Mibu’s wolf, huh? Tokio liked the sound of it. She was a history buff. It reminded her of the historical Shinsengumi that tried to keep the peace so long ago. From what she had seen and heard, Captain Saitoh seemed to be cut from the same cloth, as far as keeping the peace.
Regardless of their words, the two men held each other in high regard. She could tell by the tone of their voices and the looks on their faces as they bantered. She just shook her head when Saitoh reassured the little man that the woman was properly vaccinated. “I’ll watch myself,” Tokio replied brightly, answering the old gent with a slight flirty tone to her voice, her eyes scanning the bunker where Saitoh led her. She was glad the officer and his friend were able to find a little levity in this very serious business.
The Captain’s tone turned serious. There were so many weapons here, and the variety of ammo was so extensive that it almost made Tokio’s head spin. Who….knew….that this arsenal was mere floors underneath the non-descript office complex that housed the different departments of law enforcement. She had to fight the urge to reach for the man beside her in order to steady herself. She almost felt weak-kneed at the sight of such a massive amount of firepower all in one small place.
The prosecutor listened intently as the men talked about the merits of the various items in the arsenal. Her ears perked as they discussed military issue protective gear that made its way onto the streets. There were so many corrupt members in both the police and the army, willing to toss safety and life aside to line their pockets by selling the syndicates protective gear and armaments they were never intended to have.
Tokio wasn’t surprised when the talk turned to drug use. It was rampant among the city’s criminal element, giving them a physical power beyond what was normal for a human, putting most of the police officers at a disadvantage. But there were troubling rumors of users among members of the force, too.
It sickened Tokio to think that soon the metro police might have to indulge in drugs just to keep pace with the criminals. She inched a little closer to Saitoh, a knot forming in her stomach at the thought of *him* falling victim to the side affects of the drugs they were discussing. Because there *were* side affects and they were *very* nasty, and sometimes not survivable.
Gads! Saitoh had called in her measurements? She didn’t even want to think about how he figured out *those*. All she’d done at the café was to hold him to her chest, and then he’d barely seemed lucid. Tokio realized that she underestimated the man. Well, may be it was an innate trait of all men, to size up a woman once she was in his sights. Horrified, her mind backed-up. Sights? There was no reason she should be on his radar, well almost none. He did have some delusional thought about her being his wife in a past life, something that Tokio promised to consider, but hadn’t yet given more than a passing thought.
She just hoped that he wasn’t the type that wanted to see a woman in something that was skin tight. If that were the case with Cop-san, she’d bet money that she wouldn’t be able to breath while wearing that body armor.
Tokio took the vest Minato offered her, a strange feeling of gratefulness washing over her when she learned that the Captain ordered the top of the line model for her. She looked at him only to see him focused on her. Was that sadness she saw in those amber eyes?
As Saitoh started to strip, she could feel the skin on her neck flushing an embarrassing shade of pink, soon her cheeks would follow suit, turning the same color. She did see him without a shirt yesterday; she was even the one who stripped him of his burning body armor. But that was different. It was an emergency. Duty called. All she noticed were the blisters on his skin as she removed the melted material of his flak jacket.
The burns from yesterday were still evident on his neck, chest and back, but to her great relief, they did look a little better. In all the commotion at the cafe she hadn’t noticed the lean muscling of his upper arms, or the flat, firm planes of his chest and stomach. But she noticed it *now* as he began lifting his shirt over his head. She wondered how she’d missed the military tattoo on his right arm and the healed gunshot wound on his left shoulder; it had to be right under her nose yesterday. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought that the wound in his shoulder was much too close to his heart for her liking.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking at me. Strip and get that armor on.”
“What?” Tokio squeaked, “Me…strip?” No way in hades or heaven would she do that! Not in front of Minato, or…. Then that awful little voice she’d been hearing in her head for the last 24 hours reminded her that the wolf by her side had already seen all there was to see of her…but in another lifetime.
“No… noooo… NO!” the little weasley man barked at Saitoh’s offer to use the armory master’s office as a changing room.
At catching Cop-san’s apologectic look, the prosecutor blurted out,“Yes, an office. That would be good.” She had a father and brother, but she wasn’t one to parade around *anywhere* in a state of undress, unless it was to use an item of her clothing to stem the tide of blood, her mind hammered at her.
Captain Saitoh flashed a menacing look in Minato’s direction, causing the man with the coke-bottom glasses to turn without a word, and head back towards the elevator, stopping by a door that had a large frosted glass window, and grudgingly pointed at it. Saitoh stepped forward and opened the door for her. Tokio gingerly peered inside before tentatively stepping in. The Captain closed the door behind her with a click, leaving her alone to try on the protective vest she clutched to her chest.
