Out for blood. (Closed; Myron)

Myron sighed as he shut and locked his apartment door. He looked down at his shoes, glancing at the clothes he was wearing. It was his work uniform. He really wasn't looking forward to work today. He was even wearing his thin, leather choker. It was a good luck charm of his to say the least. At the front, the leather was attached to a black, metal ring. Kind of like those rings that dog collars have, just a lot smaller and faced flat down instead of sideways and outwards. That, and there was a way to open the loop to attach something akin to a pendant to it. Attached to it was a a dog tag. No, not the dog tag that soldiers wear, it was a literal dog tag. It was a silver to match the somewhat loose choker, otherwise he would've gone with green. But green just didn't match the gothic vibe the necklace gave. So, he went with a plain silver. The tag was oval shaped and had nothing engraved on it. He was saving that for something special. He didn't know what, but one day he’d have something to get engraved on it. This choker always gave him the extra luck he needed. And he felt he needed it.

Down the elevator he went, making sure he had his card key so he could reenter the building along with his room key. It’d be pretty awful if he got locked out of his own apartment. He walked out the door with his vest swung over his shoulder. It was too warm to be wearing that outside. His black slacks, black loafers and white dress shirt looked fine without it. He wondered why he had to wear the dark brown and black vest at work. But it was required nonetheless. The vest had some fancy custom designs on it as well. He hoped he’d never have to worry about it getting wrecked. That would be expensive to replace. He walked down the street humming a tune with birds. He liked to hum along with them—it was late, but not late enough where the birds would stop singing. As he continued on, he grabbed his phone out of his slacks’ pocket to check the time. 8:46. Good. He’d be there a few minutes early. He kept on walking until he came to the establishment’s front door and stopped in his tracks to throw his vest on real quick. He wasn't due on duty until a few minutes from now, but he felt it'd be a wise idea to throw it on. Just in case the boss was watching, he wanted to look professional.

He opened the door and stepped inside the establishment and looked around. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He froze in his tracks. Kazimir? What was he doing here? The last time he was here they got into a heated argument over stuff he had no control over. Kazimir had the moxy to blame all of that on him. How irrational could this grown man be? He was older than him for Christ’s sake. He should know blaming everything bad on him wouldn't change the past or make things better. Hell, he even learned that he was his half brother. To think he'd be related to someone like that! It was hard to believe. But Kazimir had his eyes on him the moment he walked in the door. He was seated perfectly for watching the door. What was he going to do if Kazimir wanted to start another fight? He had a job to do. He couldn't risk another fight. For all he knows, the next fight, if there was going to be one, might lead to him being fired. It wasn't a pleasant thought. This job was all he had to put food on the table, alongside expensive wines. He hoped Kazimir was just here to drink. But what was that in his cup? Ginger ale? Oh no. He really might be in some deep trouble. All the thoughts in his head were racing. He was nervous. He didn't want to fight Kazimir. Why couldn't they just get along like normal brothers? Why couldn't Kazimir just come here looking for his ‘dear long lost brother’ to come on good terms with him? You know, he really wouldn't mind having a brother to depend on. He hated being an only child. When Kazimir would come over as a child, that made him happy. He had someone around his age to play with. Sure, he was four years older, but he was closer in age than his parents. Back then, adults could be such drags. Even if Kazimir kept his distance whenever possible, he was happy just to have him around. He couldn't even begin to explain the mixed feelings he got when Kazimir first came here and told him everything—from his poor upbringing, the disappearance of their father, how he blamed everything onto him and how he was his brother. That hit the hardest of all. He had admit, he was glad to have a brother. But he felt conflicted by the fact his birth father had cheated on his birth mother. But everything made sense. Everything fell into place once he learned that. That's why they looked so similar, why Kazimir would call Dmitri ‘papa,’ why his father accepted such low pay to watch over some other woman’s stubborn brat. Stubbornness. He could say one thing. Stubbornness ran in the family. If Kazimir wasn't so stubborn, he probably would've never come to Japan to search him out. He wouldn't be so keen on his obsession for revenge. Myron grabbed a hold of the dog tag attached to his choker. Maybe, just maybe, this would end with the two rekindling with one another. Or maybe he shouldn't get his hopes up. But he wanted to be optimistic about this, even if the chances of it being right are low.

