Participants:
| Scene Title | Recapitulation |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | So, where did we leave off? |
| Date | August 13, 2009 |
Located in the Upper West Side, West Side Sushi is a small sushi bar and restaurant that caters towards a medium income though manages a more upscale environment. The decor is tasteful and modern, vibrant in the tone of wooden floors, reflective glass bars, tricky lighting fixtures and artwork on the walls. A winding bar occupies one side of the building, the other devoted to private, comfortable tables with booths and armchairs. A decent range of Japanese cuisine is offered, from light meals to proper dinners, with a focus on sushi of varying prices. A full range of liquor is also available, including sake.
It has a trendy kind of vibe that implies temporary success and limited lifespan, but while it's in its prime, it's a nice place to go, with a casual if still sophisticated ambience with prices that aren't out of reach of the common man but quality that doesn't guarantee it will be overlooked by the wealthier patron.
There's a reverent, quiet ambience to a place like this that you just don't get on Staten Island, and if any restaurant critic ever set foot in the latter, perhaps that's something they'd write. Nothing like a library's whisper - conversation mingles in the backdrop over light music Logan couldn't quite pick out even if he were trying to, but it's a polite kind of hum. Gently sophisticated without the chilliness of upscale climates. Also, sake.
That would be sake, not sake, the kind you get in a warm ceramic bottle or cold in glass, not the abstract notion of purpose and interest. One of those nothing words. Currently, he's waiting at the slender bar that wraps itself around one of side of the room, an arm folded against it and perched comfortably on the cushioned stool, and his hand is spider-fingered over a small ceramic cup designed for the warm liquid he's gone ahead and ordered just a little early.
It would take a little study to decide whether he's dressed appropriate for the kinds of businessmen that frequent such places, or the eurotrash who might do the same. Black worsted wool and fine pinstripes, but then there's the silk of his waistcoat underneath and the golden threads running through the shimmering black shirt beneath that, open at the collar and casually expensive. Pointed shoes draw creaks into the leather where he has them braced against the floor, black unless they catch the light, and oily patterns of shell and scale can be seen in the glare.
Despite waiting and having nothing to do as he does as such, Logan is distracted. Rather than watch the door, he studies the surface of the glassy bar, takes a sip of sake, checks his watch, goes back to watching the play of lights on ceramic and glass. He's been prone to fits of thinking, lately, and that's what happens when you're undersexed.
Thinking is certainly not something Satoru is overly fond of, especially when it comes about due to unfortunate circumstances, but he's been prone to similar unfortunate fits himself of late. Thinking is for chumps, and getting caught up in unpleasant thoughts moreso. It isn't nice, not having people around.
He shows up fashionably — early, for once. He apparently still respects Logan enough for that level of courtesy! Similarly, he's also dressed appropriately for the location, which is strange enough on its own for anyone who's used to seeing him - rather than his usual street gear, he's wearing a pair of nice slacks in an earthy brown shade, a jade dress shirt tucked into that, and a matching brown jacket over the shirt, though once he enters he removes it and folds it over his shoulder. Proper shoes, and his hair is flat against his head in contrast to the usual spikes. He almost looks like a different person entirely, really.
And he heads for the bar as he enters, where he takes a seat next to Logan. A glance is given at the sake, and he raises an eyebrow with some vague sort of amusement. "Didn't peg you for a sake man, boss." Small smirk. "Wanna toss some of that over here? I'm legal now, yo."
To Logan's credit, he manages to look up in the few last seconds before Toru is inviting himself to sit down, back straightening and setting down his cup with a clink. The change in appearance is radical enough that it takes a few seconds to process, during which time he's already drawing the second glass over and pushing the matching bottle of booze across the bar, towards Toru, so that the younger man can partake. All legal like. "When in Rome. Or Japan, in this case.
