Part 16- Crabs, and Their Disagreeable Tendencies

Five days had passed at St. Catherine's, but they hadn't been idle 
ones. Crawford, apart from lunching and loving and scheming with his 
fiery swain, had been hard at work putting the finishing touches on 
his trick for Ran. Night and day, during his free moments, he 
labored--perfectionist that he was. And now the finished product 
stood at the ready. 

It was a letter. A neatly written missive on heavy blue cotton paper; 
along with it was a faded, beat up cardboard shoe box, still shedding 
dirt and crumbs of moss whenever it was moved. The courier had seemed 
perplexed when he handed such a filthy object to the likes of the 
impeccably dressed Mr. Crawford, but Brad hadn't been forthcoming about 
his reasons. He just handed over his money and sent him on his way with 
a quick drink. Two fingers of tequila, to be exact. The boy had 
requested it, and Crawford, being a gentleman at heart, could never 
refuse anyone's wish--especially if it were their last one. Thankfully, 
the poison he'd found in the cellar two days after the boy had left 
proved to be a slow acting one, and would reportedly leave no trace. 
Not that it mattered if it did, for very few things still mattered to 
him--and Schuldich...

He was currently lying in their bed, upstairs, quite naked, and quite 
marked with love bites, much as he had been every night that week. 
Crawford was going away for a long weekend after all. 

A very long one, perhaps... 

He'd dressed simply in a black linen/rayon suit, black cotton T-shirt 
and socks, shoes. He'd packed his bags on the sly the evening before, a 
garment bag and a small duffle, which he had hidden away in the 
rectory's one unoccupied room. He didn't want to wake him in the midst 
of leaving--only wanted to remember him as he was then. 

Walking out of that bedroom was the hardest thing Crawford had ever 
done in his life. But he did it. Straight down the stairs past the 
children's room, around the bell tower into the church proper. He set 
his bags and the box upon the altar and took his black leather gloves 
out of his inner jacket pocket and slipped one on; the other he laid 
aside. Then he took out the two letters and just held them under the 
rainbow-tinted sunlight from the windows above; slid the one for Ran 
back into his jacket and headed off down the two stone steps to his 
piano. Crawford folded the cover over the keys and set the letter 
there. Surely he would find it. 

Surely... 

A groan, and a roll of eyes, and he snatched it up again, and turned 
with the hand that held it slightly upraised, as if he might just fling 
it towards the living room and be done with it. He might have done just 
that, if it weren't for the tiny girl with the enormous blue eyes by 
the larger of the two lecterns. Standing in the shadows as she was, he 
almost missed her. 

Crawford dropped out of his frozen pose, and gave her a slight smile. 
"Guten morgen, liebling."

***

Saffie took but a few steps forward at first, coming out of the haze of 
Saint Cecelia enough that her stepfather could see her better.  Though 
his shields were up, she still sensed he had wondered over not noticing 
her.  In truth, she had been there so long herself she had started to 
feel like one of the statues herself, and almost expected no one would 
ask of her to ever move again.

"Dia's muire duit, a Bradley." She said, and drew herself fully from 
the colored light the last bath of music's saint had left for her.  She 
was not wearing her blue kimono with the phoenix this morning, just a 
butter yellow satin nightie with lavender ribbons threaded through the 
smocking on the front.  When she passed the clear spaces of the 
windows, the spring morning light left little hints of her under things 
there, and it could not be said she did was not given to ignore such 
glimpses of herself when other's found them.  Her hair was knotted up 
in a little bun under her silk cap, but a few strand fell too fast and 
dangled partly in her eyes.  

It was plain she had risen in a hurry, more so that she had been 
waiting long enough to straighten herself up, but hadn't.  

Just like little girls not her were wont to do.

"I wanted to say goodbye, so I got up early," she explained, floating 
up before him now.  A gust about the silver on the floor stirred the 
rim of her skirt and it lapped upon her ankles.  She just smiled.

/Actually, I woke up because Nagi rolled over in his sleep and bopped 
me on the nose, but why make you sad and tell you such things?  
Besides, who says Nagi wasn't supposed to wake me up? Sometimes things 
have reasons./

With that in her eyes, she looked into his and curled the errant lock 
behind her ear where it batted about the golden teardrop earring she 
hadn't thought to take out before she slept.

"So, I'm here now, Bradley.  Do you want anything before you go? 
Anything at all, I promise not to wake anyone else if you want 
something snuck out of the kitchen."

(OOC: Saffie says hello in Irish Gaelic, since I couldn't find 'good 
morning'.)

***

Savil looked sweet, and he told her as much with his smile. 

"No, Savil-darling, I don't need anything to take along. If I get 
hungry, I'll have the driver pull off somewhere, so don't fret 
yourself. And, speaking of which, I have only," he glanced at his 
watch, "fifteen minutes before the chauffeur arrives to take me to 
Chicago, so...Time for advice. Don't play too rough with Nagi. He's not 
like me, not as resilient. You could seriously hurt your new rabbit if 
you aren't careful, liebling, and I mean *hurt*. I don't think you 
really want that." 

/And I don't want to come home to a ruin./ 

Feeling as if there was something else he'd wanted to relate to her, 
Crawford tapped the edge of the envelope against his lips thoughtfully, 
staring towards the altar as if someone were standing beside it. But 
then he whipped the missive out towards her, shrugging. 

"In two hours, give this to your brother. Tell him he can burn it, 
shred it, whatever he wishes to do to it--but only after he's read it. 
It's important that he do so." 

He switched his garment bag to his other arm. "Now...Make sure your 
brother eats, and don't let him drink up all the Stolichnaya. And do 
NOT let him touch my piano. I will be back on Tuesday or Wednesday." 

