Hard Times

-chapter four-

Messy

Ria D'Arcy, Ice LunaWolf and Aiko are cool for reviewing. Thanks, guys. Every review is appreciated. Thanks for teh fave, The Green Coat Downpour. That's cool too. : )

Let's go.

oOo

A blast of frigid air howled down the street. Machi wrapped her arms tightly around her body and shivered, wishing not for the first time that she had brought something to wear over her kimono jacket. The troupe were waiting to be admitted to Light's, the club where Hisoka worked. Apparently, he knew the boss on first-name terms, so he could get them on the guest list.

Only once they had reached Southernpiece Station and ascended from the bowels of the sweaty, heaving subway, Hisoka had run off, babbling on about needing gum and that he would find them inside. He had left the troupe with Illumi, who hadn't spoken to anyone since he had fallen out with Hisoka, and they had been forced to follow Illumi as he drifted along the street, his eccentric frock-coat, ballet-flats, bandage top and cropped trousers co-ord eliciting piercing wolf-whistles from packs of clueless, roving young men who laboured under the misapprehension that Illumi was female.

Believing they were on the guest list as Hisoka had promised, they had advanced to the head of the line, only to be informed by the surly doorman that, no, they were not on the guest list and that he suggested they head to the back like everyone else, and if they tried to pull that trick again, they would be barred. Evidently, Hisoka had forgotten to call ahead. Illumi had coldly remarked that such behaviour was typical of Hisoka before devoting his attention once again to his phone.

Thus they had passed twenty cold, aggravating minutes in the long line that snaked halfway down Lingon Road, cordoned off by velvet ropes. Patrolled by grim-faced bouncers in tuxedos and populated by giggling bleached-blondes in teetering stilettos and grinning, vacuous, orange men wearing far too much fake tan, the troupe provided a marked and motley contrast.

Aside from Illumi, only Paku was really dressed for the place, having slipped on some skin-tight leathers and a heavy, black, sequinned mini-dress. The rest had made absolutely no concession whatsoever to occasion and had merely donned their customary garb. Uvo's vest, loin-cloth and bike-shorts, in particular, were garnering a considerable amount of attention, most of it from the gaggle of bleached-blondes behind them, who were taking it in turns to hang off Uvo's arms with high-pitched shrieks of laughter as Uvo had the time of his life lifting them up like barbells, two on each arm. Their male friends cast lingering glances at Illumi, who stood next to Shizuku and Pakunoda, looking unattainable and disinterested, tapping away on his phone. Machi had made an attempt to dress up, though it had been half-hearted. As she stood in line, shivering, she felt uneasy and out of place: a jaded wallflower surrounded by ephemeral, flitting social butterflies, too sober and cynical to participate.

The volume of the inane chatter, the sickly-sweet smell of Uvo's girls' disgusting perfume and the chemical fumes of hairspray that seemed to envelop the entire queue in a pervasive smog had not improved Machi's mood.

Taking a step forward as the group in front were ushered in by the doormen, she closed her eyes, folded her arms as a brace against the wind and reminded herself, repeating it over and over like a mantra, that they were almost there, that this was for the job, that she was being paid to do this, that it would only be for a couple of hours and that if Nobunaga could set up the camera while they were out, everything would fall into place and the Zoldycks would stop bothering the boss.

At least it would be warm inside, right? Sweaty warm, probably. But warm was warm.

A few paces away, Phinks and Feitan sauntered up to the doorman, the rest of the troupe following behind. But they were forced to a halt as the stocky, broad-shouldered bouncer held out a thick arm, denying them access.

"Hold up," he demanded, addressing Phinks in his gruff voice. "There ain't no way."

"Eh?" Phinks scoffed. "The hell are you talking about?"

The bouncer took a moment to look Phinks up and down with critical eyes. Then he shook his head and said, "Long list, buddy. Mr Nostrade says smart-casual, no trainers, and you rock up in a god damned tracksuit and trainers and think we're just gonna make an exception for ya? Plus, you ain't got no eyebrows. I don't like that. It's freaky lookin'."

"Freaky looking? I guess you haven't looked in the mirror, lately, Fat Mullet," Feitan jibed, as he stepped forward to defend Phinks.

The bouncer bristled with indignation and jutted his chin aggressively at Feitan, who stared back, without blinking.

"Wasn't talking to you, midget," the bouncer growled. "Got any I.D.? This place is twenty-one and over. You too, blondie," he added, hurling a finger at Shalnark, who looked surprised to be the sudden focus of attention. "Show me some I.D. or you're outta here."

The ground trembled, and a shadow passed over Machi's head. She grinned as the bouncer's panic-widened eyes trailed upwards, taking in the colossal from of Uvo.

"Is there a problem here?" Uvo asked politely, though the undercurrent of threat was unmistakable.

The bouncer's jaw dropped and he began to stutter, warring between refusing the hulking, half-naked giant in Lycra bike shorts that loomed over him or disobeying his gangland boss. Quite the dilemma, it seemed.

"Um...n-no... no problem, Sir," the bouncer stammered, raking a hand through his hair with a nervous laugh. "I-It's just that... Mr Nostrade... no trainers—"

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack—

Machi's head turned at the urgent sound of a pair of absurd and impractical heels clacking towards them at speed. A familiar figure raced across the busy road, dodging taxi cabs and laughing madly as he forced one to a halt and vaulted clear over the bonnet. The angry honk of the driver's horn fell on deaf ears as Hisoka skipped to the other side of the road with a wide smile on his face.