"You look different." If an offhanded observation could also be an accusation, this would be it, albeit mild, and now it's Logan's turn to look on the a vague sort of amusement contained in a brisk glance. Brown and jade in the form of tailored lines and smoothed, press fabrics are not qualities to be associated with Toru. On the flipside, Logan looks exactly as he always does.
Maybe more like he always does, if without the clash and ostentation of leopard print and satin, and the world has Toru to thank for that, or at least his selective packing skills. "Happy birthday," Logan tacks onto the end of that, focus returning to his own drink, knocking back a generous sip.
There was no mistake or coincidence involved when the animal print clothes were left behind — all of that was most certainly intentional. The world has Toru's sense of taste to thank for that. As far as his own change in clothing choice is concerned, Toru does indeed hear the faint accusation in Logan's tone, though he shrugs it off with a brief wave of his hand. And tosses back a gulp of sake.
"Few days ago," he replies, only a hint of 'correction' in his tone. "Actually almost forgot about it. So much crap goin' on lately and all." He pauses, nods slowly. "Ma called." And with that, he sips a bit more from his admittedly small glass — undecided as to how fast he wants to drink the stuff. "Anyway, 'snot like I'm gonna come to a nice place wearin' a t-shirt and crappy pants, right?" Shrug.
And with that he turns a bit, gesturing to tables on the other side of the room. "Were you plannin' on actually eatin' something, or do you wanna just sit up here? More comfortable over there for talkin' or whatever." At the very least, you can't say he's entirely changed — the clothes, in this case, apparently don't quite make the man. At least, not yet. "I mean, maybe not whatever," is added, in overly joking tone.
"Let's go then. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable." Forever, there's an insinuation of something in his tone. Doesn't even have to be sexual. Doesn't even have to be anything. Stabs in the dark at what things mean beneath the words, understand about social interaction that sociopaths aren't meant to have, but are fully entitled to guess. There is a reason Logan makes people feel uneasy without even trying. First-and-a-half nature.
You know, if you noticed that kind of thing. Cared remotely for it. Toru has the benefit of being young and violent too. Switching his cup from hand to hand, Logan picks up the bottle as well and tilts his head towards the empty table already indicated, readily sitting comfortable in the corner of the small booth, topping up his drink.
"Go ahead and order what you like, it's on me. Certainly I owe you that much, don't I?"
This is going to be one of those conversations, Toru can already tell, and given his advantage in being young and violent … well. The benefits of being Japanese, at least, are that he sees fit not to lash out in a public, Japanese restaurant. Very racially sensitive of him. He stands, following Logan over to that booth, sits and folds his jacket on the bench next to himself.
Seated across from Logan, he tops up his own drink and looks across at the man, his expression one of… hurt confusion, almost. "I figured you'd be more comfortable too, you know." Sigh. Sips from the drink, the third of what looks like will probably be many, and drums his fingers on the tabletop impatiently for a moment.
"And what's this about owing me, all of a sudden? What do you owe me for?" Either he's already forgotten several weeks of cohabitation, or this isn't counting in his mind for whatever reason. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty about somethin'?"
Nothing much changes about Logan's demeanor, and this sharper shift of conversation more or less triggered by his off-handed comment. He'd already been wary before Toru had even stepped through the door, as if perhaps he was the one expecting to feel guilty, as laughable as that might be. You're not allowed to smoke in restaurants, so instead, he slowly and absently rotates his sake cup against the table, the rim pinched between thumb and middle finger.
Before, quite decidedly, he attempts to loosen himself of tension. His jacket is escaped, draped over a nearby surface in mirror of Toru, a hand running through his hair, made slightly more golden than usual under warm lighting, in a sort of irritated, fussy gesture before folding his hands, dealing Toru a sharp look across the table. "No," Logan says, in a flat and blunt sort of way, meant to imply honesty. "If you do, that's not my doing. Perhaps I just wanted to show off that I could afford such a thing, after having barely a penny for however long.
"Why don't you tell me what's on your mind, Satoru?"