Crawford lay a hand gently on top of her head and then he gathered his 
duffle from the floor and left her.  In his third eye, however, the 
scene of his lover opening his parting note was playing out in his 
head. 

A note in black ink across a sheet of beige linen stock in Schuldich's 
beringed hand: 

{For however you will feel after reading this, let me thank you 
beforehand for doing it in the first place. Also, even though what you 
will read might enrage you, I ask that you read it straight through, as 
my visions tell me it might be the last note we will ever exchange. It 
is a small request, is it not? 

The ring I gave you was once used as a wedding ring, but I did not give 
it to you with the intent of making you my possession, nor did I want 
to tie you down in any way. I gave it to you in the spirit of what it 
stands for--what it really stands for: Promises that are made and kept; 
fidelity--and I do think it is possible to have many lovers and be 
faithful to only one person; and, of course, love--the sort the poets 
dreamed of in verse. The kind that doesn't ever really fade or lessen 
with the passage of time. 

Ich liebe dich, Herr Marlow. 

I always wanted to say it, but I never could seem to form the words.}

***

Niigata- Five Years Ago

The rain had given out a little bit before he left school, but then 
again, it hadn't really ever stopped since that winter, just paused to 
catch its breath in little sighs of golden light comming in between the 
towers of the clouds.  Ken stopped for a moment just shy of his door 
and looked up to the gold and blue there strung by the setting sun.  

Just for an instant.  His eyes fell away then, and wandered rather over 
the thousands of droplets made out from where he stood; all waiting to 
seep into the earth, take the images of the evening sky with them, 
never to return.  It was early enough in the year for them to do some 
good at least, even though a quick glance to the back yard showed him 
without a doubt that the hydrangea they had planted a few days before 
to stand in the stead of the specters of the dead flowers would not 
consent to bloom and name the color the soil had given them.  

He hoped they would be blue, and slipped inside, starting to toe off 
his shoes before he even got his feet in the door.

"Tadaima!" called, though he did not expect and answer.

But then his mother's voice, and a soft sizzle in the kitchen.  
"Okaeri."

He padded barefoot into the room after the sound and found her turning 
over her shoulder after his image.  She had on a pale beige rayon shirt 
and jeans rather than work clothes.  Her veil still dripped over her 
curls, but she'd been leaving it on a lot lately.  "Suge! You're home 
early!"

As he drew closer, her hand brushed his and gave it a squeeze he gladly 
returned, but surely with not all of his strength.  "It's so damp at 
the shop, my cards are starting to wilt and all the coins are wet.  It 
wouldn't be fair to the customers if I tried to tell their fortunes 
with such things."

Ken reached for the spare apron and the unscathed onion both, humming 
to himself in wondering and tossing the vegetable this way and that as 
he covered himself.  "We need to get you a crystal ball.  Those work in 
any sort of weather, right?  And they're pretty too!"

A smile crossed her lips and Hiharu put aside her spoon for a moment 
and let the broth mind itself for a moment.  "Didn't I ever tell you I 
can't see anything in crystal balls?"

"No... you mean you can't? Really? Aw! I'm sorry, Okasan." It was 
certainly something new to him, for before it had always been offers 
that they were too expensive, such gypsy orbs, or too hard to come by 
more recently.  Even that customers sometimes glanced things themselves 
there; that the moonlight near the city was too vague to give one a 
soul.

"I can't miss what I never had.  But I know one thing..."

The onion came out of his hand and into her own, where it rested, 
cupped as if it were a circle of pure quartz or some other such gem 
that might have yielded second sight, though surely nothing could be 
seen through the skin save more skin.  "I can see the future, and I see 
you sitting down at the table because you don't need to help me with 
supper.  Oh! Wait! Before that, you wash your hands good because 
there's something waiting for you there..."

"Aa! Okasan! I don't mind helping," Ken fussed with a little laugh, and 
she only shook her head and pushed him from the counter she had decided 
was hers for the time being, rather towards the sink, and rather 
nowhere.  He did as she had asked and flopped down at the table, having 
dried his hands on his jeans.  

Sitting at his seat was a worn black box he knew well.  One with little 
gold letters on the front.  And a halo.  With a delighted little gasp, 
he pulled the lid and poured the contents into his hand.  It was the 
deck of angel tarot cards he had so favored as a child.  Their edges 
were not as clean as he remembered, the gloss of their backs bearing 
hairline scratches that only the brightest light uncovered, but it was 
still them.  

"They're too old," his mother explained.  "I know them so well now my 
mind tells them apart before fate does.  I couldn't bear to get rid of 
them knowing how you always used to pick them for your birthdays."

"Thank you!" Was all he could think of to say.  So he did, and he laid 
them out before him, one by one.  Looked at every seraph, every cherub, 
every human there.  The devil was a red-haired boy with peacock 
feathers and he had two little boy angels at his feet with ragged 
wings, but he did not touch them.  The aces were the rulers of the 
elements, androgens and floating with the signs of their spheres and 
all the faeries there.  Death a woman in white with candles all around.  

The Lovers though he found stuck in the box for a moment, and when he 
managed to get his hold on them, they fell to the floor and landed with 
their heads at his feet.

Hiharu glanced over at him and saw this, but had whirled back to her 
soup before he could ask if she had really gasped.  

But there all the cards sat for the longest time, layered together on 
the tabletop.

It was the first and only time he'd ever seen them all together like 
that, at least, until, one by one, he slid them back into the box, 
which he closed and popped into his pocket.

"Ne, Okasan?"

"Yes, Kenken?"

"Thanks again for keeping them."

She smiled and he waited a moment, just starring at the haze that ran 
over her hair, for he felt wistful just then, and knew not why he 
should.  

"Ne, Okasan?"

"Yes, Kenken?"

"Can I go over to Kaze's tomorrow after soccer practice? I need some 
help with my math."

