948/Neither Friend Nor Foe

Neither Friend Nor Foe
Date of Scene:	30 January 2016
Location:	Uminari City - Residential District
Synopsis:	The day before Walpurgisnacht, Masato Sanjouin comes back into Makoto's life. Neither she nor Nephrite is prepared for the consequences.
Cast of Characters:	Makoto Kino, Nephrite

---

Makoto Kino has posed:
By Friday afternoon, the massive storm that's building out over the Pacific is pouring rain over Tokyo in thick, wind-gusted sheets, from a sky so dark with clouds that it's almost as though evening is falling early. It's a miserable day to be anywhere but safely indoors, and anyone with sense is hurrying to get in out of the weather as quickly as possible.

Makoto wouldn't have gone out at all, but Walpurgisnacht looming ever closer and the storm turning worse and worse, she came to the unhappy conclusion that she'd better go out and pick up a few emergency supplies before the other shoe dropped. Now, holding her bag close to her body and hunkering her shoulders underneath her long pink coat, she's forging her way doggedly homeward through the downpour under the dubious shelter of a large green umbrella.

When an especially fierce gust catches her umbrella hard enough to nearly jerk it out of her hands, Mako bites back a swear. The feeling of voices almost audible in the wind has only grown stronger as the storm has worsened - by now she can almost pick out words, a nigh-hysterical clamor of warning.

Nephrite has posed:
A figure, blurred through the sheets of rain, slumps against the wall of a building. There is something familiar in the way the tall man leans, but the dark brown hair sticking to his face in wet tendrils makes it difficult to tell. Before she can get a clear look at him, he stumbles around the corner, a hand clutching his side, into a narrow alleyway.

Makoto Kino has posed:
In the midst of wrestling with her umbrella as it does its best to metamorphose into a kite, Makoto catches sight of that indistinct figure just in time for him to duck out of sight into the alley.

It stops her, but only for a moment. The faint sense of familiarity might be a trick of the rain and her own preoccupied thoughts, but there was no mistaking the way that he carried himself, even in just that brief glimpse, as anything but distress.

Someone in need of help? Or a predator feigning weakness? Either way, there's no way that she can leave it alone.

Getting a firmer grip on the handle of her umbrella, Makoto moves forward toward the alleyway, concern and caution warring with one another on her face and in her stance as she comes around the corner of the building for a look.

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite sinks to the muddy ground. The rainwater soaks through his navy blue Bottega suit (not his most expensive suit by far, but not his least--he can hardly be considered a credible actor if he is unwilling to destroy something of value), which is already torn and bloodied in places.

He can sense Kino's energy through the rain--somehow, in fact, it feels amplified in this storm--and he has to hope that she will take the bait, and that he did not just sit in a mud puddle for no good reason.

There are many riddles that Nephrite is seeking the answers to. Not the least of which is why Sailor Jupiter, of all people, could be concerned for his wellbeing. He suspected, before his extended stay in the witch's labyrinth, that Makoto Kino might have had some connection to his enemies. He had planted the seed of using her to get to them before he left. Perhaps that seed had come to something. Perhaps there was still some use he can get out of her, after all this time.

The asteroid Astraea is in Leo today, hovering close to Regulus. A feeling of injustice, hovering close to a star that could represent success--or ultimate failure. Nephrite likes his odds.

He curls into a ball, clutching at his side, which looks convincingly bloodied. As Makoto nears, he lets out a small, piteous moan.

Makoto Kino has posed:
The small noise of startled dismay that leaves Makoto at the sight of him is half lost to the rain; all caution forgotten, she crosses the remaining distance between them in a quick flurry of steps. The umbrella tips forward to shield him from the rain as she kneels down at his side and tries to gauge the severity of his injuries through the mess. "What happened? Hey, can you--"

Whatever she was going to ask is cut short in a sharp intake of breath - she's finally close enough to recognize him, and her face is, briefly, a study of complicated emotions. "--Sanjouin-san."

This is not at all how Mako had vaguely imagined that this meeting might go.

Nephrite has posed:
He tracked her here. Five months in hell, and he still knows the feel of her energy signature as surely as the back of his hand. Nephrite could spend all day wondering why he finds her so memorable, but he would rather spend that time making use of his knowledge instead.

He blinks up at her, speaking through shaky breaths. "Kino-san? Fancy meeting you here."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto stares.

