Sleep was not coming easily for Malik.

He was currently sitting in a chair next to the bed that Ryou was peacefully sleeping in, wrapped up in a blanket. The day's events had been rather stressful - not just for him, but for Ryou and Bakura as well. His darker half - or rather, the one that belonged to his other self - had come again, except this time, it was to remove the disease plaguing Ryou's body. The procedure had gone fairly decently, although it had caused Ryou a great deal of pain; even though the disease itself was now gone, the full extent of its effects were unknown at the time.

Which was why Malik was having a hard time sleeping. These thoughts kept relentlessly running through his mind, as he stared down at Ryou - who was, for once, sleeping with a calm expression. Finally, letting out a quiet sigh, he got up out of the chair. There was no way he would be able to sleep tonight.

He leaned down close to the bed and tucked the covers a little tighter around the slumbering boy, briefly pressing a kiss to his forehead. He then left the room, as quietly as he possibly could so that he didn't wake Ryou or the spirit of the Ring, and began making his way toward the deck of the cruise ship. A little fresh air would probably help to clear his mind.

There weren't many people out on the deck at this time of night - most of them were probably inside, indulging in some of the various activities it had to offer. This was good; there wouldn't be much noise to break Malik from his thoughts. He walked out, close to the edge of the skip, and leaned against the railing, in the same spot that he and Bakura had conversed at earlier in the day. He closed his eyes, the cool ocean breeze blowing his hair about slightly. The moon was high up in the sky; its light shone down on Malik, casting a long shadow behind him - a shadow that a very unexpected visitor could rise from...

Yami no Malik, as sporadic and unusual as his appearances to other people were, didn't find his omote's other self to be any entertainment - the young Egyptian was oddly preoccupied with a thief, whom Yami no Malik found to be quite nasty, and was absolutely NO fun to hang around with anymore!

Drat.

Though, this particular night, the once dark half was on the prowl, searching for his next victim - victim of molestation, anyway; he was quite harmless, if a little snarky, and would easily gain the affections of someone! … Right?

Upon discovering that his omote was on board a cruise headed for… who knows where, Yami no Malik had decided on impulse that he would pay Malik a little visit. Who knew, he might turn out to be interesting - that was what he thought, anyway.

Humming to himself, the yami materialized on board the ship, fluffing up his unruly golden spikes of hair as he did so and looking around for his omote. "Oh, Malik~" he called; his tone could have been perceived as dark and frightening, but his… outfit would prove otherwise.

Malik blinked, hearing someone call his name. That had sounded oddly like his yami - or, since his own yami was fairly docile, his yami's other self. Had he come back, expecting another "payment" of sorts? Hadn't the Ankh been enough; not to mention he was getting the Rod as well, upon their arrival back in Domino. Or perhaps he was wanting something else, like Malik's virginity (or lack thereof). He was almost afraid to turn around, afraid he'd find himself face-to-face with a psychotic freak, but he slowly turned around, expecting the worst.

... Well, his suspicions weren't completely off.

"Oh, it's you," he muttered, raising an eyebrow at his own darker half. Had he gotten a look at his yami's outfit first, his reaction would've been someone different. But now that the initial indifference to Yami no Malik's appearance had worn off, Malik found himself blinking like crazy. "... What the fuck are you wearing?"

Yami no Malik blinked, smoothing out his light purple kilt. Nothing was wrong with his outfit, right? He pulled at the sleeves of his puffy white shirt self-consciously, pouting. "I like it," he said defensively. "It makes me look preeetty~"

"Yes, but it's a skirt," Malik said, still blinking at it. "Couldn't you at least have made it tight leather pants, or hotpants, or something other than a SKIRT?" Now, Malik had nothing against skirts or kilts - they were actually quite liberating, though he'd never admit it - but seeing his yami in one was just scary, if not downright traumatizing.

Yami no Malik's eyes widened in hurt as he raised his purse and bopped Malik over the head. "Don't be so judgemental!" he scolded. "If I were to do that to you, I'd say you look like a damn ho. Bitch. OY."

"..." Malik held his head where he'd been bopped with the purse. "Oww," he whined, "that hurt, yami." He stuck his lower lip out in a pout. Though, truth be told, he was glad that his darker half had shown up - perhaps it would take his mind off of the current circumstances.

Yami no Malik grinned triumphantly, flashing his pearly whites at Malik as he rested a hand on his hip. Must resist urge to play with self during presence of others. "I'm glad it hurt," he stated. "You're so SILLY."

Malik made big wibbly eyes at his darker self, still pouting. "I'm sorry I made fun of your skirt, yami," his voice came out in little more than a squeak. Must act as utterly adorable as possible in order to obtain forgiveness. "It looks quite good on you, actually." Oh yes, add flattery for good measure; mix well.

