Acquiring a large "asset" (Akira/Isamu)

Amidst the staggering whirlwind of debauchery unfolding around "R", there was a single man who likely stood out among the roaring crowd of excessively rambunctious partygoers. Surrounded by an array of women no less enticing than the other, swaying hips and bouncing breasts dancing in a practied yet wild rhythm, the man of the hour - Isamu - was sitting down against a luxurious leather black seat.

Cigar positioned at one side of his mouth, fistful of dollars in hand, he appeared to match the ideal description laid out by R's informant. Of course, engrossed within the sinful affair as he was, it was fairly correct to assume his attention was focused elsewhere, which meant the raven-haired male in question would have to approach him with purpose if he wished to host a conversation.

The strike of leather against the marbled table was an ideal strategy to catch the hitman's attention. Purpose achieved, it directed Isamu's onyx gaze away from the toothsome variety of women, a single eye observing the raven-haired male, a fusion of intrigue and curiosity emanating from his aura.

Upraised hands signaled for the women to cease their wildly rhythmic movements, sweetening the deal by paying them each with an exorbitant fistful of dollars for their time well spent. For his favorite woman in particular, he boldly placed the rest of the money within the center of his bra, concluding the act with a soft kiss against her lips.

Appeasing the group of women in full, Isamu turned back to R, placing his cigar against an ash tray. Leaning back against the luxurious leather, Isamu lazily tilted his head in the man's direction, instructing him to speak with the wave of a hand.

"Informant told me about ya, so yea, let's talk business. Long story short, I'm guessin' ya need me to take care of a few jobs that requires my general set of talents?"

Promising the sins of indulgence that came with proposition proved an amusing display - a good impression indeed. His informants weren't lying about the man's practiced air of formality, a trait that stood in stark defiance of the denizens of vulgarity that surrounded them. Tilting his head to the side, fist pressed against his cheek, he calmly observed the line of coke spanning a small inch across the table.

That used to be a special type of drug reserved for true nirvana, though it no longer proved a rare commodity as it did in the past. After all, the influx of what one could achieve with the supernatural and a strike of morbid inspiration eliminated the need for what most would consider a mundane high nowadays. To Isamu, though, it was an appreciated gesture.

"It's plenty doable. No need to worry about that. If you want quickness and efficiency, I'm yer guy. Ain't much else to claim on that front than through actions. Of course, my skills come with a tall price, as I'm sure you were informed. Let's talk particulars. What are you lookin' for here? Long-term or short-term service? The price is decided on that front, and then, of course, I'd like to know what else you present outside of that."

His prior behavior would've doubtlessly indicated that of a man with questionable priorities, yet his resume spoke for itself. Negotiation was well within his range of talents. Drawing out the best deal was essential in all matters regarding business. After all, he was risking his life to accomplish this stranger's ambitions.

Short-term service, hm? That made sense, and it was the expected course of action. He was an unproven commodity, after all. Both of them were. His silver tongue proved amusing enough, the promise of greater bounty even more so. Exhaling a large puff of smoke from the cigar, Isamu lazily tilted his head to the side. Soul Society? City of Lights? Familiar names both. He allegedly had other connections, too, which opened its own door of possibilities.

The unanimous view undoubtedly defined this deal as ideal, but he wouldn't have gotten this far without playing hard to get. His reputation proceeded itself, after all. Scrutinizing eyes observed his movements and mannerisms. His gaze, sharp and determined, spoke to that of a man who intended to close the deal with optimum efficiency.

Rubbing the back of his head with a grin, he contemplated in silence for a moment. Concluding his train of thought, Isamu leaned his legs against the long leather seat. Turning his head in R's direction, he nodded his head in a display of approval.

"Anarchy, huh? Not bad. You've made a pretty good case here, based on what ya know about me. Don't worry, though. I'm a one-man team, so you've no need to worry about filling anyone else's pockets but mine. As long as my name is kept outside of anything that'd compromise my business, and I get to keep a low profile... this could be a pretty fruitful relationship."

"What can I say? You brought a good offer to the table. Since I'm not a complicated guy in the first place, business was never going to be difficult. Just make sure you uphold yer end of the bargain, and we'll be as thick as thieves."

Isamu casually waved a hand in response to his words. He was partly eager to return to the magnetic pull from reality that this den of debauchery provided. Compared to R, who found this environment counterproductive to his being, Isamu reveled in the sinful air of lust and intoxication this establishment provided. Far cry from his noble past, to be sure, but that's precisely why he had left all that behind. After all, the only person who mattered in his past was...

"Hm? Honestly, yea. Before you exit this establishment, what say you and me make a toast? Even if it is temporary business, it still has a sense of honor to it, ya know? You fill my pockets, I eliminate almost anything that compromises your endgame, and everyone walks away smiling. I'd say that's worth at least a toast."

Requesting a bottle of the finest wine here - after naturally taking the card with his number on the table - Isamu directed one of the bartenders to pour a glass for the two raven-haired men. He wasn't inclined to, of course, but Isamu was a curious man. One moment of humor before he returns to his other form of entertainment. Didn't hurt to ask, right? Lifting his glass toward the air, he turned his head up with a playful grin

"Well, what do you say, R?"