Mission 1: Hot Spring Monster [Private]

The sounds of footsteps became apparent after a few moments, careful and measured, as if the person approaching was...in no particular hurry, but was still quite excited for whatever was about to come.  There was even the faint sound of humming after a few seconds.  The voice wasn't very pleasant, a bit too nasal and a bit too high-pitched.  But the person who eventually came forth was...quite handsome, in his own way.  He seemed completely devoid of facial hair or wrinkles, making it hard to place his age precisely, but he looked like he could've passed for someone in their early 30s easily enough.  He was clutching a glass in one hand, filled with an amber liquid that even from a few feet away reeked of alcohol.  When he spotted Sumire the man paused for a second, then revealed his teeth in a wide grin.  They were very nice teeth, perfectly white and straight.  They looked like they had to be fake, with how perfect they looked.  As his mouth was open, he took a sip of the amber liquid, almost as if it were a reflex, then touched a hand to his forehead in something that lazily resembled a salute.

"I dunno, I feel pretty attracted right about now.  I'm about as exciting as they come, and I've never had a woman complain when I was done with her." 

His other hand was already working away at the buttons on his suit, nimbly and thoughtlessly undoing them...his fingers had surprising dexterity even despite the white gloves he appeared to be wearing on either hand.  His skin was preternaturally pale, almost seeming to get lost in the faint billows of steam as he disrobed ever so slightly.  He was...tall, certainly.  And lithe.  He had the sort of physique that made it look like he ran for a living, and watched what he ate rather carefully...though at this moment all he seemed to be watching was Sumire.  His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips, letting out another whistle...and then draining another measure of the amber liquid while his mouth was open.  Like it was a habit with him.

"You look stressed, girl.  Why bother?  You're here for such a short time.  Relax.  Take in the sights.  You got some nice water right here, and you got good company.  ...Least I like to think I'm good company.  My four ex-wives might disagree."

He began to cackle as if he'd told a remarkably thoughtful and humorous joke, sliding into the water as he did.  His leggings were still entirely in place, and there was a faint tinkling sound as his free hand slid into his coat, withdrawing a bottle containing the same amber liquid that appeared to be in his glass.  It was just under half full, and as he held it close to his chest, unscrewing the top, he tilted his head curiously, gesturing with the glass.

"Care for a sip?  You look like you could use a chance to unwind."

"Of course you are.  The modern enlightened woman always likes to believe she isn't a slave to her instincts.  Take it from me, dear.  Fight fuck and friends, that's what all humans crave in the end.  Everything's just a variation on that."

Yaksha was somewhat impressed to see this woman performing such an act of spiritual manipulation; he'd heard a few stories about fullbringers, and had even met a few, from a distance.  This, however, was the first time he ever met one up close, was ever able to -speak- to one.  His reaitsu was on a tight leash while he rested in this new physical form, remarkably excited to see just what it was capable of.  He could still feel his own unholy essence surging through it, knew if he truly felt a need he could use it to start remodeling this mountainside without much trouble.  But why bother?  He'd come here to be human.  To do what a human would do, in this situation.  He'd come here to relax, and perhaps to share the time with some good company.

"If you're looking for a sharp mind, you don't need to look any further.  Drunk or sober, I'm about the sharpest wit you'll find in a hundred miles.  And besides, who said I cared about your ovaries?  Those fine fine thighs are more than enough to make this conversation worth my time."

Again, a long sip from that amber glass.  God, Yaksha missed alcohol.  He forgot just how lovely it was, just how many amazing things it could allow.  He'd drunk perhaps once or twice as a human, had always been far too busy to find the time.  He'd believed on some level that he had no time to enjoy being alive.  That there was so much work to be done.  And in the end, when it was all done?  There'd been no time then, either.  Now there was time.  Nothing but time.  Infinite time.  And as he stared at the woman before him, glancing at her with eyes that were remarkably sharp despite having imbibed what looked to be ten or eleven shots in the last hours.  He knew that this trip was going to be worth his time in so many ways.

"Come on.  I know you're curious.  I can smell it on you.  What's the harm in a little hollow and chill?"

Once more, that perfect, winning smile.  This man was indefatigable.

"Can't I just put my hands over my eyes?  I promise not to peek."

His grin still hadn't faded as one hand slid out from the water, the glove covering it doused in liquid, and giving the faintest look at what was underneath...the transparent fabric showed that the skin beneath was almost pitch black, in stark contrast to the rest of his body.  He slid it over his face, holding it in place and counting in a stage whisper, clearly for her own benefit as much as his.  The count was slow, almost teasingly so, and he knew that if she was even half as proper as she seemed, she'd probably simply stand there with her hands on her hips, giving him a stern glance.  But there was certainly no way he'd turn his back on a potential enemy, even in a situation like this.

He pulled his hand away after he'd counted to 30, which had really been closer to a minute, and then tilted his head ever so slightly, pursing his lips and whistling ever so slightly, in an appreciative manner.  Most of this chatter and conversation was...well, it was repugnant to him.  What kind of moron would say these things with a straight face?  Who actually found such a simple display of the human body so appealing?  And yet Yaksha was among humans now, and there was certainly no purpose to standing out.  So he did his best to let his gaze roll across her body, drinking in the faint hints of what may lie underneath, tastefully hinted towards but never shown.  He slid his hand back into the water, watched her face redden ever so slightly.

"Bourbon, for me.  It's got that beautiful burn to it, and it leaves your stomach feeling like it just got hit with napalm.  There's no point in drinking if you don't get that burn."