As a server happens by to take orders, Toru places one for a modest meal; nigiri sushi, some rice, a Sprite to help with thirst without getting himself completely plastered. With that done, and a pause allowed for Logan to do his own ordering, Toru taps his fingertips together and lets out a breath through his nostrils. "I guess you don't know me all that well, huh?" He shrugs, smirks. "Ain't nothin' on my mind, boss."
Hand is waved idly, and he shakes his head. "My job's bein' a grunt, brainwork ain't my thing. But I guess if I had to figure somethin'.." Here he bites the inside of his lip, turns his gaze away from Logan to stare off into the distance, putting actual effort into formulating an answer.
"… I think 'm losin' track of what's goin' on and I kinda miss havin' you around. But it's also kinda nice havin' my place back to myself." He closes his eyes a moment, shakes his head slowly, and looks back to Logan. "And I think it's prob'ly better for me not havin' you there all the time. I'unno why, it's just kinda.. a feelin' I get, y'know? It ain't that I don't like you or nothin', just…" He shrugs as he trails off, at a loss for further explanation. "Anyway, ain't like I'm much of a thinker."
Californian rolls, is Logan's equally light and ~trendy~ order, along with a request for one more bottle of warm sake, and opting otherwise to stick to the water as his own buffer against getting sloshed. It's already been placed in a tall bottle between them, two glasses just in case, and he's already filling his as Toru responds, gaining a raised eyebrow from the Brit across from him midway, but nothing more. No rebuke, no come back.
Listening, of all things, and even allowing a smile to cross his face, as removed as it might be. "Well. Then you can see why I might owe you dinner, although I shouldn't worry— everyone misses me eventually." His hands link back together; he raises a shoulder in a casual shrug. "That was plenty of thought. I was wondering if I could give you more to think about."
Whatever that might be, it's not instantly elaborated on. Logan fixes the cuffs of his shirt a little, though they don't need to be. "I managed to get a place in this area, myself. Only a matter of time before I managed something. Staying with you was just that. Temporary." A beat, and there's a slight crack in the veneer, one of uncertainty, that only translates as hesitation, a flick of a glance, as he makes the addition; "Not that I wasn't grateful."
Toru's Sprite arrives soon enough, and he lifts it almost immediately to sip from straw. It's almost a nervous sort of gesture; awkward silence prevailing for a moment, the straw gives him a moment to formulate his thoughts, or possible lack thereof. Finally: "It wasn't a problem, it's not like I had to babysit or anything." Small shrug, paired with an awkward sort of smile. Almost blushing, even.
"Mutually beneficial I guess you'd say, huh?" He shakes his head, sips again, and takes a moment to pour himself a glass of water. He's gathering quite a collection of drinks, here. "I gotta say, the way you're talkin's kinda weirdin' me out, though." A hand is teetered, presumably to illustrate aforementioned 'weirding'. "Anyway, I knew it was just temporary, didn't figure you'd wanna hang out in C-town forever, right?"
Sip. Pause. Sip again. "So what's it you want me to think about?"
"Right." There was the faintest glimmer of frustration from Logan, triggered by that observation and accompanying hand gesture; vanished a moment later, interrupted by a long sip of water and a scouting out glance a round the restaurant. Yet. Yet, he doesn't make it any easier by smoothing the way with mood altering bodily chemical adjustments. Plying the boy with liquor is enough, maybe.
It usually isn't, but it probably should be. Moving right along, though. Logan's voice switches to franker, more business-like tones, which is the only effort made to improve off weirdness; "I'm managing a strip club in Brooklyn. It's not quite the Rookery so I don't expect it'll be so exciting, but I do expect it to pay better than the Dagger did, if you're interested."
There's a heavy sound of ceramic against glass and Logan tops up his drink, upon it being brought over. "Arigato." And no, it's not pronounced very well at all, attention soon swiveling back to Toru, with an expectant lift of his eyebrows. Well?
