Here's Chapter 2~! If you have any scenes/prompts in mind, feel free to leave a review and let me know! ;)
"It's…" Machi trailed off as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "It's unlocked."
True to her word, the door to apartment 1012 swung open with little resistance. A rookie would have seen this as a stroke of divine luck. Instead, the four Spiders glowered at the gaping doorway, the same thought running through their minds.
Years of experience had taught them that nothing in life ever came this easily, especially if a certain redheaded psychopath was possibly leading them to their untimely demises, like rabbits chasing a carrot on a stick.
Uvogin and Nobunaga tensed up immediately, not unlike guard dogs reacting to the slightest possibility of danger. Before the two could charge in, animalistic growls and all, Chrollo held them back with a single arm.
"I'll go in first," Chrollo whispered, pointedly ignoring Uvogin's disappointed scowl. "I allowed the two of you to come as backup. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
The brawns of the group opened his mouth to protest, but Nobunaga swiftly elbowed him in the gut. "Listen to the Boss, you overgrown ape," he grumbled to his comrade. Said 'ape' snickered as the shorter man rubbed his sore arm indignantly.
Shaking his head, Chrollo moved closer to the entrance. Keen, grey irises peered into the darkened apartment, searching for any signs of Hisoka or the occupant. From its size, the unit appeared to be a studio, with the kitchen immediately to their right and a humble living space directly across. He took a moment to scan the room for possible exits, smirking triumphantly when his gaze landed on a double-paned glass sliding door. A balcony. Perfect.
His first few steps were confident yet measured. Only amateurs snuck around like guilty children, and Chrollo had invaded enough homes to last ten lifetimes.
Unfortunately, there was no squashing the hint of worry that rumbled in his gut. There were but a few things in this world that could prompt him to exhibit any semblance of caution, and Hisoka was one of them. Although, the deafening silence did ease his nerves somewhat. Hisoka had an ostentatious streak that often extended to his tricks; the lack of fire, gunshots, and absolute carnage was a very good sign.
Now standing in the middle of what he assumed to be the 'living room', Chrollo paused to further take in his surroundings. The place was exceptionally clean and, interestingly enough, sparse in the personalization department. So, whoever lived here was quite the minimalist. Judging by the immaculate organization of their shoes and coffee mugs, this guy – or girl? – was a no-frills, necessities-only type of person.
His gaze wandered to a behemoth of a bookshelf, absolutely stocked to the brim with a few stray titles lying horizontally on top. Pure, unadulterated gratification swirled in his chest. This was it.
Seems like Mr. or Ms. Law Student owned more than just textbooks and case studies. Much to his delight, Chrollo was able to immediately identify a variety of works he's read personally. Each shelf was arranged not only alphabetically, but by subject, as well, and if he wasn't currently in the process of pilfering what could possibly be their most priceless possession, perhaps he would have left a note of praise. It was nice to see he wasn't the only one who liked to utilize the Dewey Decimal System at home.
"Wow, would you look at that." Chrollo grimaced as he turned around to an insufferably smug Machi. Her infamous poker-face was as impenetrable as always, yet her eyes twinkled with rare amusement. "How cute. They're just as lame as you are."
The 'nerd' in question sent her a warning glance, which she only shrugged at in response. "Right, covert mission, gotta be hush-hush. Roger."
Chrollo directed his attention back to the bookshelf, focusing his sights on what appeared to be the fictional section. Being the smallest of the categories present, it didn't take him very long to spot the thin, well-worn paperback he came here for. With a gloved hand, he gently pulled the book out of its slot, noting the thin cloud of dust that flew into the air as he did so. They obviously had no idea how much this thing was worth. A novice collector would have had a conniption if they saw its current state.
As he gingerly placed the book into a felt bag, Uvogin and Nobunaga tumbled into the apartment with the grace of two elephants.
"—You heard him! We're here as backup, so back up and wait for the Boss' orders!" Nobunaga's face was flushed with frustration as he attempted to hold back his brute of a friend. Naturally, Uvogin continued to stand there as if the other man was a discontented toddler pulling on their mother at the grocery store.
"Cool it, cool it! I just wanted to see what it's like inside," Uvogin quipped back, although his version of a whisper was more akin to a normal person projecting their voice in front of a live audience. Chrollo sweat-dropped when he realized that Uvogin was staring at a bag of chips on the counter.
