So shall I! [Savior]

The feeling of complete and utter boredom was strong in the being that is Fleur Devareux. It has been a good three weeks since she moved from her more-than comfortable lifestyle back in Paris, where amazing food, fantastic clothes and just a really calming atmosphere was available twenty-four seven, three-sixty-five. Although she does enjoy the endless amounts of strange people that she gets to meet on a daily basis, the ultimate goal for her journey has yet to be accomplished. And no, it wasn't her promise to her parents that she'd do her best to improve political and social relations with the Japanese government to further seal the gap between both countries, regardless of there being somewhat of a clash of eastern and western cultures; it leaned more towards her goal of discovering the underground world that the land of the rising sun was so infamous for. The fetishes, the businesses that loomed within that particular genre of interest, and just.. everything about it sounded so appealing.

But for now, she would at least provide her parents with something to be happy about, just so they'd stop nagging and threaten to send her home. Because she prided herself on being a completely reasonable human being, she understood fairly well that she'd require much more than just a couple of months before her search comes to fruition, so therefore, taking this one step at a time would definitely be a strategy of sorts that's at least worth her consideration. As long as it leads her to her ultimate goal in the end, everything would be worth it. All the sacrifices, all the effort, everything. 

Back to the point here, other than her promise to her parents, they actually asked a favor from her. Naturally, she mentally kept a checkpoint that on that day, that very hour and that very second, her parents owed her something. Nonetheless, she had to make this work before she could actually cash in on that favor, and hence, this was where she began looking for the lost boy, who somehow ended up in Japan for some strange undisclosed reasoning. The son of a political powerhouse back in the day, and actually, someone she admired because of their similar backgrounds and how they grew up, despite only having the opportunity to meet and talk to him several times in their lifetime- the last being around a good seven or so years ago.

Though it probably wasn't the best place to start, her widened understanding of things after watching countless movies about mafias, mobsters, gangsters and all that fictional jazz told her that the best place to acquire information on a particular individual, whether or not they're a criminal, or a drug lord, or even just a normal civilian with no criminal records whatsoever, there were people who could provide you with such- for a not-so reasonable price. Then again, money has never been an issue for the Devareux family- and it probably never will.

And so, it did take her awhile before she reached her destination, as her new manor was actually located in another area, and traffic wasn't exactly the best in this country, but there she was, entering through the front doors of a seemingly empty pub. The place was beautifully furnished- for a commoner's standards, and it probably served its purpose well enough to attract customers of various age-groups. Still, with this being only a short while after the holidays, it is somewhat understandable that there weren't much business booming in a lot of identical places as well. But, since it wouldn't affect her in any way, and it made no sense for her to actually give much of a damn if this place actually makes it through the harsh times, she quite literally pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and sauntered over to the counter, where the lonely server was located.

Fleur wasn't wearing anything spectacular- from her perspective, that is. On this very evening, she had on a ravishing purple minidress that would show just enough for the human eye to almost- almost, catch a glimpse of what's underneath without actually revealing the mysteries behind it. And of course, who could forget her signature arm length gloves (which, on this occasion, are white) and thigh-high zip-up boots? Additionally, with the weather being at a crazed frenzy that is at times chilly and at times lukewarm, she had on a white fur coat that is wide enough to provide her with some warmth, but not exactly big enough to shield her voluptuous figure from being detected. Her hair, as it had been unchanged ever since her younger, pre-pubescent days, was tied up in her signature bangs and side-ponytail combo.

"Good evening." She greeted the lonely barman, albeit with a firm expression on her face that clearly showed she was here on business terms. The elegant, yet dominant tone in her voice only made it that much more evident. She extended her gloved right hand, but not in the way that it could be reciprocated with a mere handshake. It would of course, be a more formal gesture, but for someone who runs a bar, there was a fifty percent chance of the male not knowing how to respond. Either way, she'd wait. Its not like she has anything better to do, anyway.

"You do know it is a rude gesture to keep a lady waiting with her hand extended."

This sentence alone should be sufficient in proving the authenticity of her identity, because hookers generally wouldn't use this type of language when they converse with a potential client. Or at least, the ones she's seen through online videos hadn't displayed the capabilities of speaking the way she did. Either way, there should be an air of arrogance swirling around her, like an invisible aura of sorts that one could just sense, not see. An aura that showcased how she truly did believe she was a step above everyone else in this world. Masters, servants, politicians, drug lords, criminals, freedom fighters, it didn't matter.

"It is latex. High quality latex that would not ever rip and tear from the slightest contact against any object with a sharp edge." Though she had no reasons to explain herself, she did feel the need to. Its not everyday that a male gets this interested in her choice of wardrobe, and since her gloves were an indefinite part of her daily-wear, she had to make it known. "Although I have no qualms with leather, it just does not feel right for me. The texture of these gloves are, in a sense, akin to a second layer of skin, whereas leather is harsh and rough."

