Lucas lowered his face so his gaze was a bit more intense. It prompted his hair to fall forward a bit, like a black curtain. His hand fiddled with the collar of Cyrus's shirt. "A level that's too serious for me, honestly." He sighed. "My job is just that---a job. I don't exactly intend to get too close to the twenty-one people I meet from one time to another. And I'd hope you don't have attachment issues." The last one to have said issues Lucas had a permanent restraining order against. "Are you tired of talking, or do you want to know my whole life story?" He intentionally squeezed his legs together against Cyrus's, a bit of a prompt to either talk or take action.

Somehow or other, things progressed in a dizzying mess of sensations from then on. He couldn't remember everything, but some moments stood out more then others. The whisper of a name, his hands reaching out and clinging desperately to the other man, the one he was supposed to find evidence about so he could be convicted of murder.

The thoughts plagued him after their exertions. He didn't really want to think that Lucas could be capable of such a thing. The evidence so far ... It was so damning. He was a detective, he needed to stay objective but it was so hard to. He grunted and turned to hug a stray pillow to his chest, to try and hide the turmoil roiling through him. He'd just begun, he couldn't do it. Undercover work wasn't for him, he couldn't lie, not to someone he didn't think deserved it.

Cyrus's endearing adorable nature seemed to follow him in every action. He didn't try to harm him unless prompted to do so, with a word, a look. And a look could communicate so much, regardless of how well one knew someone else. He didn't have to cause harm, or be rough or cruel, despite it being in the job description. Some didn't need it. Lucas sat nearby, on the end of the chaise lounge and studied the young man, a bit curious. Everyone reacted differently afterward---some were quiet, others were wired and energetic. Cyrus simply seemed... lost in thought. He brushed back his hair, which now hung all over the place in complete disarray.

"You know, the longer you stay, the more it costs." He didn't say it in a condescending manner, more of a reminder. Many didn't like to pay for more than necessary, and others wasted plenty of time because they simply could, or weren't finished yet. Lucas couldn't tell what this one was. He was certainly different.

He lifted his head, and nodded. "Yeah ..." Cyrus still didn't know what to do about his guilt over lying to the other man. He dressed hastily, and didn't really pay much attention to his wallet falling from his pocket. "I guess ... I guess I'll see you later." There would have to be a later, no matter how horrible he felt about the false pretenses and lies. Lucas couldn't possibly be the killer. Surely there was a way, some lead, to prove that to everyone.

The young man turned around and sent his companion a bright smile. It was a little forced, but he really had enjoyed himself. "It was fun, don't let my dreary words fool you." There, the truth on that was out at least. Cyrus waved and left, making his way downstairs. He paused for a moment at the front desk, and slipped a prepaid credit card from his pocket. He'd put plenty on it, and didn't even notice his wallet was missing. Not until he was safely ensconced in his apartment, looking over a grey looking neighborhood with a teensy little park.

Lucas smiled a bit as the newbie left. He didn't take anything to heart, but Cyrus seemed to think otherwise. No wonder the young man had never done anything like this before, he seemed to take things too seriously. Before the door closed fully, he caught it and disengaged the lock so it wouldn't log anymore time, and went about the room, getting dressed again and pulling the used sheets from the bed to replace them. A nearly-hidden latch in the wall led to a massive laundry room, and a closet at the other end contained replacements. Halfway across in his intention to retrieve others, Lucas stepped on something that seemed out of place. Clients tended to leave things behind, anywhere from clothing articles to jewelry. More expensive items were turned in to Giovanni and he'd hold the things until the person came back for them. This was a wallet, though.

Pausing, Lucas scooped it up and went to sit down, squinting in the relative dimness---which wasn't meant for reading in---to study the contents. A couple generic cards he didn't find useful, some money that wasn't worth even a lowlife thug's time to shake down, and a driver's license. His original suspicion was right: Cyrus. It was unusual to leave a wallet behind, especially with necessary items. He couldn't put it past Giovanni's sticky fingers to grab the money out of it before placing it with the other unclaimed items, either. It was early, yet, and he still had a couple clients scheduled to come in. If Cyrus didn't come back at the end of the evening, he'd return it himself. In the meantime he placed it in the closet with the clean linens, away from anyone else that might find it too difficult to pass up.

He didn't know what to do when he found out what he'd left behind. In the end, the young detective called Lillian.