He opened his mouth, ready to chastise them for their impudence, but Machi had beaten him to the punch. "This is why Paku told you to eat earlier, numbnuts," she nagged under her breath with a cold glare. Uvogin's ferocious sneer would have destroyed the confidence of an entire army, yet it failed to deter the smaller woman from grabbing the bag and promptly chucking it at his face.
At the very least, it seemed to have appeased him. Uvogin popped open the bag with a quick flex of his fist before proceeding to munch on his snack loudly. He held the bag towards Nobunaga in invitation, who only scowled for a moment before taking a chip for himself.
Meanwhile, Chrollo had wandered further into the apartment, now curious about Hisoka's intentions. Besides their shared love of reading, nothing particularly spectacular jumped out at him. In fact, the simplicity of their dwelling made him wonder if this mysterious person had stolen the novel from someone else. A law student who lived in the shabbier side of York New couldn't have procured a two-million jenny collector's item through legitimate means.
Which reminded him, why would Hisoka direct him here? Sure, the prize was worth it, but the redhead usually took care of his own missions so that he didn't have to split the profits. What drove him to shove the task onto Chrollo, when he knew very well how much he was missing out on?
Chrollo's musings came to an abrupt halt as he approached the bed. Sitting on top of royal blue sheets was a half-cocked laptop, which, judging by the faint light emitted by the screen, was currently turned on. The all-too familiar feeling of threat, caution, be alert shot down from the back of his neck to the end of his spine. Someone was here.
With a deep frown, Chrollo slowly approached the mattress, eyes and ears vigilantly monitoring for anything suspicious. Once he was close enough, he grabbed the upper corner of the device to spin it around so that the screen was facing him.
The first thing he saw was a highly-disgruntled, red-faced brunet who seemed to be shouting something. The volume was muted, which made it look like he was participating in an enthralling game of charades. It took a few seconds for the other man to realize that the webcam was no longer facing downwards, and when he did, the wild hand-motions ceased.
Chrollo could've hung up the call and closed the laptop. The night was young, but the day had been quite long, and he was desperate to relax in solitude after this was over. Yet he found himself pressing the unmute key without much of a second thought, simply because he felt like it.
With the most charming smile he could muster, Chrollo gave the brunet a small wave. "Well, hello there."
He watched with mild amusement as the other man gaped openly for a moment, seemingly to gather his thoughts. His Adam's apple bobbed hesitantly. "Are…" he bleated nervously with an accent Chrollo couldn't quite place, "Are you Kurapika's… friend?"
So, the mystery person's name is Kurapika. Odd, but he's heard stranger. It definitely wasn't from anywhere around here, and had he been alone, he would have attempted to sound out the syllables himself. With the frosty indifference of a world-renowned criminal, Chrollo's lips turned up slightly to form a twisted simper.
"No, I'm afraid not," he confessed with mock-humility. The brunet's features paled instantly, and Chrollo's smirk widened. It was a pity he couldn't confront him face-to-face; the fearful hitching of one's breath was always such a power trip. "But do tell this 'Kurapika' they have an excellent taste in literature. If they're so inclined, I wouldn't mind meeting up for some coffee."
To the other man's credit, he was able to get over his shock relatively quickly. His eyes flared with intense anger and determination, so powerful that Chrollo could imagine his chestnut orbs turning scarlet with fury. But before he could get another word in, Chrollo had tapped the mouse pad, causing both video feeds to disappear as the call ended.
Cute kid, but he was getting bored. Eyeing the laptop one last time, Chrollo decided against swiping the device for himself. The model was outdated, anyway. There was nothing left for him here, and he preferred to leave before they had a repeat of last summer's disastrous mission.
…But now that he thought about it, it was a little strange how the bed wasn't pressed up completely against the wall. Actually, upon closer inspection, the frame was slightly crooked, which stood out greatly from the careful meticulousness that was characteristic of the rest of the apartment. Chrollo's eyes flashed dangerously. The only explanation for the peculiar angle would be that this person was in a rush. To move… something, to—
Hisoka and his lunacy be damned, Chrollo grappled the corners of the bed frame with newfound resoluteness. If that laughable excuse for a clown thought he was stupid enough to fall for one of his harebrained schemes, he'd have to teach the man a lesson he'd never forget.
Several things happened at once. There was a flash of honey gold tresses and brown, impossibly wide eyes. Chrollo sucked in a breath—
"Eat shit, you filthy bastard!"