An eyebrow is raised at that mispronunciation of the thanks, but he shrugs it off; at least the guy tried. There's another thing Toru normally wouldn't let go, but there you have it. In any case, he sips his Sprite again, following it with a topping off of his sake and a slow sip from that cup, then sits back in his seat. Cozy.
Nodding slowly as he looks Logan over, a grin spreads across his face, one hand clenching into a fist. "Dang, man, I was wondering when the hell that was gonna go down. I mean, not that, but somethin', right?" An enthusiastic nod there, and he looks at his boss as if he answer were obvious.
"Wait, are you askin me? Duh I'm gonna come along, I didn't put up with you for however long just so I could ditch ya once you got a new place goin'." But at that, he does frown just slightly, and lets out a small breath. "Though I guess it probably ain't gonna be… well, like you said, not so excitin'. But man, I can deal with that if I gotta."
"Good." And, that's that. No attempt at thanks or gratitude or enthusiasm; simple approval that the status may be quo once more. It's all very— English of him. Logan retrieves his wallet from his draped jacket, flipping it open with his thumb and nudging out a card. This is pinned to the table with a couple of fingers and slid over, arcing arond the obstacles on the table to rest in front of Toru. Shining, glossy black, with the word Burlesque printed in searing pink. Finer words in white detail the location and contact details. "Come by Friday evening and we'll start you off. As for excitement— "
Logan allows for a limp, helpless gesture with his hands, palms up towards the ceiling before linking his fingers together again. "I could personally live without it for a little while, but it's not always so. Don't worry, something's bound to come up. I should warn you…
"It's a legitimate business, this time. If I want to keep it, I'm meant to be playing by the rules of the mainland, I suppose." He shrugs, hand moving towards his sake cup. "Within reason."
Leaning forward at the offer of the card, Toru cranes his neck with some exaggeration as he looks it over. Black and pink; mildly gay, but no comment is made. Instead, he pulls out his own wallet, slipping the card in once he's read it over. All well and good, then. Wallet is replaced, hands are folded on table.
"I kinda figured that'd be the case. I mean, I did always tell you the mainland sucks, right?" He shrugs, but with that in mind, his expression suddenly makes a turn towards … concern. Possibly misguided, most definitely unexpected. A look is cast around the restaurant and he leans in close to his once-again, more aptly-named boss. Not intimately so, but enough to suggest that he's trying to be discreet, as indiscreetly as possible.
Voice is lowered, at least. "This isn't.. there isn't gonna be any trouble with me bein' around, is there?" Familiar hand-wiggle, there. "'Cause I don't think either of us need to deal with that, y'know?" He does not elaborate.
Logan's rolls his eyes a little, on the subject of the mainland - implying that, certainly, he doesn't need to be told twice, despite the luxuries it provides in contrast to the place he'd called home for the last two years. At the lean in, he mirrors it a fraction, although retracts when the sounds of footsteps near, his response put on hold for the time it takes for both of their meals to be set down in front of them.
Fidgety, the set of chopsticks provided is picked up, rolled between his fingers as the server is followed with a gaze, before looking back across at the younger man. "I don't expect trouble," Logan states, in a tone of pending assurance. "But if I was— the good thing about being under Linderman's influence is that they do take care of their own. If you need anything - a fake I.D., a new place should it come to that - then I can steer you towards a couple of contacts I've made."
'Contacts' sounds better than 'superiors', although to judge by Logan's tone of voice, the choice of words aren't designed to cover up some other truth, simply stating a fact, if in the same way he might call dollars 'pounds' and 'quid' on occasion.
There are nods at the words, but for a moment Satoru concerns himself with eating a piece of his sushi, chopsticks used deftly to dip it into soy sauce before nomming. "That might be a good idea," he admits. "Back when I ran into that Ivanov Fed guy, I gave him a fake name and he asked for ID.." Shrug. "I just said I didn't have any 'cause I don't drive and can't drink, and I mean parta that was true and all, but prob'ly I should have backup if I'm gonna go doin' that, huh?"