Strutting past the line, Hisoka drained the last drops from his juice box, crushed the carton and tossed it. As he walked past, people began to point and talk in excited whispers.

"Oh my god, is that Hisoka?"

"I hope he's working tonight..."

"Hah, you wouldn't even have enough for one hour with him, even if you saved for a month!"

"Hey, shut up! A guy can dream, right? And besides, it's free to look—"

Paying more attention to his phone, which had buzzed, Hisoka walked past the assembled clubbers, unfazed by the heads that turned to gape at him. Blowing a huge bubble with gum that matched the colour of his extravagant, fluffy, bright-pink coat, he frowned, then looked up.

"Illumi?" he called out, puzzled, as he rushed over. "What are you all still doing here?"

"You didn't put us on the guest list, dumbass!" Phinks snapped. "Forget to phone ahead, did we? Too busy painting stars on our fucking face?"

Realisation dawned and Hisoka began to laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm kind of forgetful that way. Illumi's my manager. He usually reminds me about these things, but he's not talking to me."

Then he stepped forward and addressed the bouncer with a winning smile.

"They're with me, Todo," he said, with a gracious sweep of his hand. Hisoka's nails were filed to points, painted candy pink and crusted with diamante. "The boss knows they're coming. We're in the V.I.P. lounge."

Todo, the bouncer, let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through the tangled strip of hair that hung down his back. Hisoka had rescued him in the nick of time. It was clear Uvo's intimidation tactics would have worked like a charm, as the bouncer's shaggy mullet had begun to bead with sweat.

"Right, right..." he muttered, unclipping the velvet rope. "God, Hisoka. Gonna tell me about these things in future?"

"Will do!" Hisoka sang. Then he spun and grabbed Illumi round the waist.

Startled by the sudden invasion, Illumi's eyes widened, and he almost dropped his phone when Hisoka leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"We are going to have so much fun tonight!" Hisoka insisted. Looking over his shoulder, he waved a hand and beckoned the others.

"Do you lot enjoy standing outside in the cold?" he laughed, as he took Illumi by the hand and dragged him into the club. "Come on!"

oOo

Machi had figured it would be sweaty warm inside, but she hadn't predicted that the walls and ceilings would be slick with rivulets of condensation that beaded and pooled and dripped unexpectedly. As Hisoka ushered them upstairs to a private box overlooking the heaving, smoky dance floor, Machi kept looking up, in case any other suspiciously warm drops threatened to splash on her forehead.

A thick curtain at the top of the stairs was all that separated them from the hoi polloi downstairs. Hisoka drew it back with a flourish and bowed.

"After you," he said.

Illumi strode past him without a backward glance. The troupe followed.

Out of the way of the hundreds of clubbers who glided and staggered and spun across the dance floor, the constant throb of the repetitive, electronic beats the DJ blasted from the smoky, low-lit stage was present up in their private booth, but not invasive as it would have been below. It was a pleasant surprise to find that, up here, it was possible to simultaneously carry on a conversation and enjoy the music.

Maybe Hisoka had come through for them after all, Machi mused, as she took a seat next to Paku on one of the absurdly comfortable black sofas that had been arranged to form a neat box around a low, square table of polished glass. Job or no job, she wasn't sure if she could have endured having to fight her way through the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor or the hellish swarm at the bar just for a drink or a dance.

"Now this is more like it!" Uvo enthused.

"Yes, it's great up here, isn't it? If you lean over the back of the sofa, you can watch everyone on the dance floor, pick out your favourite and pounce. It's a pity Nobunaga couldn't make it," Hisoka said, as he handed his ridiculous pink coat to one of the hostesses who had come to take their coats and their drinks order.

"Your fault, dickhead," Phinks remarked. "He's still rough from Wednesday."

Hisoka rolled his eyes.

"What did you order, anyway?" Uvo asked Hisoka. "I saw that girl writing a bunch of stuff down."

"Jugs. Lots of jugs," Hisoka replied, with an indecent mime and a wicked grin. Uvo roared with laughter and threw a heavy arm around Hisoka's shoulders.

"You dress funny and you're a weird sonofabitch, but you're my kinda guy, Hisoka..."

"Let me upstairs, Dalzolenne! I have to see him right now! Ahhh, Hisoka, Hisoka, Hisokaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

In unison, their heads turned at the sound of eager squeals and racing footsteps advancing upstairs. Behind the curtain, someone's excitement was bubbling over. From the sound of the clacking heels and the high-pitched voice, Machi deduced it was a young girl.

The curtain was torn open, revealing what appeared at first glance to be a walking doll. The girl who stood in the doorway and beamed with a fervent joy could easily have been mistaken for one, with her pale face, her perfectly ironed hair dyed a vivid cobalt blue, her fussy Rococo dress and shiny white shoes. Her eyes were wide and sparkled with happiness and she threw her gloved hands high in the air and squealed, "Hi Hisoka! I didn't think you'd be in tonight. Daddy said you'd taken the night off. Why didn't you message me?"

