04-16-2023, 09:48 PM
Stone face took a swing. Zixin’s laughter punched back, but his arms remained peacefully at his sides. He did duck though. He didn’t want to ruin his pretty face. Not so early in the day at least.
Before the Yakuza full on lost the rest of his mind, Zixin held out his palms as a sort of peace offering. His smirk didn’t die.
“Apologies, friend. I meant no disrespect to you or your lady. She is your lady, yes?” The girl was close, trying to disengage her companion from bloody violence. She was sweet as a flower, though. Perhaps a sister? Perhaps not.
The Yakuza was stilled by the surprising admission. Feminine coaxing retracted the muscles filling out his suit sleeves until his stance shifted. In recognition of safety, Zixin warily regained his feet. He dusted himself off, though it was primarily for show.
He glanced at the fat staffer behind the bar. “So that one’s spoken for. Got any others back there?” he laughed at their expense, but he did not truly expect a response.
The Russian grumbled about not running a whorehouse, which Zixin accepted with a doleful nod of the head.
“Fair enough!” he said, after which he paid for all the open tabs at the bar in gesture of good faith.
Yakuza guy was eyeing the door, though. He proudly ignored the woman’s checking on his welfare, but Zixin wasn’t ready to let this fish off the hook yet.
“Stay, stay,” he rounded on them, flashing a handsome smile at the lady despite her best effort to not meet his eye like the good japanese girl she was.
“It’s the least you owe me,” he said to the Yakuza.
Who immediately responded: “I owe you nothing.”
“Oh but you do, Korii-Kai An innocent mistake and you take a swing. We share a drink, if not a woman, and then your debt is discharged,” Zixin said with all the confidence of knowing how to manipulate honor. Certain that it would work, he held out a hand and his name filled the tension building between them.
“Zixin Kao,” he waited for a long moment for the man to shake his hand in return. If it wasn’t so bitterly given, Zixin might have laughed again.
“Kiyohito,” he replied and reluctantly followed him to a table.
Before the Yakuza full on lost the rest of his mind, Zixin held out his palms as a sort of peace offering. His smirk didn’t die.
“Apologies, friend. I meant no disrespect to you or your lady. She is your lady, yes?” The girl was close, trying to disengage her companion from bloody violence. She was sweet as a flower, though. Perhaps a sister? Perhaps not.
The Yakuza was stilled by the surprising admission. Feminine coaxing retracted the muscles filling out his suit sleeves until his stance shifted. In recognition of safety, Zixin warily regained his feet. He dusted himself off, though it was primarily for show.
He glanced at the fat staffer behind the bar. “So that one’s spoken for. Got any others back there?” he laughed at their expense, but he did not truly expect a response.
The Russian grumbled about not running a whorehouse, which Zixin accepted with a doleful nod of the head.
“Fair enough!” he said, after which he paid for all the open tabs at the bar in gesture of good faith.
Yakuza guy was eyeing the door, though. He proudly ignored the woman’s checking on his welfare, but Zixin wasn’t ready to let this fish off the hook yet.
“Stay, stay,” he rounded on them, flashing a handsome smile at the lady despite her best effort to not meet his eye like the good japanese girl she was.
“It’s the least you owe me,” he said to the Yakuza.
Who immediately responded: “I owe you nothing.”
“Oh but you do, Korii-Kai An innocent mistake and you take a swing. We share a drink, if not a woman, and then your debt is discharged,” Zixin said with all the confidence of knowing how to manipulate honor. Certain that it would work, he held out a hand and his name filled the tension building between them.
“Zixin Kao,” he waited for a long moment for the man to shake his hand in return. If it wasn’t so bitterly given, Zixin might have laughed again.
“Kiyohito,” he replied and reluctantly followed him to a table.