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[Ling waves his hand to dismiss that one, too; please no, "sir" is just as bad. He does a quick count, then-]

Less than five, depending on the day.

Who?

[His parents, presumably. That's two. Does he have friends? Greed honestly isn't certain. He ought to, it's not like he's got a shit personality-- Jesus, he's a ray of sunshine, he's cute and charming and bright, who wouldn't want to be his friend, damn-- but rich kids tend to be lonely. And Ling in particularly comes across as very, very lonely sometimes.]

My mother, first of all, [he's going to count these on his fingers, get ready.] And one of my cousins, but we don't see each other very much.

[That's two. Uh.]

My bodyguard, sometimes, when she's too frustrated with me to remember to call me "sir"! [hahaha cute right, anyway, he's given up] That's all I've got.

[The saddest three person list ever told . . . there's no pity or sympathy in Greed's gaze, of course, but still, he feels . . . some kind of something at the revelation that Ling only hears his first name at a sleazy bar in the shit side of town.]

Your bodyguard's a girl?

[. . . is what he says instead.]

[It's 2018 Greed, bodyguards can be anything!!]

Yes! We've known each other since we were young, and she doesn't like you at all.

[He's apparently very happy about this, more in the sense that they're both very special and so any intersection of the two of them is great. Also, it's funny.]

What the hell did you tell her about me?

[From someone else, that might have been indignant. From him, it's utterly delighted, and he laughs. This girl sounds . . . well, weird, honestly, what kind of woman fights, what the hell, but also: the best kinds of girls are the ones that are easily provoked.

(The best kinds of girls are ones that can kick his ass, but once again we see the divide between what Greed thinks he likes and what he really does).]

First she wanted to know why I came home smelling like liquor, the other week. So... everything.

[Ling, have a filter? Not likely. He's known Lan Fan far too long to tell her any less than every detail. She'd hound him extra intensely if he didn't, anyway.]

She thinks you're a bad influence, among other things.

I am a bad influence.

[He leans forward, resting his weight against the bar, fingers sliding lightly against the side of Ling's neck.]

I got you smoking, drinking . . . fighting, now, but I bet she won't mind that one so much.

You gonna tell her when you spend the night with me?

[Hmm, no, she'll mind touching his neck way more than she'll mind fighting lessons. Although the latter might just be grudging acceptance, what if this brute hurts him, etc etc.]

Probably. She'll figure it out if I don't come home, anyway.

[There's nowhere else he's likely to be, considering.]

[Well Ling what she doesn't know won't hurt her, huh, you ever consider that . . . he's wrapping his fingers around the back of his neck, thumb playing over his pulse.]

Sure she won't bust in my apartment and try and kill me for kidnapping you?

[Oh, yes, he likes that, leaning a little further forward. Somewhere, Lan Fan is twitching.]

Do I still get to go home with you if I say she might? She's dedicated!

That's kinda hot.

[Kind of hot of Lan Fan or kind of hot that he might wake up with a gun pointed to his head? Maybe both? Who knows with Greed. And he hadn't actually intended to fuck Ling tonight, but on the other hand, taking him home doesn't necessarily mean he's going to outright bed him. It just means they'll be extending the evening a little farther.]

C'mon. Take your shot, I'll drive.

[Consider cuddling him, he dressed up for this date and he wants at least one good hug for his efforts.]

You're not her type, [because not everybody wants to fuck who they fight, Greed. Let Lan Fan live her best life, because Ling certainly isn't letting her, running off with shady bartenders as he is. He tips the shot back- winces, makes a face like he'll cough, doesn't- and slides off the stool.

Look at him, so good at drinking. Let's roll!!]

Oh, come on, that was a sweet one--

[At least he didn't cough? That's . . . something, he supposes. Better than nothing. Ling's meticulously swept back hair (tied in a bun, god, he looks good like that) is once more mussed with, though not enough that it'll actually fall out of that style.

Greed's apartment is, perhaps surprisingly, not in the direction where things get really dicey. It's still not great, butt the Lexus probably won't get jacked overnight, so. Progress! The building itself is tall and, sadly, has no elevators, so it's a long five flights they climb, but . . . it's kind of worth the view.