Vaulting over the back of the sofa, Hisoka ran over to the elaborate, creamy-coloured princess, and to her laughing delight, picked her up by the waist and spun her round twice before depositing her safely once again on solid ground.

"I wanted to surprise you, Neon," Hisoka lied, making the girl, Neon, blush.

"You're so silly, Hisoka," she retorted. "Oh, but there's something way more important than work and other boring things like that. Do you like my dress?"

Neon performed a coquettish twirl as Hisoka observed and was awarded with an approving nod.

"It's lovely," Hisoka answered. "Off the rack or bespoke?"

"Hee, I love that you can't tell!" Neon enthused. "It's off-the-rack. Kinda lame, but it was so pretty. I had to have it...!"

Neon's girlish voice faltered as it began to dawn on her that someone was staring at her.

Sitting across from Machi, on the other sofa, Illumi had deigned to look up from the engrossing game of Metris he had been playing on his phone in a determined attempt to ignore Hisoka. With his large, eerie eyes, he stared, unblinking, at Neon, the pretty, twirling, princess who had rushed upstairs and commanded Hisoka's attention. Machi knew this because Shalnark had nudged her and pointed at Illumi, while whispering in her ear: "See that look? Remember it because that is a bad look. That's exactly the same look he gave Gon before he kicked the crap out of him." Machi didn't know why the stupid girl was still standing there. If Illumi had been staring at her like that, she'd have run a mile.

"Wait!" Neon exclaimed suddenly, her gloved hands flying to her face in happy realisation. "I know who you are! You must be Illumi!"

Illumi's head tilted.

"Yes! You must be Illumi," she exclaimed, as she swept across the floor to perch upon the edge of the sofa, where Illumi sat and stared.

"You have such beautiful hair," she cooed, as she began to stroke Illumi's hair with a gloved hand, observing it with an envious, fascinated longing. "Hisoka talks about it all the time, his friend Illumi's beautiful hair, but I didn't believe him. Ahhh, it's so soft! Is that your own colour? It's like silky dark chocolate. I feel like I want to lick it! How do you get it to sit like that? Do you do anything to it?"

"I wash and brush it. That is all."

Neon let out a squeal of envy. "I am so jealous of you! It takes Eliza ages to do my hair. I have to sit for so long, it's so boring! How long does it take you do to your hair, Hisoka?"

"Fucking ages," Phinks snapped. "And he gasses the entire top floor with all the hairspray he uses."

Neon giggled and turned to face the rest of the troupe with a bright smile. "I bet that's true," she teased. "Though it's deffo worth the effort. Hisoka always looks fab when he goes on stage. Do you guys live with him? I've never met any of Hisoka's friends before."

"Yes," Hisoka replied. "They're renting from Illumi too. They arrived two weeks ago."

Hisoka proceeded to introduce each of them in turn, and Neon offered a shy wave and a smile to the assembled troupe members.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," she said. "I would love to stay and party with you, but I have to go back upstairs and study. I've got my exhibition next week, and I'm freaking out," she added with a nervous laugh. "I still have so much to do!"

"Neon is studying Fashion at Central College," Hisoka explained. "She designs prints, mostly, is that right?"

Neon nodded. "Pretty much, though I have to be able to design and assemble the whole dress too. I'm specialising in womenswear. It's tough, but so worth it when you see the finished product.

"But yeah, I have to go," she insisted. Hopping off the sofa, she skipped across the floor before stopping at the curtain to add, "I'll make sure daddy sends you some stuff, though. And don't you guys dare pay for anything tonight! It's on the house!"

With a rustle of fabric, Neon disappeared behind the curtain.

There was a short pause. Then Feitan turned to Hisoka and asked, "Did a fabric fairy just visit us? Who was that?"

"Neon Nostrade," Hisoka said, as he jammed himself between Shizuku and Illumi on the crowded sofa. "Her father owns the club— Oh, thank you!" he added, as a primly dressed waitress leaned over to deposit a large, black box on the table. The box was topped with a black velvet bow, and a tag, white with gilt edges, hung from a thin string.

Picking up the box, Hisoka inspected the tag, and read: "To Hisoka and friends. With compliments. Light."

"What is it?" Shizuku inquired.

Lifting the lid, Hisoka peered inside and grinned. He presented the contents to Illumi and the troupe.

Inside, were lots of little bottles sat on purple tissue paper and arranged in neat rows. Half were green and half were brown. All contained a powdery substance. The green bottles were labelled "No. 1" and the brown bottles "No. 2." All had identical brassy-coloured screw lids. Tucked in at the side was a cocktail recipe card.

"What the hell?" Uvo barked, scratching his head. "I ain't drinking cocktails. Just get me a beer, or a whisky, or somethin'."

"Trust me, Uvo," Hisoka said, with a grin, as he began unscrewing the lids of the green Number One bottles. "You'll want to try this cocktail."

A clinking of glass signalled the arrival of a squadron of waitresses, who bore trays crammed to the corners with empty glasses and large pitchers filled with a pink liquid. As they were set down upon the table, to Machi's horror, Hisoka began to tip the open bottles into the pitchers.

"Hey, what the hell—?" she admonished, grabbing his wrist and stopping him in his tracks.

"Yeah, what is that stuff?" Shalnark said, eyeing the pitchers with suspicion.

