>>1786222You don't have a choice. You can't give Moto even the smallest chance to escape. For all you know Chrys is calling her up right now, telling her you're out here looking for her. And you're not sleeping on the streets, even with a nice trenchcoat to keep you warm. It'll only be for an evening. It's not like you'll get arrested. People might laugh, but you've suffered worse things in the name of a job.
You keep telling yourself that, anyway. The night's warm. The caves that all of LunaTokyo are housed in are so high you can't see the roof, but somehow they manage to keep the whole thing centrally heated. You flag down a cab. It swings by for a closer look, and you can see through the tinted windows the silhouette of a driver shaking his or her head. It zooms on past.
The second one does the same thing, and the third one. People from LunaTokyo are always polite, but they're also sticklers for rules, and it seems like there's one or two you're breaking. Not too many people are around this time of night - most of them are inside, drinking or gambling. Those who are are evenly divided between formal wear - business suits and cocktail dresses - and eccentric lunar fashions in black and neon, flickering smartgoggles and LEDweave miniskirts playing Korean music videos with the singer's face distorted by the curve of the wearer's hips. You're the only one in her underwear.
Your small fist smacks against your hip in frustration. You're the only one stupid enough to be in her underwear. You know you were had, somehow, and the knowledge galls you unbearably. But not as unbearably as the knowledge that the cluster of salarymen over there is getting their fill of your trim, pale buttocks in the high-cut black bikini panties you wouldn't have bought if you thought anyone would see them.