Then, Chrollo felt a head-spinning, ear-ringing, what the hell was that bolt of pain, a stinging sensation that stabbed at his eyeballs and burned his nostrils. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, but he stayed calm because damn it, he was the leader of the Phantom Troupe. Maybe he had let out a pained yelp, maybe he didn't, but Chrollo could immediately sense the other Spiders behind him, ready to defend their Boss from whatever Hisoka had planned.
A savage roar, the sound of a blade slicing through the air – his vision was failing him, but he could tell Uvogin and Nobunaga had apprehended whoever was hiding behind the bed. Thin, gloved fingers grabbed his shoulder, then something cool, soothing, and oh-so-good splashed against his face. The iron grip told him it was Machi, while the scent of whatever she had doused him with reminded him of… milk?
Between the muffled protests of his attacker and Uvogin's heavy breathing, Chrollo had to strain his ears to hear the pink-haired woman. "Pepper spray," she muttered, pressing a paper towel presumably saturated with cold water against his eyes. "You're seriously losing your touch." Hidden under her nonchalant tone was a hint of concern, an unspoken apology for her late reaction.
Chrollo could only release a rough grunt as he forced himself to gather his bearings. He was lucky he was accustomed to Meteor City's harsh climate. The pepper spray's deliberating effects were akin to getting caught in one of his hometown's sandstorms, so all he had to do was remind himself to breathe.
When his eyes no longer felt like they were going to melt out of their sockets, Chrollo allowed himself to chuckle. This was definitely an interesting turn of events.
Kurapika's heart stilled as he heard the foreboding creak of the door. How were they able to get in? Did the cameras catch their faces? Damn it, why him? Why today?! The ice-cold terror running through his veins made his fingers tremble, and he—he needed to call the police—!
Soft, nearly inaudible footsteps pattered near the entrance, and Kurapika silently berated himself. It wasn't like he could hide in a locked room while he made the call, and the sound of his voice would draw the invader to his location. Chest thumping wildly, the blond raked his brain for ideas desperately, mind chanting think, think, think, think—
Hold on; hadn't Bill mentioned something about his phone's lock button? Kurapika rapidly pressed it five times, and his chest soared with relief as a prompt for emergency services popped up on the screen. His sweaty thumb swiped at the bar for 'Emergency SOS'. The next window told him that his GPS coordinates were just sent to the nearest calling center, and the heady sensation of triumph made him feel a tad lighter.
Despite this small victory, he wasn't out of the woods yet. Kurapika still had the burglar to worry about, and judging by their low murmurs, they weren't alone. A lone drop of sweat rolled down his brow. Sure, York New wasn't the safest utopia out there, and he did live near the border that separated the financial district from the slums. But… he's never had to worry about break-ins before. People just sort of minded their own business, and a grumpy, terribly-blunt blond with an unhealthy addiction to coffee wasn't enough to catch anyone's attention.
Regardless, he did his part – all he could do now was wait and pray that the police arrived before he was discovered. With baited breaths, Kurapika held his pepper spray in a vice-like grip as he listened to his assailants. From the sound of it, there were at least three—no, four people in his apartment. There was definitely one female, that's for sure; her voice was brisk, but it didn't have the deep baritone of her companions.
Two men began bickering with each other; one of them started to chew on something obnoxiously. Kurapika scowled. Those were his chips! The blond didn't consume junk food regularly, but given the shit-show that the past few weeks have been, he had planned to indulge a little tonight. Melody had suggested he watch a new documentary, while Leorio dropped off a bottle of his favorite wine. Leave it to his atrocious luck to make him the target of a damned robbery, of all things.
He compelled himself to simmer down. Ultimately, losing a bag of chips isn't nearly as bad as losing his TV or, Gods forbid, his collection of trinkets from the village.
However, he found the lack of a ruckus rather unusual. Didn't burglars usually leave a mess behind, like in the movies? They conversed with an air of cockiness, but their movements were reserved and noiseless. A nasty shiver ran down Kurapika's spine. That told the blond two things: one, they were looking for something specific, and two, they weren't your average rebellious teenagers who broke into people's homes for fun. The chances of them being professionals became very likely, and Kurapika couldn't even begin to fathom why they chose to barge into his meager studio apartment.
To make matters worse, the footsteps got even closer to his location. He stiffened, ears twitching as someone pulled his laptop across his bedsheets. Pairo!
Whoever was conversing with Pairo spoke with honeyed, empty words. It was absolutely reprehensible. Sure, their voice flowed like silk, but that hardly mattered when their arrogance practically dripped from every word. Out of all the people he's ever heard in his life, this man was probably second to Tserriednich in terms of how loathsome he sounded. And given how Hui Guo Rou's smile could strip paint off the wall, that was quite the achievement.
