2010-03-27 - Mystery Train

Trains are maybe the most inefficient method of transportation available to the world, short of driving a car or riding a bike or, heaven forbid, walking. Still, in terms of mass transit, trains can't compare to shuttles and other airborne marvels of technology. Maybe that's why they're so cheap (and maybe this cheapness is why they're so heavily used). This is a world where people need to get where they're going yesterday. Most people don't have time for a train ride.

C.C. absolutely adores trains.

There's no /rush/ to get anywhere. She can sit and watch the landscape whiz by. What view is there to be had in a shuttle -- clouds? Grey patches of cities dotted with specks of light far below? Where's the fun in any of that? Plus, in these little cabins, you can meet the strangest, most interesting people.

Which, of course, C.C. hasn't done this ride. Rather than cross the Atlantic Ocean and take a straight shot back to Western Europe, C.C. opted to go around the world the long way. She imagines Zero breathing a sigh of relief at this, but takes some delight in the fact that she knows he wants to talk to her, and so delaying it will make him cranky. He's adorable when he's cranky, in the same way that a retarded dog with three legs is pitiable. Laura, meanwhile, has been let loose from her leash for a few days. C.C. didn't like doing it, but she knows that if she presses the girl too hard, she'll risk alienating her. Better to have some breathing room now and again.

But back to the point. Since touching down in Asia and riding through Japan, C.C. has been alone in her cabin. She's eventually just accepted the fact that whatever passenger was supposed to take the seat probably won't show. So, as the train rumbles through China toward Hong Kong (and importantly, the Hong Kong spaceport), C.C. has decided to have a nap.

Laying sideways across one of the wide, cushioned seats in the cabin (facing each other and each taking up the width of the space), C.C. has divested herself of her trousers and is curled up somewhat, bare legs on display, green hair fallen in her face. She snores quietly, clutching her dear Cheese-kun to her chest.

Johnny Domino is having a day of questionable quality.

It may appear as if Domino's entire life is of questionable quality, considering the frequency of such negative days, but that's really not the case. The Agent often has mundane days, sometimes even good days, and every once in a blue moon, AWESOME DAYS! Unfortunately, such days are usually unremarkable to anyone but Johnny, and so are unfit for viewer consumption.

Today, however, is so questionable in its quality, that it is bound to be a special occassion.

SOME TIME AGO

Johnny is roused out of his slumber by a cat sitting on his face. "Mmmrf?" Cracking an eye open, the Agent sees it's Kuro, black coat shining, ribbon extra-bouncy.

"It's Saturday," the feline announces in a manner most important.

"..Mmf?" Domino has no clue what the hell is going on. He is also growing increasingly certain there's cat hair in his mouth.

Kuro rolls her eyes, explaining, "It's the weekend! You're my weekend wizard boyfriend. Take me out!"

Did Johnny try to protest? Oh yes, he most certainly did. Trying to fall back asleep, trying to swat Kuro away, yelling at her to leave him alone, it was all to no avail. The cat would keep jumping up and down on his body, refusing to be denied. And then, when she introduced her claws into the equation, Domino finally gave up.

Eating a symbolic breakfast, brushing his teeth and getting dressed, the Agent took Kuro out, slamming the door behind him. The loud bang jerked Shiro out of his own sleep, and the white cat found himself alone in the darkness. "..Kuro?", it squeaked. "..Johnny? ......Masaki??"

Poor guy.

NOW

Johnny's 'date' has ended. Boarding the train back home and making his way to his compartment, the Agent's walk has a distinctive slouch to it. At the very top, Kuro roosts in his hair, four legs dangling around his head. She's queen of the world, baby. Trotting behind them both is Shiro. There's an epic story about how he managed to catch up with Domino. It all started when the white cat tenaciously used a metal fork and a piece of tinfoil to hook into the surveillance system of--

"We're here," says Johnny.

"Finally!", exclaims Kuro. "All this walking is killing me." Johnny has to keep himself from reaching up and shaking Kuro like a can of hairspray. Instead, he slides the door to C.C.'s train compartment open -- and freezes. Shiro bumps into his leg and mewls pathetically. Domino doesn't notice. He's too busy staring at C.C.

Is that a half-naked girl lying there?