"Pink gin fizz," Hisoka replied innocently. "With gin, you can't smell the alcohol on your breath, so if you get pulled over, at least you have half a chance at convincing the officer you're sober."

"He means the stuff in the bottles, not the pitchers," Machi threatened. She tightened her grip on Hisoka's arm, which only made his smile wider.

"Relax," he reasoned. "It's just a little Molly. It'll make you happy. If you're just wanting a drink, I'll leave some of the pitchers alone. Is that okay?"

"I guess," she muttered, satisfied, at which point she relinquished her grip on Hisoka's arm. "What's in the brown bottles?"

"Coke," Hisoka replied, without compunction.

Then he poured a generous glass of the spiked pink gin fizz, added a few ice cubes and held it up for all to see and admire, his nails sparkling in a myriad of repeating patterns and colours as the stage lights strobed. His smile was sharp, wolfish, predatory.

"Who wants one?" he said.

oOo

The drinks kept coming. Machi wasn't sure how many she'd had. It was hard to tell with pitchers because Paku kept topping up everyone's glasses. She was drunk and happy and the table was a sticky mess of gin fizz because every time she tried to manoeuvre the heavy pitchers, she always spilled some.

In the end, she'd tried some of Hisoka's spiked cocktail. She'd had two glasses of the stuff, and actually, it was okay. If she had to describe the feeling, it would have been detached, but happy. As though she were watching a warm, feel-good movie through someone else's eyes. She was still bundled on the sofas with Feitan, Phinks, Hisoka and Illumi. The rest were tearing it up on the dance floor. It was fun leaning over the railing, watching Uvo stomping and strutting like a peacock. Watching Shalnark attempting to do the same was even funnier.

She had never seen Shalnark dance. He was terrible. It was funny.

She was laughing. Feitan and Phinks were laughing. Hisoka was laughing so hard his mascara had begun to run and he had had to jam his fingers under his eyes to keep it from bleeding into his foundation.

Illumi was sitting at the other end, curled up in a ball, stroking a furry cushion with numb, absent fingers. His eyes were like saucers. The smile that barely touched his lips was vague.

Machi wondered if he was okay. He had taken rather a lot, but Hisoka said not to worry. That Illumi was used to it.

God, Shalnark was a bad dancer...

oOo

More cocktails appeared.

Hisoka sprinkled the magic dust and everything was wonderful.

At one point, the music stopped, just as Machi was really getting into it. Irritated, she called out, raising her voice to join the outraged chorus that swelled from the dance floor. There was an announcement. The DJ was taking a break. There would be a performance. Bids would be taken. If anyone wanted a paddle, hostesses would arrive shortly with boxes.

"Paddles... what the fuck?" Feitan slurred. He was slumped in the corner of the sofa, surrounded by cushions Hisoka and Phinks had piled on top of him.

"It's an auction," Hisoka explained, as he shuffled onto his knees and hooked his arms over the railings. "A performer will appear on the stage and will dance. During the dance, members of the audience will bid – frequently over the odds, because Light Nostrade hires only the best – for a night with the performer. The performer makes a lot of money, Nostrade takes commission, the audience enjoys a good show, and the customer gets what they want. Everyone wins."

Curious, Machi and Phinks joined him. Below, the crowd began to gravitate toward the stage, some stopping to pick up plastic paddles from boxes borne by Light Nostrade's prim, silent employees.

"I wonder who's on tonight?" Hisoka mused. "Probably Baise. She's always looking for Saturday night slots."

In Machi's frazzled mind, something clicked.

"That's what you do, isn't it?" she said. Hisoka turned and smiled secretively. "That's how you're able to afford that coat and all that weird stuff that you buy. And the rent. You were supposed to be on tonight, weren't you?"

Hisoka nodded.

"Tell me that's not how you and Illumi met?"

Hisoka threw back his head and laughed.

"God no," he said. "We met in Zaban City at the Big Underground Marathon about... hmm... four years ago now, was it?" Hisoka counted on his fingers, then nodded. "Yes. It would be four years now. Ha, that's longer than I thought. Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose."

"So how did you end up here, wiggling your ass for cash?" Phinks asked.

"I used to fight regularly at Heaven's Arena. When I moved here, times were hard and I couldn't get any of my usual work. There was an ad going round online requesting a magician to work a late-shift, doing a couple of tricks at a private members' club. I jumped at the chance, and Light hired me. I was a tabletop magician first," Hisoka explained. "Performing close-up magic and card tricks for Light's mafia cohorts. One day, a performer didn't show up, and Light was at his wits' end trying to find a replacement. I volunteered, just for a bit of fun. I pulled in nine figures that night," he said, with a hint of pride. "Since I had broken the earnings record by a such generous margin, Light asked if I would do the same again the following week. And here I am."

"I guess sex dancers make more cash than magicians?"

"Obviously it varies," Hisoka teased, "but in my case, most certainly."

"Hey, it's a woman," Phinks noticed. He pointed at the stage and Hisoka and Machi's eyes followed his gesture. "Long hair. Ponytail. Catsuit."

"Ah, I was right. It is Baise," Hisoka said, amusedly. "This should be fun. She drives all the men wild."

"She's hot," Feitan muttered, having scattered the cushions and come to join them.

"Yeah, she is," Phinks agreed.

