Your AIM: moderngarde
Muse's Name: Gara
Muse's Band: Merry
Muse's LJ: kubitsurirondo
Muse's AIM: moderngarde
Muse's Age: 26
Muse's Affiliation: Yakuza, shatei, Sixth Yamaguchi-gumi
Muse's Job: "fixer". collects debts, either in blood money or cash.
The clicking sounds of steps in the alley mixed with the moderately annoying sound of a cellphone ringing. Flipping it open, the man dressed in dark attire brought it to his ear, waiting for the person on the other end to answer.
"So?" The dark, scratchy voice asked imaptiently.
There was no sound; simply the one of the heavy breathing of someone who, apparenly, had eaten too much and exercised too little.
No answer and the man sighed, knowing very well this was how Gara worked. Quick, soundless and effective. "Second resturant between fourth and seventh. Don't mess it up."
Hanging up, Gara put the phone back into the pocket of his coat. The walk to the resturand was a quick one and he entered, immediately heading for a table in the back. On his way, he grabbed an orange from a fruit bowl standing on a deserted table and as he sat down, he brought a slightly stained knife out of his pocket; starting to cut the fruit. He had always like the feeling of breaking the hard skin without damageing what was inside. It was the same thing with people, he thought. The more careful you were, the more you could peel.
"Excuse me, sir. Can i get you anything?"
He looked up at the kind voice, belonging to a young man with an equally kind face.
Lips curving into a smirk, he nodded slightly; chuckling inwardly as the kid's eyes widened and he left quickly. Gara took that as an invitation and headed into the kichen; paying no attention to the people around him as he continued to the back and into the owner's office.
Glad to be away from the smell of sweat and food mixed together, he leaned his back against the door as the man in front of him began to explain how he had no money right now. Gara barely listened. The excuses were all the same.
Walking up to the desk, he could see the other man begin to sweat and as the knife made its way from his pocket and into his right hand, he thought the man would faint. He didn't, however, and was very much awake to see the knife pierce the picture of his twelve-year-old daughter which had been framed and placed on his desk by his wife.
Gara grinned - his crooked teeth making him look even more intimidating - and then turned around, making his way out of the noisy resturant.
No remorse, he had learned a long time ago, and as sin had become his daily round, first warnings had become almost boring. Almost.
Comments: as you may notice, Gara isn't much of a talker. He interacts in other ways, though, and is actually quite nice in his own way.
this is an old muse with odd habits and quirks from before :) i hope he'll find a good home here~