A soft pause came between them then, and he attributed it at first to 
the hushed hiss of something just sliced into one of her pans.  "No, 
you may not."

"Umm... if the day after that better?"

"No."

"How about over the weekend?"

"No."

Ken scratched his head and got to his feet, minding not to knock the 
chair too loudly when he stood, because it wouldn't do his mother any 
good to be startled while she was cooking, let along startled otherwise 
in one of her evasive moods.

"Is it because of what happened with his mom? She's not there anymore.  
She's gone, completely gone."

No answer.  Just the rasp of the spoon making its way around the pot, 
and the shift of his shirt against him as he rubbed a little at one of 
his shoulders.  No eyes.  Just that mane of blond hair he almost envied 
sometimes.  He would have been much cuter if he'd had her hair too.  
After all, what other boy wouldn't want a blond-haired blue-eyed 
bishonen?  But just as he shook that off, she spoke.

"I don't want you going over there anymore.  You can do your homework 
on your own, or I'll help you.  Maybe you could join a study group?"  
The smile she gave him wavered above the steam for only an instant and 
her eyes just looked so wet... later, when he had a chance to remember.  
In the present, he passed it all off as a worry that he might ally.  Or 
a question.  A joke? It was hard to tell.

"Mom, that's not fair! It's not his fault about that *woman*." He meant 
Mrs. Koichirou.  "He's not like that."

"Mom.........?" He had, of course, never called her that before, or at 
least note lately.  She didn't seem to know what it meant just then.  
"No, it's not about that, KenKen.  I just think you shouldn't see him 
anymore."

Rather if she had turned into a crow and sailed away, he guessed his 
heart might have raced faster, insides ached more with all sensation of 
gravity upon them gone.  "That's not a reason! C'mon! If you don't want 
me over there at least tell me why.  He's my best friend! You never 
worried before.  What's the big deal?"

"OH YOU *KNOW* WHAT IT IS, HIDAKA KEN! YOU DAMN WELL KNOW!" Hiharu 
wheeled then, and her veil flew out behind her, a few droplets of broth 
spilling before her for the spoon had followed her hand.  

"Ch! No I don't! What's wrong, mom?"

"You think I'm stupid!? You think I'm blind!? You think I don't know 
all this time what you two have had the audacity to do under my nose!? 
Oh, I suppose you think I'm some kind of innocent! That I'll always be 
here for you to pull one over on! That I don't know what semen smells 
like."

"OKASAN!" Ken felt he should have blushed, but rather he went white, 
all the fresh sun marks from the first of the seasons outside leaving 
him, leaving him nearly as pale as she was.  Like snow, and just as 
cold, for he shuddered to dare think.

"When did it start, Ken? No, wait, don't tell me.  I don't want to 
know.  You are fourteen fucking years old NOW and that's bad enough as 
it is."

"So?" he spat back in a halfway broken voice.  "It's not like I didn't 
figure it out about YOU.  You were sixteen when I was born!"

Hiharu ended up being the one that blushed.  "That has nothing to do 
with this!"

"Yeah, well it's not like either one of us is gonna get knocked up.  
MOM! I don't have anyone else either.  It's just him.  He's my 
boyfriend, Ok, I admit it."

But that only raised the crimson over the usual pale manifestation of 
her.  She hissed, and the spoon fell form her fingers with a clatter as 
one of the fears that had long grown in the back of his mind suddenly 
burst into bloom.

He started to shake, and he had never quavered before anyone in his 
life.  But it was just that sort of nights for firsts.  What he should 
have done, but hadn't, in his somewhat less than normal childhood.

"Would you listen to yourself!? That's disgusting! There, say it 
again!"

"I... he's my boyfriend!" Announced defiantly this time as he crossed 
his arms over his chest.  

Hiharu let out an utterly ungodly shriek.  "NO!"  For a moment she hid 
behind her hands, coming back to face him with her lips parted and her 
eyes gleaming dully with something far away.  And hot.  "He is NOT! You 
do NOT like that sort of thing! You're a good boy and you know you are! 
You don't understand, so I'll tell you! Ken, something terrible will 
happen to you if you stay with that boy! A lot of terrible things! You 
might as well just run back to your little room and slit your wrists! 
You don't know what you're saying! You are only fourteen years old."

"I don't care......... I love him."

"NO, YOU DON'T! Not anymore!"

"LOOK! Just listen to me for one sec here.  Are you so mad 'cause he's 
way older or are you mad I'm gay or what! You're like not 
making any..."

He never got a chance to finish his question.  His words died in a 
swell of sensation and a few splatters of blood.  His mother had 
slapped him.  As hard as she could.  And broken his lip.  He caught 
himself before falling to his knees and simply stood not too far from 
where he had been before, cupping his hand around his wound.

"You, Ken, are not a gay.  You can't be.  You're just perfect.  Now get 
over it, sit back down, and tomorrow you will call that awful boy and 
tell him you've got a girlfriend.  I don't care if you have one or not.  
You can find one."

And with that she went back to the soup, leaving her son trying to 
catch his breath not too many feet away.

"What if I don't want one, Mom?  What if I liked boys and I was sure.  
Just like you were at my age?"

The next thing he remembered he was wet, and he was coughing and he 
could not see.  It took him a moment to realize he was on his hands and 
knees on the sidewalk out in front of his house, which was wet and 
shiny and showing ticks of blood under his newly brush-burned legs.  He 
couldn't see because the last of the sunlight had caught on a patch of 
it just beside him.  Coughing because someone had just hit him in the 
back, hard...

Behind him, that someone was crying just as hard as they could.

"...you can just stay out until you realize you're not some lousy 
faggot, Ken! You can stay out until you come to your senses and 
that's IT! I am doing this for your own good."