"So now that you've had your question answered, I have two of my own, but I shall begin with the first. How long do you intend to keep me waiting. My arm is getting quite tired, and I myself must admit, I am an impatient woman."

Although she wouldn't point it out, she felt an air of familiarity around this male, but then again, she was the type of person who was trained from an early age to befriend everyone you meet, as one would much rather have someone guarding your back than to have someone stabbing you in the front.

Initially, Fleur did notice the transition from a supposed gentleman's kiss into a mere commoner's handshake, but ultimately, the distraction proved to be a potent one, as she could not resist but to provide a serious, analytical answer to the question that had been presented to her, based on her putting her sheer dominant intelligence into play and basically proving to him that she had enough knowledge to triumph even the smartest of scientists, and the brightest of politicians.

With the most irritated sigh that one could muster, along with an accompanying gesture that equally showed her annoyance in the form of her rolling both her eyes, as if the question was so simplistic that even the stupidest baboons could provide a logical answer, she started speaking in a calm tone, mentally telling herself that at least this imbecile was willing to learn. "Do I really look like someone who would wear anything less than the real, authentic material? This is made from a limited supply of rare fox fur. To be more specific, a winter fox. And to be even more specific than that, even though I am not entirely certain that I could take this as the truth, it is said that the particular fox in which they extracted the fur from is actually a slave spirit. I do not know what you refer to them as here in Japan, but yes. A true act of cruelty.. it makes my skin crawl at the mere thought of such a thing."

For a moment there, it did seem as though she was blushing, and when she realized her breathing had suddenly accelerated, she withdrew her hand from the male's grip just so she could place it on her own cheek to hide the aforementioned redness on her cheeks, effectively proving the worth of the previous distraction as she had totally forgotten about the wanted kiss. After a clearing of the invisible lump in her throat, she continued as if the entire episode had not happened, "Well, I am looking for someone. More accurately, my parents are in the search for this person, as he is the offspring of a close friend of their's whom had recently passed on. I do not have a clue as to where he might be, but I am certain that he lives in a more.. ah.. how you say.. pleasant, part of Japan? Would you be able to provide me with sufficient information on where this person might be?"

And there would be no response at all to the explanation of her fur coat, but that is to be expected. After all, he is a he, and most men tended to only gaze at either a woman's chest, or their buttocks. It was kind of unavoidable, especially considering her own voluptuous curves and all, but it did prove just how ignorant men can be sometimes. The analytical explanation must have stumped him, and right then and there she felt somewhat inwardly satisfied that she, Fleur Solaina Devareux, triumphed once again over another being with her superior intellect.

"Did you honestly think I would come here unprepared, without any information to describe how that person looks like?" And, with another roll of her eyes, she contemplated leaving this place altogether. There would be no way in Satan's Chocolate Factory that this person would be of help, especially with the way he presented himself, alongside that seemingly idiotic behavior that she was all too familiar in dealing with. Nonetheless, she was all too lazy to travel to another bar, which might drive her even further away from her temporary home, and all she wished to do now was to lay down on her luxurious bed, watch a certain genre of online videos whilst performing a certain act upon herself before plopping down and going to sleep, and so she fished out a picture from the inner pocket of her winter fur coat.

The picture itself wasn't anything special, and it definitely looked a bit old and aged, but that's to be expected from something taken so long ago. In the picture, two couples of middle aged parental figures stood side by side with their wine glasses in hand, as if they were having a hearty good time conversing with one another under the good old influence of light alcohol. Fleur was in the picture too, though she did look considerably different, what with the way she dresses, her posture, and all those minor details, despite the fact that her hair remained unchanged all those years. She seemed to be laughing and smiling as well, whilst having a conversation of her own with a short blonde-haired guy, who wasn't too shabby-looking in that white tuxedo of his.

With that said, she handed the photograph over to the male bartender. "This is an old picture, taken approximately seven or eight years or so ago, and hence he might look different now. I am not certain if he had already hit puberty then, but his facial features should remain the same, I think. The young lad is originally from a family of famed politicians in Germany, and his parents were close friends and acquaintances of my parents, thus they wish to provide him with financial and political aid, if necessary. I do believe he is what you may refer to as a 'childhood friend' of mine, but yes, his name is Axel Reinhardt."

As clueless as Fleur was about certain things- and by God's name she wouldn't ever admit it even if one threatens to axe her, she recognized human nature quite well, and because of how this male bartender suddenly hopped into a self-defensive mode, she knew for certain that something was up. She knew in her gut that something felt out of place, and, the more she actually paid attention to the male's facial features, the more she felt a tinge of familiarity coursing through the back of her mind. No, she didn't completely recognize him, and she could have very well been acquainted to him once before at a random party of sorts, or had bumped into him in a supermarket or some random place, but this sensation, it didn't really feel like the type that you'd constantly think about unless it was someone you've truly known.