Rain hammers down on the umbrella, splashing all around them while Mako kneels there, momentarily speechless, the undescribable expression on her face shifting into a look of wide-eyed incredulity when he tries for a casual greeting. Her mouth works once or twice before she actually manages to come up with anything to say.

"...what the hell."

A second later her breath hisses out through her teeth. Ever since her encounter with Kunzite she's been half anticipating and half dreading seeing Sanjouin again, reminding herself over and over that she can't trust him, that he's Dark Kingdom, that he lied. All of that wars now with how utterly pathetic he looks, drenched and muddy and looking rather like he's been mauled by something large and vicious. She can't reconcile it.

Beware, howls the wind; beware, beware.

One thing's for sure - they can't stay out here. Mako's hand comes up to press over her eyes for a moment, and then she lifts her head, coming to a decision. "How bad is it?" she asks. "Do you think you can stand?"

Nephrite has posed:
Amusement, creased with pain, crosses his features. "That pleased to see me?" He laughs weakly before stopping with a wince. "I suppose I deserve that."

His eyes are a warm brown as he looks at her, all amusement dying. "I can stand, but... perhaps it would be best if you do not concern yourself with me. I have caused you enough distress already."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"Don't be ridiculous." Makoto's reply is immediate, unreasoned. "I'm not just going to leave you here to get washed away. Come on."

It takes a little bit of fussing to rearrange the shoulder strap of her bag, but soon enough she has an arm free, and tucking the umbrella's handle briefly into the crook of the other she makes to help him onto his feet. For all the wary reserve on her face, she's trying to be careful of his injuries.

"...besides," she adds presently, voice a little quieter, "there are some things I need to say to you."

Nephrite has posed:
Gratefully leaning against her for support, he stands, slowly. He leans his weight on her, just a little, to give her the sense that he is actually in need of help, and is surprised to note how strong she seems, for a human.

"I suppose you have questions. I... am not certain how much I can answer for you. But I will do what I can. It is the least I can do for you, Kino-san."

The ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "Do not think I have forgotten the eclairs.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Indeed, Makoto has no real difficulty supporting as much of his weight as he's willing to lean on her, even with her shopping bag and the umbrella to juggle. She straightens up onto her feet as he stands and she waits, squared and steady, until he seems to have gotten his balance enough to walk.

"Not right now," she says with a little shake of her head, carefully not looking at him as she steers him out of the alley. Conflict is written all over her face as she glances along the street, one way and the other, thinking hard.

She can't trust him, she reminds herself again. Even if he's really in as bad a shape as he looks, she should still be careful.

--well, realistically if he wanted to know where she lives there are about three different entirely mundane means he could use to find it out, probably. Coming to a decision, Mako starts walking, guiding him along with her. "This way." Her apartment's not far.

This is, she thinks with a feeling of sinking certainty, not remotely what Ami would consider 'being careful'.

Nephrite has posed:
She is right, of course. Nephrite could have just as easily shown up at her apartment door, but such a direct method would certainly have put her on edge. People are so much more cooperative if they believe they are giving something of their own free will.

He walks beside her, a slight limp on the side that he's clutching hindering him slightly. "This is incredibly kind of you, Kino-san. Perhaps kinder than I deserve."

Makoto Kino has posed:
This time, Makoto doesn't answer, doesn't say anything else at all during the relatively brief, rain-swept walk to her apartment building. Fortunately hers is a first-floor unit; at the front door, she once again has to fumble with managing to keep hold of her umbrella and her bag and the injured Dark Kingdom agent who she has for some insane reason decided to bring home with her, in order to fish out her key and unlock the door.

Inside, the apartment is warm and tidy, its neatness and the potted plants all around making it somehow airy despite the relatively small space. Makoto pauses in the entryway long enough to put down the umbrella and toe off her shoes, and then steers Nephrite across the living room area to the kitchenette. "Sit," she says, still quietly, pointing him to a seat at the kitchen island that does double duty as kitchen table and extra counter space.

And then she drips her way off across the apartment to the bathroom to get some towels, trying to make some kind of order out of her thoughts.

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite frowns as she vanishes down the hall. The Makoto Kino he knew before the witch trapped him seemed ready to fawn over him at the slightest hint of charm. Now he is in her kitchen, offering her the best romance novel setup he can think of, and her reception of him feels icy at best.

Of course, he has given her plenty of reason to be suspicious of him. That part where he led her to believe he is secretly Tuxedo Kamen was certainly a ruse that required a deft hand at the best of times--and being absent for five months is hardly what he would call a deft hand.