Footsteps.  No cars though.  Not quite late enough for most of the 
parents to come home.  Or early.  He wasn't sure anymore.  He simply 
sank down to the damp concrete and lay there for awhile trying to catch 
his breath.  His cheek started to prickle on the stone, so he propped 
it up in his elbow and looked out at the world form there with one 
clear eye.  A caterpillar made its way up the fence between his yard 
and the next,  headed for the virgin hydrangea.  He wondered if 
caterpillars even liked hydrangea, and hoped it would have something 
good to eat.

Then he forced himself to his feet and limped to the only place he knew 
to go.  Mr. Koichirou opened the door and his cigarette fell out of his 
mouth.

"Umm... my mom just kinda... threw me out.  I was wondering if I 
could..."

"Shhhhhh," his companion's father intoned with a worried sort of smile 
and winked though only one of his eyes could be seen past his bandages.  
Then he leaned down, and in spite of the wounds Ken knew he wore, 
hoisted the neighbor boy into his arms and carried him over his 
shoulder into the kitchen.  Nothing was cooking there, but the 
microwave was running.  The white tablecloth still without a spot 
landed on the floor before Ken found himself sitting atop the table 
itself.

"Kaze? Bring the bandages out of the bathroom and hurry down here, OK?"

"What is it? You cut yourself, dad?' Amid a few scratches of doors 
sliding around and cupboards banging.  

"Not exactly..."

"I don't think I can sit up.  My back hurts..." Ken rasped, and had no 
sooner spoken then he found himself pushed gently onto his side with 
one of the chair cushions under his head.  He smiled in thanks and 
closed his eyes, it was only by touch he knew when his lover had come 
to him, for his hands smoothed his hair, and his lips.

"It's alright.  You can stay.  I'm sorry your mother's that sort of 
person but, I, at least,  don't mind if you two want to be together, 
like... that," said Mr. Koichirou.   "Just keep the noise level down 
after ten."

"Thanks, dad. Hey Ken...?"

"Ken? Yoohoo! Ke~en! Contrary to popular belief, it's morning now."

A thump of someone's palm on the back of his head, and with a weary 
little murmur, Ken lifted his face from the tabletop and rubbed his 
eyes.  Beyond the window that blinded him it was sunny without a hint 
of the clouds his momentary dream had left him with.  If it had been a 
dream, some kind of a dream too early come.  "Eh?"

"You nodded off at an odd time again," Primera pointed out, leaning to 
one side so the jelly from her strudel would land on her plate rather 
than the heap of documents she had before her, and was riffling through 
at an utterly frenetic pace.  

"Gomen." And his head fell to his chest in shame.

Fiona only sighed, and Yuriko's hand drifted over his back.  He felt 
like turning red and excusing himself, but they didn't seem to want him 
to go, so he blearily reached for the coffee only to have Carly's 
footwoman pour him a cup and slide it over before he had a chance to 
spill any himself.  He thanked her, and proceeded to sugar it quite 
liberally.  

It had been five nights alone he had not done well sleeping.  Ran 
stayed that one more time, and then had not appeared again in his 
arms, had not said anything about it.  But then again, they hadn't 
found themselves arguing over a single thing, hadn't kissed once over 
a single thing; hadn't been angry at each other, hadn't been splayed 
in each other's arms.  It was quiet for the time being, if nothing 
more.  Or at least it would pretend to be until he settled on a 
contractor now that the last of the furniture had been bubble wrapped 
and put in storage to wait until its new owner's check cleared and it 
could be sent out into the wilds of Antiterra.  

As he sat, staring at the serving dishes before him he pondered just 
what could have kept him up so long... assassins surely slept through 
worse, and it could not be his empty bed, for the wights before his 
sleepless eyes had come to him long before.  Even after dawn, he simply 
could not sleep, save in spells where it took him by surprise and from 
which he woke up even less sated than before.

But it was quiet, and it wouldn't be for long.

"Hey Ken?" Yuriko began, and he felt her fingers on his face now.  "Ok, 
you had bags under your eyes yesterday, but today, you've got bags 
under the bags! This is getting ridiculous.  What's wrong?"

"Someone keeping you up?" Their secretary here, and at once he admired 
her obliviousness- a truly exceptional and sought after trait in 
secretaries.  

"Nothin', and I guess that's the trouble..." A few swigs of his coffee 
that he burned his mouth on for he hadn't thought to put milk in it.  
He hissed, and took a sip of his companion's orange juice.  Yuriko 
sighed, but did not offer any other complaint.

"Aww! No more life in the fast lane leaving you anti-tuckered out?"

("I hate that song..." grumbled Fiona.)

"I'm the one who hasn't slept, but you're making less sense than I am!" 
At which he laughed hysterically, as tired people are wont to do, and 
helped himself to a gigantic scoop of eggs and half of the remaining 
bacon, which he would have crunched up, had it been crispy, but as it 
was, simply stirred the flimsy bits into his eggs and slurped the 
result up rather like spaghetti.  "And say, how come all three of you 
are always here for breakfast, don't you have lives or something?"

"No way!" Fiona shouted.

"I do, and I choose to ignore it.  This bacon is divine, by the way.  
Mmm! Not the way Mother makes it." Primera sighed contentedly.

"Carly won't let me have one," Yuriko stated quite matter-of-factly.  
"Until you're all settled and settled WELL!"

"Why did I ask?" Ken wondered aloud.

"Because you're tired and you're not making sense!" His old friend 
again, and this time she spoke to him more seriously.  "Look, if you 
can't sleep, you could always stay up and do something like... writing! 
Just like they told Barbara Kingsolver to do!"

"No," her girlfriend corrected.  "They told Barbara Kingsolver to scrub 
the floor with a toothbrush.  She wrote because she thought that was 
boring."

