"What can I get for you, miss?"

"Lemon Vodka." I am not an idiot.

"Serizawa…imagine finding you here."

He always had that smirk on his face when he spoke to me. He was so full of himself that he took some kind of crazy enjoyment out of berating me. What a sadist!

"…if I knew your last name, I would call you by it. Leave me alone, Baofu," I muttered, sitting down at a barstool to wait for my drink. "I came here for solitude." I let that last word roll off of my tongue.

"…fine."

There was that smirk again. I couldn’t stand it; I couldn’t stand him. "Will you stop looking at me?" I demanded.

"I knew that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut much longer." He let out a chuckle. Ugh. What an ugly laugh.

"Shut up. You were provoking me."

He took a swig of his old Kentucky bourbon…it figured that he would bring his own drink to a bar. How the hell did he import that stuff from America, anyway? It must cost a fortune.

"Watching you intoxicate yourself is amusing…you know that the vodka served here is eighty proof, so it should be quick and painless." That damn ugly smirk.

"I’m tougher than that," I retorted, defensively, accepting my drink from the bartender.

"Oh?" he looked down at me over the frames of his glasses. Dirty brown eyes…. "If you could handle more, you’d be drinking something harder."

"Just because I don’t enjoy shit that gets me drunk after one sip doesn’t mean that I couldn’t handle it." I was getting irritated. I took a drink of my vodka--it was a bit sour--and looked straight ahead, trying to ignore the idiot in maize next to me. That stupid suit was maize, but I bet that if he heard my thoughts, he would have told me that the suit was ‘gold.’ Bullshit. I knew gold, and it was not that atrocity.

"Did Amano upset you? Or was it the detective who called you stupid this time?"

I could feel my face getting hot...I needed more alcohol. I downed my vodka quickly and asked the bartender for some bourbon. Hell, I can’t stand the stuff, but he was pissing me off.

"Oh my, getting brave? Or just drunk?" His cocked his left eyebrow, suspicion apparent on his face.

"What rise do you get out of insulting me?" I demanded, slamming my glass on the bar for emphasis. "I think you’re dumb." I regretted those words as soon as I said them.

He took a swig of his bourbon just as mine was brought out. His was a little higher quality that what was served at Parabellum, but mine wasn’t that bad.

"Ulala, you’re losing it already? I gave you too much credit," he snickered. God, he looked ugly when he snickered.

"I am not losing it!" I drank the small glass in three sips…why are the servings so tiny here?

"Fine…Ulala, would you like to drink like a man? Allow me to order for you."

"…" I could have classified that little comment as sexism. My tolerance was just as high as his!

"Yes, I will have a Bombay Sapphire and for the lady, Dark Rum." I groaned as he stated my order.

"Dark Rum? What’s so special about that? I want yours. Bombay Sapphire – never tried that before." I looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"Fine, whatever you’d like."

At the arrival of the drinks, I took a sip of each. The Dark Rum tasted better.

"I’ll take the rum."

"Indeed."

We drank in silence. Smooth. I mean, the alcohol, not him. Not me, either, for that matter. So I broke the calm.

"Do you think I’m an idiot?"

"Yes."

I knew that he would say that. "Why?"

"Well, don't you think that you’re an idiot? If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried."

"Excuse me?" I had finished my rum and decided to partake in his drink. It tasted a lot better now.

He sighed and went back to drinking his own bourbon, barely missing a beat. "You leave yourself open for insults because you are insecure." What? Insecure? Bullshit.

"I am not." I swallowed the last sip of his drink. Where did that bartender run off to? I had money to burn!

"Defensive, too," he added. This time, he offered me a swig of his bourbon. "Why do you care so much what about what other people think?"

"I want to be loved. I want people to see me as the witty, charming, and talented woman that I am!" I didn't really know what I was saying.

"Not everyone is going to like you."

"…I know. But it would be nice to get noticed once in a while."

"Makimura noticed you," he chuckled. I growled at him and reached into my pocket for my cigarettes.

"Shut up." I pulled out a cigarette and lit it from a candle in the bar. He reached over and took one. By now, we had some sort of unspoken agreement that it was okay to take things from each other, especially when drunk. Drunk. Had he been drinking before he came? He seemed so relaxed.

I sighed. "Don’t you want to be noticed?"

"No." He looked down at his bourbon. "Ulala…you’ve probably already been noticed, it’s you who hasn’t noticed them."

"Yeah, right. Sorry, that only happens to Maya," I muttered.

"That’s where all of this comes from, huh? You’re jealous of Amano."

"I am not! I’m just prettier, smarter, and more talented. She just decorates her breasts with hearts to get men," I spat. Baofu rolled his eyes and laughed again, his voice raspy from the smoke.

"I see." His voice was deeper now…almost sexy.

"Well? It’s true. I try so hard, but everything just comes naturally to Maya!" It really wasn’t fair.

"You try too hard," he replied. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuinely nice. I would take either.

"How else am I supposed to get a husband? If I sit back and wait, I’ll end up being unmarried in my thirties!"

He narrowed his eyes at me from behind his glasses. His eyes were unreadable.

"It’s different for men! In twenty years or so, I won’t be fertile any longer!" I wasn’t even sure if I wanted children, but it seemed like a valid complaint. I supposed that I could always adopt, but then I’d probably never have sex again. How bleak. And yet, how very me.

"At least you’re still alive."

I wasn’t sure what he meant.

"I’m wasting away."

"Just stop, Ulala."

"I’ll never get married."

"Stop."

"Maya won."

"Ulala…"

"I’m the better woman…I am."

"You’re drunk."

"I’m not."

"…"

"Baofu…it’s not fair…"

"Stop, please."

"All the years of lessons and practice and…"

"Enough."

"I’m not an idiot, I’m not."

"You’re not."

"I…I…"

"Come on…"

"Yes…"

Anguish…passion, I don’t know what happened…I was gone, he was gone, we were alone and together…hands, lips, touch, taste…I can’t place where I was, but it didn’t matter…only him, and only me…all I knew…Maya wasn’t the one…

When I woke up, I was alone in my room…my head ached…and next to me lay an empty bottle of bourbon.