"I forgot my wallet in the room." There was no way he was telling her how that happened, or how much he was looking forward to seeing their prime suspect again. Cyrus shook the thoughts from his head as he nibbled on his lower lip. The sensation only reminded him more of his time with Lucas. It was like he couldn't rid of the man, not in his thoughts or in his daily life.

"Go tiger! Hopefully the man brings it back, or hands it over. We'll see a bit more of his character. Oh ... did you have fun?" The teasing tone in her voice had Cyrus smacking the phone down back onto it's holder. Darn it, she sure knew how to get under his skin. It was hard to say why it bothered him so though.

He stayed there that evening, writing reports and taking down notes. They were private, tucked away in a secret box that was well hidden. He didn't want anyone finding those, and certainly not his journal. It held his thoughts, and someone else knowing how guilty he felt for lying to Lucas .. That just wouldn't do.

When he finally slept, it was to be plagued with troubled dreams briefly. Then fatigue took over, and he was sleeping like the dead.

When he was finally able to go back outside, it was in the cool air of a humid evening. Clouds had rolled in sometime between morning and evening, and a light mist was beginning to fall, cooling the hot asphalt below his feet. Many people were running to their destinations to get out of the way of the coming storm, though Lucas kept his face turned up to catch the mist. He turned left, to another road, and was met with his vehicle---a dark blue thing of relatively good size. Once in the cab he pulled the forgotten wallet from a leg pocket of his dark cargo pants and checked the address again. He knew the place. It wasn't too far from his apartment, actually. Lucas started the car and pulled into the road, headed away from his residence and toward the place of his newest, oddest client. He had to assume, anyway, the young man was still under that classification.

Lucas pulled into a parking lot in front of a tall apartment building, hurrying under the breezeway as the rain became thicker. Brushing back his hair, Lucas went into the cool atrium and looked around. Things were warm in lighting, nothing too harsh on the eyes, beige and off-white paint colors and a floor of hardwood. A couple elevators were to the right, and a small circle of chairs were sitting in an alcove beside a staircase. On a weekend he would have taken the stairs, but he was rather tired, so he poked the 'up' directional button and the doors opened with a ding.

He hit the wallet on the palm of his hand as the lift rose, coming to a smooth stop on the right floor, about halfway up. Stepping off, he found no one in the carpeted hallway as he turned right, heading for the door he spied near the end of the hall. It was closed, and the silver 'F17' gleamed on the dark wood. Without hesitating, Lucas knocked.

He was quite asleep, and would have stayed that way if a loud knock hadn't made him fall from the bed. Grumbling and groaning softly to himself, the half dressed young man walked to the door and swung it open without really thinking the action over. His bleary eyes blinked once, twice, before becoming wide as saucers as he realized who was standing right in front of him. "L-Lucas, what are you doing here? How?"

Cyrus knew exactly how and why, but he didn't want to be faced with his own deception again so soon, so he didn't think about it. "Please, come in." He waved at his somewhat messy apartment, and stepped aside to let the slightly older man walk into the space.

Lucas tilted his head to the side, fingering the wallet in his left hand. He'd expected to simply drop off the item and be on his way---or at least be asked more pointedly about how he found Cyrus's address in the first place. But he stepped inside to avoid being seen as rude, and turned to face the young man. "I found this on the floor a while after you left." Lucas said, showing the item. "Since it had money in it I didn't exactly feel safe in letting Giovanni have it to hold in case you came back to claim it. He tends to take any loose change he sees lying around, bad habit of his." The man lifted Cyrus's arm by the wrist and handed the wallet to him. "Hope you didn't call to cancel any credit cards or anything."

He pushed back his damp hair, moving about a little. It was a nice place, as was given away by the entrance and size of the building in particular. The windows gave away the dark, and city lights were streaked due to the rain against the glass. "I guess that's all." He said with a light sigh, and turned to the door. "Don't want to impose."

"Thanks." He grasped the leather in his hand and stared up at the other man. "Sorry, I was asleep ... Need some coffee to wake up." By the time Cyrus talked about this, he noticed that Lucas was already walking away. A sort of panic had his heart racing. No, no, he had to find an excuse to make the other man stay. This was a golden opportunity to find out more about him and about other possible murder suspects.

"Why don't you stick around until the rain's passed? Drink a cup of coffee to warm you up." And take a rest. The other man seemed tired, not surprising considering his work. It was work, nothing more then that to him. Cyrus had to remember that at all costs. They were just doing their jobs, and he was the one lying and being deceptive.