"In fact... you know what?" Feitan slurred, as he swung round and staggered to his feet. "I'm... I'm gonna go downstairs. I wanna watch. No, fuck it. Let's go wild. I'm gonna bid. Yeah. I'm gonna bid the shit out this auction."

"Feitan, don't be stupid. You can't bid," Machi reminded him. "We don't have any money."

Feitan spun on his heel and swayed dangerously. Fixing her with an outraged stare, he shouted, "SHUT UP, MACHI! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!" before he tangled himself in the curtain and staggered off downstairs.

As Hisoka collapsed into a fit of giggles, Phinks let out a resigned sigh. He rose with a yawn and a stretch.

"Better head down and keep an eye on him," he said. "I don't want him causing chaos. I'll be back up in a minute."

oOo

Illumi was dancing. Only Hisoka was left, so she sat and spoke to him.

"Hisoka?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like... you know... doing what you do here?"

"I do. It's fun. Why?"

"I don't know... it just seems—"

"Exploitative? Degrading?"

"Yeah... all of those things."

"The same labels could be applied to those who bid for my services. All I have to do is parade in front of them to music and they empty their pockets just for a brief slice of my time and expertise. I exploit them as much as they exploit me."

"So you think of it as providing a service?"

"Very much so. All service industries revolve around satisfying paying customers. Illumi's family provide a service. You provide a service too. The service I provide is only different because I trade in the currency of physical pleasure. When I fought for a living, no one batted an eyelid. Murder and thievery are all well and good, but when it comes to considering sex as a business transaction, people become rather prudish and conservative in their opinions."

"I suppose that makes sense. I mean, I'm not judging. Just trying to understand why."

"The job isn't for everyone, I must admit. You have to be able to remain detached as well as displaying a willingness to give the customer exactly what they want."

"And do you?"

"With customers? Always."

"Does Gon know you do this?"

"I'm sure Killua has told him, in an attempt to poison him against me. Not that it's worked."

"He's a sweet kid."

"Gon?"

"Yeah."

"He is."

"Hisoka, why did Illumi lose it with him earlier?"

"Because he has captured the heart of someone he cares for."

"Killua, right?"

Hisoka smiled and said nothing.

oOo

"Illumi..." Hisoka sang, in an eerie, whispery tone. "Illumi, where are you?"

Phinks hadn't reappeared when he had marched downstairs after Feitan, but Shizuku had, flopping onto the sofa with a happy sigh. Shizuku was cuddling into Machi and had draped one of her legs across Machi's. Shizuku's leg was surprisingly heavy. Her denim jeans felt nice, though. Much nicer than Hisoka's hair. She had pinched it earlier and discovered that Phinks was right. It was crispy.

Illumi had been dancing. On his own in the booth. Just swirling around. Making pretty arcs with his hands. Baise had begun to dance, and suddenly, Illumi had sprung to life. Very soon, their interest in Baise had waned in favour of watching Illumi as he spun and twisted like a leaf in the wind. He was beautiful, graceful, and as Nostrade's drugs coursed through his veins Machi noticed an intensity, a fervour about him she had not noticed before.

He danced for a long time; until his hair clung to his pale face in damp strings. Then his knees buckled and he lay slumped on the floor. After lying motionless for a moment, he began to drag his arms back and forth across the carpet, as though he were trying to wrap it around himself like a blanket.

And Hisoka kept calling on him in that creepy voice.

"Illumi... My beautiful Illumi..." he repeated, over and over, as Illumi dragged himself across the floor towards him. Their hands extended, they reached out and touched fingers, and Hisoka smiled.

"What is it, Hisoka?"

"Do you have any needles?"

Illumi managed a nod. "Why?"

"I want you to pierce my ears."

Illumi fixed his strange, round eyes on Hisoka and observed him for a long moment. Then he said, "Okay."

The next thing Machi knew, Illumi had sat next to Hisoka and was numbing his ear with an ice cube and Hisoka was moaning indecently and Shizuku was giggling. Then Illumi pulled out a wicked-looking needle that had been secreted somewhere about his person, undetected by the doormen, and without warning, drove its merciless tip through Hisoka's ear.

There was blood everywhere, and for some reason, that was incredibly funny.

oOo

"Hi Machi. Hope you're having fun. I'm not. Can't set up the cameras. The damned kids are here and they've brought two other guys with them. Leorio and I think the other one's called Crappy, or something. Weird name, right? Killua's packing. Says he's going to stay with them for a bit. I guess he's still steamed about the whole Gon thing. Anyway, I can't get a minute to myself just now. The kids are everywhere. Will keep trying. Nobu."

oOo

Warm. Everything was warm and nice. The music was back. Machi felt like dancing, which was strange, because she never danced. But she couldn't move from the sofa. Paku and Shizuku were curled up beside her. They were whispering to each other, laughing and pointing at Illumi and Hisoka, who were both sitting on the floor as Hisoka took time and care in braiding Illumi's impossibly long hair.

The table was a mess of blood-soaked tissues. Neon Nostrade had appeared briefly to deliver Hisoka a pair of pendant earrings. A little red heart dangled from each. She had made them herself and had chosen the hearts specially for Hisoka because she knew he loved card tricks and hearts were his favourite suit. She had lots of beads upstairs and made earrings all the time. It was not a problem. Not a problem at all.

