(no subject)

[junkyardhound]

Kazuhira Miller is the leader of the Diamond Dogs, a yakuza clan based out of Yokosuka, a wonderful little group of misfits and halfbreeds and exiles that, along with the clans in Hiroshima, have the smuggling business cornered.

When Miller was younger he was a competent fighter. He actually trained assassins, taught them how to use what was around them, create make-shift weapons out of anything. Many of the people he trained earned their own impressive reputations, up until the point he was betrayed, mutilated, and infuriated.

The staff at the Continental is most respectful of their biggest spenders, and while business is to not be conducted on their grounds (this includes hiring as well as murder or theft or whatever manner of poor illegal and downright impolite behavior could ensue), Kaz can, at least, get to know someone in relative safety before agreeing to meet them somewhere.

So that's what he's doing. An arrangement with another Snake, a new Snake, the Black Mamba. A former Viper. He's due to meet her in the restaurant area, and he's escorted in with a small entourage of bodyguards and an assistant holding everything he'd need to take notes. Necessary, as the one arm he now has is occupied with the crutch that's holding him up.

Without having to be told, a man goes to pay for the room for the week, another two go to pull out the chair and prepare the table to make it easier for Miller to sit, and the assistant takes her own seat, pushing a pair of thick-framed and stylish glasses higher up on her nose.

"Leave another menu, I'm expecting someone," Miller informs the waiter as he comes by with glasses of complimentary water.

Comments

[deadliestviper]

This wasn't quite business. It was a pre-meeting, just two dangerous animals sniffing each other out. What would come after, if all went well, was not quite a negotiation – the Black Mamba didn't intend to alter her course far no matter how Miller reacted to it, but sharing her plans could be mutually beneficial in the long run. If it didn't go well... that was why it was at the Continental.

She knew Miller by reputation, had seen the techniques some of his former students displayed (another reason to be thankful for the hotel's no-business ceasefire). Even before the shakeups in Japan's criminal underworld he had been a formidable figure, and after the betrayal he suffered, he had become even more dangerous.

Beatrix approved of that. She could almost trust that, and she couldn't trust much right now.

The concierge let her know as soon as Miller arrived and she didn't keep him waiting long, descending from her room in a simple yet fancy black dress (there was an aesthetic to this place; it was impolite not to keep up).

"Konbanwa, Mr. Miller." She offered an appropriately deep bow with a small smile, nothing but politeness. "May I join you?"

[junkyardhound]

Here comes a tall warrior woman wearing a fancy dress that barely hides that she looks like some sort of Valkyrie, but that's superficial appraisal. That's what Miller does, after all, constantly watch and evaluate. They dead looking eyes that regard her from behind his glasses can obviously see, still, but they don't really trail over her with any sort of lust or attraction. It's strictly consideration.

"It's a pleasure, Miss Kiddo." He reaches across the table with his left hand, still gloved, to shake. There's no right to offer. Whoever attacked him has her penchant for taking limbs; he's persevered and become more dangerous through proxies despite it.

"I'm glad you decided to meet me here." A double meaning there. Both a discussion on nuetral ground and and for meeting him at all. "Word is that you have at some point considered retirement. While I think that would be a shame given your reputation, I do understand this way of life can become tedious at best."

His language switches to Japanese. Here he's been speaking more formally, voice that of a traditional leader, the sort that would appear in news broadcasts. But the Japanese that comes out of his mouth? More raw, a tough guy betraying his roots. "Too many bastards in this business now. Who wouldn't want to get away from them?"

The son of a prostitute and a crime boss, evident in his two forms of speech there.