But clearly Makoto would not invite him into her kitchen if she had lost her faith in him completely. Nephrite runs his hands through his hair, arranging the damp locks in an appropriately rogueish manner, and sheds the ruined navy blue Bottega blazer. The white shirt he wears underneath is slightly see-through from the rain, and torn in places. He lets it fall open a bit at the chest. Never underestimate the value of an artfully torn shirt.

Makoto Kino has posed:
When Makoto comes back from the bathroom, she's without her own coat - left in the bathtub, it's got blood on it. With a stack of clean bath towels folded in her arms, she stops at the edge of the carpet where the living room gives way to the kitchenette and for a moment she just stands there taking in the sight of Nephrite, there in her kitchen looking like the most tortured kind of Byronic hero.

She'd expected to be angry. She'd intended to be angry, confrontational, to take the offensive, but seeing him like this drains all the anger and confrontation out of her. What's left is mostly hurt, raw in her eyes as she watches him.

But still, there are no questions, no accusations. Not yet. What she says, as she steps forward to offer him a towel, is: "I have a first aid kit, but if you're very badly hurt it probably won't help much." Her voice is quiet.

Nephrite has posed:
Nephrite reads the hurt in her eyes. A different person, a person whose values are not twisted up in darkness, might feel some sort of remorse at the sight. Nephrite, General of the Dark Kingdom, is pleased. Hurt means that she cares. Hurt is something he can work with.

He drops his gaze to the kitchen island, a movement that could easily be read as remorseful, or perhaps merely pained at seeing that look in her eye. "You are too kind, Kino-san. I only need to rest for a moment. I was... careless, when you found me. I should not have been so far from safety."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"...I see." She tries for noncomittal, but mostly only manages awkward. Whether he takes a towel or not, she sets the stack down on the open countertop of the kitchen island and then stands uncertainly, hands hanging empty at her sides, damp hair straggling around her face.

A dozen questions flash through her mind one after the other: where has he been all this time? What's brought him back now, here? What did this to him, and is it still out there?

"Sanjouin-san..." Makoto hesitates, swallows. "Why did you lie to me?"

Nephrite has posed:
The laugh that escapes his lips is short and bitter. "You get right to the point, don't you?"

He glances up at her, and is briefly stricken by the way her damp curls frame her face. How pretty she is, in addition to being so useful. "Because I am not a good person, Kino-san. I think you know that by now."

He takes one of the towels, but just absently holds it between his hands. "I lied because I was ashamed to tell you the truth. That I work for some very bad people, and... I could not allow you to get wrapped up in that. I already allowed you to get too close, and... that was my fault. I should have distanced myself from you before it came to that."

Makoto Kino has posed:
The worst part is, she wants to believe him. But can she? should she?

Does 'should' even matter, if she can't make her heart stop wanting to believe?

"That's why you led me to believe you were Tuxedo Kamen?" Unable to stand still, Makoto turns away and blindly reaches for her tea kettle, to begin filling it from the kitchen tap. "To keep me from getting involved?"

Nephrite has posed:
"If I told you I was absolutely ordinary, would you have believed me?" Her hair is even more magnificent from behind, a sort of strawberry brown that looks even more curly after being out in the rain. "When you came to me, I panicked. I knew I could not keep that much from you. But if I told you nothing, maybe you would have kept investigating, gotten too close to people who would do real harm to you if given the opportunity."

"I did not know much about Tuxedo Kamen, but he did not seem dangerous. If you chose to investigate him further, surely he would not pose a danger to you. And I thought I would have the chance... to come back to you and tell you the truth."

He twists the towel in his hands, a pathetic tortured lump dripping all over Makoto's kitchen floor. "But it seems I made a mess even of that."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Would she have believed him... "Probably not," Mako admits in a murmur, her back still turned toward him. Only after the kettle has gone onto the stovetop to heat does she turn to study his face, eyes searching for some way to tell the difference between what's true and what she only badly wants to be true.

"...Why the Dark Kingdom?" she asks after a few moments of hesitation. Maybe there's no point even in asking, but she needs to know. To understand. "That's who you really work for, right?"

Nephrite has posed:
His eyes widen in alarm. "How do you know that name?"

He is actually curious. How /does/ she know? But if Jupiter went to Kunzite about him, then certainly she is aware that he is somehow connected to them. Clearly, if there is a link between him and Jupiter, Makoto must be it.