Could it be that the boy is learning? The last couple of weeks have been particularly enlightening, at least compared to other weeks, but a few key points have certainly come up. Could be he's actually developing from his experiences; a harrowing thought.
"And if it comes down to it it wouldn't be too bad to move again. The movin's kinda annoyin' but change of scenery's nice, right?" He grins there, leaning against the back of his bench, and sips his sake. "Everything's goin' along alright, then?"
A cup of sake is finished before Logan is steering chopsticks to his plate, potentially not as adept as Toru's movements, but adequate enough to justify not using his fingers. The rolls are pushed around a little before one is picked up, dabbed into the shallow bowl of soy sauce, consumed, which might technically be the wrong thing to do when it's not bound in nori and instead peppered with roasted sesame seeds, but, Logan's cared less about greater things also.
And if he gets any enjoyment out of the sushi, that's another story also, impassive as he picks up the second. "Everything eventually does," Logan affirms with a flick of a smile. "If you need help moving— well, things aren't quite there for the taking, this side of the river, but I can see what I can do. Moving is probably a good idea - no one ever said being a fugitive wasn't going to be annoying.
"Got the jewels back from Tuck, by the way." A slightly raised eyebrow look is cast across the table, mildly accusatory. Liar, having told him they were sold, and all. White teeth flash as Logan bites into the second piece of sushi.
"Rent's pretty cheap here; if I am gonna move, it'll have to be somewhere just as crappy 'less you wanna give me a raise. Bouncers don't make much for tips, I figure." Toru smirks, moving on to a second piece of sushi himself; dip, chew, followed by a drink of water to help it down. He's relaxed enough for a moment, but that last remark throws him off a bit.
And, to some extent, out comes the familiar Toru attitude; he shifts immediately to the defense, biting back a shout, and leans forward to hiss, "He told me he sold it!" And his glance darts around, hurriedly. "Gave me crap about how he figured you owed him!" His brainwheels turn a bit as he tries to come up with some explanation, and finally he settles on, "Maybe he just — maybe 'cause I went around over there he went and got it back."
He sighs, leans back once again, sips despondently from sake mug and refills. "Made some threats at me 'cause I said he shouldn'ta sold it, and all. Maybe he figured he made a mistake gettin' rid of it."
In the face of hissing and the sharpening of attitude in his direction, Logan only sips some water, followed by delicately nudging some wasabi into his soy sauce bowl, mixing it with the wider ends of his chopsticks. Primly, another piece of sushi is picked up, dunked, eaten in two bites as opposed to one, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Perhaps. But I had a feeling that if he had the necklace and was willing to get it to me, he had the rest of it— or intended to get it back," Logan adds. "I was right; he wanted to do business.
"On the grounds…" And quickly as you like, Logan reaches across the table, steals a piece of nigiri for his own, and before Toru can truly protest, he nudges his own plate forward in offering. Now it's a real date - food sharing! "One the grounds that you stay away from him."
Toru almost does protest to the food trade, but ultimately decides not to; he did make a mistake with the jewelry after all, so this is perhaps some way of making amends for that. Or something. Either way, he does accept the offer of one of Logan's rolls in trade, dipping and chomping it as has been his custom thus far. The wasabi he avoids, for whatever reasons he may have.
With a sip of water, he gives Logan a vaguely amused expression at that last remark. "He's the one who was all over me," Toru notes, though not in protest so much as observation. "Offered me a date and everything. It was all kinda sad, really." Nodding thoughtfully, he eats another piece of his own sushi, and points his chopsticks at Logan.
"Probably that's just his way of getting back at me for not going along. I don't really do fancy Italian, y'know?"
"Tuck? Gilbert Tucker?" is Logan's incredulous response - stolen jewelry, fake identification, and new strip clubs promptly gathered together and thrown out of his mind like laundry through a washing machine chute. "Really? Are you sure he wasn't being… sarcastic, or something? He does that, you know. Even if it wasn't, it appears the romance has ended before it could begin. He doesn't like the way you go about things."