Kurapika glared at the ceiling. Velvety inflections aside, the man was nothing but a lowly criminal. No matter the consequences, the blond was going to fight will all he had—
—Oh, Gods above, he's moving the bed. Kurapika barely had enough time to properly grasp the canister's release button before he was met with dark, boyish features that looked nothing like the scummy low-lives they showed on cop shows. A beat of shock passed between the two, but as soon as his body caught up with his mind, Kurapika's senses went into overdrive, his index finger poised and his nerves burning with resolve—
In that moment, his eyes could see nothing but crimson.
As Kurapika yelled, he vaguely registered the hulking presence that immediately took a hold of his arms. With a snarl he had no idea he was capable of producing, the blond readied a backwards kick, aiming right for the brute's family jewels, but his plans were thwarted when another man unsheathed a blade that was definitely not a movie prop. What was he even doing with that thing, anyway?! Open-carry was prohibited in York New, but now that he thought about it, did the rule apply to katanas—?
He was thankful that the burst of adrenaline had numbed the sensation of his upper limbs being forcefully pinned behind his back. But now, a monstrous, mighty hand was clamping down on his mouth, hindering Kurapika from uttering a single word. His chances of escape were quickly dwindling, but the fire in his stomach had a long way to go before it was completely extinguished.
Kurapika settled for a searing glare. Had he not been silenced, he would have told the other man where he could stick the damn sword, for all he cared.
…That… was not something he'd usually wish upon a stranger. The blond furrowed his eyebrows in displeasure. But he tried to justify his anger because, again, they were trying to rob him.
Kurapika continued to struggle, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that the difference in strength was just too great. Coupled with the sneering wannabe-samurai, any further attempts would just increase his chances of getting skewered or snapped in half.
Well, it definitely disproved the likelihood of them being recalcitrant adolescents. The blond was sure that the man restraining him was at least four times his size, and the other three were possibly older than him, if looks were anything to go by. He forced himself to look away from the blade currently being pointed at his throat. Kurapika was in no position to fight, but he could at least memorize their features and gather their names.
A deep, low chuckle. Kurapika gulped. From the corners of his eyes, the one who exposed his hiding spot gently pushed away the woman holding a soaked paper towel. What the hell? It had barely been three minutes! There was no way he could have recovered from the pepper spray that quickly…
Furthermore, Kurapika wasn't expecting to see someone who looked so… normal? He didn't wear a ski mask or anything ridiculous like that, but he was clothed entirely in black, if that counted. His assailant's hair, which was originally gelled back like a mafioso from a low-grade gangster film, was now plastered to his face, mimicking two dark curtains. Out of his entire appearance, the only aspect that seemed bizarre was the small cross tattoo on his forehead. Seriously, who thought that was a good idea?
The man's shrewd, dusky orbs were bloodshot from the irritation, but all Kurapika could think about was how penetrative they were the moment they first made eye contact. It was as if a single glance was all it took for him to know absolutely everything about the blond, and that was extremely unsettling.
He winced as the grip on his wrists tightened tenfold. A weak groan nearly escaped his lips, but Kurapika wasn't about to give these ruffians the satisfaction.
The black-haired one seemed to have caught onto his false bravado. "I can't remember the last time someone managed to catch me off-guard like that," he remarked with a tone that was much too amused for Kurapika's tastes. "Sitting and waiting is a little cowardly, but I'm still quite impressed."
"Go to hell," was what Kurapika wanted to say, but the hand over his mouth made it sound more like, "Grrm mmh hmph."
"Uvogin, let them speak." And suddenly, the sturdy palm that had been gripping his jaw released its clutches. Kurapika gasped for air. That was one name down.
The blond had several questions he wanted to ask, the most prominent ones being, 'What are you doing here?' and 'What do you want?'. But the panic and vexation that fueled his courage froze when his sights zeroed in on an unassuming bag in the other man's hand.
"W-What," Kurapika began, cursing his voice for cracking slightly, "What's in there? What did you grab?"
Annoyingly enough, he held the bag towards him with a questioning stare. "In here?" The man, presumedly their leader, asked with a slight tilt of his head, and Kurapika couldn't hold himself back from rolling his eyes.
"No, up your ass. Yes, in the bag!"
"Oh, nothing much, really," he replied with an off-handed hum. His hand dug around for a second or two before pulling out a yellowed pamphlet out of its recesses.