Kuro, of course, is not impressed: "WELL?? Are we going inside or not?" She's very loud about it.

C.C. is slow to awaken. She's slow to do most things. Time is an infinite luxury. Her yellow eyes flutter open, and she ascertains the important things. Okay, still on the train. Don't feel any injuries. Not drugged, as far as she's aware. Not bound. A little tired still, but that's what happens when you wake up from a deep nap. Most importantly of all, Cheese-kun is still tucked into her arms like the little best friend he is. So everything seems safe and okay. When you've been captured as many times as C.C. has -- for various reasons -- these things are important to check up on.

C.C. doesn't sit up, though. She looks up and over, her eyes peering from over the edge of Cheese-kun's cloth head. She's not afraid to make eye contact with Johnny Domino, even if his eyes are making contact with an entirely different part of her body, most likely. C.C. doesn't seem bothered by this. It's not like Asuka, where one look will get you an hour of shrieking. But it's not like Rei, either, where she might as well be an object rather than a person. It's -- well, someone entirely different.

"I think the cat on your head would like to come in," the witch says, voice muffled by her plush toy. "Unless you have the wrong cabin?"

C.C.'s legs move, calves rubbing against one another as she twists her back somewhat. Just an idle stretch. Still, she makes no move to sit up or cover herself.

Johnny Domino is indeed surveying a bodypart far removed from C.C.'s eyes. He isn't trying to hide it, nor does he seem to be embarrassed to the point of blushing. The Agent appears to be made of some odd mixture of stoic shamelessness.

Although, slowly, a frown /does/ begin creeping onto his features. It just figures that, somehow, he'd get stuck in the cabin containing an exhibitionist.

Letting the grouchiness broil within him, Johnny mumbles, "The cat on my head wants a lot of things."

Like how earlier that day she wanted the two of them to share a bowl of... sigh. Kitty kibble. Domino still needs to wash the taste out of his mouth.

Regardless, Johnny steps into the cabin. Shiro barely manages to slip inside before Johnny slides the door shut once more. "Please," the Agent deadpans to C.C., "Don't mind us."

Sitting down opposite of the witch, Domino turns to look out of the window. Shiro hops on the bench, sitting down next to his temporary master. Exhaling in relief, the white cat's gaze settles on C.C. "Hi," he greets. "I'm Shiro! Who are you?"

And as for Kuro... she has gone suspiciously quiet, hasn't she? That's because she caught sight of Cheese-Kun. Staring at the doll, the cat's pupils begin dilating. If only Johnny could see her, he'd realize he should get OUT of the cabin before it's too late.

When Johnny sits down, C.C. pulls Cheese-kun down a bit. Part of this is so that she can breathe more easily. Part of this is to obscure the view of her panties. Exhibitionist? Hardly. Still, her apathy about these things has its limits.

"Hello, Shiro," C.C. says, lifting up slightly to prop her head up on her hand. "I'm C.C. My, aren't you an adorable kitty." It figures that a witch would love cats. "May I pet you?"

Johnny Domino is, for the moment, paid no mind. After all, that was his request. Still, a talking cat? C.C. can hardly resist the opportunity. She sits up completely, Cheese-kun blobbing in her lap as she pats the spot on the seat next to her, warm from her body heat.

Yeah, she knows cats.

Different people react in different ways to the talking cats. Some people freak out, like the woman at the pet shop earlier that day, when Johnny and Kuro entered to ask how much a catnip mouse would cost. Johnny refused to buy it after hearing the price.

Other people stare, like the the waiter at the cafe where Johnny and Kuro ordered a bowl of... sigh. Kitty kibble. The fact they were ordering kitty kibble probably didn't help the poor waiter any, either.

Then there are those people who purposely ignore Shiro and Kuro. Convincing themselves that it is all a hallucination -- some sort of freak glitch of the mind -- these people refuse to acknowledge the cats, because that's the only way they could sleep at night. Most people belong in this third category - the spineless masses who would not be able to face reality if they were forced to accept the existence of talking cats.

And so, when someone pops up, belonging to fourth category of 'wanting to shower cats with attention', Shiro is delighted. Most often such people are either the very young or the elderly. C.C. appears to be neither, which is a sweet bonus.

