

That's not coming to mind either, at least not at first, but then he gets something, "Japana". Technically a part of Americana here.

The feeling's starting to fade and he takes a few deep breaths. "I should probably go."

"Oh!" Dazai smiles. "I've been there. Nice place." He's from "there". He's being like that again. Obfuscating the world. But he frowns a little at the dismissal.

"Really? I promised you a lot of things and I didn't deliver on any of them yet."

Shin's starting to feel a bit more back to normal. "It's great, yeah," he says non-committally. He doesn't need to think hard to know he hated it, and he's not bothering to actually hide that from his expression.

He doesn't want to ditch Dazai, but with the way he keeps feeling like a knife is going into his brain with the guy's questions, it just made him want to flee.

"Nice to me, at least. Not nice to you. Drove you to everything you shouldn't be doing." He drums his hands on the wall behind him, then crosses his arms. "We're a product of our environments. You were destined to be a rock star, weren't you? Were you around music a lot, or is this more recent?"

Dazai won't let him flee. Not yet. Just... Has to keep at it.

"Always." Remembering that doesn't seem to be hurting him. He says it with clear conviction. "I didn't grow up with it, but I found it, and... I couldn't give it up. It's as good as sex. Or cocaine." He leans more against the wall, again, looking in pain, "I... can't remember who they were, but their music.... His music." He's shaking a bit now, but takes a few deep breaths. "I don't know what the fuck is happening."

"Sex is trivial, and you're not good at cocaine yet. It's not too late to stop." Smiling, he waits out that pained look. "Your music, though, that's the key. That's where we'll find you."

Talking about music hurts him as much as the other things, which logically means being a musician or enthusiast thereof was a component of his previous life. This is, of course, taking these moments of pain as evidence that he's trying to fight the influence of his captors.

"See, you're so bad at the coke, you're about to fall over. Stay with me, Shin."

He straightens and steps back, on his guard, "I was fine until you started prodding. Maybe I'm just not eager to be thinking about my fucked up family while high as a kite."

"I'm not prodding." Yes he is. "I'm making polite conversation with someone who just tried to have sex with me in exchange for shoes, so let's not be too hasty." He's a master interrogator, please do not make him use that. Eh, just kidding. He'll sooner use it on the label people than on a pure, innocent thing like Shin.

"As for your family, I'll leave that one be. My bad."

Shin sighs, looking to Dazai with a bit of a pathetic look. "Well, I told you about myself," and even though he's sticking around, that has a bit of a sense of finality to it.

"That's it? That's all there is to you? Favorite brand? Favorite color? Favorite vacation spot?" He makes it sound somewhere between enthralled curiosity and bland disinterest. Both, yet neither. He's still angling...

"Vivienne Westwood, blue, any party." He seems to be starting to get annoyed. He almost breaks his cigarette as he pulls it out, "You could find that shit out if you read almost any magazine that has an article on us. If you're done, I'm going."

"Not done." He puts one bandaged arm out and Shin really better stop. He doesn't want it to get ugly. It's not a threatening move, though. Looks a little more ah, please! than commanding.

"What shade of blue?" That's oddly specific. "Curious. Mine's actually aquamarine." He smiles. "I don't read that teenybopper drivel."

Shin stops but doesn't turn around, "The same colour as my hair. Now leave me alone." He hesitates, but tries to walk away again.

Edited 2016-04-03 09:53 (UTC)

"If I told you I could give you everything you ever wanted, would you still walk away?" He says it with sincerity and a dangerous edge. There's truth in his words. "Or nothing at all. I will give you something no one else can, and if I do say so myself, it's a pretty good deal."

His hand drops to his side. One more chance. He doesn't want to have to push this yet.

He grimaces before turning around, "You have two minutes, and then I'm going."

"I'd go through the dramatic introduction again, but I think you're too out of it to care. Everything you know, everything you remember that doesn't seem right, tell me about it. I will make it well worth your time." He smiles. "I can change your life. I, too, had a misspent youth." A pause... "I'll also get you to good stuff if you do this, low cost. Fair's fair. You won't even have to sleep with me."

Shin sighs, "Can I do this when I'm sober?" Not that there was much time of that, but he'd make some extra time just for Dazai. "I'll give you my number."

Bingo. A win.

"Please." He pulls out a card of his own, with the simple English spelling of his name and some vague contact info. It seems to indicate a drop location, as well.

"As for my part... Pick your poison." A call back to earlier, if Shin will recall.

Shin grins at that, "Arsenic."

He writes out his number- his actual number, and early evening tomorrow, Shin plans on getting in touch.

Before that he's going to do another line and grab the motorcycle he is leasing from the label and going to be a total idiot. Again.

At least he won't crash this time.

Bless. He likes this kid already, insofar as he can like anyone. Kinda reminds him of a less ~~useful~~ sane Atsushi. Dazai flips the card over in an interested fashion before tucking it away in his jacket.

So tomorrow, when it rolls around, he's waiting for a call/text/communique of some description. The phone sits on the table before him, and he leans over to stare at it, hands on knees... He's been like this for a few minutes.

It isn't until early evening that Shin has time to himself, but when he does, he gives Dazai a call, "You wanted to meet somewhere?"

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