"Besides the fact I can't write!"

"Oh, everyone can write, silly!" Speaking of which, she scrawled one 
more thing on her paper and asked something about it to Ran before 
anyone had a chance to say 'good morning' to him.  "Umm, pardon me, 
Ran-san, but the insurance company phoned.  They don't seem to have 
your birthday or your Antiterran zodiac sign."

***  

It was with a sinking heart that Ran entered the dining room, bowl of 
rice in hand, a new pair of circle-hiding violet-lensed shades 
straddling his nose.  For Ran had not slept much since their fight, 
either.  

He gave Ken a brief nod in greeting.  A cup of coffee was passed to him 
by some feminine hand, but he set it aside in order to take a bite of 
rice. "Why would the insurance company need my personal information? 
I'm not the owner of the Villa."

"No, but you will work here when the shop's set up," Primera chimed 
from behind a wedge of marmalade-slathered toast. "And you know how 
insurance companies are about things like that."

"But my zodiac sign?"

"Do I really need to tell you how differently things are done on 
Terra?"

A pause, and then Ran shook his head with a wryly murmured, "...No."

Primera dealt a dainty tap to the side of her juice glass with her 
spoon. "Good! So when and what, Ran-san?"

He sighed, rolled his eyes.  "July 4th, and I'm a Cancer."

Fiona muttered something about "disagreeable crabs," and Primera nudged 
her sharply in the ribs with her elbow as she reached for another 
triangle of toast. "The 4th! Why, that's tomorrow!"

Ran set his cup down with a shrug. "Yeah, so?"

"So?" Primera parroted, mildly stunned by his nonchalance. "So, we have 
to throw a party!"

But he adamantly shook his head. "No. No, I don't go for parties. 
Haven't in a long time."

"All the better to do it now!" She exclaimed, waving her fork for 
emphasis. "This place hasn't seen any--" She paused when she caught 
sight of his disgusted grimace. "What's wrong, Ran-san?"

His chopsticks clattered on the edge of the bowl as he dug them into 
his rice. "I don't want to be subjected to a party simply because there 
hasn't been one at the Villa in ages. And I don't want to be fussed 
over."

"Oh, but--!"

"No," Ran muttered, ducking his head down a little and averting his 
eyes to his coffee. "I don't see what's the big deal with birthdays 
anyway."

***

"Except of course when your boyfriend doesn't remember them," Yuriko 
grumbled in a sort of half-playful way as she leaned across the side of 
the table until her orange hair was dangling all around Ken's shoulder.  

Ken responded by blushing the sort of way he usually blushed when so 
assaulted by her and tipping himself out of her vicinity and therefore 
into Ran's.  (Ran stirred his coffee and refused to budge.) "W-what? 
You act like I left my underwear somewhere I shouldn'ta."

"Are you trying to tell me you never even ASKED?"

"Umm... well... it never exactly came up.  We did kinda... umm... run 
off on short notice."

The footwoman's napkin rose from her lap and proceeded to thwack their 
host's arm again and again and again, cracking loudly and getting 
crumbs pretty much everywhere in the process for Yuriko had been 
eating a strudel none to neatly a moment before.

"Hey! It's not like that! It was an accident! I didn't mean to, I'm 
sure I woulda asked sooner or later and been real repentant.  I'm 
sorry, Ashke I'm -OW! You got icing in my eye!- SORRRRRY!"

"Yuri," Primera began, now in for her third piece of toast she had 
figured she might as well eat awhile if only because she'd been 
interrupted by some of the best interrupters that ever were and so had 
plenty of time, "Stop beating up the Dono.  That isn't nice."

"He's not nice! Forgetting a thing like that." 

"Well, when is my birthday?"  

Yuriko pursed her lips in an effort to try and hide just how much she 
was obliged  to ponder her lover's innovent question. "January the 
first because of that- if you'd stop squirming I might stop hitting 
you!- New Years Eve party your mom was at where the Ravverwood-dono 
ran out dressed like Baby New Year and one of the lords he wasn't 
involved with yanked his diaper down and stuck a bottle of 
champagne..." 

Their secretary once more knocked on her glass for attention, and by 
some miracle, got it.  "Alright, you got the date right.  No one wants 
to hear the champagne bottle story.  It's just a myth."

"Then why is there a gilded split hanging over your room door 
at home?"

"There is a gilded split hanging over every door in our house."

"Oh yeah?  Well, I've actually been in your house, so that won't work 
on me."

"Ok, ok, maybe part of it's true..."

"You know? What I'm really curious about is how come your sister Paul
has a gilded half a nine iron over her door."

Ken stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled his very best soccer 
whistle.  The two ladies ceased their complaints somewhat, though 
Primera had also begun to lean, and now her pink little lips were 
dangerously close to Yuriko's.  Ran acted as if he had not heard a 
thing, and had another bite of rice while enjoying pretending he had 
not heard a thing.  "Umm, well, January first isn't for awhile now, so 
maybe we should worry about whose birthday it is first... well, first."

"Right!" Their secretary snapped her fingers here and leap up to table-
side attention, side-stepping her girlfriend, who pouted, and proceeded 
to ravish another virgin strudel.  She did so without her napkin on her 
lap and so well be-crumbed her jeans.  "Well, you know Ran-san, it 
doesn't have to be that kind of party! Not wild, or formal, or with 
noisemakers and little hats..."

"I like noisemakers and little hats!" their servant mumbled.

"Great! I'll remember that for *your* birthday."

"I don't know when my birthday is!"

Which brought about a pause, but not much of one.  Ken reached over and 
patted her hand with a wink so she wouldn't worry, not that she seemed 
to be doing so in the first place. 