Hisoka had been effusive in his praise and had handed them to Illumi, who had snatched them up with eager hands and had forced them through the neat wounds he had made. Ecstatic, Hisoka had wrapped his arms around Illumi's waist and had buried his head in his chest, while Illumi leaned over Hisoka, only interested in playing with the dangly, sparkling earrings with the tip of a finger, either not noticing or not caring that Hisoka's face and neck were covered in dried blood.

As Hisoka sat and played with Illumi's hair, Machi's phone beeped. Unlocking it, she found a message from Phinks.

"Machi, we're outside," it read. "Shalnark knocked some guy the fuck out and we had to leave sharp before the bouncers called the cops. Thought it would be Feitan causing the trouble, but I guess coke and Shal don't mix. We're heading to Menchi's to get something to sober him up. Feitan's okay. He bid on that dancer a couple of times, but I stopped him before it got serious. Uvo's fine. He's hardly even buzzed. It takes forty cans to get him going and he didn't touch Hisoka's powder surprise. Let me know if you're heading too. If you're staying, don't let Hisoka feel you up. It demeans us all. Later. P."

"Guys..." she said. "We're going to have to go."

Paku and Shizuku stared up at her.

"What? Why?"

"The guys got kicked out."

"How?"

"Shalnark knocked a guy out."

"Shalnark? Really?" Paku said in disbelief.

"Yeah," Machi confirmed. Giving a great heave, she managed to force herself to her feet. Her head felt light. She wondered how long it would take for the drug to wear off. "We'd better head. They've dragged him to Menchi's. Probably going to feed him coffee till he stops punching strangers. You guys coming, or are you fine sitting here playing hairdressers?" she added, addressing Hisoka and Illumi.

oOo

It had been too cold outside to walk, so they had stolen a car. It had all been Hisoka's idea. He hadn't wanted Illumi to walk, so he had disappeared for five minutes and had come back with a car. An expensive one, champagne coloured, with leather seats and screens in the back.

He was laughing when he'd pulled up to the kerb and had shouted for them to jump in, beckoning them inside with a sharp smile and sparkling, inviting, pink talons. Illumi had insisted he wanted to drive because Hisoka was too drunk, so they had swapped places, Hisoka having taken the passenger seat. Machi, Paku and Shizuku had piled into the back.

With a screech of tires, Illumi had floored it.

They were roaring through the Southernpiece Tunnel that would take them back to Number 44. The tunnel was long and ran under the wide river that neatly bisected Yorknew City. Hisoka had fiddled with the needlessly complicated interface on the dashboard and had switched on the radio, and it was so loud, the subwoofers at her feet throbbed and Machi could feel the music buzzing through her entire body. The sickly yellow tunnel lights flickered past at such a speed, it looked as though they were strobing.

Hisoka was laughing and protesting because Shizuku had opened a window, letting in a wild, buffeting gust of air. It was ruining his hair, he complained.

When they were clear of the tunnel, Hisoka began to pester Illumi, and everything went wrong.

Up ahead, were a set of traffic lights at a crossroads. The road ahead was clear, but there were lines of traffic queued up, waiting to turn or steam straight across. The lights were at green, but it was obvious they were about to turn.

Hisoka reached to turn down the radio.

"Illumi..." he ventured, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I dare you to run the light."

"What?" Paku said weakly, her voice strained from having to shout over the radio. "No! Don't be stupid. Don't run the light."

"Please," Hisoka begged, bringing his hands together in supplication. "Put your foot down. You'll make it, I promise—"

"Don't be fucking stupid," Machi said, with a sudden jolt of anger. She leaned over and gave Hisoka a rough shake. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Ignoring her, the crossroads advancing, Hisoka turned his imploring eyes on Illumi.

"Come on," he whispered, giggling like a maniac. "It'll be fun. Do it. Put your foot down. We'll make it..."

To Machi's horror, Illumi obeyed. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the car shot forward. Thrown backwards, she crashed into Shizuku, who was screaming as her hands fumbled frantically for her seatbelt.

The light turned red before they reached the crossroads and Machi heard herself screaming at Illumi to stop, as Hisoka's laughter became hysterical and he cheered and urged Illumi on.

"Too late now!" he cried, waving his hands joyfully. "Too late now! Keep going, keep going—!"

They hit the crossroad just as the advancing traffic began to move forward, slowly, as most of the drivers were not mad and had seen Illumi coming as they waited for the lights to change – except for one driver who had been cruising at speed in an empty lane as the lights hit green.

They almost made it. Almost. Paku only spotted the cruiser at the last second. She screamed, Shizuku screamed and Machi braced herself for impact as Hisoka whooped and writhed and cackled in the passenger seat like a madman.

There was a bang and a squeal of metal as the cruiser clipped the back of their car. It spun off the road and up onto the sidewalk with a sickening jolt, where it slammed to a halt.

There was a horrible silence. Then Shizuku began to whimper quietly. Paku had been forced up against the window and she clung to the front seat, breathing hard. Machi's heart was pounding. They had been this close... this close.

A cold fury stole over her and she shot out an angry fist, grabbing Hisoka by the collar, ready to rip right through him for being so reckless and stupid.