Myron tensed up more as Kazimir came towards him, and he was already extremely tense as it is. After Kazimir finished speaking he opened his mouth.
“I see that. But what are you doing here?” His voice was stern and it was demanding. He wanted to know. No—he needed to know. He couldn't afford another fight with him. It just wouldn't sit right with him. He wondered if Kazimir could ever come to his senses and realize he's never done anything to him. His grip on the dog tag got tighter, and more intense. He was nervous. He had to admit that much. He watched as Kazimir threw something on the ground. A toothpick? What was he doing with one? He seemed more the type to just complain about food stuck between his teeth than the type to do something. He shrugged it off.

He watched as his brother ordered them both a drink and told his co-worker he’d be skipping out on work tonight. Oh no, he wasn't just about to make him skip. His boss would be pissed.
“Kazimir, hey, just listen, we can do this later. After my shift. We got all the time in the world for this after.” He pleaded. But he knew better than to plead. Kazimir probably wouldn't take no for an answer. So, he sighed and followed after Kazimir. Just what did he have in mind? He watched him pull out a chair for him.
“...Thanks. I guess.” He mumbled as he took his seat. He kept his hands below the table, his fingers twirling around one another. Oh man, he was nervous and it was showing. He was usually so good at keeping calm but Kazimir just completely destroyed that concept. He thought about the meaning of Kazimir’s name. Destroyer of peace. Really was fitting. His brother was pretty chaotic when it came down to it. Was it really so hard for Myron just to live a simple, dramaless life?

“So…” He managed to cough out as he looked as his brother. This all felt so surreal. Everything that has happened between him and his brother. The fact he even had a brother felt surreal. Some would think he was scared of his brother because of the way he was acting but that simply wasn't it. He wasn't sure what he felt, but it wasn't fear. Emotions weren't his forte. But Kazimir definitely stirred them up. The waiter had finally arrived with the drinks Kazimir ordered and he immediately took a big gulp of it the moment he grabbed a hold of it. He really needed that. This was all a little too much for him. He hated dealing with his brother and he sincerely wished things could be different between the two. Maybe he could make that change happen tonight if he tried hard enough. Even if Kazimir would throw punches, kicks, body slams, whatever, he’d deal with it. He just wanted to get along.

He took another huge gulp of the matador, finishing it, and asked the waiter to get him another one. He wondered what he could do to to make things right. It made him angry he even had to make things right between the two. He didn't do anything! His brother was just an extremely irrational man. Maybe he could give him his good luck charm? The choker he was wearing around his neck. Although, not yet. He should wait to do it when the moment is right. He sighed again as he waited for the waiter to bring him his next drink. He knew he’ll be needing it just to deal with whatever came next.

Myron watched his brother dance around like he was just the best thing in town. He probably thought that too. He did all that just because he saw his reflection in a glass. His reflection didn't even show up that well yet he still did all of that? He really have the confidence of a bull. He didn't even care there were people watching him, or worse yet, he probably enjoyed it! Myron could never do that. It’d be far too embarrassing. He simply groaned as he thought about how he was related to this guy. This guy was just too much. Finally, he got around to answering his question. Of course that was why he was here. Why else would he show up? To have a nice chat? To get absolutely wasted? No. Not at this bar at least. As he sat down, he heard his brother ask—no, demand—that he repeat what he said in a louder voice. He looked at him for a solid minute before reluctantly growling out a ‘спасибо.’ He spoke in Russian because he knew his brother could understand and he didn't want anyone to hear him say thanks out loud. Of course they'd know Japanese, they were in Japan, so he avoided Japanese and English was pretty common too. So Russian was the next best thing.

Myron noticed Kazimir getting a better, closer look at the choker he was wearing. Did he finally come to realize this originally belonged to their father? Dmitri had given this when he dropped him off at the orphanage. Said he wanted him to have something to remember him by, so he gave him this. He always wore it. He said it worked a lot like a good luck charm. He said he could attach any pendant he wanted to the metal loop by twisting it a little so it comes loose. Myron kept it all these years. He rarely wore it—he only used it as it was described. A good luck charm.
“It is his. He gave it to me, how else would I get it?” He sighed as he brought his hand up to the table, resting his cheek on it. Kazimir probably thought he stole or something like that. Maybe that was why he so angry. He honestly didn’t know why he was angry. If he did think he stole it somehow, that gave him another reason to call him an idiot. Why would he steal something like this? Necklaces weren't his thing. He only kept it because it belonged to his birth father. When he was 20, he bought a blank dog tag for it. He always felt he was going to use it for something one day. And he felt that day was coming soon. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt it was. Call it intuition.