When Tokio first poked her head in Minato’s office, she almost reconsidered using it as a changing room. She was immediately greeted by the scent of what could only be termed ‘left over lunch from a month ago still in the wastebasket’. It was obvious that the place was a male retreat which sorely needed the skillful touch of a cleaning lady. She happened to know that DOJ employed them; so why didn’t Minato use them?
The prosecutor wrinkled her nose. Some men were so territorial and refused to let anyone into their dens to do even the most basic of tasks such as vacuum or empty the trash. Her deductive skills could only conclude that this was the case here.
The clutter on the man’s desk was unbelievable. Tokio wasn’t sure if it really was a desk. She couldn’t see the top, it was totally buried, but the drawers, located where desk drawers should be, gave it away
A plain oak chair standing in one corner looked clean enough, so Tokio dropped her shoulder bag there before holding the protective vest out in front of her with both hands to give it the once over. She could tell the top from the bottom, but this one had no front opening. Made sense. You didn’t want a breech in the fabric in front of your lungs and heart. She quickly removed her blouse and draped it over the back of the oak chair. Her shoulder holster was the next to go, leaving her in only her sports bra.
Slipping her arms through the bottom of the flak vest, she found the arm holes first. She wrestled with the uncooperative armor until her arms were completely through and with a final huff her head popped out the top.
The prosecutor looked down at the vest, realizing that it had been so hard to get on, because in some spots it was too tight, no surprise there. But in other places, like around the back neckline, it was actually too loose. She groped around at the sides of the vest, then patted the front as best she could. But nowhere could she find any adjustment latches. Then it hit her. OH. This one must adjust from the back. Now what was she supposed to do? Take it off and then try adjusting it?
Would she be able to fit it to her body properly, loosening it where it needed to be loosened, and tightening it where it needed to be tightened, when it was off of her? Could she even *get* it off, because now it was so tight around her breasts that she didn’t think she could grab it where she needed to grab it to extract herself from it. This was quite a device; she should have asked the little man for the instruction manual before attempting a fitting session. This sure was different from trying on dresses with Tae earlier today.
An unsettling realization crept over her. She needed help. Sighing, she resigned herself to her fate. Well, he had seen her in a sports bra yesterday. She was wearing one today, too.
Hiding behind the door as she opened it a crack, she sheepishly made her request, “Hajime Captain Saitoh? Could you please come in here a minute? I believe that I need some help.” Why was she thinking about an obi bow that was tied so tight she couldn’t get it off by herself? Was her mind playing one of those nasty little games again?
In a very quiet voice she then added, “I think I am stuck.”
no subject
Regardless of their words, the two men held each other in high regard. She could tell by the tone of their voices and the looks on their faces as they bantered. She just shook her head when Saitoh reassured the little man that the woman was properly vaccinated. “I’ll watch myself,” Tokio replied brightly, answering the old gent with a slight flirty tone to her voice, her eyes scanning the bunker where Saitoh led her. She was glad the officer and his friend were able to find a little levity in this very serious business.
The Captain’s tone turned serious. There were so many weapons here, and the variety of ammo was so extensive that it almost made Tokio’s head spin. Who….knew….that this arsenal was mere floors underneath the non-descript office complex that housed the different departments of law enforcement. She had to fight the urge to reach for the man beside her in order to steady herself. She almost felt weak-kneed at the sight of such a massive amount of firepower all in one small place.
The prosecutor listened intently as the men talked about the merits of the various items in the arsenal. Her ears perked as they discussed military issue protective gear that made its way onto the streets. There were so many corrupt members in both the police and the army, willing to toss safety and life aside to line their pockets by selling the syndicates protective gear and armaments they were never intended to have.
Tokio wasn’t surprised when the talk turned to drug use. It was rampant among the city’s criminal element, giving them a physical power beyond what was normal for a human, putting most of the police officers at a disadvantage. But there were troubling rumors of users among members of the force, too.
It sickened Tokio to think that soon the metro police might have to indulge in drugs just to keep pace with the criminals. She inched a little closer to Saitoh, a knot forming in her stomach at the thought of *him* falling victim to the side affects of the drugs they were discussing. Because there *were* side affects and they were *very* nasty, and sometimes not survivable.
Gads! Saitoh had called in her measurements? She didn’t even want to think about how he figured out *those*. All she’d done at the café was to hold him to her chest, and then he’d barely seemed lucid. Tokio realized that she underestimated the man. Well, may be it was an innate trait of all men, to size up a woman once she was in his sights. Horrified, her mind backed-up. Sights? There was no reason she should be on his radar, well almost none. He did have some delusional thought about her being his wife in a past life, something that Tokio promised to consider, but hadn’t yet given more than a passing thought.
She just hoped that he wasn’t the type that wanted to see a woman in something that was skin tight. If that were the case with Cop-san, she’d bet money that she wouldn’t be able to breath while wearing that body armor.
