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[Just a little ways away, behind a water tower so he can light his cigarette. A sharp inhale, and he comes forward, sprawling down on the roof, leaning his back against the brick wall behind him.]

C'mere.

[He beckons lazily, though his eyes are sharp as he watches the kid. Ling, he thinks, not the kid. His teeth flash as he notes that soda, and he grins up at the sky.]

Who gave you that? Ah, never mind, I think I know. He should've made you pay for it, but I bet he didn't.

[Ling watches the scene below for another moment before he turns, unable to help the way his expression lights up a little to see Greed again. It's a nice night with a cool breeze, much more his taste than being packed with dozens of people downstairs, and- this one, the best part, that he's still not sure how it happened or why- Greed wants to see him. Specifically, him, here on the roof.

Very interesting. He wiggles the soda bottle as he comes over to sit next to him.]

I slipped him some cash but I don't think he noticed. [So far Ling's only vaguely criminal skills are climbing on everything and putting money in people's pockets, go figure.] He's just being nice.

Nice doesn't pay the rent on this place.

[He's not upset. He might be if Bido did this to everyone, but spoiling their mascot isn't so bad. He sets the cigarette to his lips and inhales sharply, enjoying the heated sting and the contrast of the cool breeze.]

Hmm?

[He tugs it out of his mouth, holding it between two fingers in silent question.]

Neither does buying a new crate of sodas, I'd think.

[And yet the soda in his hand is not ancient and possibly spoiled like the one he had last week, so thank you, he will assume this is entirely for his sake. That makes him smile, and the cigarette makes him pause. Uh!]

I don't smoke.

You didn't drink til last week either. You might as well expand your horizons while you're here.

[He holds it out. He doesn't actually care if the kid takes it or not, he's not one of those weird fuckers from a 1970's anti-drug campaign, but still. It'd be fun to see him try.]

Besides: what's the point of coming down here all the time if you don't indulge in a little sin, hm?

[Hmm... see, it's probably going to be embarrassing, is the thing. But alright, he reaches out to take it.]

Just once.

Just once.

[One knee draws up, his arm sprawling over it, watching with interest. There's no real trick to it, just inhale and exhale, but it's something that somebody has to get used to. Cigarettes burn (in a different way than whiskey; whiskey is wet and this is a dry heat, sparking down your throat, lighting up your lungs and stomach, and then that blissful moment where you exhale and the smoke streams out, oh, he does so love smoking).]

[Well, here goes nothing. He puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales and then just sits there, not proceeding to step two. His eyes water. Another second and then there comes the coughing, smoke coming (and he's pretty sure it's coming out of his nose, too, holy shit), and even though it burns and he holds the cigarette back out to Greed instantly, he's laughing as soon as his throat calms down.]

That's- [ack] That's that! Here you go.

[He laughs, taking it back from him, setting it between his teeth so he can shove his fingers through Ling's hair again.]

Not bad for your first! I'm proud of you, kiddo, I really am-- drink some soda, it'll get rid of the burn quick.

[He slumps back, inhaling sharply, aware that they're touching, aware that something is building and he isn't sure if he wants it to continue or not.]

Your first drink, your first smoke . . . it's almost like you're a man.

[Ling coughs behind his hand once more, a weak little thing expelling the last of the smoke, then wipes at his eyes. Greed's hand in his hair is getting more familiar, a fact that is both exciting and a little intimidating, leaving Ling to hum around a sip of soda as he leans ever so slightly towards Greed.

The special treatment he's getting tonight is off the charts. He's warm despite the cooling evening air, and this time it has absolutely nothing to do with alcohol.]

I'll take that as congratulations and say thanks, I think. No card?

It's not that impressive.

[Let's not get carried away, here.]

You were better at drinking. Sure you don't wanna go down there and keep your record going?

[Hmm, no, he kind of thinks he deserves a card. Anyway, he doesn't want to go back downstairs so soon; sure, his legion of drunk friends are probably still there, but this is—nice.]

Hmm, nah. I ate a lot today and I don't want to throw up.

[True and true, actually.]

I like it up here.

You always eat a lot.

[True as well. But there's a little pause, and then:]

That's why you keep coming back here? Because you like it? I thought you were looking for a way to elevate your family.

[In a shitty little bar that, admittedly, has some pretty dark underground connections, not that Ling should know about that.]

[Maybe he ate extra. And hey - not a fair time to call him out.]

I can multitask.

