"What're you reading?" You ask leaning over his shoulder. His eyes stay glued to the book he's reading and you're about ready to ask again—or leave—whichever.
"Machiavelli's The Prince."
"Not pretentious at all," Your tone drips with sarcasm. "I'm gonna go talk to Feitan."
Chrollo laughs and you raise an eyebrow.
"What?"
He's looking at you now a small smile playing on his lips. He makes a vague gesture to the spot next to him you roll your eyes but sit anyway. He reads from the book:
"'At this point, one may note that men must be either pampered or annihilated. They avenge light offenses; they cannot avenge severe ones; hence, the harm one does to a man must be such as to obviate any fear of revenge...'" He continues on but you zone out. A warm hand rests against your arm and you put your head on his shoulder, and he drones on and on and on but you don't care. It's nice. His thumb rubs small circles on your arm and his shoulder is hard but not uncomfortable. Your eyes are heavy and it feels like time has stopped completely. You barely notice when he closes the book.
He says something you don't quite hear before he gets up letting you down gently onto the couch in the process and leaves.
...
"The world has rejected us," He starts vehemently. You take a bite out of the apple he brought you, as his words go in one ear and out the other. "They dump their waste here; they completely ignore the existence of those who inhabit our city."
"Well, that's depressing." You say. "'S that why you're startin' your little club?"
"They deny the existence of at least ten million people."
"And that's bad, sure. But how's starting a gang of mercs gonna help any?"
"We're not mercenaries."
"Yeah, whatever." You discard the core haphazardly. "I don't see how stealin' is any better then merc work." He narrows his eyes, sighs and says:
"It's not about morality. It's taking back from a world that has taken from us."
"Whatever."
...
Even with about ten million people Meteor City seems lonely without Chrollo. The apartment you live in is silent save for the constant whirring of the air conditioner. You're thumbing through one of Chrollo's books reading but not really processing much. The sound of your door opening grabs your attention.
"Y/N?" A familiar voice called. You smirk.
Chrollo strolls in loftily and—
Well, damn.
He's in a new outfit consisting of a long black coat (with no shirt for whatever reason) and slacks, his dark hair's slicked back. You hop off of the couch approaching him without hesitation and hugging him.
"What's with the tattoo?"
"Which one?"
You laugh. "There's more than one?"
"I'll show you them later. Maybe we can even get you one."
...
Despite the relative isolation from the rest of the world news and rumors spread like wildfire in Meteor City so it wasn't long before you got wind of the Kurta massacre.
"They're from Meteor city."
"How do they know that?" You ask.
"Among the ruins, someone supposedly found a note sayin' 'We reject no one, so take nothin' from us.'" A cold feeling spreads across you.
...
"It wasn't a 'necessary evil' it was a massacre!" You snap blood boiling and fists clenched. "You killed that entire clan for money."
"Y/N—"
"I don't want to hear it!"
His eyes, his face, and fuck his entire demeanor remains eerily calm and collected throughout your tirade.
"Just..." You pause. "Just go away."