"It doesn't matter why I joined in the beginning. What matters is there is no leaving now that I am in." Nephrite is more or less hugging the towel now, sagging on the kitchen chair. "It does not matter how unimportant I am to their cause. How low on the chain of command. Once the Dark Kingdom sinks its claws in, it does not let go."

Makoto Kino has posed:
When he asks how she knows the name of the Dark Kingdom, Makoto looks away, unable to keep meeting his eyes. That's a question she has no intention of answering, but it doesn't make her feel any better about it.

"I think you're wrong," she says instead. "Why matters a lot. But if it's something you can't tell me, then I'd rather you didn't tell me than lie to me about it. So it's all right."

Her hand reaches over the counter, hovers indecisively over tea canisters; hesitating, she looks back toward Nephrite, brows drawing together. "There's something else you're wrong about too, Sanjouin-san." Her face is serious, certain. "It's not impossible to escape the Dark Kingdom. It's just hard."

Nephrite has posed:
Real amusement crosses Nephrite's face. Is this girl naive, or does she think that making up stories will help her case? "Is that so? I have never known anyone who did."

He stands, his damp shirt falling loosely over his frame like he belongs on the set of a Jane Austen film. He crosses the kitchen slowly, and moves to lean against the counter beside her. "I suppose there is a first time for everything. When you say it, you almost make me believe it could be possible."

His eyes turn sharp, serious. "I may not be able to tell you everything, but I will not lie to you again. I can promise you that. I have hurt you too much already."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"Two that I know of, so far." Makoto watches him steadily, unwavering. "A lot's happened while you were gone. You should ask somebody about Apatite sometime, if you think they'll tell you the truth."

She goes quiet as he comes toward her; her hand comes to rest on the countertop and she looks down, color rising in her face, far too aware of his nearness and how handsome he looks even after being dragged in from the rain under circumstances that would leave most people looking like a drowned rat. Herself included.

When Mako smiles it's a small, pained, wistful thing. "...I don't know if I can believe you," she says. "But..." She dares to look up at his face, a little hesitantly like she's not sure what she might see there. "I do want to help you, if I can."

This much, Makoto is sure of.

Nephrite has posed:
It is just a few seconds that the small tic of uncertainty crinkles Nephrite's careful mask. Just how much has he missed? What else has Kunzite not told him?

But it is only a few seconds. His friendly smile returns. "I suppose I could not know everything, being a mere underling. Perhaps there is hope, after all." He rests his arm on the counter, casually leaning so close that they are almost touching, chocolate cinnamon eyes meeting hers. "You know so much. If anybody knows how to help me, it must be you. If I were to leave, I wouldn't know where to go or who to turn to, but you..."

Pushing his luck, Nephrite takes her hand in his. Despite the rain, it is perfectly warm. "I believe that you could save me, Kino-san."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto's breath catches when Nephrite leans close, a quiver of air in her throat. The blush that's already coloring her cheeks grows several shades brighter, but she holds his gaze squarely and doesn't step back.

She should probably step back.

A tiny sound hitches out of her at what he says, too small and quiet to be a laugh. "I think that's probably giving me a little too much credit," Mako murmurs. "I'm not the only one who's fighting the Dark Kingdom. But I'll do whatever I can, too." Even as she says it, her misgivings are clearly visible on her face, in the slight worried crease of her forehead - she can't hide anything, not when everything she feels plays out in her expressions. The hand that he's taken up hesitates, then closes carefully on his, a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

On the stovetop, as though responding to the hot feeling of pressure in Makoto's chest, the kettle begins building up into a whistle of venting steam.

Nephrite has posed:
He smiles at her blush, and presses his luck further, drawing her hand up to his bowed head and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. The kettle screams beside them. "Thank you, Kino-san. You are so kind." He straightens, meets her eyes again, but still does not release her hand. "Are there truly others? People who I might speak to?"

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches his free hand for the kettle, nearly embracing her with the movement, and removes it from the hot burner. "I would very much like to meet these friends of yours."

Makoto Kino has posed:
The warm contact of his lips against her skin sends a shiver fluttering through Makoto; her other hand closes on the edge of the countertop and grips tightly against the vertigo of a sudden feeling of familiarity, of the past repeating itself. Déjà vu.

