Mozart's Requiem drifted through the accoustically perfect cabin, each string, each key, wafting like a cloud of silk over Nuriko's ears. In a pitch too low to be heard, she hummed in exact tempo with the chorus of melody. The simple Chardonnay caught a diamond reflection in the bathing soft white glow of the polished brass lamps, sparkling the hazel lining of her eyes. Other lamps of similiar design decorated the interior of the spacious cabin, creating a calm, passive atmosphere.
An atmosphere that seemed to escape Ozzy's nervously tapping finger...
"What is wrong with you?" Nuriko asked, sitting calmly in the comfortable lounger.
"What?" he asked, his eyes jerking from their stare at the dark clouds passing outside.
Nuriko sipped her wine, the piercing gaze of her pupils never leaving him.
"You appear....nervous."
Ozzy stared at her questioningly. Slowly, he followed her gaze down to his tapping finger. The finger immediately halted.
"No...I'm fine..." he replied with half-sincerity.
Lightning flashed briefly outside, Baxter jerking his gaze back towards the window.
"Am I right in understanding that you are physically invunerable to all harm?"
Ozzy looked back at her.
"As far as I know..." he shrugged. "Never really put it to the test."
Nuriko swallowed another sip.
"Then, may I ask, Mr. Baxter.....why are you scared of flying?"
He stared at her briefly, seemingly hesitant to speak.
"...I...I've had bad experiences with flying..."
She said nothing, merely sipping her drink.
"So..." he began, ruffling his white hair, and changing the subject. "...why the hell did we fly all the way to London? Wouldn't a straight shot been fas--"
"I like the scenic route." she interrupted.
He simply sighed, shifting in his seat a bit. Gripping the edge of his shirt, he pulled against the snug fit slightly. His rather large chest pressed against the red silk of the oriental-print button-up, as he grimaced with irritation.
"They could have at least gotten my size right..." he commented.
"Amazing..." Nuriko almost laughed.
"What?"
She leaned up in her seat.
"Do you know how lucky you are to be alive?" she asked, her eyes narrow with disbelief. "The Yakuza do not take theft lightly."
"Oh, don't I know?" he replied. "I just spent a couple of months in a Japanese sewer system..."
"The fact that you are alive, at all, is extraordinary."
"Ahh..." he dismissed. "...they wouldn't have been able to kill me, anyway..."
"Perhaps." she replied cooly. "But, if not for the laziness of my brother, they would have continued to try..."
She paused, swallowing her wine.
"...and, you would still be in the sewer...
Ozzy stared her silently for a moment.
"You don't like me, do you?"
Nuriko's eyes gained a stern intent, as her words came crisp and dry.
"I think you are a man without honor."
"How can you make that assessment?" he replied evenly. "You've only known me for about five hours."
She reached down into her briefcase, leaning against the chair. She tossed a folder down onto the coffee table that seperated them. It bore Interpol markings. Ozzy picked it up, staring disbelievingly at the contents.
His entire life. Criminal records. School records. Dental records. His favorite records. You name it...if it concerned the man named Oswald Baxter, it was in that file.
"...that's why we made all those stops...you were digging dirt on me..." he breathed.
"The talents you have, Mr. Baxter..." she said. "...the amazing gift that has seen fit to house itself within you. You are beyond harm. Where others find injury and death, you can walk freely."
He listened to her words, their meaning changing his expression very little.
"...in the valley of darkness...you are the blessed..." she continued. "And what have you done with these gifts? What have you accomplished, may I ask?"
"Listen, lady...you don't know a THING about me..." Ozzy began, uncomfortable with the estimation of his life that she forced him into considering.
"I know that you are a selfish man, concerned only with your own monetary gain. I know that you have probably never performed an altruistic act in your entire life."
He simply stared at her, tossing the folder back down onto the table.
They both sat in silence again, the symphonies of epic composers soothing the atmosphere once again.
"Mr. Baxter?"
"What?"
"You are doing it again..."
Ozzy glanced down to see his finger tapping away...