"At any rate, it simply wouldn't be fair in the long run to not throw 
you a party, especially after how inconsiderate your boyfriend has been 
to forget yours.  Oh, do cheer up a little! It only comes once a year, 
you might as well enjoy it.  Birthdays should be special you know, or 
else getting older makes you all sad!"

"Look," Ken began, hardly believing the words he himself was about to 
speak "if Ran doesn't want a party, he doesn't have to have one."

"Well, what WILL we call it when everyone brings him presents then?  
Saint Patrick's day?"

"Umm..."

"It will be FUN I swear! I swear on my mother's collection of corsets 
that don't fit her any longer, for I shall be flogged if anything bad 
every becomes of them.  We'll have cake- just a little cake -and just a 
few streamers.  Candles!  Maybe a nice game of pin the tail on Fiona..."

"HEY!"

***

Would he ever get any peace? He never asked for parties, for women 
flocked around a table and chirping at him during every meal he'd taken 
at the Tower. Ran figured he needed to take a break from eating there 
too, just as he had everything else, or else go completely mad. 

Primera clinked her fork against her glass, but no one heeded her. Ken 
and Yuriko started another round of good-natured bickering. Fiona began 
to kick her heels against her chair's legs apparently just for the hell 
of it. And Ran thought his head would shatter from all the noise. 
Grumpily, he scooped up another bite of rice, then set his bowl down 
and glowered at the gathering. 

"That's enough!" 

The noise level dropped dramatically, and all eyes settled upon him. 

"I don't WANT a party. I don't CARE about such things, but it's obvious 
that none of you are going to let me have any damn peace until I 
consent, so do whatever you want.  But no party hats, no ridiculous 
games, no noisemakers or balloons--if I see ANY of that stuff, I will 
leave. I don't care about gifts, either. Understand?" 

Slowly, all heads (save for Fiona's) began to nod in assent. 

Ran sighed, and rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. "Whatever." 

"You won't be sorry, Ran-san. I promise you." 

Ran gave her a dark sort of look, but Primera only smiled sweetly back 
at him. He huffed in irritation, and gathered up his bowl and cup. "I'm 
going to work," he said, addressing Ken. "The shop's only going to be 
open for a half a day. Claire said it was some sort of holiday, I don't 
know. Anyway, I've got an errand to run after I get off, and then I'll 
be heading back to the Villa." He paused, glanced down at his bowl for 
a moment, and then shyly back at Ken. Though he wasn't the only one who 
was looking at him--everyone was. 

"So, uh...have a good day." 

Another short pause, and then Ran strode away.

***

"Maybe his nickname should be 'crabby-bear'," Fiona wondered aloud, 
tapping her spoon against the side of her head as a pondering act, and 
having evidentially forgotten said spoon had coffee on it; coffee which 
shortly ended up in her hair, unbeknownst to her of course.  

"Ran isn't any kind of bear, he's a human!" Ken sighed, slurping up 
another length of his bacon, which had cooled off a good deal in the 
time he hand spent talking and so was no longer the least bit-bacon-
full.  "He is a human! HU-MAN!"

"Sourpuss?"

Pretending not to have heard, he rose from the table and uttered a few 
flimsy excuses before he went dashing down the stairs.

"What a strange couple!" Primera began, hoping that by then he was well 
out of earshot.  "Is everyone like that in Japan, or is it just the two 
of..." a glance here to her beloved.  "Yuriko?"

The footwoman in question had a quivering lip and eyes filled with 
shocked, pathetic tears.  "N-no balloons?" she murmured, quite dumbly.  
"B-but I LOVE balloons!"  

"Oh, look on the bright side! At least he didn't say anything about 
streamers.  Steamers! Streamers~! WAI WAI!"

"But no balloons! We can't have a party without balloons."

"Now, now, we can have our own party with as many balloons as you want 
after his."

This caused her to perk up considerably and develop quite the twinkle 
in her eye.  The not-exactly-chaste kind of twinkle.  "Really? Wow...! 
That sounds like fun!"

Fiona tried to sink down under the table in an effort to hide from the 
breeze of lewd, feminine giggles now circulating above the strudel.  

Meanwhile, Ken had bounded halfway down the corkscrew of the tower 
stairs, finally coming upon his companion.  The steps had not squeaked 
beneath him, and his socks made nothing but a thump the laughter from 
upstairs easily masked.  The other boy had probably noticed him anyway, 
but still, this was probably his only chance, or at least the only one 
where he could blame his judgment on lack of sleep..  He waited for him 
toe reach the floor so he would not knock him further down than he had 
to.

With a little chuckle, he took a flying leap from where he stood, 
deliberately colliding with the swordsman's body and wrapping his arms 
around his chest.  His lips strayed up against his cheek with a warm 
nuzzle.

"Happy day before your birthday."

*** 

"Th-thanks." 

Ran looked around at him then from under his jagged bangs, and found Ken 
regarding him rather intently. His heart racing, he pulled away to 
resume his journey to the kitchen; he could hear Ken's loping footsteps 
behind him. 

"Listen," he said as he crossed to the sink, "while I've got you here 
away from everyone else...I was going to MacGregor's this afternoon, 
after work. Fiona gave me an idea about something I could do as a 
surprise for her, and I was going to get some things there." He rinsed 
out his cup and scraped out the contents of his bowl over the garbage 
can before rinsing it out too. 

Drying his hands on the towel someone had left on the counter, Ran 
walked over to the table and picked up his lunch--a paper sack full of 
two water bottles, a peach and a can of tuna. "If you're not busy 
tonight, would you like to meet me down here around...5? Without 
Yuriko-san and Primera-san, if you please. Tell them we have something 
to discuss with Fiona in private, or whatever." 

He added a fork to the bag and tied the handles off. "They'll probably 
be eager to arrange whatever horrors they have planned for me tomorrow, 
anyway."

