paixaorpg | Goin' Down to Lonesome Town. [Completed]

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Goin' Down to Lonesome Town. [Completed]

Character(s): Ryoma, L.
Content: They're looking for a place to stay.
Setting: Outside Morem o Lisboa.
Time: Thursday.
Warnings: None.

So they walked. And walked. And walked. And Ryoma could only hope they weren’t just going in circles again, but he figured L was a lot smarter than he was so they’d have a less chance of that happening now.

Ryoma thought L was a curious character indeed. He walked funny, he was always hunched over like he’d gotten kicked in the back by a horse or somethin’, and his eyes were always as wide as saucers, like he was permanently surprised. He also seemed, somehow, ageless. The samurai just assumed him to be young, but he couldn’t pin anything in particular on him. Was he fifteen? Twenty? Somewhere in between? Hmmm… Not to mention he spoke funny.

Whatever the case, Ryoma wasn’t exactly the most normal individual in the world so he could deal with it, even be entertained with how foreign L’s ways were to him. So they walked together, and he tried to strike up awkward conversation to ease their anxiety caused by the confusion this place brought them.

The first place they came to was the Morem o Lisboa. Ryoma wasn’t really well-versed in the westernized look of things, so he couldn’t tell if this looked like a high-class place or not. To him, any old inn with a mat of straw to sleep in and a bowl of white rice on his table had been good enough for him. But all these western places seemed so… elaborate.

Coming to a stop a little ways away from the establishment, Ryoma cocked his head to the side. “Thissun look good t’you? I’unno what kinna place t’look fer.”

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"I dunno," Ryoma said with a sigh, frowning a bit as he scratched his head. "I guess the only way t'find out is t'go on inside..." Hesitantly, Ryoma reached up and tugged his heart-glasses off of his face, flicking them so they would fold up, and he could deposit them into his pocket. By now, a nice black and blue bruise had formed on the bottom of his eye - and his arm was still bare, as his sleeve had been ripped off and revealed the bandaged wound, with a bit of red seeping through.

He looked terrible... perhaps that would get them a little bit of pity, huh? Ryoma looked over himself and contemplated the idea, but then again also preferred the idea of working for things he wanted. Sigh.

"Let's hope," he said quietly, beginning to head on over to the hotel and go inside.

The place did look mighty flashy. It was modern; more modern than any other establishment within Paixao, actually - the people dressed in modern clothes, listened to modern music, drank modern food. There was the lobby, and then a restaraunt and dance club off to the side. Beyond that, a grand case of stairs which led up to the rooms.

Ryoma whistled as he looked up them, "S'mighty grand establishment they got here. Dunno if they'd jus' take in anythin' the cat dragged in..." But still, it was worth the try. He cleared his throat a moment and adjusted his robes (as if that would help) and approached what he assumed to be the front desk.

"S'cuse me, mister," the samurai said, addressing the man that stood there. "There anyway we kin work fer our room n' board if'n we offer t'do some work 'round here?"

The man stared blankly at him... L should have really been talking.

The man stared at them a moment, looking between L and Ryoma. Both of them were quite the characters, and neither of them looked very reliable at all. Still, an extra pair of hands or two wouldn't do any bad, hm? Dejectedly, he sighed and gave a slight nod.

"Fine. Names?"

"Ah... Sakamoto Ryoma."

"...spell that."

"Uh..."

The man groaned, and rubbed his head, just writing down on a small slip of paper what he thought the name might be spelled like. Ryoma couldn't spell in in the western alphabet, so he'd been at a loss...

"And you?" he looked at L.

Ryoma arched a brow. Was that a fake name? Probably. He quirked a brow, looking at him curiously, but knew not to ask about it right there. He figured he was just being paranoid anyway, but giving a fake name really was a nice idea, especially in a place like this... ah, why hadn't he thought of it? Oh well.

THe man wrote down the names, then reached over to a telephone - an archaic-looking one, like one of the first telephones ever made. As he dialed, he nodded over to the entrance to the restaurant. "Go over there, tell 'em Gio sent you. You're going to be waiters for the night, he'll work something out with you."

Ryoma grinned. Great, it worked! "Right away, sir!" he said, beginning to lift up his arm to salute him, but freezing and wincing - he'd used his bad arm. "Damn... well... you get the point." A nervous laugh, and he gave a wink, beginning to move over to the area he'd pointed at, grabbing L's arm and tugging him along in tow.

Waiters. Ryoma didn't even know what that word meant. But hey, whatever it took to get them a place to sleep, right?

So off they went. Ryoma headed to the restaraunt and paused by it's entrance, looking around slowly. This was certainly different from what he was used to, not at all like the inns he had stayed at in Japan. Then he reminded himself that this city was decidedly western and so things were expected to be surprisingly different. By now he had let L's arm go, but he looked back at him and blinked confusedly. "Okay.. so... what do we do now?"

Before Ryoma could have his question answered, a rather short, heavy set man in a suit roughly tugged the samurai by his bad arm, off to the side. He let out an abrupt yelp, but found the chubby man's fingers covering his mouth to silence him. He eyed him over with suspicion.

"You," the fat man said. "You and that guy." Of course he was referring to L. "You're the ones who're gonna be fill ins, aren't ya? Gio already gave me the call so youse guys can go right to work, unnastand? Back room's ova there," and he nodded in the direction of a door on the other side of the restaraunt. "Yer gonna need uniforms too, you can get them there. Work until eight o'clock, then we'll letcha go up to yer rooms, okay? Okay, good."

