<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>The Fuchsia Fox and an Artifact Absent</strong></span></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3f/cb/51/3fcb513183b094b643a10c74bed38b1e.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Date Toshiro<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>December 25th, 2018 | 8:30PM<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>The Indigo Lounge<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong><em>Albion</em><br/><strong>EXTRA:</strong><br/><strong>WEARING:</strong>An unbuttoned charcoal gray suit jacket, a loose fitting tie black tie with gray stripes, and dress pants with a white button up shirt and a pair of worn running shoes. Carrying around a messenger bag covered with iconography from various bands, cartoons, and video games.<br/><hr/>Allowing the haniwa to pull his gaze from the immediately arresting view of Albion luxuriating between the ceaseless patter of smooth notes trailing from Tulip's piano and the hazy trails of blue smoke slowly dancing from the lips of his silver haired drinking companion, Toshiro patted the haniwa on its smooth clay head head with an admirable attempt at using a show of entirely unnatural show of affection to shield his ever mounting contempt for the stoic statue. “I'm thinking she's a tsundere, treat her with enough care and she'll show you more love than any two bit rune or dime a dozen scroll too eager to give up what little they have to share could manage. You know how it is.” In reality Toshiro had no idea on<em>'how it is'</em>, nor did he have any issue with either information or pleasure earned easily, but it was a crime not to act at least a little hard boiled in so noir a situation as he had found himself in with his often less theater inclined drinking partner.<br/><br/>Toshiro nearly inhaled the entirety of his next glass of whiskey on hearing Albion's somewhat drawn out seeming words confess that his previous flirtation had not been made idly, nor had it abated in the slightest. Turning his head towards the other end of the bar to poorly hide his vigorous attempt to clear the drink from his now burning lungs, Toshiro slammed his fist onto the bar top as he spluttered with what was clearly a strong show of masculine confidence, “St-strong stuff. Good. Need more.” Quickly wiping the water now built up around his eyes with this sleeve, he turned back towards Albion with a renewed look of nonchalance, just in time to feel Albion's now warm fingers slide over the back of Toshiro's hand before continuing on towards the researcher's exposed wrist. Immediately he could feel a web of tingling course throughout his body at the touch, his skin rising in gooseflesh, his heart beating up into his throat.<br/><br/>In a more sober state of mind, on a less lonely an occasion than that desolate Christmas night, Toshiro would have questioned the honesty of Albion's gesture for the copious amount of drink he'd surely imbibed in, but in his own haze, and at that time, he couldn't bring himself to care. Toshiro could barely hear Albion's words for the tenor that carried them, that soft deep timbre reverberating to the researcher's core, the breath they traveled on emitted so close to the scientist that he could feel them break upon his lips. Breaking free once again from the penetrating stare of those arresting green eyes, Toshiro dared to lean in even further against Albion, one arm still propped on top of the haniwa while his free hand grasped the back of Albion's stool. Leaning in so close that Toshiro's lips might lightly traipse alone the surface of his companion's ear he breathed softly, “There's nothing I could tell you about her that she won't. Though she might be a little bashful about her rubies.”<br/><br/>Not about to live in regret for an opportunity lost, Toshiro playfully pulled at Albion's earlobe with his teeth for a moment before leaning back into his stool, his weight once again supported by the bar as he swirled his freshest glass seductively between the two. “Real rubies, real gold, and if you were to carve away some of the clay you'd find a silver and turquoise rod that they're attached to. She's a remarkable mixture of styles Japanese, Egyptian, Celtic, and Aztec in various bits. And for all the work I've put into understanding her, you'd be as well off asking Tulip what it does.” Again Tulip narrowed her eyes, this time accentuating her irritation with a sharp discordant measure ringing out from the piano.