Lucas paused at the door. Suddenly he was a bit wary. Cyrus seemed a little odd to him, but to be honest, many people he knew were all kinds of colors, not just odd. He was a strong man, Lucas---he could take care of himself if he needed to, and there was little someone could do to him to actually harm him, aside from breaking bones or actually killing him. And Cyrus didn’t seem to be the kind prone to unjustified acts of violence. Of course he didn’t seem to have a violent background at all, or Giovanni would have red-lighted him. “I suppose I can do that.” He said after a moment’s contemplation. Really, who was he to decline an offer? It was innocent enough, after all. And to be honest, it would spare him the necessity to bother tossing soaked clothes into the drier at home. He’d showered at the club before leaving, a very necessary thing to do.

Stepping away from the door, Lucas folded his arms lightly. “What is it you do, anyway?” He asked offhandedly. He might as well make conversation, of course, or things would be very quiet.

Cyrus relaxed and walked into the kitchen. He put water to boil and turned to lean against the counter, arms folded across his chest. "Me? Nothing much. I work in an office, filling reports and taking care of accounts day in, day out. What got you started in your line of work? It's an unusual job, can't say I've seen any advertisements in the papers for positions like that." He didn't mean to slip in that last little bit, with it's double entendre. It just kind of wormed it's way into his sentence. Cyrus felt a slight sweep of pink warm his cheeks as the word made him remember what had happened earlier, what they'd shared.

He would never be able to forget. Hard to let the memories fade, when it had been such a memorable experience. There had to be evidence leading to another suspect. So far, it didn't seem like it. Lillian had said the ropes were tied in a way that only Lucas used, it was a signature of sorts. That didn't mean it couldn't be replicated. But who would want to set Lucas up? One of his clients perhaps, a jealous one. Another employee could have done it, would have had access to the room.

Lucas followed Cyrus, looking about in relative curiosity. A person's home could tell a lot about a person, though his was a sterling picture of the exact opposite of that. Cyrus's home made him out to be a bit messy, though it was Friday---some people waited until Saturday or Monday to clean from the previous week. In the kitchen, he leaned against the wall across from Cyrus and pocketed his hands. The possibly-younger man's reaction to his own words had Lucas snickering, but he decided against saying anything about it specifically.

"No, you don't exactly try to advertise in the papers for positions like mine." He said with a bit of a smile. "The club is in a very public-associated area so advertisements are usually kept outside that general face of the building. When someone is interested in employment upstairs, they go to Giovanni and are given a variety of questions---tests. They're evaluated on their state of mind, their background, then are searched for any past convictions or arrests. If everything pans out well we'll be given a room and can begin pretty much immediately, after we're asked to write down what we do, specifically---meaning patience, tolerance, level of pain we're willing to inflict, and verbal communication status. If a potential client comes in looking for someone by name, that step of the process is skipped."

It was a pretty step-by-step process, really. Giovanni had a whole database full of names and information.

"Sounds like pretty much any other job. Do you mind if I ask something?" Cyrus paused, ignoring the way the other man's smile made him want to stutter. "I'm gonna ask anyway, but you don't need to answer. What made you decide to get into this kind of business?" What did push people into that? He'd always kind of wondered, and the question was kind of relevant.

As he waited for an answer, he moved to get two cups and set them on the counter. Then the coffee grounds were put into a filter and slotted into the coffee machine to be strained through. He'd probably done the steps wrong, again. Remembering that he should have poured the water into the machine itself, he did just that and stepped aside with a frown. Well, at least they were assured that the water was going to be warm.

Lucas shrugged and looked around, spying a chair and taking it. His legs were sore, and he rubbed the lower muscles a bit. "I can't exactly give a definitive answer there, to be honest." He replied after a moment. Suddenly he felt like he was back in the office-interrogation, facing Lillian and Reno, forcing his way through their ridiculous questions, some repeated in a different format to try to trip him up. But this was more casual, an airy environment, a calmer pace. He studied Cyrus fiddle with the machine, tilting his head a bit as he didn't quite seem to know what he was doing. It was endearing, in a way, and made him smile faintly.