***

Ken nodded, rather slowly at first, but then with much enthusiasm. The 
use of the word 'horrors' had put him off just the littlest bit, but in 
the end, he saw no reason why his companion ought to suddenly transmute 
himself into a glittery social butterfly just because the proper time 
of year for a party had arrived. It also struck him, despite the puff-
balls of sleepy anti-wisdom tumbling about his mind, that perhaps Ran 
wasn't all that fond of company every morning, and the missing Yuriko 
for so long was doubtless less rending than missing Ran forever on such 
accounts. 

Then, something else entirely hit him, besides the victory of having 
laid hands upon his beloved and not gotten himself smacked. 

"Something for Fiona? What on... woul, I mean, it's just fine with me, 
it just seems a little odd. I mean, when was the last time she was 
civil to you?" 

Despite all the signs that he might have done better for himself to 
stay in the kitchen where he'd been left, he ended up following the 
other boy out into the hall. He smiled on having his eyes wash over him 
again, just like he just before he'd gotten his own little kiss to his 
cheek. The mark of it still felt as if it twinkled. A little chuckle 
then, "It's not something MEAN is it?" 

At the scowl he got, he tugged at the collar of his t-shirt and waved 
his hands to shake off the accusation. "I'm teasing, I'm teasing!" 

/'Cause I sure feel like strangling her sometimes... / 

"Either way... I'd love to meetcha then, if you don't mind me around 
and all. And I won't tell her a thing, not all day, I promise. Cross 
my heart and hope to die, stick a poodle in my eye."

***

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."  
 
Ran set his bag down and fished his shoes from the corner where he'd 
left them, and then took a seat on the lowest step to put them on. 
"Just so you know, it isn't anything bad. She might think it's good--or 
she might just cry and scream out her hatred of me as she did the other 
night." He shrugged at Ken as he set his left shoe to rights around his 
heel. "If she does, then I won't do anything for her again."  
 
"And it may be a bad idea, but bad ideas seem to be my specialty." He 
snatched up the bag at his feet and lurched into an upright position. 
Stilled the swinging sack and turned to Ken. He regarded him in silence 
for a moment, then added, "I never wanted you to stay away from me."  
 
He lunged forward and caught Ken by the elbow, yanking him close.  
 
"So, I hope you will forgive me..."  
 
That old longing he felt for Ken surfaced to briefly shine in the 
depths of Ran's eyes before he shut them, and touched his lips to 
Ken's.

***

Ken followed his companions tender flesh with his own when he tried to 
leave, and kissed him back, just a little.  He patted his shoulders 
then too, and bumped the tips of their noses together before drawing 
back at last and starring into the glossy violet frames that hid Ran's 
eyes. 

/Anything for you, Ashke./

He didn't say it out loud, not just yet, not that morning.  But he 
wanted too, as much as he had ever could.

"I'll see you then if not before, right?"

A small nod.

"Yosh! Wakarimashita! Ja ne!"

And he stood behind him in the hallway then, until the figure of the 
other boy winked out all together.  

***

Saffie could not remember the last time she had gotten dressed all by 
herself, not at first, but it came to her it was probably the evening 
that Takatori had first seized power, because at the time she had been 
alone in a hotel room with a fine view of the proceedings.  And also, 
in possession of a powder blue dress her brother had picked out so... 
did that put him there with her? 

She stopped wondering about it, and glanced rather at the clock.  Two 
hours would be up in one more, so she patted the letter and told it to 
be patient.  If it would not sit and try to wander off to sleep again, 
with her upon the couch, well, it could nap awhile on her dresser amid 
the seashell dishes of beads and the webs of ribbons.

She took a picture of herself with the timer on the camera, and one of 
her brother without.  The device went back into hiding, being 
contraband at all, but the pictures were printed side by side and left 
on the hood of the piano keys, placed there without touching the piano 
of course.  

A moment standing, watching Miniver glint bellflower pink on the 
lacquered surface, and it struck her then that of all the promises she 
could have made, this would be the hardest to keep.  

"Hmm..." As she propped the front doors open to let the breeze go 
scampering about the room, bringing with it the scent of the still-
living dew and a few wet, white petals, then down into the basement 
she went.

"Farfie! Me petit chen! Bonjour! Bonjour!"

He rose from his meditations on the hell heaven was to him and bounded 
right over to her little bare feet, which he sniffed, only to face her 
then with his tongue wagging in a most adorable manner.  A pat to his 
head and she graced it with the dog ears, his fingers with the mittens, 
waist with the long, velvet tail, mind with no other concerns save one- 
at first to roll upon the floor of the basement and ask to have his 
belly rubbed, and then, once he had had his gleeful howls, to go into 
the area of the understory he did not occupy and bring her a few of the 
stray stranding candelabras, which he did, with a great, big, idiot dog 
smile on his face.

She found the "Police Line-do not cross" tape on her own among one of 
her brother's still unpacked boxes and strung it around the five 
wrought iron stems in sort of a rough pentacle.  The sight was 
certainly deterring, matching the living room suit or not.  Her puppy 
applauded it, but only because she had asked him to, and together they 
sat on the steps of the altar, she pondering what ought to be done 
next, he which one of the cobwebs from downstairs he thought he would 
eat that day.

"That's my good little doggie! Now, what else shall we do that Bradley 
wanted?"

::Since Bradley sure never asks for much... and not like that... oh! 
I just have the terrible feeling, though mysterious letters aren't 
good for giving people much else.::

/Well.../ some flickering sanity in him, such as was wont to come up 
between canine concerns and be flattened before she dredged it up for a 
look.  /Carpe diem! No matter what! Be glad as you can!/  Then God had 
issues all over again.

"Hmm... alright!" Her fingers snapped, and the sound echoed all about 
the sanctuary.  "Oh! Farfie! That's a brilliant idea!" For which he got 
an embrace that made his ribs creak.  "I shall do that at once!"