[He's certain he can, frankly, but he's equally certain Ling isn't really multitasking when he's at Devil's Nest. Oh, he talks to all kinds of people, chatting them up and feeling them out, but that's not really why he comes back here. He ought to have moved on a month in if that was all he was there for.]

Why do you keep coming back here, Ling?

[It's not upset. It's not angry or accusing or leering. He's just asking, because sometimes he can be startlingly direct too.]

[It's long form multitasking, where he does one thing at the bar and other things somewhere else, at other times—anyway, whatever, it's a fair question. He already said that embarrassing thing last time about getting hot and bothered, soooo.]

To see you, mostly. And because someone has to be nice to Bido.

[Nobody has to be nice to Bido, because Greed is plenty nice to him already. But that first part is good to hear, and he nods, pleased to hear Ling admit it.]

And what is it you're hoping is going to happen?

[Bido is a gentle soul... Anyway, this is taking a weird turn, maybe? Greed rattled off a list of all the dumb shit Ling does last time, so that's still somewhat on the brain.]

Hey now, what's with the interrogation? Can't I just want to see you sometimes?

[His expression is unreadable for a few seconds, then he lifts a shoulder in a shrug.]

Sure.

[There's a reason he likes Ling coming around, frankly. There's a reason he brought him up here tonight; that he dragged him behind the bar last time. Yeah, the kid's good looking, but it's a little more than that. It's . . . what? His tenacity, maybe. His blatant greed. He's made it clear to everyone paying him any mind that he's here to elevate himself, and that kind of honesty is refreshing. There's no bullshitting, no desperate attempts at charm or lies.

The fact he's just a little younger, that he's so very inexperienced in certain ways (and very experienced in others, frankly) is just bonus.

With a sudden laugh he shoves his fingers through the kid's hair again, pushing his head forward and breaking his solemn little moment.]

So how far up do you have to go, huh? The Yao gotta be somewhere near the top, you spend money like it's nothing to you.

[Pushing his head like that does nothing to clear up just what that was about for Ling, but it makes him smile and nudge Greed's offending hand to quit it, anyway. This is fine; he has even less of a plan for this than he does for holding his family up, but it feels better that way.

He lifts Greed's whole arm away from his hair and drops it around his own shoulders. That's where he can put that if he's feeling especially like putting his hands on Ling today, frankly.]

I do have a lot of money.

[That's just the truth, and Ling has a knack for money not in the way that he has a head for numbers, but he was born with a silver spoon not in his mouth so much as gripped in hand, ready for more. So yeah, he spends money like it's growing on trees, but he's not a total dumbass about it.

And frankly, drinks he always leaves behind are less than pocket change, in the grand scheme of things.]

Somewhere near the top isn't the top, is it? I'm not satisfied with a lot of money. Someone always has their thumb over us and I'm not going to let it continue forever.

[He lets his arm stay around Ling's shoulders, grinning a little at the impudence of it. His fingers skitter lightly over his shoulder, tugging at his damp shirt until he can slip his fingers under and trace the skin beneath.]

Good answer.

[Very good answer. He tips his head back, eyes closing.]

You could kill em off, I guess. But that'd be kinda messy.

[Oh, well, Ling goes from "good answer" to "buffoon" in no seconds flat the moment fingers touch his skin. He comes up with,]

Uh, haha.

[And then he's got nothing. No, he's not going to kill everybody, please... He clears his throat.]

Being at the top of less things isn't as appealing.

Ah. You want them to be around to know you beat them.

[That's appealing too, he gets it. He's got a few ideas, actually, ones he isn't about to tell the kid, in no small part because if he does tell him, he's gonna get dragged down into Greed's world, and that's . . . not really something you can back away from.

So, instead, he keeps dragging his fingers against his skin, tracing little circles and mindless patterns there.]

You get in trouble last time you went home?

Something like that.

[And then he's going to make everyone happy, somehow, eventually... bragging rights are good too, that's true. Greed's hand is incredibly distracting, but let him take a sip of soda to steel himself. Sugary courage, since nobody brought him a shot.]

It wasn't any worse than usual... My bodyguards get more upset than anyone else.

[Also, he has bodyguards, free fun fact.]

[He has all the chances in the world to get some liquid courage; this is his own fault.]

Yeah, I bet. They gotta know where you run off to by now, though.

[He says it idly, honestly more focused on what he's doing to Ling than what he's saying. His fingers slide up his neck, nails teasing against his skin, before dipping down beneath his shirt again.]

Either that or they're shit bodyguards.

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