"Yay," mews Shiro. "She wants to pet me!" Bouncing from Johnny's bench to C.C.'s, the white kitten sits down and extends his head, eyes closed in anticipation. Just wait until he tells Masaki about this!

Johnny glances at the two, wondering if he should interject. He decides against it. Shiro is the dorkier of the two felines. He deserves some attention and love.

"Oh, you're /precious/," C.C. coos, leaning down to run her fingers along the thin, sensitive flesh of the cat's head, offering gentle scritches behind both ears before moving her hand down Shiro's back. The strokes of the cat's fur aren't very strong or deep, but enough to keep the kitty purring.

C.C. smiles, reaffirming her grip on Cheese-kun with her other arm. "And you are?" she finally asks Johnny Domino, again making eye contact without hesitation. Her accent is strange. It's... vaguely European, but can't be pinned down to any specific nation. There's a weird inflection to her English that doesn't match any region on Earth. It sounds aristocratic, though. Even when she seems easygoing -- like now, petting a cat, not wearing half her clothes -- C.C. still has a faint air of superiority in her speech.

"I know you asked me not to mind you, but I'm afraid I must insist on your name." C.C. continues to stroke Shiro, not missing a beat while she pays attention to Johnny. "You see, I'd like to be able to use it when I say 'Excuse me, Mister... Your Name... you're sitting on my pants.'"

And purr Shiro does!

"Frrrrrrrrrr," the little beasty goes, enjoying himself immensely. The sound vibrates from deep within him, invading the cabin as if wafting on a gentle breeze. The white cat twists his head to meet C.C.'s hand again and again, his tiny nose bumping against her fingers.

When she moves to his back, the creature can't contain himself, rising to his feet. His spine curves upward, tail swishing of its own accord. And watching all of this, Johnny Domino can't stop a small smile from gracing his lips.

Until C.C. addresses him.

The smile drops as Domino hears the girl out. He's no linguist, but that doesn't stop him from thinking, "oh, no wonder she's pantsless - she's /European/."

And then C.C. explains why she wants to know Johnny's name, and the young man is taken aback. Oy, wiseassy little git, isn't she? Not seeing the humor in this situation, the Agent almost looks down on reflex to check if he is, indeed, sitting on her pants... but then stops himself at the last second.

Keeping his gaze affixed on the witch's, Domino responds, "I'm Johnny. Johnny Domino."

And that's it. Yeah, he's going to make C.C. actually say that last bit again, using his name this time around. Petty petty.

Not catching the pettiness -- but enjoying the pettingness -- Shiro takes this opportunity to open his eyes, saying, "And the black one on top of Domino's head is-- hey," the white one blinks. "Where's Kuro?"

Johnny glances up. What the-- Kuro somehow managed to slip off of his head when no one was paying attention. How does she DO that? "Aw, crap," the Agent summarizes his feelings on this new development.

C.C. smiles wryly. She lets the pause hang for a moment, as if savoring the clear challenge that Johnny has put out. A worthy opponent? Well, hardly, thinks C.C., but one takes what one can get sometimes. "Well then, Mister Domino," she says, her tone light and cheery, with what comes close to a strange musicality in the way she speaks to him.

"Allow me to say this, then. Excuse me, Mister Domino." C.C. gestures to the white pant leg poking out from under Johnny's own leg. In doing so, she takes her arm off of Cheese-kun for a moment, and her stroking of Shiro reduces to a mere rubbing of the cat's little head with the side of her thumb. "You're sitting on my pants."

When the cat's disappearance seems to kill the fun and games, though, C.C. glances around, letting that wry smile fade into a bit of a bored look. "The door didn't open," she notes. "So your other kitten couldn't have gone anywhere. My pants, please?"

Whatever enjoyment Johnny would have gleaned from C.C. requesting her pants a second time is soured by the disappearance of Kuro.

"Yeah yeah, whatever," he says to the witch, visibly distracted. Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture while giving the cabin a shallow once-over, the Agent finally removes himself from the bench, granting C.C. access to her clothing.

He didn't do it for the girl's sake, though. He only moved so as to crouch down and look under the bench, seeking the black rebel.

That's when it happens.