(--the air on Earth makes the sun's light flow thick and warm like honey, gilding the edges of leaves and petals and crowning his dark hair with gold. She's surrounded by the rich fragrance of roses, but even here in the tranquility of the gardens there's a lingering undertone of something wild and untamed, a distant promise of deep forests and a thrill of summer storms not yet broken, both foreign and familiar.

Jupiter's princess smiles, charmed by the place and the gesture.)

She'd had no intention of retreating from him here in her own apartment, her own kitchen, but when the last space between them vanishes as he reaches past her, all but holding her, it's too much. Makoto's eyes squeeze shut for a moment against the nearly-overpowering swell of conflicting emotions and then she pulls away, gently disengaging her hand from his and reaching to take the kettle from him.

"That's up to them," she says as she sets the kettle down on a trivet she keeps out for just that purpose. When she moves past him to reach for a canister of tea it's not quite as closely as he did moments before, just close enough to prove to him and to herself that she's not running away from him. "I'll ask. I'm sure they'll want to help--" she thinks of Minako, falters for half a heartbeat "--but I can't tell you anything about them without knowing they're okay with it." Her eyes meet his, direct, intent. She won't waver on this. "You understand that, right?"

Nephrite has posed:
He holds back a sigh as she steps away. This is all part of the dance, he reminds himself, and sometimes giving a little ground is necessary. "They must be very important to you. I should like to meet these friends of yours." He inclines his head. "After you have spoken to them, of course."

He remains leaning on the counter, watching her, fully aware that he is more or less in the way as she attempts to sort out the tea. "How lucky I am to have met you. I never would have known where to turn." He gives her a pleading look, innocent and hopeful. "If I needed to... could I contact you?"

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto could go through the motions of making tea in her sleep, which is good, because right now she's far too flustered to focus on what she's doing. Nephrite's casual refusal to move from where he's parked against the counter means that she nearly runs up against him twice more before the aroma of her favorite rose tea blend begins to spread through the kitchenette.

The sense of exasperation, like the step-by-step physical process of tea-making and the familiar scent of the tea, is oddly steadying.

"Don't you already have--?" she starts to ask, and then cuts herself off with a quick shake of her head. It was Tuxedo Kamen who had her phone number, which she'd never given to Masato Sanjouin because she'd assumed he'd already had it. "--Sorry. That's fine. I'd like a way to get in touch with you, too..."

But instead of going to retrieve her phone from her bag, as the tea steeps, Mako turns to face him, studies his face with a long, searching look. A question is poised on her lips, one she hadn't meant to ask - she doesn't want to know the answer, truthfully, isn't certain she'll believe whatever he tells her, but she feels like she's standing right on the edge of something and the storm wind is battering rain against the windows like a desperate warning of time running out. She needs to know if he's going to lie again.

"Are you Nephrite?" she asks, straight out with no preamble, watching his face for any hint of a reaction.

Nephrite has posed:
The scent of the rose tea is like a silk scarf wrapping itself around him--alluring and subtle, but somehow fogging up his thoughts. Something vague and distant tries to emerge from his memories.

(--and she bodily drags him from the dark room, and he could not resist the warm touch of her hand leading his even if he wanted to. The sun is blinding to his seer's eyes, and when he can open them properly he is sheltered beneath a canopy of pink roses, thorned vines twisting up the trellis in elaborate knots around them.)

He is fortunate that Makoto is distracted by his question about her phone number. Nephrite grips the corner of the counter and orders himself to focus. These silly visions are nothing more than leftovers from the witch's labyrinth, of course. He can worry about them when he is not busy trying to procure his enemies' weaknesses.

Her question is sudden, and seems to make even the air between them grow still. Nephrite grows still as well.

And then he laughs. A short, humorless bark. "That is a very specific question. I wonder which of your friends told you to ask it?"

He grins, but much less warmly this time. He pushes away from the counter, but not to advance on her. Simply to casually pace to the side. His limp, most notably, seems to have disappeared. "It's a funny story, Mako-chan--can I call you Mako-chan? Since we seem to be on a first-name basis, and all." As he speaks, the torn shirt, the soaked trousers, the blood, all fade away to the uniform of the Dark Kingdom. Nephrite stands in her kitchen, his hair still damp and tousled but his grey and crimson uniform as immaculate as ever.

"Technically, I have not lied. I really am but a humble servant of the Dark Kingdom, who is not aware of my Queen's every movement. And I would like to meet your friends very much." His grin is wide, feral.