"People kind of think I'm a bit of a freak. That's common in my... line of work." He shrugged, stretching his legs. "But I'd assume I have to be a freak to be able to enjoy work like this. It's not everyone that can actually like being asked to abuse for others' gain." And five (often six) days a week? It wasn't for a casual masochist. Lucas was real, and he showed it, thus his extensive client list. "I've had a large influx of newbies today." Lucas added. "Probably because of the murder in that room. Is that why you're so interested, hm?"

He listened intently, quite honestly interested in what Lucas had to say. It was an entirely different way of looking at things like this then he was used to. That forced Cyrus to rethink his own view on things, and the change of pace was a nice one. He flushed red at the question, and looked to his feet. "Some friends convinced me to try, and I was curious. Nothing to do with the murder really." It had everything to do with the murder, and he was lying through his teeth.

Cyrus didn't want the other man to find out. Not because it would ruin the investigation, but because Lucas really seemed like a nice guy. The other man wasn't normal, but he was kind in his own way. His actions were consistent, not forced. Everything Lucas was, none of that seemed to include a tendency for murder, despite the shade of suspicion his work had put upon him.

Lucas nodded. While people didn't normally talk about this type of thing in public, thus keeping it relatively obscure and shadowed in controversy. But it wasn't uncommon that a group would talk about the concept, encourage those that were rather curious to go to these clubs or seek out professional masters or mistresses. At least Cyrus had decided to go to a controlled environment. Of course, the control was under wraps, giving the experience a more dangerous air. "I guess they're pretty convincing." Lucas said, and chuckled. "And I'll admit, you don't seem like the kind to be around a place like that... Maybe you just have too innocent a face, but looks can be deceiving, I suppose."

Indeed that was a good point---a lot of lawyers hid dirty secrets that only Lucas and the other masters knew. Sometimes they came to the club in disguise. Most were married, with children, and did seem to hate this side of them but couldn't help themselves, and often spent hours at a time if they could. Lucas shook his head slowly, sending his hair right into his face. A bad habit it seemed to have. "You're actually the first one not to even mention the murder." He admitted. "The ones I've had throughout the day bring it up at least twice, but they only have rumors and news stories to fuel their imaginations..." And did they ever have imaginations! Lucas's would probably have done the same, though, if he hadn't been told how Maddoc had been found.

Cyrus grimaced, and even went so far as to stick his tongue out. "Now what's that supposed to mean? Maybe next time I should try being the one on top." Oh that sounded so wrong, coming from his lips. Still, the idea was an enticing one, though it probably wasn't something he'd be able to pull off ... Shaking his head, Cyrus busied himself with pouring the coffee into the cups.

Wordlessly, he held one out to Lucas. His hand was shaking, from fatigue or nervousness, he couldn't say. Was he actually crushing on the murder suspect? Damn, now that just mixed things up nice and well, tied everything up with a bow. "I don't watch the news, and I don't really care how some stranger died. I mean, that's something for the cops to take care of, not me." It sounded callous, making him wince the moment he realized how it made him seem. Too late though, Cyrus had already spoken the words and there was no way to pull them back.

Lucas quickly took the offered cup before Cyrus dropped it, which looked like a pretty good possibility. He raised a brow at the words, but paused to take a drink of coffee. It burned a bit, but wasn't unbearable. "So, there's a bit of a bite behind that sweet face, is there?" He noted, smirking. "I guess can definitely be deceiving." He liked that. Cyrus wasn't necessarily wearing a mask, or at least, he might not know it, but the fact that something more hid beneath the surface of that young man's initial appearance was a clear indication of how many layers someone could have.

"I suppose you've got a point." Lucas said after a moment. "Most people fret over the news as if their opinions and thoughts will change what they've seen. And I guess since I'm basically the main suspect in the case. I can understand why. I'm associated with the victim, yes, and he was found in my room. And considering my job, it'd be a pretty clear shot---I just got carried away, or I was angry that day, or I got offended or was working up to actually killing someone... A lot of possibilities." He laughed dejectedly, brushing back his hair and sitting back as thunder rolled as if a giant were running across a wooden floor above them. "That doesn't matter, though. Speculation is all it is. I know what I'm capable of and it's not killing someone." The thought was a sick one, even on his terms. Maddoc was tired, a man that just wanted the life he couldn't show anyone else. Lucas had no reason to harm him.

"Sure is." Though not much of one at this point. Cyrus felt too guilty to snap, or be anything but someone who wanted to please the other man. He was lying. His mind kept getting caught up in that fact. It just wouldn't leave Cyrus alone. Lucas didn't deserve that. Each word the other man spoke felt like a bullet, shot straight to his heart, just adding guilt to an already huge mountain of it.