With C.C. removing her arm from around Cheese-Kun in her quest for some pants, and with Domino occupied on his hands and knees, Kuro makes her move. There's a mighty RAWR -- as mighty as a tiny housecat can muster, anyway -- followed by a dark streak leaping from behind the backrest of Domino's bench. The cat lands on the Agent's head ("waugh!!"), using it as a springboard as she aims straight for the cheesy doll.

Slamming into Cheese-Kun, there's a muffled "GLMPH" sound, and both the lifeless puppet and the way-too-lively feline sail to the floor, Kuro dragging her prize down with her. And that's where both remain, the black cat lying on top of Cheese-Kun, her mouth clamped down on a tiny piece of the doll's fabric. She's got what she wanted, and she /ain't/ letting go.

C.C. seems nonplussed by Johnny Domino's lack of enthusiasm. What, this guy -- whoever he is -- expects her to /get up/? And take her /own/ pants? No doubt to sneak a peek while she's doing so. But that's not the worst part to C.C., somehow. She couldn't possibly care less about whether or not he's a pervert. She cares that he expects her to do the work. Doesn't he realize what privilege he's being granted, just being in her presence?

It's been a long time since C.C. was so readily ignored in person. Treated rudely, yes. Even horribly. But /ignored/? Who /is/ this boy? Who does he think he is?

C.C. decides that she'd actually like to know the answer to that.

Her ruminations are cut short, though, when her precious doll is attacked. When Cheese-kun and Kuro tumble to the floor, C.C. leaps to her feet, hands balling into fists that rise next to her face. "GET OFF MY CHEESE-KUN!" she squawks, suddenly driven to protective rage.

"Ahh!!", Shiro cries out, his moment of happiness interrupted by Kuro -- and not for the first time, either!

Peering over the edge of the bench, the white cat whines, "Kuro, what are you dooooing?"

Kuro doesn't answer. She's got her mouth full. While the black cat's silence would be a blessing any other day, right now it's a terrible curse.

Straightening himself in a heartbeat, the Agent's heart actually SKIPS a beat. "KURO," he fumes. "What are you--?! Oh, god, what!" Struggling to find the proper words to express his outrage at this outrageous outrage of an outrage, Domino comes up short.

As C.C. spazzes next to him, Johnny is sent into action. "I am so sorry," he says, crawling over to Kuro and Cheese-Kun. "This cat isn't mine, I swear, I am so sorry." Grabbing hold of Kuro -- the cat is small enough that the Agent can wrap his finger around the full length of her body -- Johnny tries pulling her off.

"MRR!", the feline emits, biting down hard.

Domino stops pulling. He looks at C.C., a nervous, angry glance, then tries tugging on Kuro. "Mrr! Mrr! MRR!", the critter blurts with each tug.

C.C.'s yellow eyes widen in a spasm of fury. She doesn't think. She just does.

What she does is basically the worst thing you can possibly do to a cat. The train car has little complimentary bottles of water for thirsty passengers, and C.C. grabs one, twists it open...

...and splashes Kuro.

Johnny, too, in the process. Water hurled from a bottle is an imprecise weapon on the best days.

"OFF!" C.C. shouts, imperiously. She may feel bad about doing that to a poor kitten later, but -- well, no, she won't. Cats need to learn to obey humans, for one thing. And biting Cheese-kun -- unacceptable. If that doll requires even one bit of stitching to repair what the cat's done...

...C.C. hopes Laura knows how to sew.

"No, no," Shiro pipes up, trying to direct Johnny. "Pull her to the right, to the right. Twist and yank-- no, the other right. Squeeze a little. Don't be afraid! Put some pressure on her utility gland!"

Following the white cat's strategic guidance, Johnny Domino struggles against Kuro, his anxiety mounting. "Let go, you stupid cat," he murmurs. "Bad cat. /Bad/ cat."

Nothing works, though. Not until C.C. takes matters into her own hands.

There's an impressive SPLORTCH sound, followed by a tortured MOWL, followed by silence. Struck by the water, Kuro has released Cheese-Kun, fleeing under Domino's bench like the scardy-cat that she is. Shiro covers his eyes, unable to watch.

Cheese-Kun is safe, if a bit wet.