Makoto Kino has posed:
There's no shock on Makoto's face as Nephrite reveals himself, nor any triumph at having her suspicions - Ami's suspicions, anyway - confirmed. What changes is her stance, a small but telling shift of her weight and the way she holds her shoulders; she's been wound up all along, but now she's poised, ready to move if she needs to, lightning in a bottle.

"Please cut the crap," she says, voice quiet but firm on the matter of technically-not-a-lie. Her eyes hold steadily on his, a clear bright green like sunlight glowing through leaves, as she turns to track his movement and stay facing him. Her heart's thrumming in her chest like she's just run a mile and her skin is alive with a tingling hint of a static charge; she's sharply conscious of the fact that both her transformation pen and her phone are in the bag that she left so carelessly by the door, on the other side of her apartment where she'd have to move past Nephrite to get to them.

From outside comes a rumble of distant thunder.

And yet, even though something in her crumbles with the final loss of the illusion of Masato Sanjouin, at the same time Makoto feels oddly steadier. Sure, the man she'd trusted and admired has turned out to be a Dark General in disguise, marking a record new low for an already-disastrous love life, and things could at any moment go violently wrong in a thousand ways... but the real question, the thing that she truly needed to know down at the root of everything, has been answered.

If it's a terrible mistake, Mako can only do what she always does: follow her heart and forge ahead.

"Okay," she says, and draws in a breath. "So how do I get in touch with you?"

Nephrite has posed:
"The crap? I promise you that I am being quite serious." Nephrite spreads his arms wide, as though his rain-soaked shirt is still visible to display. "I ruined a Bottega suit just to get your attention. You could at least appreciate the effort I went to."

Even with the suit replaced by his general's uniform, there is as much Masato Sanjouin in Nephrite as there ever was. The cocky businessman who eyes Makoto with an unwavering smile as a smartphone materializes in his hand with a casual flick of his wrist. "I find the traditional way best, don't you? I'll give you my number if you promise to use it to tell me a little bit about your friends."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"I didn't ask you to ruin your suit." It was such a nice suit, too, before it got mauled. What a waste, Makoto thinks, then catches herself thinking it and pulls a faintly incredulous face. This conversation is becoming a little bit surreal. "There are plenty of less expensive ways to get my attention. You could've just talked to me."

They're talking now. It's a start - maybe. Mako's gaze slides to the phone in Nephrite's hand, then back up to his face, and her mouth tightens into a frown. "I already told you, I'm not telling you anything about my friends that they're not okay with." Slowly and deliberately she begins to move, keeping him directly in her sight as she steps across the kitchen floor. "I'll talk to them, but I won't promise more than that."

She's headed not toward but past him to the living room area where she left her bag, and she has to come within arm's reach of him to do it. Her eyes don't leave his as she passes.

Nephrite has posed:
"Could I? I will remember that. I'll think of you when I replace it. What color do you think, this time?" His smile is teasing, oddly casual for a general of the Dark Kingdom.

He does not frown at her steadfast refusal, but he does feel some disappointment. Her usefulness is rather depleted if she cannot give him any secrets that he could not find out himself. Still, Makoto has dropped enough hints that it is clear she knows much of what has been going on. And unlike most of his information sources, nothing she tells him will be filtered through the fearful lips of cowering Dark Kingdom agents who are never certain if their Queen is watching. "Of course," he says, watching her as she moves carefully past him. He does not shift one inch out of her way, deliberately imposing himself on her space, and enjoying the way the air between them seems to crackle with energy as she passes. But he does nothing to impede her, either. "Then why don't we start with somebody who is not your friend? Some of these other magic users who make themselves a nuisance to all parties, for instance."

His eyes remain on her as she moves away, the phone in his hand casually flipping over and over in his fingers. "Or perhaps an old acquaintance you did not seem to care for. Someone by the name of Mamoru Chiba."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Mako actually stops at that oh-so-casual 'what color,' a step away from passing out of his reach. Pursing her lips, she eyes Nephrite pointedly up and down. "Not grey," she declares in a decisive, authoritative tone. "It's a bad color for you."

Then she just as pointedly turns her back on him and strides across the living room to her bag.

Her hand is just closing on her phone when he mentions Mamoru's name and she freezes, nearly flinches in involuntary reaction. That's struck a nerve. It passes, but she lingers there a little longer, kneeled down and looking into her bag - there's her transformation pen, her Sailor communicator, her Virtue phone, but none of them are going to help right now.

