A knock or two later, a still steaming, but determined to overcome that state, dark-haired Aussie opened his door. Shinyou’s personality, right along with his wig and contacts had been ditched to leave Ryou looking like himself, with ebony hair falling past his shoulders and stormy eyes lifting to greet his guest.
He took a moment- as was his habit of doing with everyone he met for first time- to survey Shira from head to toe. Little things were noted, the color of eyes and the way his lips curled just so. Ryou couldn’t help the most engrained habit his artistic muse had drilled into his psyche, and if his guest had a problem with it, he could say so. However, that didn’t guarantee the fox’s cooperation, or that he’d be listening to any request to stop it.
He smiled, a crafty near devious curl of lips upward, and opened his door wide. “Welcome, welcome. My home is yours, really.” Ryou was just contrary enough to give Shira an open invitation to his dorm room thanks to all the bullshit flying around on his journal. Something Saeki should have thought about before sticking his nose in where it wasn’t asked to be.
Shiraishi didn't miss Ryou's eyes on him, studying him up and down, taking in everything about him--from the clothes he wore, dressed comfortably in khaki and a t-shirt, the way he stood casually in the doorway, leaning with one hand on the frame, to the very beginnings of a smirk that lingered ever-present on his lips--but it didn't bother him. They'd never formally met, after all, and couldn't blame Ryou for wanting to scope out the guy he was inviting into his room for drinks. That wasn't his habit, however. Shiraishi was more about getting to know someone through talking. And more often than not, drinking. It may have been a weeknight, but he was still prepared to do a lot of both.
When Ryou invited him in, a grin curled across his lips to match the devious look the other boy wore as he walked in and took a quick, uninvasive look at his surroundings--no digging for secrets here. Of course it helped that he was mostly unaware of the special privilege he'd be granted by being allowed entrance into the dark haired boy's sanctuary. "So this is where ya been hiding yehself, huh?" He filed the room number away in his memory for, hopefully, later use (especially if Ryou proved to have sake often).
“Hiding myself?” Ryou mused aloud as he closed the door behind them. “No, luv. I wouldn’t call it hiding. I’d call it cloistering myself away behind fortification strong enough to keep a tiger at bay.” So far so good, Ryou thought as he led his guest further into the room. At least they weren’t trying to kill each other, yet. Or rather, he hadn’t given into the terrible urge to sock Shiraishi a good one just for the principle of it- after all he was one of Saeki’s ‘toys’, or so the rumors went. Hn, maybe he was growing immune to it.
Ryou motioned toward the rather plush couch that had proven to be a more than comfortable bed on one or two occasions. “Take a load off, darlin’,” He rounded the sitting area, and then approached the small, makeshift bar he’d constructed using nothing more than his coffee table and a small pitcher of Sake. Two small cups, looking more like wooden bowls waited, unfilled.
He’d taken the time to push the couch back just a little, on the off chance that his guest preferred sitting in a traditional way. A courtesy that told him Kisarazu Kyoko’s teachings were sticking inside his rebellious brain- whether he liked it or not.
"Fair enough," Shiraishi only grinned in reply. "I take it ya don't let just anyone in here?" There was no doubt in Shiraishi's mind that the 'tiger' in question was Saeki--the question was, had he been wrong in assuming the graduate had found his way back to the Academy for the jungle cat's sake, or was there some kind of twisted logic going on here? Then again, from what he'd seen of Saeki and Ryou's relationship from his comfortable position on the sidelines, 'twisted logic' didn't even begin to describe it.
Another thing Shiraishi was going to forgo thinking about in favor of sake. "I'd love to, babe," he answered easily, that peculiar term of affection fitting in far more naturally with his Jersey accent than Ryou's previous suggestion of 'sugah.' And maybe it served as a little surprise to his host when he slid off his shoes and settled before the makeshift coffee table bar in perfect seiza, his weight rested on his heels. A position that would have been excruciating for any normal person after a good 10 minutes, but for Shiraishi seemed to be as habitual as kicking one's feet up on the table. "God, I haven't seen sake since the last time I was in Japan. Where'd ya get it?"
“Where does any self-respecting Japanese boy get his sake?” Ryou quipped as he settled in opposite Shiraishi. Lean legs folded neatly beneath him, heels tucked just into place as his mother had drilled into his head daily for over half the beginning of his life. “My mother,” A single jet-black lowered in a sassy wink, and pale hands started to work.
Ryou gathered up one of the wooden bowls, cupping it almost reverently in his hands and presented it to his guest. “And no, I don’t let just anyone in here.” His shoulder rose on a small shrug, as if to say it wasn’t important even if it was. “The less people I deal with, the less murders I plot.” Saeki’s being one of them.
“Besides, a sanctuary becomes less like a sanctuary and more like a circus when too many people gather in it.” And that said it all. Ryou liked his solitude. He didn’t necessarily like being alone all the time, but he liked his peace and quiet. Loved the ability to listen to the wind just outside his bedroom window and close his eyes, imagining a world that opened only for him in his mind.
"No kidding?" Shiraishi commented, sounding impressed but not particularly surprised. His companion's dark eyes and darker hair, falling thick and perfectly straight down his back in an ebony spill in a way that vaguely reminded him of ancient paintings of Heian courtiers, suggested a background that if not completely fullblood Japanese was surely close. He almost remarked on this sudden thought, but then he was fairly certain any guy, no matter how 'pretty' they were, wouldn't appreciate being likened to pampered court ladies of centuries ago.
More importantly, Ryou's words suggested that he had a constant supply, a portion of which was currently being offered to him... and the little traditional customs the other boy seemed to follow as he presented the cup made Shiraishi feel oddly at home, like when he'd visit relatives in Osaka. So much so that he accepted the little bowl with both hands and a trademark Kansai "Ookini," rather than its proper Tokyo counterpart arigatou. Call it habit, or maybe he was just more focused on what Ryou had to say than he was about keeping dialect out of a conversation that was in English anyway. Ruthless murder at the hands of the petite boy in front of him was a particularly interesting subject. The thought made him smirk--no doubt Saeki was on his mind again.
"I know what ya mean," he answered truthfully, recognizing the value of a quiet place to tuck yourself away when it seemed life was just too hectic to deal with. As much as Shiraishi loved company and attention, even he needed some time now and then to kick back and recharge. "The Internet's serious business after all," he added jokingly, grin finding its way back to his lips as he thought about all the chaos he was probably stirring into both of their weeks just by being here when it looked like the entire school was against the idea. "Gotta have an escape somewhere."
Ryou wrinkled his nose and shot his computer a look that bordered on being filled with hate. “The Internet’s a pain in my arse, mate. And it can go hang for all I care.” That blasted miracle of modern day society was, for lack of a better word, Ryou’s bane.
Once the bowl had exchanged hands, Ryou gracefully took the part of pouring for his guest. The flow of sake held his attention, but not securely enough to stop the wicked smile that crept across his lips. “Escape? You sure you’re escaping here, because from the looks of things, our mates don’t seem to think we should be hanging out with each other and if I know Saeki, punishment is sure to come.” His eyes, when he withdrew, lowering the pitcher to the table, danced with laughter.
”Not that I care, you understand. There’s nothing I like better than tweaking his nose, but trying to limit our association because he –thinks- you’re going to lead me down a path of wickedness… Well now, that’s bullshit, and calls for ignoring.” Heh, who was to say? It could be Ryou doing the leading instead of Shiraishi, after all he was rather could at leaving chaos in his wake.