"What the hell? We could have died!" she seethed, her anger only intensifying when she realised Hisoka was so fucking high he could hardly understand a word she was saying.

She tossed him back into the seat in disgust and almost jumped out her skin when a passerby knocked on the window.

"Hey, you alright in there?" a man's voice called out, low, rumbling and familiar.

A strong, square face puckered with ropey scars peered in through the window. It was Franklin. The boss must have asked him to tail them. Thank god...

"What?" Illumi inquired, fixing his strange, round eyes on Franklin. "Yes, we're quite alright. I think." Illumi craned his neck round to address his three passengers in the back. "Everyone well in the back?"

"Fine," Machi managed through gritted teeth. "No thanks to you."

Ignoring her, Illumi turned his attention once again to Franklin. "Yes, we're all fine. We were just heading home, so I really should be going."

"Don't think you're gonna get very far," Franklin warned. "There's a bitch of a dent in the fender at the back. It's digging right into the tyre. The wheel looks stuck. I wouldn't wanna attempt that journey if I were you."

"Oh," Illumi said.

"I'll give you a lift, if you want?"

"That would be great," Machi answered, with a touch more force than she had intended.

"Where you headed?"

"You know Menchi's Deli on Broad Street?"

"Yeah, I live just round the corner. Umm..." Franklin hesitated, scratching his head. "Is that guy okay?"

Machi didn't even need to look round to know whom Frankin referred to. Hisoka was still laughing, breathless and hysterical. He had slid halfway off the seat and his make-up was running down his face as he gasped for air. His face and neck were streaked with dried blood.

"He's fine," Illumi answered. "He's just really high right now. And a lift round to Menchi's would be great. I can deal with all the insurance stuff from there," he lied. "Thank you very much!"

oOo

It was impressive how quickly a brush with death could transform a mind labouring under the effects of mindless self-indulgence into something clear, sober, twitchy and alert. As Machi sat in the crowded booth at Menchi's, she pondered upon this fact while nursing her coffee and trying to block out the raucous chatter of the other customers who had done exactly the same thing as the troupe and shambled along to the deli for something to eat after leaving bars and clubs.

Though it had been a tight squeeze fitting all of them in, the troupe were lucky to have the booth. A long queue snaked out the front door. It was clear that weekend early-hours were a busy and lucrative time for the deli, as both Menchi and Buhara were on, smiling as they darted back and forth from the kitchen to bring customers their freshly cooked orders. Their faces shone with sweat and happiness.

Perched at the edge of the booth, Machi watched them go about their business, trying not to make eye contact with Nobunaga, who had appeared five minutes ago on pretence of "getting away from the kids". He obviously wanted to update her on the camera situation. She hoped against hope that he had at least made an attempt, otherwise, after the night she'd had, there was a strong case to be made for wrapping her fingers round his throat and squeezing till he stopped breathing.

There was one plus. As soon as he had sat down, Illumi had passed out. He was currently draped across Hisoka and Shalnark, and no amount of poking, prodding or shouting in his ear could wake him. If it came to it, Machi considered, she could sneak away with Nobu and plant the cameras. It would be fine. All was not lost. The plan could still work.

"Guys...?" Shizuku ventured. Everyone turned. Shizuku was peering over the top of her coke-bottle frames at Menchi and Buhara, looking thoughtful.

"What's up?" Phinks asked.

"You know Menchi and Buhara?"

"Yeah?"

"Are they going out?"

"Oh yes," Hisoka answered, with a small smile. "They've been together for years. Buhara told me they bought this place together. They live upstairs."

"I figured that..." Shizuku replied. She paused for a moment, blinked, then said, "So, I have this problem with it."

"Oh?" Hisoka said, his interest suddenly piqued. "Don't tell me you have a thing for Buhara? Or Menchi? I'll tell you plainly that unless you can cook, you don't have a chance."

"Nah," Shizuku dismissed. "It's just the logistics of the whole thing. Like, how do they even have sex? She's so skinny and tiny and he's, like, huge and made from flab. How does it even work?"

Hisoka began to giggle and the rest of the troupe tried to hide their laughter behind their hands, while sneaking furtive glances across the table at the oblivious Menchi and Buhara.

"She'll need a hard hat," Uvo chortled. "You know? One of those ones with the lights on. And she'd need to squeeze through his folds to find his wang."

"Hey, you know how if you get really fat like Buhara, you get bigger? Like, your arms and stuff?" Shizuku added brightly, her eyes shining as though they were contemplating the very secrets of the universe. "Do dicks get bigger, or do they stay the same size and just disappear?"

Silence fell, as the troupe and Hisoka considered the matter.

"Hey, I dunno. That's a good question," Feitan muttered. "I mean, Uvo, you're huge, but you're not a thundering lardass like Buhara, so it's not as if we can even ask you."

"Give me a second and I'll Moogle it," Shalnark said, as he fumbled in his pocket for his smartphone. Typing the question into the search engine, the entire table awaited the answer with baited breath.

"What does it say?" Hisoka asked. "Now that the issue has been raised, I'm rather keen to find out how well-endowed Buhara might be."

"Well, it's not good news," Shalnark replied, with an evil grin. "Apparently, the dicks of fat guys are normal sized, but the growth of fat in the pubic region buries part of the penis, so it appears much smaller than it actually is."