Johnny, too, is wet. Motionless on his knees, the young man stares off into space in shock. His shirt is soaked, his hair dripping. He never saw it coming.

C.C. stands there, and with a huff, sets the bottle of water down. She then bends down to pick up her doll. She doesn't care if he's wet, she cares that he's not been torn to shreds by a maniacal feline. Even soaked, he's still her precious blob, and she hugs him to her chest tightly.

"Well, Mister Domino," C.C. says, sounding rather indignant. Shiro is ignored for the moment, tragically. Although he probably does have the best view in the house. Shame he's a cat and all. "I must say, I'm less than impressed with your ability to handle animals. I should hope they /don't/ belong to you, but I'm even more hopeful that whoever they /do/ belong to isn't foolish enough to trust you with them again."

C.C. pauses a moment, before sitting down, next to Shiro again. "Now, then, if you'd be so kind."

C.C. lifts her legs up, taking her feet off of the ground and holding them outward. Her toes point forward. "My pants, please."

Now it's her turn to insist he do the work.

Domino shivers as he feels droplets of water sliding down the back of his neck and under his shirt. Not that there's much space between the shirt and his skin at this point. In most areas, the fabric is hugging against his flesh in a rather uncomfortable way.

As C.C. speaks, the young man slowly diverts his blue gaze to meet her yellow one. His expression remains a blank, any emotions wiped clean by shock. There's neither visual displeasure evident as C.C. rebukes him, nor an audible comeback. Most likely, her words just pass right through him as his mind attempts to come to terms with the fact that she /splashed him/.

On the bench, Shiro uncovers one eye, catches sight of the ample view offered by C.C., and... honestly, he doesn't really care.

When the girl sits down and raises her legs, Domino blinks. His face shows the first sign of interactivity, contorting around the edges. Then, as he looks the legs over, a full frown blossoms.

Johnny says nothing, however. He doesn't object, whether actively or passively. He simply reaches over, grabbing C.C.'s pants from his bench and moving to dress her. No comment is made as he works, first pulling the pants over C.C's calves, then up over her thighs.

Does Domino find this action humiliating or demeaning? Who knows. Does he find the girl's silent request to dress her socially awkward? Maybe. But if so, he isn't talking. There isn't even any bashfulness or otherwise hints of arousal when the young man reaches the pelvic area. Johnny does his work, silent, efficient, precise.

He doesn't even try and make the process uncomfortable for C.C.

Johnny Domino is a good servant.

Except not. When all is said and done and his job is over, Domino proceeds to grab a water bottle of his own, twist the cap open, and splash C.C. most generously.

Shiro cowers in the corner.

C.C. is relatively happy. They always come around, in the end. They get right where they need to be -- right where they belong. Eating out of her hand. Doing whatever ridiculous thing she asks. Except this sort of thing isn't even ridiculous to her anymore. She's no more bashful or awkward about it than Johnny is. She's lived through so much that experience barely moves her, unless it's something important, like her doll being savaged.

Or having water dumped on her.

"ACKPTH--!" C.C. sputters, water running down her long bangs, soaking her white outfit. It's horrible. It's humiliating. And now Cheese-kun is even wetter.

But somehow, C.C. doesn't explode. Her doll is safe. No harm done, right? Well, actually, yes, harm done, but nothing /earth-shattering/. Her yellow eyes slowly turn up to face Johnny Domino, and she stares at him for a few long seconds, lips twisted into a disapproving frown.

"Touche," C.C. says, drolly. "Any more childishness, Mister Domino, or is it all out of your system so we can speak like adults?"

Johnny watches C.C.'s reaction following his wet assault. Yeah, she doesn't like that, does she? The sensation of her hair weighing down on her, and those goddamn pants clinging to her legs from all sides... she likes it about as much as Johnny likes the feel of his shirt hugging his back. The Agent has had his revenge.

Sitting down with a huff of his own, Johnny puts the bottle away. Now both boy and girl are seated opposite of one another, dripping and with half-empty bottles of water at their side. If only this train had a conductor to walk in at this point and see Johnny and C.C. in this state.

Alas, the trains of the future don't need conductors.

When the girl makes her next inquiry, Domino's reaction is swift: "Are you quite finished acting like a little girl, or would you want me to spoon feed you next?"

