The lights are dimmer than usual at the bar tonight; one of the sparse rows of light bulbs has gone out, leaving a section of the quaint bar shrouded in shadow, more so than usual.

Chrollo Lucilfer sits in his usual booth near the back of the room.

His drink is on the table, untouched. Condensation pools around the edges of the glass. He is not in the mood tonight. Something about tonight’s routine bores him, he thinks, glancing around at the nearly empty bar, watching strangers chat in low tones, mingling without real care

He contemplates leaving. There's nothing to stay for, so why is he waiting? A muted tingle of the entrance bell drifts through the bar and reaches his ears as the door opens. Someone walks in.

He catches sight of the newcomer; all thoughts of leaving fly clean out of his mind.

The first thing Chrollo notices is the long black hair. It cascades down shoulders and comes to rest at hip level, swaying delicately as the stranger weaves past quiet tables and to the front of the bar.

They’re wearing a gorgeous flowing dress, in muted tones of matte black and deep indigo, hugging their body in the right places. As they take a seat on one of the bar stools, Chrollo catches a glimpse of a pale leg peeking through the dangerously high thigh slits.

He cranes his neck, as subtly as he can manage, but is unable to see the stranger’s face. Chrollo’s interest is piqued; now he simply must know.

He stands up to leave, but takes one last look at his forgotten drink.

/Ah, what the hell./

He grabs it and downs it in one gulp with a grimace and a shudder, before making his way to the counter.

“What’s a beautiful thing like yourself doing here alone?”

Chrollo angles his head to one side, eyeing the stranger from the corner of his eyes.

It’s not as intimidating as looking at them head on, but enough to indicate sufficient interest. Coupled with a natural helping of charisma and his daresay attractive and enigmatic features, this tactic has always worked.

A shy glance, through hooded lids and batted lashes, a soft giggle or a smile hidden behind nervous hands. He always gets something in return, getting them to bite is never difficult.

But this stranger does not move, much less glance in Chrollo’s direction.

A few moments of tense silence pass. Chrollo readjusts his shirt collar with nervous hands. This has never happened before.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

The stranger exhales, and turns to look at Chrollo dead in the eye.

/Oh./

She’s gorgeous. Her large doe eyes are darker than the deepest obsidian, and they seem to have no end. Chrollo is usually the dominating one, bearing down on his helpless prey with piercing grey eyes.

This time, it is he who finds himself being sucked into the well of darkness, unable (and unwilling) to escape.

“Can I help you?” Her voice sounds like hollow wind chimes and empty glass jars.

Chrollo’s lips have gone dry.

“Yes.” He replies dumbly.

The stranger quirks an eyebrow in a severe act of judgement of the highest degree. Chrollo can’t seem to find his voice. He’s never been rendered speechless like this before and he feels like a young school girl.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

The woman has the strangest expression on her previously deadpan face. Her lips are contorted in a twisted line and she stares at him with a look so devastating that anyone else might have melted right then and there.

“I’m not a woman.”

/Oh./

For the second time tonight, Chrollo is at a loss for words. He can only muster a nervous laugh.

“My sentiment still stands,” he bows his head in slight embarrassment. “I’m really messing this up, aren’t I?”

The stranger looks away from him and stares at the counter, svelte arms folded delicately over his firm chest, and shrugs slightly.

“I like absinthe.”

Chrollo perks up. That’s something he can work with. He motions to the bartender.

“‘Copper and Kings’ absinthe for the gentleman, please.”

The bartender raises an eyebrow. Top shelf alcohol, huh. Chrollo had been a regular long enough for the bartender to know that he never buys top shelf alcohol for a new conquest. He looks for confirmation.

Chrollo gives him a firm nod and turns back to the gorgeous stranger in his elegant dress, trying to think of something intelligent to say.

“Chrollo Lucilfer. I know who you are.”

Chrollo’s heart rate quickens. This is an interesting development.

“How?”

“You’re quite well-known for your… work.” The stranger says the last word with interest.

“Thank you, I’m flattered.”

The drink arrives, in splendid fashion, smoke spewing from the tiny spoon balanced atop the rim of the ornate goblet.

They watch the smoke for a while.

“May I have the honour of knowing your name? You are stunning.”

Something that he’s made clear several times throughout the course of their short conversation, but Chrollo’s inhibitions have been lowered and his intrigue too great.

“Illumi.”

“Illumi, it’s been a great pleasure to meet you.”

He reaches out to take Illumi’s hand, and Illumi relents, letting the other man press a light kiss to the back of his gloved knuckles.

“Likewise.”

Illumi behaves as if he's simply watching the events unfold, as if he is an observer privy to a conversation he is not a participant in. Having Chrollo Lucilfer wrapped around his finger could prove very helpful for his family indeed.

He takes a long deep sip of the absinthe and sighs, contentedly. Chrollo takes this as a good sign.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime, Illumi? I know a lovely French place we can go.”

“Oh?”

Illumi feigns interest. /French hm?/

Vague memories of a certain magician comes to mind but he presses down the rising thoughts, and continues sipping from his goblet. No distractions tonight.

“Yes,” Chrollo continues. “How does next Thursday sound?”

Illumi tilts his head to one side, exposing his bare neck to Chrollo in a move of practiced and muted seduction. He feels the other man’s eyes on him, watching intently.

“Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my sources.” Chrollo smiles pleasantly. Of course he does. He'll make things work.

"Well, I'll see you then."

Illumi finishes the last of his drink and smiles back, rising from his stool to take his leave.

"Let me call you a cab."

Chrollo begins to stand up, but Illumi holds up a gloved hand to stop him.

"No need. I'll see you Thursday."

And with a sweep of his dress, and not so much as a backward glance, Illumi is gone.

Chrollo sits back in his seat, winded by this encounter. Somehow, it doesn't even occur to him that the stranger hadn't actually done anything at all. He had arrived, had a drink (not even paid for it), and left. So, what had been his true purpose for coming to the bar tonight?

Chrollo doesn't know, and he doesn't think to ask himself these questions.

All he can think about is what to wear come next Thursday evening.

As the door to the quaint bar closes behind him with a soft tinkle, Illumi laughs without mirth.

It is simply too easy.

———— end

also shoutout to @hyskoas and @noredemptionarc for their alcohol recommendations and for explaining to me what “absinthe” is and how it’s taken and for this “KuroIllu at a bar vibe” song recc from Juno