Yami no Malik paused. Blink. Then, his cheeks were stained with a scarlet flush as he did a little twirl. "You think~? I thought the ruffles were a bit much, but my fashion advisor said they'd bring out the meow," he made a purring noise, "in me."

"Oh, it does," Malik nodded earnestly. "And those shoes are just to die for~!" Odd how being around his yami made Malik's more... girly side come out. Oh, right, it was because Yami no Malik was the embodiment of Malik's inner... flamboyance.

Flamboyance, indeed. Yami no Malik giggled madly, tossing his luxurious blonde locks over his shoulder, "Oh, I love me sometimes." Looking serious after a moment, he poked Malik in the chest. "You, mister, are a fashion disaster."

Batting away his yami's hand, Malik looked down at his own clothing. It was a simple black tank top paired with khaki shorts. Okay, so it wasn't as flashy as the little lavender hoodie he liked wearing, but it was comfortable, damnit! "Hey, I have a limited wardrobe, okay?" he whimpered, straightening out his rumpled shirt. "Besides, I don't have anything in my closet like," he eyed the other's outfit again, "that."

"Evidently," Yami no Malik quipped - he'd picked that one up from his omote's other self. He eyed Malik, rubbing his forehead. "I think you need a makeover, buddy."

"...Makeover?" Malik prayed to every god that was listening that this wasn't what he thought it was. The term "makeover", to Malik, meant a bunch of squalling girls shopping in a mall for the kuh-yewwwwwtest clothing, getting their hair and nails gone, and spending an hour doing makeup - in other words, something that Malik very much did NOT want to do.

And, knowing his yami, that was probably exactly what it was.

Yami no Malik brightened, grabbing Malik's hand and towing him in the direction of the room he obviously shared with Ryou and the thief. "That's exactly what I said, isn't it?" he questioned, before pouting. "Oh, sea breeze just GIVES me split ends."

Malik groaned, burying his face in the palm of his hand as he was dragged off. This didn't bode well.

Yami no Malik, as oblivious as he was, didn't notice, ever the happy sailor as he dragged Malik toward the cabins. "Aren't you glad you have me as a darker half?" he asked, "I mean, that other guy is seriously panty-twisted."

"Meh," Malik grumbled. Obviously, there was no escaping this. Though he didn't argue with the 'panty-twisted' comment... "Overjoyed." The sarcasm in his voice was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

Whereas, Yami no Malik could. Eyeing a door he had a feeling was Malik's, he asked, "Is this your room?" There was a strange smell seeping underneath the door - it smelled like sex.

By this point, Malik had just given up bothering to fight the inevitable. "No, that's Mokuba's room," he groaned.

Yami no Malik shrugged, before smiling broadly. "Oh, well." He snapped his fingers, and a pair of scissors appeared. "Now..."

Malik's eyes widened. "What... are those for...?"

Yami no Malik, swift as ever, snipped one of Malik's blonde bangs off. "That!" he said cheerfully, dropping the hair to the ground.

A nuclear warhead could have gone off, and Malik would not have noticed it. He stood there in horror, watching the blonde strands float downward to the floor. Quickly, he snapped back into reality, and high-tailed it down the hallway before his yami could cut off anymore of his hair. Taking refuge behind a potted plant that smelled suspiciously like old cabbage, Malik peeked his head out from behind it and squeaked; "You can put me in a skirt, you can diddle me up with makeup, you can dress me up like the fucking Queen of England, but you will not touch the hair!"

Malik's hair was one of his most prized possessions, aside from the soon-to-be-gone Millennium Rod and the sparkly purple yo-yo he found in the gutter.

Yami no Malik blinked, making scissoring motions a couple of times as he watched his omote hurry off. "Hey, what's the matter?" he called, scratching his head. Didn't Malik like haircuts? Following after Malik, Yami no Malik soon found him behind the potplant.

Malik was crouched behind the plant, and he meeped as his darker half's head came into view. His eyes were big and wibbly again, and he was clutching onto his hair protectively, like a mother hen guarding her eggs. "Please don't cut my hair," he whimpered, sniffling.

Yami no Malik's lip trembled as he dropped the scissors and embraced his other half suddenly. "I'm sorry!" he wailed, "I didn't mean it! It was just so... so... so gosh-darned SHINY!"

Clinging to the other's ruffly shirt, Malik nuzzled the side of his yami's face with his own. "Is okay," he sniffled, the fear of his precious golden mane being chopped off ebbing away. Though he was now missing a small chunk from his bangs... "Just as long as you keep those scissors away from my hair, I don't care what you do to me!"

Surprised at the actions of his omote, Yami no Malik blinked a few times and patted the other's hair - the hair he'd tried to cut. Ehehe. "You mean I can do anything?" he wondered, knowing he should feel bad for making Malik upset, but looking starry-eyed nonetheless at the prospect of CONTROL.

