The alarm on the bedside table sounds. A sigh comes from the darkness, and a hand reaches, reaches to turn on the lamp. David Forde sits up in bed. He stretches, turns off the alarm, and stretches again.
Then he remembers why he is so miserable. A shadow passes over his face.
"The meeting." he mumbles, sliding out of bed. David runs a hand through his badly cut hair anxiously. He dresses slowly, dreading what is to happen this morning. First the slacks. Then the starched shirt. The tie. The socks. The perfectly shined shoes. The crisp navy blazer.
David assesses himself in the mirror and groans. His hair is badly chopped, uneven and fringy.
"I'm such a pushover." He combs it aimlessly, and it worsens. "Why, why can't I just say no? Why didn't I tell the stylist that she wasn't cutting right? Why don't I just tell dad that I don't care about this stupid interview? Why don't I just call him up, and say, and say… Nothing. I'm going." David sneers at himself in disgust, puts the comb into the drawer, and stalks to the kitchen.
"I'm tired of these interviews. I don't want to talk to Holly Winter, I don't want to endorse new products, and I don't want to be on the Tech Snap show -" David stops short.
There is a man in his kitchen, sitting impertinently on the granite countertops, drinking out of David's mug. He smiles slimily.
"Why not? The Tech Snap show is the hottest show of the season!" He snickers. "Well, if you like pretty boys selling shiny things." David swallows. There is mud on the white carpet. It isn't often that people visit his ultra protected, very shiny, totally uncomfortable apartment. It is even less often that they break in, to sit on his countertops, and drink from his mug. Anger bubbles up.
"Um, that is my mug." He says, shakily. Real imposing, David, he thinks. The man looks at it.
"Really?" He asks incredulously, "I think I'll keep it. It suits me, real porcelain and all. 'D' isn't really my letter - I'm Kariya, but I'll make do." David opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes. Kariya is disturbingly imposing. Leather combat boots, gelled hair, muscled arms, and a sneer; he is everything David isn't.
"You have a terrible haircut. You know that? It's awful." David flushes, and can't help but hang his head.
"I know." He says, sighing. A shatter erupts next to the wall by David, and the porcelain mug is suddenly a heap of shards and coffee on the carpet.
"Hey!" He yells. Kariya grins.
"There we go! You aren't fun at all when you are so submissive. It almost makes me regretful, to see your lack of struggle. I like it when they struggle." Kariya jumps from the countertop and lands deftly on his combat boots. He reminds David of a cat playing with a mouse. "I'm afraid you'll have to miss your meeting." He pulls some coiled rope from his backpack. David takes a step back in confusion.
"Wait, are y-you kidnapping me?" He stutters, his eyes darting from the rope to Kariya's. The kidnapper stops, disbelief and contempt warring for control of his face.
"Considerably un-epic last words." David puts his hands up.
"I don't want any trouble. I've never been kidnapped, so let's just - let's be reasonable. Should I just put my hands out? Do I need to close my eyes? I'll do whatever you want. It's actually the high point of my morning - now I don't have to be on the show." Kariya stares at David for a long, long moment and sighs.
"Are you… Are you real? You are something else dude... Fight me, please." David blinks, and Kariya shakes his head in defeat.
"Yeah, I- that would be helpful."