Wild Cards (JJBA Villains x Reader)

27| Nightclub Envy

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2.5k words!

Introducing everyone's favorite favorite...

The kings jester has escaped his court and found occupancy among the nasty underbelly of the gambling world. 

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He doesn't betray routine.

It is the only form of structure in life apart from the subconscious acts he commits for his own sanity. He combs his hair, brushes his teeth. He fits his uniform to his body after ironing every wrinkle. He has a cup of coffee, and goes downstairs to confront chaos behind the bar.

 The casino virtually exploded overnight with beggars teeming for loss, as though commenced by the sound of the door re-opening after a week tables drowned in hungry, folding hands.

Kira watches the room with a detached interest, rag circling the rim of a glass in his hand for the umpteenth time. Since returning to the casino after merely a week in D'Arbys estate, Kira had employed his sensitive sixth-sense, a skill honed by his hobby of people-watching.

 There was an odd expressiveness that had smothered the temeramental, miserable and mercurial side of his boss. He had long known something happened the night you and Doppio disappeared for only so many hours, only then returned tied to each others hip.

Assumptions are no pretty thing. They are the birthplace of rumors and despairing lies that only eat at the integrity of the individual— his hand flys to an itch beneath his collar, silenced with a quick scratch.

There is confliction unnamed in the subsurface of conscious recently.  The conscious of the others working like slaves whipped into subservience, too well perhaps that there was some inclination felt among them towards you.

He didn't understand plenty of things about it— the way Pucci looks distantly to you with a screaming affection, how Valentine chases after your feet kissing the ground you walk, though that much wasn't different, still...

Doppio always leaves your office flustered, experiencing some terrible tremor, Wamuu now sinks into your life anyway he can, as a thirsting man would dive into quicksand expecting water at the bottom.

Kira does not know where he stands in all of it. At times he only ever experiences himself holding  a pinch of his collar when he thinks of it, but that is all. 

"Excuse me," A deep rumbling voice breaks his peace like a gunshot. At the counter a blonde man in a fine suit sits crossed-arm; he must have already spoken once, and didn't seem happy about having to again.

"How can I help you?" Kira says. 

"Coffee, black."

"Of course."

Kira regards him with an odd stare, but pours the cups. Setting it to the counter he leaves the terrible drink to the stranger and resumes in his thoughts. It is not long before he is interrupted again.

"You're going to burn a hole in your glass." The man remarks. He gestures to the repetitive rubbing Kira had occupied himself with, and chews one end of a cigarette freshly lit. 

"I doubt that would happen, thank you." Kira steps back over, he promptly picks the cigarette from the mans lips and kills it on the counter. "No smoking at the bar. I hope you understand."

"Sure," The man says.

There is another, next to him, another man that had entered perhaps not so far behind the one exchanging glares with Kira now. He would think, perhaps in any other set of coincidences, that the two didn't have any relation whatsoever to each other.