It's a loft apartment, located at the very top. All one room, there's a bed and a shitty stove and a lot of neon signs and movie posters, and, oddly enough, a few cat toys. There's also a really beat up looking cat wandering around, or at least presumably there is, although right now it doesn't seem to be in sight.

Lights hang from the ceiling; he finds a remote somewhere and changes them from white to a warm, darker orange, dim and comfortable. The smell of cigarettes is dispelled by a fresh breeze from an open window; clothing, sweatpants and t-shirts and boxers, are gathered vaguely by a laundry basket.]

Home sweet home. You like it?

[Obviously he does. It's Greed's apartment. Women have flung themselves at him to see it.]

[Ling has the distinct impression, looking around Greed's apartment for the first time, that he's the only person in the city who sees a man's apartment and gets even more enamored with him. It isn't what he expected (it's not a sex dungeon), and he moves to take off his jacket rather than go around touching everything that catches his eye.

He is looking at everything very blatantly, though. Weird posters! Sweatpants! Marvelous!

Then when he sees a cat toy, he turns to beam at Greed. holy shit!!] You have a pet?

Ahhh, somebody left him at the bar, that's all. I don't blame them, he's a piece of shit and looks it, too. One ear, three legs, half a tail.

[THE WORST CAT EVER . . . who also, apparently, does not meow. That would be far too charming. Instead, from somewhere vaguely in the kitchen area: a loud, indignant bellow. A MEH of indignation; a shout that does not ask for food or comfort or love so much as complain as to why the owner isn't already receiving it.]

Don't pay him attention, it's what he wants.

[Oh my god, where is the ugly cat. Ling is already moving into the kitchen area, looking for it. Under the table? Where are you, ugly cat.]

But you kept him anyway. What's his name?

[He sits in front of the fridge. This is because the beer is in the fridge, and thus Greed will have to come near it sooner or later. With a little sigh he follows Ling in, hands shoving into his pockets.]

Envy.

[A beat, and then:]

Because he's ugly as shit and he's jealous of anyone who comes over. Move, you--

[That's for the cat. He nudges him with one boot, the movement gentle but brooking no argument, and starts perusing the fridge. There's more than Ling might expect in there, but not a whole lot.]

[Greed named this cat because he loves him, Ling understands. The fridge is fascinating, but the hideous cat moreso; Ling has now crouched down to wave a hand at the little guy, beckoning. Come here, you hideous beast.]

You never struck me as a cat person.

[and he clearly is, no denying it.]

I told you: it got foisted on me. I'm not a rat person, either, but look at the city we live in.

[Gently Implied New York, Maybe, the city with a million rats that never sleeps.

Envy is a piece of shit. There may be attempts to vaguely charm Ling, but he'd best produce food soon or else this friendship will end fast in favor of screaming.]

You hungry again?

[he's not, but you learn a guy's habits after a while.]

[I♥GINY tshirt already hitting the market]

Are you feeding me instead of your cat? I'm not sure I like the comparison.

[That said, since he's doing his best but Envy The Cat is an ornery motherfucker,] I could eat something.

You get more kisses than he does.

[Sadly true. Greed may like his cat in a grudging sort of way, but he does not kiss him. But ah, all right, beef jerky it is, sorry to literally everyone involved in this thread but that's what he throws him.

Disgusting.]

[that feel when your man throws beef jerky at you while trying to be charming(??) about kisses

Or: Ling does not catch this jerky, it hits him in the arm and lands on the floor, and both he and the cat stare at it for a moment until Ling slides it in the cat's direction. Not that he couldn't fuck up some beef jerky, but if he eats any more beef in one day he will turn into a cow.]

How about crackers? Surely you have crackers.

Er--

[Does he? Maybe. There's a bit of stretching, and he finally hoists himself up on the counter so as to reach the top shelf, where he does indeed have some saltines, not expired but pretty stale.

Envy is not eating the beef jerky. Envy may, later, eat it, but right now Envy is too busy looking at Greed in undisguised hatred.]

You gotta work on your reflexes, babe.

[Isn't that an upgrade.]

[Much better than "uptown girl," that's for sure. Ling watches this display from down here on the floor, with Envy, but at least he's slightly more impressed. By the effort, anyway.]

I'm keeping your cat entertained. Go on, throw the crackers.

[He's ready to catch (and be disappointed, you live like this???)]

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