"A little girl?" C.C. rolls her eyes. She's used to this kind of treatment. It goes in one ear and out the other. Johnny Domino just spent a week with a young woman who would have responded to this with the conversational equivalent of a tactical nuclear assault. Now he's sharing space with one who simply doesn't care.

Who's to say which is better?

"I'm quite capable of feeding myself, Mister Domino, but you're very kind to offer." C.C.'s tone becomes austere, effete. She picks herself up and lifts herself above the conversation, as if it were simply below her to go blow for blow with Domino in anything less than the most passive-aggressive way. This is the true mark of the cultural elite.

"So, tell me, Mister Domino. Now that we've put all that unpleasant business behind us." C.C. stops there, for just a moment, as if waiting for Johnny to cut in and perpetuate the cycle. But she doesn't actually pause long enough for him to start, even if he wanted to. "Tell me what a man with two talking cats and a military uniform is doing on a train with me right now. Is this some sort of forward-thinking initiative to sniff out Katharon elements on passenger trains, using adorable kitties' senses of smell?"

C.C.'s eyebrow lifts. "Should I be holding my wrists out, next, for you to cuff?"

God, Domino hates the elite. Bunch of pussyfooting wankers who only have eyes for themselves and their status. They use big words and they show off their big wallets, but everything else about them is oh-so-small.

Feeling his tongue tickling inside his mouth, eager to unleash itself on C.C., the Agent does indeed take the pause in the girl's speech to open his mouth and-- C.C. continues talking. Oh, that /bitch/. She did that on purpose!

When the girl next mentions a certain affinity to Katharon in no uncertain terms, the Agent mentally doubletakes. There's a moment of silence then -- a moment of silence that is helpfully filled by Shiro.

"She supports Katharon?", the white cat wails. "Oh no. And she called me adorable, too!" The poor guy sounds so broken-hearted.

Johnny ignores him, as most people tend to. "Well," he begin, reclaiming his voice. "As much as it may disappoint you, /madam/," he spits that title as if it was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "I am not, in fact, in the 'business' of harassing civilians. If you're so eager to get cuffed, I suppose I could do you this one favor - call security at the next stop and have you taken in for indecent exposure."

"Otherwise, please leave your handcuff fantasies in your bedroom. Unless... this /is/ your bedroom?" Johnny gives C.C. a smile, then. A forced, artifically sweet smile. The kind that means absolutely nothing, and the person who smiles knows it, and the person who sees the smile knows it, and they both know they know, but the person smiling doesn't care.

And in the corner, Shiro hears Johnny's words and squeaks, "W-wait, what?"

"Who... said I was a civilian?" C.C. asks, slowly, with the sort of patronizing tone one might expect from a schoolteacher frustrated at dealing with a particularly slow or thick child. "Mister Domino, what you choose to believe is up to you. But really... you can believe I'm lying when I say I'm not just affiliated with Katharon, but rather privy to its workings and resources. To its uppermost echelons. To Amuro Ray, and Quattro Bajeena, and Cagalli of the Orb Islands. You can disbelieve all that if you want."

C.C. glances over at the cat cowering before she continues. "But who's to say it's not true? What proof can you brook either way?"

The green-haired witch doesn't smile. Her tone is even and measured, but with no small amount of charm infused into it. Warmth without being truly warm. Pleasant without really being that pleasant. It's not friendliness, but something far more potent and dangerous -- the illusion of it.

"And if it weren't true, why would I be telling you all of this? To get arrested? That wouldn't make any sense, Mister Domino. You seem to have constructed some sort of sexual connotation in your mind. I encourage you to just put that one right out." C.C. lifts her eyebrows as if to actively emphasize that point. "Stop thinking down there and let's reason."

Take the bait, you dumb prick, C.C. thinks to herself.

"What would I stand to gain by revealing myself to be a high-ranking Katharon member to you?" C.C. lets that one sit for a moment, before delivering the second half of the old one-two. "And what do /you/ stand to gain from that knowledge?"

Johnny's smile disappears as it had appeared: flatly.