"That's their excuse," Nobu jibed, eliciting another round of repressed sniggering.

"Thanks for that, Shizuku," Paku sighed, as she stirred her coffee. "Now every time I come in here, I'm going to imagine poor Menchi having to climb that wobbling mountain."

"You're not the only one," Phinks muttered. Then he gave the comatose Illumi a rough nudge and added, "He's the only one who's escaped the horror."

"It's okay," Feitan said slyly. "Pass me some of your fries and we can even the score."

The troupe proceeded to spend an enjoyable, diverting fifteen minutes or so, arranging Illumi into compromising poses while Shalnark danced around and recording the footage on his phone for posterity. While Feitan had shoved fries up his nose, Phinks had applied a liberal amount of 'ketchup makeup' to make him look pretty and to 'help the fries stick'. Shizuku and Paku had then teamed up to lick both sides of his face at once, and there was a particularly incriminating photo in which Uvo had shoved Illumi's head into his crotch while feigning orgasm.

It was pretty funny. Menchi and Buhara were watching them from the counter, shaking their heads and laughing. Strangers in the queue had even begun cat call and offer suggestions.

"I've got a marker! Draw cocks on him!"

"Nah, steal all his clothes and run for it!"

"Smack your balls off his head!"

Then one girl cried out:

"Kiss him!"

Hisoka stepped forward. Climbing atop the unconscious Illumi, he straddled him, smiled and waved for the camera, then grabbed Illumi's face and brought it to his in a deep, passionate kiss.

The deli erupted. The bystanders began to wolf-whistle and jeer. Feitan, Phinks, Uvo's faces contorted into a strange mixture of amusement and bewilderment, with just a touch of horror. Nobu looked as though he didn't know whether to laugh or squirm. Paku's gossip sensors were plainly on overdrive and Shizuku was nodding approvingly, asking Shalnark whether he was getting all this.

When Hisoka stuck his hand down Illumi's pants, however, Machi decided enough was enough.

She lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of Hisoka's hair and dragged him off Illumi with a rough, unyielding hand. She released her grip only when Hisoka was far away enough that he couldn't climb straight back on. He stumbled and fell to the floor, where he sat in a bewildered heap and stared up at her with a hurt look.

"Too far," she said. "I'm taking him home."

Wrapping Illumi's arms around her shoulders, she lifted him and made for the door. The line of customers all sighed and began to complain that she was spoiling all the fun.

Then she stopped. Hisoka stood in the doorway, blocking the exit.

"I'll help you," he said.

A tense silence fell.

Machi squared herself and stared coldly at Hisoka. He wasn't looking at her, though. He was looking at Illumi, with a glint in his eyes she recognised only too well. It seemed Hisoka wasn't as adept at disguising it when he was hammered.

"Nobu, can you give me a hand?" she called out, ignoring Hisoka. In a trice, Nobu appeared at her side and wrapped Illumi's other arm round his shoulders.

They pushed past Hisoka and dragged Illumi outside, but Hisoka followed them all the way to number 44, pouting, protesting, turning on the charm, asking them why they were taking Illumi away, as if he didn't know.

When Machi kicked the front door open, they almost fell over the sports bags piled at the door.

"The kids must've finished packing," Nobu muttered.

"Packing?" Hisoka asked. "Where are they going?"

"Killua's going to stay at Leorio and Crappy's. Didn't say why," Nobu answered.

"Oh..."

"Look, I know you bang him, but it's not gonna happen, so could you at least help out by taking his legs?" Nobu said frankly. "Otherwise the two of us are going to have to drag him up to the top floor."

Hisoka shrugged. "Sure."

With a lot of huffing and puffing and cursing and muttering, they made it to the top floor. It turned out that Illumi was a lot heavier than he looked. Then he was quite tall, Machi supposed, as she mopped her brow.

They had taken a brief break, leaving Illumi slumped against the wall. Hisoka was crouched next to him, balancing on the tips of his stiletto boots, stroking Illumi's hair while Nobu kept a wrathful eye on him to make sure it didn't go any further.

"Don't worry," Hisoka said sweetly, as Illumi's eyelids fluttered and he began to stir. "You're home, Illumi. I'm going to put you to bed."

"No you're fucking not," Machi snapped. She thrust out a finger, pointing across the hall to Hisoka's room. "Leave. Go to your room. Now."

Hisoka began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned.

He paused for a moment, smiling at her. Then he said, "What if I won't?"

Nobu stepped forward.

"We're not kidding," Nobu threatened.

Hisoka's narrow eyes flitted left and right, calculating, wondering if it was worth the risk. Machi's heart was in her mouth, though she relished the thought of having an excuse to hand Hisoka his ass. After all the shit he'd pulled today, he deserved it.

But Hisoka shrugged.

"Fine," he said.

Then he walked away and disappeared into his room without another word.

For a minute, Machi and Nobu remained on the alert, watching, waiting for any signs of movement.

"I don't trust him," she whispered.

"Me neither."

Then she had an idea.

"Nobu," she said, lowering her voice still further and leaning in so she wouldn't be overheard by the muttering Illumi. "Did you get the cameras in?"

"No. That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. The kids were buzzing about upstairs. I'm gonna do it now."

"Good. I'll wait out here. And if he takes one step out of that door, I'll break his fucking neck."

oOo