Time seemed to stop. "No, no," Kurapika murmured, mouth dry and muscles trembling. "Please, not that. Seriously, what is it that you want—"
"—Oh, so you do know how much it's worth!" An eccentric, youthful gleam shone in his gaze, contrasting his carefully blank expression.
"What?" The blond gave him a confused stare. "No, it's just a children's book. B-But, I'm willing to give you anything else. What is it? Money? I have some cash in my wallet…"
He was interrupted by a husky laugh. "I guess I was mistaken. Trust me when I say that whatever measly amount you have pales in comparison to this," the man replied with a dramatic flourish of the book in his hand. Kurapika's disturbed gawk melted into another sweltering glower; this guy was impossible!
The Kurta opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat as a gloved finger shushed him into submission. He should have attempted to bite the appendage, but something about the contact made his nerves shut down, leaving him no choice but to regard the man with wide eyes.
"Let's strike a deal," Kurapika heard him say, each syllable rolling off his tongue gently yet dangerously. "If you let us take the book and leave, we won't touch anything else—"
"—Huh?" The loon with a sword suddenly looked flummoxed. "B-But, Boss—"
"We'll leave everything just the way it is," their 'Boss' continued, immediately shutting up the other man. "And, we won't hurt you. I'd say the odds are in your favor, wouldn't you?"
The logical side of Kurapika moaned because damn it, he was right. Walking away from this with pretty much all of his possessions and, well, alive, sounded pretty fucking great. The only losses he'd have to sustain would be his copy of 'D-Hunter' and his pride; he'd live to see another day.
However, his heart pulled him back to quiet days at home with Pairo, pouring over the book with a dictionary in hand. Both boys were determined to understand this very special gift from Sheila, and Kurapika remembered the nights where his mother had to forcibly take it away, just to get him to sleep properly.
Perhaps the utter conflict that raged within him showed on his face, because the boyish thief was now looking at him curiously. Kurapika bit his lip; what should he say? Should he be reasonable and accept the man's terms, or was he willing to stand his ground to defend the sole reason he mustered the courage to leave the village in the first place? Taupe irises stared into grey beseechingly, his mouth pressing into a thin line.
The seconds that passed felt like hours, and the two continued to eye the other in agonizing silence. That is, until the brute behind Kurapika motioned towards the cell phone lying helplessly on the ground.
"Hey, Boss," he grunted, hot breath cascading down the blond's shoulders. Kurapika would have recoiled at the sensation if he was able. "Do you think she called the cops?
Oh, no he didn't. "I. Am. A. Guy," the blond forced out through clenched teeth.
He swore he was about to have an aneurysm when the man guffawed. "Holy shit, seriously?"
Before he could answer, the pink-haired one crouched down to pick up the lonely device. She scrutinized it for a moment before pressing the home button.
"Might wanna hurry," she stated monotonously, throwing the phone onto the bed carelessly while paying no mind to Kurapika's startled 'Hey!'. "His phone's being tracked. I'd give it another five minutes before the bozos-in-uniform show up."
Their leader nodded, motioning towards the one with the sword. He sheathed his blade, but not without directing a hostile look towards their seething captive.
"You hear that, Blondie? You've got five minutes to choose between that book or your life." Did Kurapika say that the emo tattooed guy was second to Tserriednich? Scratch that, this idiot deserved the spot more.
Kurapika urged himself to inhale. He tried not to focus on the memories that resurfaced and threatened to choke him up even more. Just one word, that's all it took. One word, and this will all be over.
Vacuous, defeated eyes traveled from the book to their smug leader. Maybe if he wasn't outnumbered, the Kurta would have taken him on. But his arms were quickly losing feeling, and the thief had a perfectly valid point when he hinted that his ultimatum was in Kurapika's best interests. On the other hand, he could attempt to stall them, but something in his gut told the blond that they weren't above disposing of anyone who got in their way.
His heart sank. "…Fine. Take it," he croaked; the words left his mouth like thick sand. "Just go."
He didn't want to look at the victorious grin on the bastard's face. "I knew you were smart," their leader praised with a quick pat on Kurapika's cheek. He quickly twisted his face to avoid his touch. "As a bonus, I'll tell you who I am."
Kurapika's breathing hitched, and the other man smirked. Why would he do that? Wasn't he afraid of getting caught by the officials?
A curious 'why?' sat at the tip of his tongue, but instead, the blond muttered, "Humor me." It seemed to be the correct response, for the raven-haired thief released a pleased laugh.