”Mister Axel we are out of black beer, should I go get some?”

.. What?

The entire episode that happened next was definitely a blur, because Fleur chose to ignore the rest of his words, retrieved her picture and held it in a position so she could compare the two side-by-side. The longer she did that, the more it dawned on her just who the person standing right in front of her was. Calmly and slowly, she slid her photograph back into her coat pocket, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You do.. recognize me, don't you?"

Woah, a sudden change in attitude for the dark-skinned young heiress, but of course, when you're reacquainted to the only friend you've ever had, you'd get a few chills down your spine as well, hence why she suddenly grew all quiet and only managed to squeeze out a single sentence. Though her perception of his idiocy hasn't changed one bit, this was still, in a sense, a reunion of sorts.

A changed person she may be, her attitude would still remain fairly narcissistic because of the way she was born and raised. Fleur didn't ask for this lifestyle, and she assured herself that she would have turned out as an entirely different person had she not been raised by the parents she was given. Some people chose to blame the invisible Big Man upstairs, but being an atheist, she hardly believed in the existence of what seemed like a fictional being that is being worshipped by tens of hundreds of thousands of people whose only proof of His presence were a book that was written long ago by the ancient people during His time of descension upon the earth. No matter, she wasn't one to complain about things like these, anyway. Ravish as her lifestyle may be, there were a strict set of rules that she must abide by, and freedom was limited to an extent, although after coming here to the land of the rising sun, she is as free as a bird with the prettiest wings in existence.

"I am not here to openly welcome you back. In fact, I am not even sure of why asked of this so suddenly, but for now, all they wish to do is to see you, well and healthy as you are, despite the lack of functioning cells within your cerebral cortex." As happy- or somewhat confused as she was about this entire situation and what it meant, she still couldn't help but to let her sharp mouth loose. It was a habit, in a way, and with her being a natural sadist, she enjoyed her spiteful words to an extent, and would not be willing to change it for anything in the world. "Your father passed away, and he must have left you a fortune, so I suppose that you are well off in a way, but you should contact my parents whenever possible. It has been ages since they've seen you. I know nothing of their ulterior motives, but I do hope that you respect them enough to at least have a listen."

Fleur still remembered the trips both families shared to each other's vacation homes during the holidays, and she even remembered spending one of her earlier Christmas mornings unwrapping her presents from under a giant Christmas tree, filled to the brim with sparkling decorations together with Axel. The past may be the past, but during that time, the two families shared a closeness and formed a bond with one another that truly felt amazing. And it would be exactly because of the bond that she wished for him to do the right thing. "The choice is yours, and I wouldn't really attempt to coerce you into doing something you wouldn't want to do, especially if it does not benefit me in any way."

Well, he agreed to it, at least, so that served to seal her Japanese road trip a little longer because of what she managed to accomplish in such a short period of time. Finding Axel was no minor achievement, and for Fleur to do it in less than a month after her arrival here, without any clue as to what the culture, the place and the people in this land are like, she is bound to earn more of her parents' trust in her journey for complete independence. There was still much for her to do before she could finalize this whole thing, but as Neil Armstrong once said, this is one small step for man, and one giant leap for wondrous, wondrous freedom.

"My life isn't interesting. I have nothing to talk about."

Now that was certainly strange. Usually, spoiled brats are supposed to brag about how much money they have, and how many places they get to travel to and all that, right? No, not for Fleur. She has done things, despicable things, that she wishes to keep hidden from anyone and everyone. She's done things to ensure her own survival, done things to her enemies just so they'd shut up for good, done things for the sole purpose of attaining more pleasurable sensations, and done things towards her own family. But are there any regrets whatsoever? Hell no. In fact, if you asked her and she felt like answering truthfully, she'd probably admit to repeating all that in a heartbeat.

"I am not really interested in fishing, but I do still enjoy swimming quite a bit." Ah, swimming. Not only does she get the rare opportunity to feast her eyes upon the various voluptuous body shapes and sizes of all individuals while she indulges in a bit of recreational health-enhancing activities, it also soothes her. Being in the water, it makes her forget about what's happened with her life, and how she turned out. Though as mentioned before, she had no regrets, and has yet to actually reveal her true nature to anyone, there are moments where she just wishes to dive in and forget. Just to relax. 

Moments like now, when she was presented with the question about the well being of her sister. Although there was clearly a tinge of nervousness in the tone of her voice when she spoke, she maintained a good portion of her dominant, I'm-clearly-better-than-you attitude. "Sister dearest is doing well. Confined to a wheelchair after an unfortunate accident, but well."