Leaving them where they are, Makoto picks up her cell phone and stands, turning to face Nephrite again. "I don't know what you think I could tell you about Mamoru-san that you don't already know," she says. "You should know more about what he's been doing lately than I do."

Her eyes are opaque as she says it, her mouth tight. She can try to be cagey, but she can't control her expression well enough to keep whatever she's feeling from showing on her face: she knows something.

Nephrite has posed:
He laughs. "You think so? I'll take that into consideration, then." He glances at her rose earring as she passes. "How about pink? Too ostentatious?"

She is so open with her emotions. Perhaps that is why he wants to glean information from her, rather than his usual informants. He has come to expect deception from even those ranked below him, but this girl answers half his questions through looks alone. "Didn't you hear? I took an extended leave. Not my choice, mind you, but what can you do?" He shrugs. "Is it so strange that I am curious about the five months I have missed?"

Makoto Kino has posed:
"A pink suit?" Mako wrinkles her nose a little at the suggestion, shakes her head. Oh, he's got the don't-give-a-damn confidence to pull it off, but--

Cream, she almost wants to say. Light but warm, to make a dramatic contrast and bring out and complement the rich tones of intense brown eyes and long brown hair. She closes her mouth on the thought, frowning. Makoto Kino, fashion consultant to the Dark Kingdom - that's not a road she wants to go down.

Besides, there are much more important subjects at hand.

"...geez, you Dark Kingdom guys really don't talk to each other, do you?" She seems honestly a little perplexed by it, if only for a moment before she breathes out and seems to come to a decision. "Mamoru-san told me," she says, starting back across the living room toward him with her phone in her hand, "before you fell off the face of the earth, that you said he belonged to the Dark Kingdom." She's watching his face as she speaks, studying him like she's looking for something. "Do you still think that's true?"

Nephrite has posed:
He chuckles. "Is that a no, then? I suppose your tastes run more traditional, don't they?"

A flicker of something crosses his face. A momentary agitation, a discomfort. But it gives way to that confident smile again. "At the time, I was only looking to protect our territory from some other attacker looking to harvest energy on the campus. That school, and its students, do belong to the Dark Kingdom... or did, when I was there to watch over it. I could say it was my gift of prophecy, but..." he shrugs, "perhaps I predicted that one more precisely than I realized."

Nephrite glances down at his phone, distracted for the first time since his arrival. Not by the phone itself, but by what Kunzite told him about the boy... and what he did not tell him. The Queen would not bestow her favor on just anyone. There's something he is missing. But the very fact of Beryl's interest makes that line of questioning unwise. He thumbs absently through his phone, frowning a bit. "I don't know what he is," he mutters.

Makoto Kino has posed:
"You were halfway right." Makoto's voice is quiet. Her eyes haven't left Nephrite's face. "But you had it backwards. He doesn't belong with the Dark Kingdom. You belong with him."

She doesn't wait for a reply to that, but presses on, speaking more quickly as though to head off questions or dismissal. "He doesn't remember. You know that much at least, don't you? I haven't seen it myself, but I've heard about it - if you try to make him remember, something bad happens. There's something keeping him from remembering who he is, and how he ended up as Beryl's boy-toy."

Phone still in her hand, she folds her arms in front of her. "You're the same as him. All of you." Her voice rises as she speaks; she's getting angry, eyes bright and hot and hard with it, not at Nephrite but at what's been done to him, to Mamoru, to all of them. "You said it doesn't matter why you joined the Dark Kingdom, but do you even remember the reason? Your Queen's made you all her slaves and you don't even know it."

Nephrite has posed:
Anger flashes suddenly on Nephrite's face, and all trace of the good-natured businessman is gone. He is Nephrite, general of the Dark Kingdom, commanding and dangerous. "A slave?" His brown eyes match hers as he advances on her, blazing with fury. A dark shadow, pulsing with emotion, trails at his back as his voice rises. "I am nobody's slave!"

He does not touch Makoto. But he stops within a breath of her, as uncomfortably close as when he deliberately reached around her. Only this time he uses his proximity to loom intimidatingly over her, his eyes never leaving hers. "You think that you, some mortal girl, can call me that? That you might insult any in the Dark Kingdom in this way? Have you forgotten who I am already?"