He initially thought this girl was just out to get under his skin for whatever sadistic reason. Maybe as revenge for the whole Kuro incident, or maybe she just likes acting superior. But as C.C. speaks, the Agent is fast realizing his initial impression was all wrong. This girl is playing at something far deeper and more dangerous than that.

Taking in C.C.'s monologue, Johnny lapses into a ponderous silence. His face locks up into an intensely neutral expression as he stares at the girl opposite of him. The wheels in his head are turning, and it shows.

"Is this some game to you, I wonder," he ventures after a time. No question mark is audible, nor does the Agent wait for a response. "You seem to be trying to paint yourself as a member of Katharon - someone who is either an important figure within their ranks, or someone who simply has connections to those at the top. And if I am not mistaken, you are..."

Johnny pauses, eyes narrowing.

"You are attempting to get a reaction out of me." Once upon a time, White Unicorn handed himself over to Domino, an experience that the Agent remembers to this day. And now, what, was C.C. trying to hand herself over to Johnny as well? Things like this do not just /happen/.

"Did you see my uniform and panic, bringing about this sudden confession?" Not very likely. "Were you just looking for an opportunity to run and tell about your connections to Katharon, and I simply happened to come along at the right time?" Johnny doesn't believe such luck exists. "Or maybe you stand to gain something, as you put it. A cheap laugh?" No, C.C. looks like she'd sprain a muscle in her face if she even tried smiling. "A moment in the spotlight?" She certainly has the exhibitionist portion of that down. "Infiltrating A-LAWS under the guise of a prisoner?"

C.C. may have thought Domino a dumb prick, following his behavior with the cats and the snipes he exchanged with her... but he is far from being a dumb prick. He is a suspicious prick.

C.C. watches Johnny Domino through his own monologue. She's got an unusually sharp gaze. It doesn't shoot right through the Agent, but it does seem... hawkish, in its way. With him being 'the mouse' in that particular equation. The more his extrapolation of her position continues, the more her lips begin to turn into a cunning smile, the sort of look that suggests that while Johnny Domino may not be a dumb prick, he may have walked right into the bait after all.

"Johnny Domino, you said your name was?" the witch asks sweetly, when he's finished. She completely fails to answer any of his questions at all, to indulge any of his hypotheses, to behave as if any of what had just happened had just happened. Her mood lightens immeasurably, but there's still that keening look in her eyes.

"Johnny Domino, you're a man who doesn't /trust/ people, I dare suggest. I could take a few guesses as to why that is... but does it even matter?" C.C. stands up, toting her doll under one arm, and wicks back her sopping hair. Gravity splays it strangely. "Not really. I just know that you just might be exactly the kind of man I need, Johnny."

C.C. moves for the door, still sweetness and light. "We'll be in touch, okay?"

And then she's through the doors and gone. It's a train. She couldn't have gotten far. Right?

SOME TIME LATER

C.C. dusts off Cheese-kun and waits for her broken leg to fix. Jumping off of trains isn't nearly as much fun as riding them.

It's really not that hard to mistrust C.C. - just spend a few minutes under that hawkish gaze of hers, and one will begin feeling like some sort of... mouse. The blow could come at any time, from any direction. But most likely this direction will be 'from above', and the time will be 'when you least expect it'.

As the girl stands up, sending her hair spraying water on the Agent, Domino tenses. 'Idiot!', he thinks, 'You gave her your name!' Frantically trying to remember what name she gave Shiro when the trio first arrived, the young man's thought process is interrupted when the witch takes her leave.

"...what the /fuck/!"

Shiro flinches at Domino's cursing.

The Agent gets up to his feet. "Hey! Wait, get back here!" Moving for the doors, Domino throws them open, stepping out into the corridor. He first looks left, throwing a frantic look around, then glances right, seeking. Where the hell did she run off to?

"Shiro," the Agent turns around to face the white cat. "Do you promise not to run away and try to find Masaki?"

"Uhh," the white cat starts.

"DO YOU PROMISE?!"

"Y-yes!"

Domino points to the left. "Go there, find that girl. I'll go the other way. Now, do it now!"

Mewing anxiously, Shiro hops off of the bench and runs off. Domino takes the opposite direction.

And in the cabin still, Kuro remains hidden under the bench, smoldering underneath her soaked coat of fur. She's going to remember you, C.C.