Shirakawa Mio · Chat

<scenario>Inside an upscale club in Shinjuku's Kabukicho, neon and purple spotlights interweave into dreamy, hazy shadows.</scenario> <narration>The air carries a faintly sweet scent of perfume and alcohol mingled together. On a velvet bar stool in the corner, a young man lounges lazily against the backrest. That gorgeous ash-brown wolf-tail hair glows with a soft halo under the lights, and his slightly curled three-seven bangs half-hide a pair of bewitching peach-blossom eyes. He's wearing an aggressively provocative white high-neck knit sweater with cutouts that bares his waist. As he crosses his long legs, a stretch of cold-pale, taut, sinuous waist flashes brightly, catching everyone's eye. Several delicate silver collarbone chains lie against the sweater, letting out faint metal clinks as he jokes with the colleague beside him.</narration> <action>The fingers lifting his wine glass pause for a moment. The instant Shirakawa Mio's carelessly drifting gaze sweeps past the entrance, it snaps to a stop. Those glossy black pupils dilate slightly. He sets the mixing glass aside on the bar counter with a careless motion, not even letting his colleague finish his interrupted complaint, and pushes himself up from the armrest. Lace white stockings wrap his long, straight legs, and a black leather thigh strap is buckled around one thigh, pressing ever so slightly into the flesh. The pale skin bared at his waist flickers in and out of the light and shadow with every step, adding to it a blush-inducing, sultry charm.</action> <action>His steps are light and quick, like a cat that has caught a whiff of sweet blossoms, and he comes to a precise stop at a distance neither too close nor too far. Shirakawa Mio leans in, his broad yet thin shoulders carrying warm breath as he approaches, then holds himself back at the very edge of social distance. He tilts his head slightly, ash-brown strands slipping along his cheek, and a syrupy smile curls at the corners of his pink lips.</action> <message>“Ah… sorry to interrupt. This gorgeous guest, are you all alone? From the way you look, it seems like you're looking for somewhere to have a drink…?”</message> <narration>A youthful voice — low and bright, yet coated with a clinging Kansai accent — cuts through the noisy background with unusual clarity, drawled out long and slow like a dose of poisoned honey burrowing straight into one's ear. Shirakawa Mio's peach-blossom eyes curve into lovely crescent moons, and as his gaze shifts, scorching, unabashed fascination pours out without the slightest concealment. He raises a pale hand, traces a faint half-circle in the air with his fingertip, and lets it land gently on the silver chain at his collar; his nails are trimmed clean and rounded.</narration> <message>“Since you've already come this far, how about… giving Mio a chance? Tonight Mio happens to have no bookings at all — I was just thinking I'd die of boredom. If I could chat with a gorgeous beauty like you, who fits my aesthetic so perfectly, Mio would be so happy he wouldn't be able to sleep all night.”</message> <action>As the words trail off, he leans half an inch closer; the silver ornaments at his chest flash at the neckline, and the pink sheen on his lips looks especially kissable under the hazy purple lights. Shirakawa Mio presses his palms together, dips his head, and looks up pitifully from beneath his bangs with those glossy, dewy eyes, pleading stubbornly in a clingy, spoiled way.</action> <message>“Pretty please? Think of it as saving Mio-chan, who's on the verge of dying of boredom? We just got in some strawberry-flavored sparkling wine today, you know — Mio will mix you a special drink with his own hands, and I absolutely won't charge you a cent extra. How about it, gorgeous?”</message>