"Do you know anyone who might have wanted him dead? I believe you, you know..." He bit his lip. "You don't seem like the type who'd do ... what happened." This was the most truth he'd ever spoken to the man. It was a good thing he didn't have a recorder on right then. Lillian would have known right away that he was feeling. To try and rid himself of it, Cyrus took a big gulp of hot coffee and coughed a little at the taste and warmth.

Lucas leaned forward and set the mostly-empty cup between his feet. "You sound so sure." He muttered. "Like you think you know me better than you should. I guess I can thank you for that, but you shouldn't make snap judgments." He shook his head, standing and grabbing the cup, setting it on the counter nearby. "I think the rain's let up... Thanks for letting me stick around in the meantime... It's a lot more than most would do." He turned to head out the door, through the living room and to the front door. "Maybe I'll see you soon, eh?" He called over his shoulder, and stepped out into the corridor. Letting the door latch behind him, Lucas paused before moving on down the hall. He was looking forward to seeing this one again, if only for his adorably talkative ways when he was nervous. Maybe Lucas could make him nervous again...

Laughing to himself, Lucas moved down to the hall and to the elevator, pressing the down arrow. Well, at least he had awhile to himself...

The other man was right about that. Cyrus was making assumptions without much of anything to base them on. That was wrong of him, and yet he couldn't help it. He was so lost in thought, it took a long while for him to collect himself enough to make any kind of answer. Lucas was already gone, leaving Cyrus with his guilty conscience.

With a sigh, he moved away to work on reports again. He hadn't lied when he'd said that, but had never mentioned what kind of reports. The young man also sent Lillian an e-mail. It was too late to call her. He didn't know if he wanted to go back on the morrow, to the night club.

He ended up showing up, hair in more of a disarray then the last time he'd visited. Cyrus's ear was still smarting, and today he wore a tank top, a dark blue one, and a pair of black pants ... with chains. He wore a necklace that day, all chains and nothing else. It caught the light every time he moved, and when he went to face Giovanni. "Is Lucas free?"

((I never know what to write for Giovanni))

The owner of the club laughed hoarsely, and nodded. "Seems you got a liking to the guy already." Giovanni noted offhandedly. "Last client left half-a-hour ago. Usually 'bout an hour's between meetings, but maybe he'll make a exception for you, eh?" Giovanni hadn't expected this one back so soon---not on a weekend, especially. Weekends were unscheduled, and it was a first-come, first-serve type of basis. Half came looking for Lucas and his ability to become anything they asked, and the rest kept the other eleven masters in employment. He waved the young man up the stairs, leaning heavily on the front desk. If one were to be still, they could feel the bass from the club's main floor beating through the rooms, until they got upstairs and into one of the twelve soundproofed rooms. If the owner knew Lucas, he was most likely still cleaning the room. The older man that had come down before had a hard enough time finding his credit card, no doubt it was a mess. And Giovanni always had to stifle a tickled smile at these ones.

He nodded and moved forward with an almost eager step. It wasn't long before he was at the door, knocking on the it cautiously. When it creaked open, he peeked inside with a half hopeful look. "Hello? Can I come in?" Giovanni had said there was usually a longer break between customers. Maybe it would be better if he waited, gave Lucas a break. The man must have been tired, what with how many people seemed to be visiting him. Lucas's work was so physical, it couldn't help but be that way.

Lucas balled up the old bedclothes and had set them on the floor to dispose of after he redressed the bed itself. He was mostly finished with that when a knock sounded and the door opened, making him look around in a rather surprised manner. He'd not expected anyone for another thirty minutes at least, but the voice was familiar and he immediately placed face with tone. It seemed Cyrus didn't have a chance to brush his hair this morning, but Lucas really liked that unkempt look. Nothing overly messy, of course, but perhaps a more carefully careless way.

He gathered up the used cloth and pushed it down the chute, closing it and turning to face the door. "Come on in, Cyrus. Don't lock the door right now, it'll engage the timer." He didn't want to bother with that right now. With a sigh he ran his hands through his hair and sat in one of the chairs. "Hope you don't mind sitting around for a bit. Giovanni must think I'm superhuman on Saturdays." He certainly wasn't, but he could go a lot longer than most. It definitely helped his prices, anyway.