The next thing that came out of his brothers mouth was an offer for bear paw. Ohh boy. He hoped they’d get so wasted someone would just pass out. That way they could avoid a fight. He’s never really played a drinking game since he didn’t have too many friends, and he rarely drank with them anyways.
“Fine.” He spit out in a somewhat spiteful tone. He wondered who’d win if they just kept passing around the mug—it would either be him or Kazimir. But he doubted they’d get that far. Kazimir was bound to stop the game half way in. If he wanted to fight, there’d probably be nothing to stop him from starting one. He watched the waiter bring over a large mug full of beer alongside a bottle of vodka. Hey, at least he wasn’t paying. Kazimir did say it was all on him. He grabbed the mug and took a big swig of it, then filled up what he drank with vodka and passed it over to Kazimir.
“Your turn.” He smiled as he spoke. The liquor was already starting to get to him, but not too much at least. And that mug was huge, they’d probably never get the whole thing filled with vodka let alone start replacing the vodka with beer before Kazimir decided that was enough. He wondered why he was even having him drink. Why not just start the fight here and now? It made no sense to him. But he wasn’t complaining. This was a good thing. The last thing he wanted to do was fight.

Myron watched his brother slurp down a bunch of the drink from the mug.
“Show off.” He snickered to himself. That was his brother alright. He still felt miserable over the fact he and his brother were constantly fighting. It was nice to have a break from that even if it wasn’t going to last long. If he wasn't so hell bent on getting revenge for something that he never did they could easily have a nice sibling relationship going on for them. Myron could put up with his narcissistic personality. When the mug got passed back to him, he made sure to take an even longer sip than Kazimir did. Did he want a competition? If he did, Myron would give him one plain and simple. Alcohol might hit him fast at first, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold it. Putting the same amount of vodka in that he drank, he passed it back to Kazimir with a grin on his face.
"Can't we just play the whole game?" He slurred his words slightly as he spoke. His face felt hot as did the rest of his body. That was one thing alcohol was good at and he liked it. The extra body warmth was always welcome. But his body felt heavy too. His tolerance was improving since he had been drinking more often lately. He still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But as long as he didn't get addicted everything would be fine. He guessed anyways.

After twenty minutes of passing the mug around, Kazimir finally got up and told him they're doing this. Myron sighed loudly as he got out of his chair and started walking after the larger male. He knew he wouldn't do to well in a fight with him—Kazimir was much stronger than he was. Myron was just a bartender anyways. It's not like he was a bouncer or anything. The bar he worked at didn't even have the position available. And if they did, he knew he'd never end up on that team. Being a bartender was tough enough—he didn't need to deal with rowdy patrons. That'd be far too much trouble. The bar's manager would put up with them whenever they started getting rowdy. He was just glad it wasn't himself who had to deal with them. Back to what was at hand, he followed Kazimir outside. At least he wasn't going to make him cause a scene inside of his own workplace. He wondered how he could avoid a fight. He remembered back to how he wanted to give him the choker his father gave him. Kazimir still had an emotional attachment to Dmitri while he didn't. He actually hated the fact that his father gave him this while driving him to the orphanage. It didn't feel right. But he could never find it in himself to actually sell the dang thing. Giving it to Kazimir would be the only way he could get rid of it.

"Kazimir, look..." He stuttered a bit at first—he wasn't sure how to go about giving him the choker. He groaned.
"You're more trouble than you're worth. Take it." He spoke in a sharp tone, removing the choker from his neck and throwing it at Kazimir. He better be grateful. Yet he still found himself grinning at the fact Kazimir had it. He was glad he was finally able to get rid of it. Although finding another good luck charm that actually worked on occasion would be hard. But who cares! He didn't need one. He'll just make his own luck good by will alone. He stepped back a little and stared at his brother.
"So we're actually goin' to do this? Now?" He questioned. He wanted to see if Kazimir had changed his mind at all. And he hoped he did—violence wasn't his forte after all. Even if he was still going to go through with the fight, hopefully it would've stirred his emotions up some. He'd rather just argue like they usually did. It was much easier than throwing each other's fists at one another if he had to be blunt. There were already people starting to gather around them, sensing the tension between the two. They could probably smell the will to fight off of Kazimir, and Myron would reluctantly put up with one. This was just great. With a crowd this big, they'd be dragged off by police in no time. Someone was bound to call for them after they started beating on each other and it started getting a little bloody.