There's more amusement in his voice than rebuke, as if perhaps Logan can relate to going about things in ways people don't like. Just perhaps. "I just told him how in love with me you were and clearly weren't thinking straight." It's always dangerous, with Toru at least, making fun this way - that much Logan has learned, but the sport is too fun to give up.
"Well of course he was being sarcastic. It ain't that surprisin', you know he's into guys just as much as the next guy is." Casually, he goes to pick up his next piece of sushi — and Logan's next comment has him pinching his chopsticks rather a bit too tightly, the rice falling away from the piece of fish that remains clenched between bamboo points. He sets it down, fist clenched nonetheless, and sighs.
Deep breath. Counts to ten, inwardly, unintentionally making a bit of a show of calming himself down. "You still think I'm some kinda girl, huh? Jus'.. jus' 'cause-a all that. Stuff. It'll take a lot more'n what you got to make me be in love with you, Mr. Logan." His tone is a bit mocking in its own right, though at the very least he isn't causing too much of a scene.
"I was thinkin' of askin' if you wanted to stop by for a drink when we're done, but I think maybe I'm havin' enough here."
Thank goodness. The day Tuck starts taking a healthy (?) interest in other people will be a bizarre day indeed. At the news of sarcasm, Logan nods once and goes to pick up the sake pitcher for a refill, although he hesitates as Toru seems to visibly take several moments to calm down. Quizzical, Logan waits for it, as he nurses his renewed cup of sake, and raises an eyebrow at the response he gets.
One that, perhaps, hits a nerve that wasn't quite there a month or more ago. It doesn't have him hissing and taking deep breaths, just assess Toru over with a mildly chilly look before he downs his fresh cup of sake. "I recall being told how much you didn't like me the first time I fucked you, too," he says, in a conversational tone slightly too plain for the subject matter. "So I'm not under any illusions, Satoru, about your feelings, nor do I care."
His wallet is ferreted out of his pocket once more, rifling through it with the visible sound of fingertips flicking over bank bills. "I was joking."
"Yeah, please, let's go over that again. I miss having this argument." And again he goes for the sake as he speaks, continuing to point the chopsticks at his … possibly soon to be ex-boss. "You think I'm stupid. If you didn't care what I think, you wouldn't go fishin' to find out. You think I can't tell that's what you were doin'?" Of course, it may well not have been, but that's how Toru sees the matter.
"You always go around makin' fun of me then when I call you on it, you were just jokin' and I need to calm down. I been tryin', ok? I been tryin', 'cause Tuck said some stuff made me figure maybe I'm doin' things too high strung like, and I been doin' that so I can be a better cronie."
He sets his mug down on the table a bit too sharply at the end of that, and while he has been keeping his voice down, there are probably nonetheless a few glances in this direction. Woops. "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be eatin' with you. I just also ain't gonna go jumpin' into love shit without buildin' up a foundation of mutual trust and respect that can lead to a solid and lasting relationship."
… And apparently Toru realizes how odd that sounded coming out of his mouth; after a brief pause he adds, somewhat accusatorily, "YO." Just to make it sound more natural, of course.
Oh, there are glances, some of which Logan notes as he slides a look around, fingers still caught in his wallet and mostly going still as— this happens. Slowly, his wallet is folded closed as he listens, eyes narrowed and brow tense, as if trying to understand something confusing, or listen to a language he only has a little bit of knowledge in.
When silence finally reigns, and those who had been pausing to look over towards the spiel go back to their conversations, and the ball is clearly back in Logan's court, his mouth twitches a little in what could be a scowl, at first, but is in fact… a smile. A hint of one. Which is promptly followed by a wider grin, and then laughter. Alcohol runs warm through his veins but amusement is genuine, the erstwhile pimp leaning back into his seat, back of his hand raising to his mouth to quiet his own giggles.