He breathes, containing his anger a bit. His voice drops to a low, warning growl. "Do not mistake my fondness for you as weakness. I indulge your lack of deference to me for my own amusement. I suggest you do not test the extent to which I find your disrespect cute."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Alarm flashes over Makoto's face, dousing that righteous anger she'd been working up; her arms unfold and drop into a more defensive stance as she recoils instinctively from Nephrite's advance. She only just manages to keep herself from taking a step back. Though she closes her mouth tight and lifts her chin to stare back at him, this close there's no hiding the genuine fear that widens her eyes and has her heart hammering all but in her throat.

"...Fine," she says, very quietly, in the tone of someone backing down. Capitulation. "But you should think about it. What you're really supposed to be doing, and who your loyalty should be to."

Her throat works as she swallows and her eyes drop away from his, down to the phone she's clutching in a white-knuckle grip. "What number should I call when I have something to tell you?"

Nephrite has posed:
She backs down. Good. He would hate to... but he is uncertain why he would hate to use more than words. It is not as though he would hesitate to punish a youma for speaking to him this way, and a youma, at least, has the benefit of being one of them. This girl does not fall under his kingdom's protection, and technically, is affiliated with his enemy. But she could be useful. Of course, he reminds himself. He is here because she could be useful. He steps away, gives her space to breathe again. No longer angry, but the smile does not return. "I can imagine what sorts of misinformation you have been given by your acquaintances, Mako-chan. I should not fault you for acting on your... concern."

He shrugs off her suggestion wordlessly. Maybe he will think about it. Maybe he will not. Right now, he is eager to close this deal before it turns any more sour. He recites Masato Sanjouin's number to her solemnly.

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto's brow furrows and her mouth opens like she's about to say something, but whatever it is that's on her tongue is something she bites down on before she can actually give it words. Better not, she thinks. Even with something like a safer level of space opened between them, she's still coiled with tension, nerves jangling. She doesn't dare push him any further right now.

Without a word for reply, she thumbs her phone out of sleep mode and enters the number into her contacts, saved not very imaginatively under 'N'. Once that's done, she taps out a text, sends her own contact to the number that she's just saved. There.

When she looks up again there's a guarded question clear in her eyes, but Mako still doesn't say anything.

Nephrite has posed:
He has done what he came here to do. It may not have gone precisely according to plan, but it is a win nevertheless. Though he feels strangely unsettled, Nephrite brightens a bit as he sees her message brighten up his screen. "There we go. We're friends now, right? And friends share secrets, don't they?"

He glances up at her, sees the question on her face. "Something else you want? Don't tell me you miss me already."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"Friends don't threaten each other." For all the fight-or-flight adrenaline still buzzing under her skin, somehow Mako manages to get the words out evenly, with only a hint of tartness in her voice. "I don't think we're there yet."

She turns away from him and back towards the kitchen, leaving her phone facedown on the kitchen island as she passes on the way to where she left the tea steeping. His last question makes her pause and look back at him over her shoulder. "...Nothing," she answers after a moment of hesitation.

But then her gaze drifts to the kitchen window, dim and rain-spattered. "Just be careful," Makoto says. "Tomorrow's going to be ugly."

Nephrite has posed:
"In my experience they often do," he smirks. "But I look forward to working up to it with you."

He snorts at her comment. So she knows even about the grand alliance to take down the witch tomorrow. She's more informed about current events than he is, it seems. "That's what I hear. I'll try not to get killed. Or trapped for another five months. I know how much you would miss me."

He gives her a bow, falling back into his gentlemanly mannerisms again. "Then I'll take my leave of you, my lady. Hope to hear from you soon."

With that, Nephrite teleports away, leaving her with a phone number, a puddle on her kitchen floor, and a still-soaked dark blue Bottega blazer slung over the back of a chair.

Makoto Kino has posed:
"Maybe you need better friends." It's an almost inaudible murmur.

Makoto manages to keep her poise together, such as it is, until he's vanished and she is once again alone in her apartment. Moving as though on autopilot, she pours herself a cup of tea, curls both hands around it as the warmth slowly seeps through the ceramic. It's quiet again, silence filled only by the white noise of wind and rain.

She feels like she's holding her breath.

Seconds tick by, a minute, and finally the breath goes out of Makoto in a rush and her legs buckle slowly beneath her. Sliding down the face of her kitchen cabinets, she slowly sinks down to sit on the floor, still clutching the cup of tea.

"What am I doing?" she asks herself, but finds no answer.