The city stretched out beyond his window, a festive maze of lights, screeching car horns and hurried people speeding to their errands, all marching to the queer drumbeat of civilization. Such as it was at least. Towering monuments broke up his vision, some were apartment blocs, others were edifices to the folly of markets. Stock exchanges. Corporate headquarters. Honied hives all reaching out for that most tempting of nectars. Profit.<br/><br/>It was a strange place to be stationed in, all in all. Unfamiliar territory. The hustle and bustle of crowds was nothing new, really, none of it was new, but he'd been....away....from it long enough that it certainly seemed new. The strangest part of it was also the easiest to pick out-the advertisements. The flickering, neon advertisements and banners that one couldn't escape, not even the old quarter. They were everywhere and ever present, and could not help but draw the eye.<br/><br/>Taking it all in was a feline. A felid. A neko. Whatever one might call it, he was a hybrid of man and cat. Sharp feline eyes, furred ears, and a remarkably bushy tail all built onto and contrasted with, a human body. His hair was a silvery white, and his nimble fingers hid claws. In his mouth, one would find fangs. A predator by nature, not even human DNA could temper that. He wore sharp grey fatigues, with a red flag emblazoned on the chest. His silver hair was pulled into a ponytail, and further tamed by a sharp, red-starred field cap. He....didn't really have anything else to wear. What else would he wear even?<br/><br/>He was a proud soldier of the Soviet, a good communist, he hoped. A soldier in the battle for freedom and truth and justice. All of that. Brave and true. But....right now.....well, right now, he was wrestling with a problem. Of a sort.<br/><br/>The felid sighed, his left ear flicking slightly. A nervous habit he could never quite shake. It'd been with him since he was a kitten, Jiang reflected ruefully and he strongly suspected it would be with him until his death. He look at the city again, eyes bouncing from light to light, trying to take an accounting of them all by sheer instinct. A futile and pointless task, but it was good for thinking. Ruminating....and Jiang had much to ruminate on. He had company coming. A sort of company at least.<br/><br/>For the life of him, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually invited anyone over. Not that this place was....his home. It was an apartment. Quarters. A room given over to him while he and his men were stationed in the city. It was...roomier, then he was used too. All told. Three rooms, with one being on an upper level. It seemed almost wasteful. But there was little sense in complaining about it. The felid sighed again, as he dragged his mind away from this apartment and back to what was coming.<br/><br/>Well.<br/><br/>Who was coming.<br/><br/>Lesley Hart. He came highly recommended. Evidently. One of the other officers, who'd been stationed here during the last summit, had suggested Lesley to him. Ryo was a good man, and his word carried more weight then the anonymous others he'd mentioned. High-class didn't mean as much to him as it did to humans, firstly. So he could trust Ryo's word far more easily. Still. He was nervous. Tense. It was strange, really, he was never nervous before combat. Not even during the dark days of the rebellion. He'd been...fifteen then? Thereabouts. But he'd taken to it well enough. Adjusted quickly.<br/><br/>But apparently, all those nerves of steel and that stoic endurance were basically helpless against the all encompassing might of.....a callboy he'd hired and invited to his apartment. Willingly. Jiang let out a small chuff. It would have been terribly, terribly funny if it hadn't been happening to him. It would almost have been easier if he just wanted sex. But....that wasn't what he needed right now. He felt his body tense again, as his thoughts closed in on the cusp of his problem. He wanted to talk. He wanted...companionship. He was lonely, terribly so. And the best solution he had to the problem was a callboy.<br/><br/>It was vaguely pathetic.<br/><br/>But....that wasn't the problem. No. His problem was far far worse. He....had no idea what to talk about. Or where to start. What would one even talk about with a callboy? Would it matter? What did he even want to talk about? What would be safe to talk about?<br/><br/>.....<br/><br/>Maybe coffee.<br/><br/>He should make coffee. Yes. That was a good start. The soldier's eyes moved away from the window, and towards the coffee machine, laying neatly upon the counter in the kitchenette. Yes. Coffee. That was the thing. Without a moment's hesitation, Jiang set to work upon the task with all the grace and efficiency due to it.<br/><br/>It wasn't<i>that</i>different from laying out a landmine afterall.<br/><br/>------<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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