Sebastian

♣
♦
♥
♠

Sinclaire

[attr="class","FaustContent"]He shook his head in response to her question. "I...I don't know why I'm doing this."

He paused again to take another sip and exhale with shaky breath. "Y'know, I used to get jealous of all those heroes I used to read about to her. I wanted to be one just so that she'd look at me with that same...Look. She smiled at me all the time, but she had this, this look to her. It was admiration. She never looked at me like that, but I wanted her to."

His mood started to pick up as he imagined the look on Nise's face. It was like simply thinking of it was enough to lift his spirits. Then suddenly, he went back to an emotional mess. "But she never will. Yet, here I am at U.A. I want to keep that promise I made to her all those years ago. I do. I really do. But...How can I when I'm...me? I'm lazy. I'm a jackass. I'm screw-up. I know that I can do it if I just tried, but I just can't. It's just different without her. I figured that one day I'd find that fire—that reason to fulfill that promise..." In a sudden burst of emotion, he stood up and slammed his hands on the table, probably drawing a few eyes to him in the process. "What's the fucking point though!? Why am I trying to keep a promise to a dead girl!?"""

Sebastian

♣
♦
♥
♠

Sinclaire

[attr="class","FaustContent"]One of the responsibilities of a bartender is to establish rapport with whoever sits at your bar. You're not a therapist, but you have to stand there and listen to their sob stories as they drown their misery in alcohol. And while Sebastian was drinking and blowing puffs of smoke that quickly dissipated, he told a sob story of his own all. Tears were streaming down his face by the end of his trauma dump on the poor bartender.

"And so I just rocked her in my arms, singing the same lullaby my mama used to sing to me. It brought me just a tiny modicum of peace to pretend that she was just sleeping," he shook his head.

"Oh? Miss me already? I guess absinthe really does make the heart grow fonder," he said with a big ol' smirk on his face even though that joke doesn't work in Japanese. The tears were still on his face, streaming even more as he blinked his eyes several times. "Mmm. Okay, okay, I'll come back in just a bit."

He stood up from his seat and slapped the counter. "Long Island Iced Tea. Stat! ...Stat as in quickly not Stat as in Staten Island. That's a different thing probably."

And so a new horribly inappropriate idea popped in his head. Once he got his drink, he made his way over to the smoke lounge. As he passed by, he stopped to shove a drink into Jun's arms. "Here, I got you an iced tea," he said as he quickly walked by to leave it as her problem. "Thanks for leaving me hanging, by the way. I was supes dupes srs," he said as he walked on by.

"So, I take you inviting me back here means that you've reconsidered and that you will give me your number now, right?" he asked, Sumi.

Sebastian

♣
♦
♥
♠

Sinclaire

[attr="class","FaustContent"]Grease!? Yeah, that checks out. Sort of. Kind of. He was lazy—not a disgusting slob. He was greasy in the sense that he was a slimy, good-for-nothing piece of shit though! That's not contagious though. At least, so he liked to think. If it was, then he and Kioko would've definitely spread it to Renjirou.

"Oh boo, you're no fun, boo," he smirked, poking his finger at her nose but stopping just a centimeter short so that he could do that annoying little sibling thing where he could claim he wasn't touching her. "You really need to loosen up a bit. I mean, look at me: I just got hit by explosions and took a bat to the head, and I'm all loose, limber, and without a care in the world. If you keep stressing out, your hair will go white, and you'll get all sorts of wrinkles all over your almost-pretty face!"

After getting bored of poking the bear, he hunched over with his hands in his pocket, exaggerating his poor posture while walking with a skip in his step. "McDonald's though, really? Talk about cheap..." he grumbled. They say beggars can't be choosers, but damn it was Sebastian going to try. "Can't we do sushi since I was such a good boy today?"

Sebastian

♣
♦
♥
♠

Sinclaire

[attr="class","FaustContent"]Sumi Okita...Nope. That didn't ring any bells. Was it supposed to? It probably should've, but it didn't. Whatever. So what if she didn't come from a household name? She had a fucking yacht. That's rich enough for his liking. "No, the pleasure is all mine, Miss Okita. Lovely party, by the way. The yacht is quite the nice choice of scenery," he smiled.

Fuck. She's whispering to Freja. She's talking about him, isn't she? Fuck. Freja's whispering back. Fuck. This can't be good. Fuck. Freja's going to sell him out. Fuck. Why wouldn't she sell him out? Fuck. This is what he gets for being a jackass in the past. Fuck. AGHHHHHH, AND AFTER ALL THE EFFORT HE WENT THROUGH TO LOOK LIKE A TOOL! Fuck. Wait. Fuck. Freja just smiled at him. Fuck. What did that mean? Fuck. Did she lie? Fuck. Why would she lie!? Fuck. Freja struck him as a good-two-shoes with how she was quick to leap into action to try and save his sorry ass. Fuck. Does that also extend to being a wingman on demand? Fuck. Or was she just screwing with him by sending mixed signals so that he continues to make an ass out of himself!? Fuck. He had no idea! Fuck. Okay, he had two options: double down or come clean. Fuck.

"OKAY, YOU GOT ME!" he said, interrupting the conversation right after Freja asked her question. His dialect notably shifted to its old chaotic mess, and he took up his usual lackadaisical tone.

"Listen, I'm a lazy guy at heart. I don't like putting in more effort than necessary, and I'll probably end up throwing wanting to throw myself off the yacht if I go the whole night pretending to be some rich tool when you clearly already know that I'm a fraud. Since I've been caught, I'm just going to lay all my cards on the table: I want your number, Su."

With all that said, it was time to loosen the fuck up. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair until his hair was back to being its usual disheveled mess, untucked his shirt, and loosened his tie so that it'd hang like a necklace.

Sebastian

♣
♦
♥
♠

Sinclaire

[attr="class","FaustContent"]If Sebastian had a nickel for every time that he wandered into trouble while doing seemingly innocuous things within the last month, he'd have three nickels which still wouldn't be enough to buy a six-pack of beer. Now doesn't that suck? As much as he'd love a six-pack right about now, he wasn't exactly sure that he wanted to roll into danger several more times to afford it.

Whelp, if this was how it was going to be, why not just let it happen, y'know? If life was going to insist on knocking him down at every turn as some sort of punishment for being the way that he was, then fuck it. It's time to get off this bitch of a planet. It's not like anything else was going well for him anyway what with the whole no job, no house, his shoddy school grades, and no future prospects.

"All right. Let's get this over with," he groaned, slowly standing up.

Back on his feet, he spread his arms wide open to greet death with a loving embrace. Finally, he'd be free from this mortal coil! Or so he thought... Yeah, he got shot. A lot. It hurt. A lot. But he lived. A lot. Laying back on the ground after taking a few bullets, he looked up to the sky. "Son of a bitch..." he muttered.

Last he checked, bulletproof wasn't one of his superpowers, so that bitch definitely wasn't packing real firearms. Disappointing. "Seriously!? What was that? C'mon, I just wanted you to kill me quick, so I could hurry the hell off to that eternal dirt nap. God I love naps...Can ya cool it with the guns now? If it's not actual bullets, I'd rather you just quit and split. You got anything else to kill me with?"