"I'm sorry," he manages, in between them. "I am. Just— " A vague, limp handwave. Never mind! Logan takes a hurried sip of water as if to drown amusement, letting out a sigh once he's done, taking a deeper breath. Hhhokay. "I know you're not in love with me, and perhaps you're right. Perhaps I was fishing. But perhaps you should watch your mouth before you go ahead and tell me what I don't have, yeah?"
The smile is gone without a trace by the time he manages to get that out, raises an eyebrow. "Sort of makes me want to prove you wrong."
That gigglefit has Toru taken aback almost literally, eyes a bit wide as he just rather stares at Logan as it continues on. He's — not quite sure what to do right now; this isn't something he's actually dealt with from the man. Uh.
He settles on scratching the back of his head, nodding slowly as Logan explains himself, but the final remark elicits quite a blush from the boy. Toru reaches for his water, taking a long gulp which ends with him staring down into the glass, biting his lower lip. Ultimately, the best reply he can settle on is, "It ain't like you don't know I'm bad with words." The very wording of that remark proves his point.
"A— Anyway, I do like the.. the system we have. Y'know? It's.. not bad. I think, um, probably I should talk more about that later, though." He lifts his gaze a bit, and under the table, one foot sneaks forward to rub against one of Logan's calves. Confidence coming back, a bit. "I mean, if you care."
For the second time, Logan goes to extract money from his wallet, just enough for the two meals and drinks, although his counting falters, briefly, at the touch to his leg, which twitches a little against the nudge. "About the system we have?" he repeats, as he places the notes down onto the table, edged beneath the ceramic sake pitcher, before studying Toru's face for a moment.
Then, reaches a decision, although the fact that he'd already decided it well before Toru even arrived is a strong possibility. "Why don't I show you my place? It's hardly a walk from here. Then you can tell me all about it." Proximity being another indicator. It pays to plan ahead.
"Mm, convenient," Toru replies with a tight grin, tapping fingers along the table briefly. His last piece of sushi is snatched up, followed by a sip from his soda, and he thus reaches over to gather his jacket and make ready to depart. For his own part, Toru hadn't had any similar assumptions about how the meal would progress — which may or may not excuse the unusual abundance of buttons.
Toru stands, jacket folded over his arm — really, it's too warm out to be wearing it in the first place — and while he briefly considers offering Logan a hand, ultimately decides not to. A bit too showy for public, perhaps. "The system we have," he repeats as well, nodding. "What I like about it. That kinda thing." Hand is waved, idly, and then shoved into his pocket; the jacket hangs from the point where his hand and waist meet. "S'pose I shoulda figured you wouldn't wanna go too far," he observes, nonjudgmentally. It is more convenient. And Logan is a cat like that.
Despite the warmth, both inside and out, weather and Japanese wine working in tandem to bring about a simmer, Logan draws his jacket on as he gets up to stand. His weight rocks back onto his heels a little, drawing a subtle shift back to right himself. Sake has a way of doing that, if you drink enough, waiting only to strike or be remotely noticeable after you stand up.
If, you know, laughing out loud at Toru's self-help talk wasn't indication before even that. "Just introducing you to the area, that's all," Logan states, swiveling on a heel to head for the door at a saunter.
Noting that stumble, Toru half-instinctively moves forward to 'catch' Logan, or at least prop him up a bit — though in doing so he almost loses his footing himself. But, it's all good, and the game is saved. Toru loops his free arm around Logan's waist, gripping maybe a bit overly snugly, and proceeds to assist him out the door. Whether it's welcome assistance or not.
He allows the boss to lead him in the proper direction, possibly even letting him walk on his own if he shows he's able to do so without assistance. "The area, yeah, I guess maybe I don't know the area that well," he remarks as he wanders along, though a bit half-jokingly. Humoring the man. "Though I guess I don't know some more private areas."
Laughing at his own joke, there, Toru maintains at least somewhat of a grip on Logan, even if it isn't the full-body support of before, as the pair makes their way towards Logan's new place. Very convenient, indeed.