Still Doll

A Warm Teacup

Kurapika had to hold back his frown as he took in the view of the two-storey inn that Kuroro's given address indicated.

He entered and went to the reception, eyes lingering around the spacious and cozy lounge, and was warmly greeted with a smile by the female hotel receptionist. He stolidly stated that he was an expected visitor of one of the guests and gave the room number which the woman obligedly phoned for confirmation. It turned out that 'Tadano-san' had left his room but had already mentioned about Kurapika's arrival. The receptionist apologetically said she couldn't let him into the room yet and that he had to wait for Kuroro's return, suggesting him to wait in the lounge and have some coffee which Kurapika politely declined.

Annoyed that he had to wait for the bastard and feeling an awful anxiety at the thought of being seen by the receptionist together with him, Kurapika walked to one of cushioned rattan couches and fired off a vexed text to Kuroro. Where the hell that bastard could possibly have gone to?

His eyes absently lingered about the lounge. The glass walls showcased a view of a small garden to the right and a resto-bar to the left. Warm, orange lights were radiating from hanging lamps made of carved bamboo and on concrete walls were paintings depicting natives planting on farms or dancing in traditional clothes. He kept a stoic face on, but Kurapika was inwardly frowning at Kuroro's odd choice of hotel.

When Kurapika left to Kuroro the task of choosing their meeting place, he expected (and dreaded) that he would wastefully pick the fanciest hotel in town for the night since he tended to splurge when it came to him. But to his bafflement (and somehow relief), Kuroro booked a room in this elegant yet austere four-star homey inn along the coast of Akharin's mainland. It was a resort that featured the Akharin's renowned white-sand beach on its backyard and the rustic culture of its people through the handcrafts and artful displays and furnitures. The place's ambiance wasn't offering lavishness and luxury but accentuated simplistic and relaxing vibes. It was kind of a break from the towering five-star hotels Kurapika was used of going to. It wasn't crowded, too, lending a sense of exclusivity.

His brows knitted ever so slightly. The fact that Kuroro had chosen this inn for a relaxed and langurous coupling than to go for the usual expensive hotels just to satisfy an eight-hour long utilitarian intercourse irked him, yet he wasn't surprised. In fact, he wasn't as annoyed as he should be. Either because he was in a good mood after his successful mission of acquiring the Kuruta eyes or perhaps this routinely make out sessions and abstinence with Kuroro had inflicted a damaging change in him, but Kurapika could feel the barest tinge of excitement and anticipation to see the Spider Head tonight.

The tinted glass entrance of the lounge was pushed open and revealed a slightly disheveled and topless muscular man, a towel slung on his right shoulder. Kurapika wasn't able to hide his frown this time. Speak of the devil.

Kuroro, wet-haired and wearing above-the-knee swimming trunks with his sandalled feet dirty with bits of sand, apparently went to the beach. He looked like he had fun. He had his poker face plastered on, but Kurapika couldn't mistake that glint in his eyes. His frown deepened.

His heart, however, unpleasantly skipped a beat when Kuroro approached him. He tore away his gaze that somehow lingered on the man's exposed chest and slightly glared at him.

"Sorry, I'm late. Did you wait long?" Kuroro asked.

Kurapika didn't respond and curtly shook his head, not liking the way the receptionist looked at them. There was nothing judgmental about it; Kurapika just plainly disliked being seen with Kuroro, not to mention the suggestive notion of them sharing a room together in a hotel that was seemingly built to accommodate closely related guests. Really, Kurapika realized that he should have thoroughly thought it through before inviting Kuroro here.