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comment_fic's "Author's Choice, Author's Choice, "What sort of topping do you prefer?" "Oh, I dunno... Rough, yet giving and just a tiny bit sadistic. Would I be bound?" "Not that sort of topping!"" Mild Muraki/Tsuzuki
A pizza joint in Okinawa run by a friend of Chidsuru and Rika had started to have trouble with a poltergeist after the death of a former delivery boy who'd been let go for various reasons. Thus Tsuzuki and Hisoka had been asked to handle the case.
Since Tsuzuki was the definition of a lethal chef, he'd been banished from the kitchen and was relegated to taking calls on the phone and taking orders, particularly in the evening. Since they were right in the heart of the downtown area, they got a lot of calls, particularly at night.
"Hello, Rico's Pizzeria, can I take your order?" Tsuzuki said, getting an order pad and a pencil ready.
"Hmm, perhaps getting the short straw wasn't such a bad thing," said an all too familiar mellow but slightly nasally voice on the other end of the line. "Good evening, Mister Tsuzuki: I did not know that you had taken up working at a pizzeria."
"So how many is this order going to be for?" Tsuzuki asked, trying to keep his heart from hammering in his chest.
"You really do get around," Muraki murmured. "We're going to need two large cheese pizzas for the interns at the clinic here, but I think I could settle for a side of *you* for myself."
Tsuzuki jotted down the order, though his quivering hands turned his writing into a hopeless scrawl. "What sort of topping do you prefer?"
"Oh, Mister Tsuzuki, I always took you for a submissive type," Muraki said, tsking with mock disapproval. "Hmmm, I don't know... Rough, yet giving and just a tiny bit sadistic. Would I be bound?"
"Not that sort of topping!"
"Oh, you disappoint me. In that case, we'll take peppers and mushrooms on one and sausage and pepperoni on the other," Muraki replied.
"Okay, that should be ready in twenty minutes. Now what was the address?"
Muraki gave the address. "Do tell me that you'll be personally delivering this?" he asked.
"It should be there in less than a half an hour," Tsuzuki said, hanging up the phone more quickly than he should. Hisoka, who was kneading pizza dough, looked up at him narrowly.
"What's going on? You're shaking like a leaf?" Hisoka asked.
"You're better off not asking," Tsuzuki said.
The phone rang again. This time Makoto, the owner of the pizza joint, picked it up. "Hey, Tsuzuki: that was Higuchi. His car broke down, so you're going to have to deliver that last order."
"WAAAAAAAH!!!" Tsuzuki wailed, running to the cooler for cover.
Makoto stared after him, then looked at Hisoka. "Was it something I said?" he asked.
"I think he got hit on by the last person who called in an order," Hisoka replied calmly.
comment_fic's "Author's Choice, Author's Choice, "What sort of topping do you prefer?" "Oh, I dunno... Rough, yet giving and just a tiny bit sadistic. Would I be bound?" "Not that sort of topping!"" Mild Muraki/TsuzukiA pizza joint in Okinawa run by a friend of Chidsuru and Rika had started to have trouble with a poltergeist after the death of a former delivery boy who'd been let go for various reasons. Thus Tsuzuki and Hisoka had been asked to handle the case.
Since Tsuzuki was the definition of a lethal chef, he'd been banished from the kitchen and was relegated to taking calls on the phone and taking orders, particularly in the evening. Since they were right in the heart of the downtown area, they got a lot of calls, particularly at night.
"Hello, Rico's Pizzeria, can I take your order?" Tsuzuki said, getting an order pad and a pencil ready.
"Hmm, perhaps getting the short straw wasn't such a bad thing," said an all too familiar mellow but slightly nasally voice on the other end of the line. "Good evening, Mister Tsuzuki: I did not know that you had taken up working at a pizzeria."
"So how many is this order going to be for?" Tsuzuki asked, trying to keep his heart from hammering in his chest.
"You really do get around," Muraki murmured. "We're going to need two large cheese pizzas for the interns at the clinic here, but I think I could settle for a side of *you* for myself."
Tsuzuki jotted down the order, though his quivering hands turned his writing into a hopeless scrawl. "What sort of topping do you prefer?"
"Oh, Mister Tsuzuki, I always took you for a submissive type," Muraki said, tsking with mock disapproval. "Hmmm, I don't know... Rough, yet giving and just a tiny bit sadistic. Would I be bound?"
"Not that sort of topping!"
"Oh, you disappoint me. In that case, we'll take peppers and mushrooms on one and sausage and pepperoni on the other," Muraki replied.
"Okay, that should be ready in twenty minutes. Now what was the address?"
Muraki gave the address. "Do tell me that you'll be personally delivering this?" he asked.
"It should be there in less than a half an hour," Tsuzuki said, hanging up the phone more quickly than he should. Hisoka, who was kneading pizza dough, looked up at him narrowly.
"What's going on? You're shaking like a leaf?" Hisoka asked.
"You're better off not asking," Tsuzuki said.
The phone rang again. This time Makoto, the owner of the pizza joint, picked it up. "Hey, Tsuzuki: that was Higuchi. His car broke down, so you're going to have to deliver that last order."
"WAAAAAAAH!!!" Tsuzuki wailed, running to the cooler for cover.
Makoto stared after him, then looked at Hisoka. "Was it something I said?" he asked.
"I think he got hit on by the last person who called in an order," Hisoka replied calmly.