"You're an interesting one." The smile on his face was devoid of the maliciousness from earlier. It made Kurapika squirm, but not necessarily because he was disgusted by the sight. He suppressed a shiver as the other man leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch away from Kurapika's lone earring.
"I'm a wanted man. But you? You can call me Lucilfer."
Something hard collided with the back of his neck, and his brain felt like it was vibrating against his skull. Kurapika's vision swam for a moment, then all he knew was a quiet darkness.
Exactly five minutes later, three officers rushed to the scene, guns cocked and flashlights shining at the ready. At first, they were quite befuddled; the sole occupant of the apartment, a blond man dressed in cartoon pajamas, was propped up on the couch, face-down, ass high in the air. The only sign of a possible struggle was an empty milk carton on the ground.
One of them scoffed; was this some sort of prank call? Maybe the kid had gotten black-out drunk and butt-dialed 911. As far as they could tell, nothing else had been touched, and the blond was clearly uninjured.
"Captain Bhavimaina, you might want to check this out..." It was the greenhorn, Vict. His voice shook with a fear that made Bhavimaina raise an eyebrow.
"What is it?" He strolled over to their newest recruit, ready to berate him for being so fainthearted.
Lying innocently on top of the kitchen counter was a crudely-drawn spider, seemingly done with a permanent marker. If the captain didn't know any better, he would have laughed at how childish it looked.
Instead, the man wordlessly grabbed his walkie-talkie. "Bhavimaina for Izunavi."
"Go ahead," the corporal's gruff voice echoed back.
Bhavimaina swallowed the lump in his throat. He sort of wished he didn't have to vocalize the truth; maybe he could have pretended he never saw it. "Looks like the Troupe's at it again, Sir."
"If you have something to say, then say it."
Machi's harsh stare bore into Chrollo's back. Her silence told him that she was deep in thought, contemplating what to say next. Not that it was worrisome, anyway; despite her curt attitude, she respected their leader with a reverence that almost rivaled Pakunoda's.
He couldn't see her expression, but it was clear she was frowning. "Back there, at the kid's apartment. You were being… weird," she said, and before Chrollo could interject, she added, "I don't know what you're thinking, and I won't ask. But don't do anything rash."
Chrollo paused to face the pink-haired woman. "What would that entail?"
"Don't play dumb. I saw that look in your eye," she shot back, crossing her arms defiantly. "I'm just warning you ahead of time." Machi made sure to keep her features clear of any emotion as Chrollo analyzed her face.
The man only tilted his head curiously. Machi's always been stubborn, but she was only truly obstinate whenever she was unsure of something. Chrollo couldn't immediately discern what bothered her, and while it was slightly uncomfortable, he knew better than to ask right now. She was probably going to discuss the matter with Pakunoda before confronting him about it.
"I understand," was all he responded with before resuming his brisk pace. Machi followed. "Thank you for the warning. Your intuition's always been the sharpest of the group."
Now that he was no longer facing her, he missed the flash of suspicion in her eyes. "Only when it comes to certain things," she huffed back, and the rest of the journey home was completed in silence.
Chapter 2 'Verse Notes:
-Kurapika's door swung open because he never locked it properly; he was too focused on running to the bathroom in Ch. 1
-Machi's hella sassy and knows it, but she gets away with it because she's the second best at dealing with each Troupe member (surpassed only by Paku)
-Kurapika's one hell of a hothead, but he's opposed to excessive swearing, hence his hesitation. He allows himself to curse when the situation calls for it
-Kura and Chrollo use the DDC at home to organize their ridiculously large book collection :')
-The fictional section LOOKED like it was small, but in actuality, Kura loves that genre the most; it's just that the majority of those books are back at the village (bc he couldn't bring them all)
-Kura's school is in York New's financial district, but living there is expensive as heck, so he has to live much farther away. He commutes each morning via train. However, his apartment complex is in the same area as Gon and Killua's high school, so they often drop by for fun
-Meteor City is ~not~ an actual 'city' in this AU; it's an extension/'part' of York New, but it has its own sovereignty for reasons that will be explained later. It's referred to as Chrollo's "hometown" because legally, it's a separate entity from YN
-D-Hunter is as valuable as a first-edition copy of "Alice in Wonderland"
-The phone button thing is an actual feature for iPhones, but iirc, newer models have a different button sequence
If you're interested in some little tidbits about this AU, you can find this story on AO3! Thanks for the support! Please let me know if you have any opinions/comments/ideas! :')