Ryoma was confused as all hell.

"...what's a waiter?" Ryoma smiled sheepishly, and glanced back to the room as well. Sigh, whatever it was, he supposed he would just learn it all in stride, right? He was a clever man! He was going to revolutionize Japan, he could do anything, right? ...Right?

He sighed a bit, and scratched his head, beginning to head off toward the room they were told to go to. Hopefully, L could explain it all to him well enough so they'd be able to do their job properly.

Ryoma looked around almost nervously as they headed into the back, eyes lingering on a few of the waters as they went about their work. It wasn't quite the same from what he remembered back home. Then again, Ryoma very rarely actually had the pleasure of eating in a sit-down restaraunt - the closest thing he'd ever experienced to a waiter was a common whore who poured his drinks.

Stepping in, he sighed, and scratched the back of his head. He looked at the set of clothes on the racks - set back in a sort of open closet, right beside the entrance to the actual kitchen, then off to the side to L. "Right."

He looked behind him, and tensed, finding the door to the restaraunt had now fallen closed. Pursing his lips, he just took a step into the big closet and forced a grin, beginning to slip out of his clothes right there. Oh god. Ryoma had absolutely no shame.

Ryoma was quick about it. Well, as quick as someone who was not familiar with western clothes could be; at first he put the shirt on backwards, and all this... but all in all, he managed. "Geez, why they gotta make it so complicated," he commented, finally properly situating the clothes on him after about fifteen minutes of trying to understand the workings of a button-up shirt.

He sighed, and looked down at it. Flexing out, he made a displeased face at how restricted his movement was in these clothes.

Once Ryoma had also (improperly) done up his shoes, not bothering with socks either as L hadn't, he followed him out, adjusting the stupid bow tie on his chest now. Geeze, he felt like he stuck out like a sore eye... this wasn't gonna be pretty.

The man was gone. But there was another; some anonymous waiter shoving books carelessly into their hands for which they were to take orders on. Ryoma, here, would run into a problem - and blinked as a pen was shoved into his hand. "Uh... L... I don't know how t'write any of this western stuff," he said.

Damnit. Perhaps L could take the orders and Ryoma could fetch everything? Because he sure as hell couldn't learn English in five minutes!

Ryoma sighed, almost as if this all gave him a heavy heart. It was going to be difficult, but he hoped they could manage. But the samurai nodded regardless, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. "S'pose we jist.... go git 'em then." He was, honestly, nervous. It was very rare Ryoma had to deal with these kinds of social situations and honestly it made him very awkward.

They'd manage, though. Right? L had to know what he was doing. Because if he couldn't handle it, they'd have to sleep on the streets... sigh, wouldn't be the first time, Ryoma thought to himself - finding hmself to be a bit uncharacteristically pessimisstic.

Ryoma tried to be at ease about it. He could do it, he could do it. He could DO IT. All he had to do was try! This wasn't a time to be getting nervous; he was a goddamn samurai. Sure he could wait on tables. Errr...

He followed after L quietly, his eyes wide with interest, intending to take as much information in as possible to make it easier on L. In all honesty, he had slight doubts about his dependability; he was such a strange boy. But then, he had to look at himself.

Listening to the conversation, he grimaced slightly. But all did seem to go pretty smoothly... and he forced a grin, giving a nod and a wink to the old lady. "Sure thing." But he wondered what apple pie was. Huh.

Whatever the case, Ryoma turned his back to L and the woman, taking the paper as he headed off into the kitchen. The order was called in, but he wasn't sure if he was to wait or not... so... well, he did. A few moments later, he was given the grace of actually doing the right thing. The plate with the desert was taken, and he headed back, placing it on the table before the woman. Another smile.

[XD When do you think would be a good time to go ahead to the room-getting-ness?]

Ryoma had never been so... eager to evacuate somewhere as he had been that night. Waitering... NEVER. AGAIN. EVER. He swore his LIFE on that, and pitied the poor souls who worked their for a regular job. How in the world could they handle it? It was almost ironic that a samurai of all people was devastated by the job of being a waiter, but he swore if he stayed there one more night... juuust one more night, he'd have to commit seppuku or something!

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief once they got their room, and glanced to L, grinning tiredly at him. "Hoo boy," he said, sounding unusually drained. "We have gotta git ourselves a new way t'git money, that's one thing I know fer sure. Other'n that, I ain't got no idea what we're gonna do."

Heading over to the bed, the man promptly plopped down on it and sighed, eased at finally taking his weight off his feet. He placed his gloved hands on his knees and stared at the floor, looking uncharacteristically out of it.

Ryoma had actually began to rattle off ideas when L's silence set in, finding himself a little bothered by it. But finding that he was entirely unresponsive to his ramblings, eventually the samurai lost the spirit for it, and ended his babble in a soft, dejected sigh. However were they going to survive?

He looked over at L, looking uncharacteristically droopy. Only now did the dull ache of the bullet wound begin to come back to him - he'd managed to ignore it the whole night, but now that he fell still, the gentle throb in his bicep was the only thing his mind could properly concentrate on. Hesitantly, he reached up, and cupped his hand on it.

"Looks like I got myself into a real mess this time," he said mostly to himself, quietly. Then he sighed again, and laid back on the bed, his legs still hanging over its edge. He stared at the ceiling.

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Goin' Down to Lonesome Town. [Completed]

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