Tokio took the vest Minato offered her, a strange feeling of gratefulness washing over her when she learned that the Captain ordered the top of the line model for her. She looked at him only to see him focused on her. Was that sadness she saw in those amber eyes?
As Saitoh started to strip, she could feel the skin on her neck flushing an embarrassing shade of pink, soon her cheeks would follow suit, turning the same color. She did see him without a shirt yesterday; she was even the one who stripped him of his burning body armor. But that was different. It was an emergency. Duty called. All she noticed were the blisters on his skin as she removed the melted material of his flak jacket.
The burns from yesterday were still evident on his neck, chest and back, but to her great relief, they did look a little better. In all the commotion at the cafe she hadn’t noticed the lean muscling of his upper arms, or the flat, firm planes of his chest and stomach. But she noticed it *now* as he began lifting his shirt over his head. She wondered how she’d missed the military tattoo on his right arm and the healed gunshot wound on his left shoulder; it had to be right under her nose yesterday. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought that the wound in his shoulder was much too close to his heart for her liking.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking at me. Strip and get that armor on.”
“What?” Tokio squeaked, “Me…strip?” No way in hades or heaven would she do that! Not in front of Minato, or…. Then that awful little voice she’d been hearing in her head for the last 24 hours reminded her that the wolf by her side had already seen all there was to see of her…but in another lifetime.
“No… noooo… NO!” the little weasley man barked at Saitoh’s offer to use the armory master’s office as a changing room.
At catching Cop-san’s apologectic look, the prosecutor blurted out,“Yes, an office. That would be good.” She had a father and brother, but she wasn’t one to parade around *anywhere* in a state of undress, unless it was to use an item of her clothing to stem the tide of blood, her mind hammered at her.
Captain Saitoh flashed a menacing look in Minato’s direction, causing the man with the coke-bottom glasses to turn without a word, and head back towards the elevator, stopping by a door that had a large frosted glass window, and grudgingly pointed at it. Saitoh stepped forward and opened the door for her. Tokio gingerly peered inside before tentatively stepping in. The Captain closed the door behind her with a click, leaving her alone to try on the protective vest she clutched to her chest.
When Tokio first poked her head in Minato’s office, she almost reconsidered using it as a changing room. She was immediately greeted by the scent of what could only be termed ‘left over lunch from a month ago still in the wastebasket’. It was obvious that the place was a male retreat which sorely needed the skillful touch of a cleaning lady. She happened to know that DOJ employed them; so why didn’t Minato use them?
The prosecutor wrinkled her nose. Some men were so territorial and refused to let anyone into their dens to do even the most basic of tasks such as vacuum or empty the trash. Her deductive skills could only conclude that this was the case here.
The clutter on the man’s desk was unbelievable. Tokio wasn’t sure if it really was a desk. She couldn’t see the top, it was totally buried, but the drawers, located where desk drawers should be, gave it away
A plain oak chair standing in one corner looked clean enough, so Tokio dropped her shoulder bag there before holding the protective vest out in front of her with both hands to give it the once over. She could tell the top from the bottom, but this one had no front opening. Made sense. You didn’t want a breech in the fabric in front of your lungs and heart. She quickly removed her blouse and draped it over the back of the oak chair. Her shoulder holster was the next to go, leaving her in only her sports bra.
Slipping her arms through the bottom of the flak vest, she found the arm holes first. She wrestled with the uncooperative armor until her arms were completely through and with a final huff her head popped out the top.
The prosecutor looked down at the vest, realizing that it had been so hard to get on, because in some spots it was too tight, no surprise there. But in other places, like around the back neckline, it was actually too loose. She groped around at the sides of the vest, then patted the front as best she could. But nowhere could she find any adjustment latches. Then it hit her. OH. This one must adjust from the back. Now what was she supposed to do? Take it off and then try adjusting it?
Would she be able to fit it to her body properly, loosening it where it needed to be loosened, and tightening it where it needed to be tightened, when it was off of her? Could she even *get* it off, because now it was so tight around her breasts that she didn’t think she could grab it where she needed to grab it to extract herself from it. This was quite a device; she should have asked the little man for the instruction manual before attempting a fitting session. This sure was different from trying on dresses with Tae earlier today.
An unsettling realization crept over her. She needed help. Sighing, she resigned herself to her fate. Well, he had seen her in a sports bra yesterday. She was wearing one today, too.
Hiding behind the door as she opened it a crack, she sheepishly made her request, “
HajimeCaptain Saitoh? Could you please come in here a minute? I believe that I need some help.” Why was she thinking about an obi bow that was tied so tight she couldn’t get it off by herself? Was her mind playing one of those nasty little games again?In a very quiet voice she then added, “I think I am stuck.”