Knowing how many ways his statement could've been taken, Malik added, "anything that involves dressing me up, yes."

Now, had Mariku been here, he would have said, 'And does undressing count?' But, as he wasn't there, Malik's oblivious yami blinked. "Ooh, I could have fun with this."

Whether it was the idea of surrendering his fashion sense completely to his darker half, or just the way that Yami no Malik had said "fun", Malik suddenly found himself rather scared, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Considering what his yami was wearing, he wondered if he should be worried about what he'd end up looking like or not...

"Lots of fun~" Yami no Malik said in a sing-song voice, giving Malik a dazzling smile. "Come on, omote; we haven't got all night, you know."

"...okay," Malik muttered, hoping that his voice wasn't as meek as it sounded. "Do with me what you will..."

Yami no Malik squee-ed, suddenly gripping Malik in a bear-hug of doom. "Eek! Thank you~"

"Eep," Malik squeaked as he was hugged, "no problem. Let's just get it over with."

"Okay." Yami no Malik abruptly disentangled himself from Malik, dragging him toward the common room on the ship. "Let's start here."

A slightly worried had formed on Malik's face as he looked around the room. "... What's here?" he questioned, glancing over at his darker half.

Yami no Malik blinked, the question seeming odd to him. "Alcohol?" he suggested, toying with a bang.

"...oh." Perhaps the lack of sleep was making Malik a little bit... ditzy.

"You don't like it?" Cue emo-kid look here.

"No, that's not it," Malik raised an eyebrow, "I just thought you were going to do something about my 'bad fashion sense' before we went and did anything." He raised the hand that wasn't in his yami's grasp and twitched the index and middle fingers as he said 'bad fashion sense'.

"Yes, well." Yami no Malik tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in turn, "You don't have to be sober for all that, now do you?" he grinned.

"... Point. I can't tell what you're putting on me when I'm drunk."

Yami no Malik grinned broadly, "See? I guess I learned something about logicalness from Mariku," he commented. "Silly prude, he is."

Malik blinked. "'Logicalness' isn't a word."

"It is now."

Eyeroll. "Whatever. Let's just get to drinking." It had been a while since Malik had had a good drink - of course, 'a while' was really only about a week at most. And, it would help him take his mind off of the inevitable makeover he was going to get.

"Don't be such an ass," Yami no Malik chided, before wandering up to the bar (that was ever-so-conveniently IN the common room) and ordering what he wanted.

"I'm not being an ass," Malik pouted, ordering something for himself. "...I'm just tired of things being fucked up, is all." He idly eyed his strawberry daquiri - ooh, this one had kiwi slices in it. Fancy!

Yami no Malik blinked, prodding at his Bloody Mary - this wasn't really his type of drink; it was more his other self's. "What do you mean?" he asked lightly.

Malik pondered for a minute, then downed half of the glass in one sip. "Meh. Just things in general. See, this cruise started out really fun and stuff, but then it got really..." He fished around in his mind for the right word, "un-fun." ... Best he could come up with. "Because Ryou was sick and all. But he's better now, so maybe it'll get fun again before it's over?" Cue downing the other half of his drink; he promptly ordered another.

Yami no Malik listened attentively, curious as he toyed with the tiny umbrella in his drink. "So, basically, he's been sick more than once?" he questioned tersely.

"Mmhmm," Malik nodded, sipping at his second drink. There was one thing that Malik noticed he did when he was drinking - he tended to turn emo. But he was determined not to let that happen this time, so he put on a big grin and looked at his yami. "But things are gonna get better now. No more icky shadow illness to deal with."

Yami no Malik cocked his head, blinking. "How did he get it, anyway? It doesn't seem like a typical icky illness."

Half of Malik's drink was gone again. "Picked it up in the shadow realm after his yami's duel with your other self," he answered. "Mortals... plus shadow realm... equals bad stuff."

"Oh." It all clicked in Yami no Malik's mind - or did it? "I told you he was an asshat," he said indignantly.

"Welllll, but then today he got rid of the shadow stuff, so... I don't really know what to think." Malik was fairly confused, though if he weren't partially inebriated, he probably wouldn't have been confused. "Is okay now, though."

"Well, that's a relief," Yami no Malik commented sardonically. "I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot barge pole, if I were you. As if he can be trusted."

Under normal circumstances, Malik would've gotten very worried at that statement. But considering he was half-drunk already - daquiris had very little alcohol, but Malik had the alcohol tolerance of a field mouse - he merely shrugged and proceeded to order his third drink. "Meh. Am giving him the Millennium Rod when we get back home, so. Other you likes embezzling the bling, yami. He got the Ankh already, and he still wants the Rod. Mrrrr."