He grabbed his glass once more, taking a deep sip and draining the rest of it in a single motion, before stifling his coughing with a hand.  He was growing accustomed to this body quickly, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.  After a second or two of this, a second or two of his ridiculous display, he rose slowly, shedding water from his form like a dog shaking itself.  He stared at her for just a second or two longer, and then shook his head slightly.

"Nnnh.  I'm pretty sure your thighs gave a crush to a lotta boys."

"Who am I?  C'mon, girl.  You just called me a masochist, so you clearly got -some- idea of what I am!  You don't look nearly as pretty when you're playing dumb.  Gives ya early wrinkles if you lie too much.  And yanno...I'd be happy to donate my body to science.  It's the world's most pressing modern question.  'How hard can a fine woman's thighs squeeze a guy's head before he passes out?'  Sure sounds like an article I'd read."

The cackle didn't fade for a good two or three seconds, as he poured himself another measure of bourbon, meeting her gaze.  He could see the faintest hint of a flush coming across her face, likely from the combination of subject matter and the alcohol she'd consumed.  He rose his brows, taking another long leisurely sip, and staring at her without much fear or concern.  He seemed, for all intents and purposes, like a man in the middle of a bar hitting on one of the women, rather than a...thing that had intruded on her private time and tried to insinuate his way into her life.

"I don't like giving away secrets, you know.  And I don't like having to state the obvious.  If it's obvious what I am...or look like...then why bother asking all the stupid questions?  You got some opinions about me, and there's no point keeping them to yourself.  This is a place of revelations, girl!  Place where we take it all off and show people what we are!  Why spend all this time trying to make yourself look tasteful?  The only taste I need when I'm looking at you is the taste of something smooth and barrel-aged, and the taste of your sweet sweet flesh."

He paused, his brow furrowing as if he were just remembering something, as if a thought had finally penetrated the haze of whiskey.  He set down the glass, sliding his hands over the surface of the water slowly, and then slicking back his hair.  He looked...slightly more alert now, politely curious as he tilted his head.

"Shit, where have my manners gone?  I've been so busy gawking, I forgot to actually strike up a conversation.  What's your name?"

"I'd like to walk in your skin for a bit."

He rose his brows, letting them waggle theatrically as he took yet another long sip of bourbon, closing his eyes and staring up at the sky.  The sensations, the feelings, the sheer stimuli...it left him so very intoxicated, even before the actual alcohol kicked in.  How was he supposed to take any of this seriously when this was such a beautiful, perfect day?  When he could so easily string this little thing along, leave her pulling at her hair and groping for answers?  No, no.  Let the girl stew in her own emotions.  Let her get angry.  Stay silent for just a few more moments, and then...

A shrug.  One more sip.

"Skinwalker. Sure, I could be a skinwalker.  Makes as much sense as anything.  Look human, talk human, don't act that human.  Don't feel human.  Skinwalker works for me.  As for seeking battle...well, I mean.  Let's be honest.  Who -seeks- it?  Battle's just a way to get sweaty and sore and break shit without either person actually achieving any release in the process.  I got away from my last ex for a reason, I don't wanna relive that experience!"

A cackle.  That ear-wrenching, heart-grating sound that likely would've driven normal people to violence.  And he wanted her driven to violence, at least somewhat.  Wasn't that what hollows lived for?  Violence?  Anger?  Bloody conflict?  It's how Yaksha was born, and it's likely how he would die.  But not today, hopefully.

"Don't lie, Sumire.  You heard what I said about lying.  Girls love the bad boys."

"And she fucking figures it out, regular Sherlock here!  Of course I'm a fuckin' hollow, there's like three kinds of spirit being out there and it's pretty obvious I'm not human!  Word of advice, Sumire?  Don't work so hard to make others look dumb.  Doesn't make you look smart by comparison."

He set the bourbon aside, eyes narrowing ever so slightly to slits, hands sliding into the water as he stared at her.  She had spoken the word in such a matter-of-fact manner, with such certainty.  He had a feeling she was still...marginally uninformed about the spirit world, not least of all because she was making it clear how much she knew to a creature that, quite honestly, had nothing but ill intent towards her.  He felt the warmth sliding over him, nearly threatening to lull him to sleep.  Inside and out, he was warm.  The delightful sense of warmth resting in his belly left him feeling...off.  Almost ill, in a way.  One hand slid over his stomach, cradling it as he winced, releasing a sizable belch, and then pressing a hand to his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry.  This body.  Takes some adjustment.  You eat nothing but meat for a while, you find other things hard to handle.  And you've -probably- never met a hollow as old as me, either.  But hey, I won't hold it against ya.  I'll even give you a piece of advice, free of charge.  Play your cards close to your chest, Sumiree.  If people can't figure it out on their own, they don't deserve to know it.  If they can, they still don't, but at least then it's more interesting."  He stared at her, blinking once or twice, drinking in her stance, her expression, her physical form...every little detail about her.  He nodded ever so slightly, and began to swirl a hand through the water slowly, almost carelessly.

"These materials.  Wouldn't happen to be of the 'Soylent Green' variety, would they?  Cuz I get the feeling from your little way of changing the topic that you've been waiting for a hollow for...well, a while, at least.  I mean, let's be honest.  You switch to a 'let's talk business' pitch so fast it'd give a human whiplash?  You've been planning this little talk out in your head for a while, haven't ya?  Well...sorry to disappoint, Sumire.  But I don't do well with scripts."