What she ended up doing of course, was snatching up a pen and paper 
which she used to scrawl out a rather long shopping list.  This slipped 
into the pocket of his shirt, followed by a few twenty dollar bills.  
"You do know how to count out money when you're my sweet, little puppy, 
right?"

He nodded, and bounded to his feet, bowing to her, and starting to 
leave.  He probably would have gotten out the door in a jiffy had she 
not grabbed his hand and added one more thing.  Not to her list, but to 
him; after all, she had suddenly remembered the incident several days 
before with the fellow at the registry office who did not understand at 
all what semiotics or cute puppies were.  So, in the end, Farfarello 
left with a pink sticky note affixed to his forehead.  One that clearly 
read, "I am a dog."

Then to the kitchen she scampered, after having gathered up a few of 
the non-lethal mouse traps from the cellar and the attic. She washed 
all the prettiest tomatoes and a bouquet of nastugem from the 
landscaping.  Laid out a vast assortment of dishes and bowls and 
knives.  Cleared the table, and then left everything be for a moment, 
looking over her friends, all lying in wait for what they were to do 
next.  The window she opened then, and let the bird song in as she 
pulled on her gloves and checked the traps.

"Let's see, nothing here... darn.  This one's empty... aha!"

Out of it came a plump, but rather short field mouse, one that hung by 
its tail in her hand, squeaking for dear life.  Still holding it, still 
looking over the creature, she drummed her fingers on the edge of the 
sink.

"Ms. Miranda? Could you help me a moment.  I'm not sure if I was an owl 
if I would like to eat this mouse..."

***

At once the hovering mist at Savil's elbow coalesced into one Ms. 
Miranda, one grandmotherly smiling wraith. She didn't recoil at the 
sight of the squirming, squeaking rodent, having been a sensible woman 
in life, but examined it this way and that with a calculating eye. Then 
she stood back with her hands folded in front of her, ready to pass 
sentence. 

"I think if I were an owl, I would like to eat it. But, if I were an 
owl, I would want it washed first. Plump and healthy and fair though it 
is, it is quite cobwebby." To demonstrate, she gestured at a bit of 
wispy fluff dangling from its left rear foot. "Why, there's no telling 
where in the church it's been!" 

***

"Probably in Farfie-chan's room. EWWWWWWWWWWE!" Saffie sighed, plucking 
the cobweb from the mouse's foot as she did so, but then, all smiles 
again, she diverted all of her attention to Miranda.  "Thank you, I 
think I will wash it then."

This decided, she pulled yet another one of her bowls from the 
cupboard, and filled it with warm water, to which was shortly added 
some vinegar and baking soda.  A lovely foam at his gathered on the 
surface, and the mouse, regardless of whether it fancied a bath or not, 
got once just then.  A few quick dunks that had it flailing about and 
flicking the tip of its tail between her finger around in all sorts of 
directions.  Savil began to whistle over its displeased chirps, and 
dunked one of her vegetable brushes into the solution before taking it 
to the head of the captured rodent.

"Oh, stop squirming! You might as well enjoy your one and only bath.  
I'm sure Jasper will enjoy it for you if you don't."

Then, much more idly as she sudsed up the tail of the owl's breakfast.  
"We'll probably be going out to-day, just so you know.  You can come 
along if you like, of course."

One of her hands stole over the sleeve of her opposite arm as she dried 
her fingers though, having taped the mouse to the counter one's its' 
tail had been wiped off.  "Speaking of which, I should get dressed.  
Well... as soon as I get the messy part of breakfast done."

The spook beside her nodded, and together they took off through the 
cupboards and the fridge to begin properly this time.  The mouse sighed 
and started to wash itself.  It seemed to know it was doomed, made no 
attempt in this to free itself.

The tomatoes were sliced and left to chill with pearls of fresh 
mozzarella, the croissants mixed and slid into the oven, the tofu 
sliced, the hollandaise prepared for, but not begun, with a wave, she 
took off to change first, wondering idly where her dog could be at this 
time!

She pulled on something she guessed Bradley wouldn't have fancied 
though, if only because he wasn't about to ask her to change.  No spite 
in this, but her stepfather had never been especially enamored of the 
outfits Schuldich ordered for her in Paris now and then, and it did 
best for them all if she waited until his absence before putting them 
on.  

The one she chose to wiggle into that morning fit her like a like a 
petal wrapped tight about the stalk of a stamen.  Or most if it did at 
least.  It might have been a very short dress, one with a collar and no 
sleeves at first; simply the garb of any lady with a risqu‚ flare, save 
for what it was made out of.  The back was bronze satin, the front 
clear aquamarine plastic with webs of scratches to obscure anything 
interesting; they fastened together along her side with gold clamps 
that left a ribbon of her skin exposed. Over it went a long, white 
train of lace about her waist, one that parted in the front as she 
walked.  Her mardi gras necklace and a rainbow of ribbons in her hair 
later, and she finally left her closet be. 

And with that, went back to the kitchen.

***

Mme. Miranda had stayed behind to mind her new mistress' breakfast. 
Such a task was not an uncommon one, but it was the first time she had 
ever enjoyed doing it. She felt more like the mother she'd always hoped 
she would be, rather than an underappreciated housekeeper. It was 
strange that she was now finding all the things she'd lacked while 
living, when all the joys of the world should be denied her. 

She opened the oven door to peek at the croissants, then gently closed 
it, and crossed over to the window whose view she loved so well. Birds 
were singing sotto voce in the garden, and under their happy, melodious 
cries lay the tapping of Savil's footsteps on the stairs. They drew 
nearer and nearer. Miranda broke off another bit of the morning glory, 
intending it for her mistress' hair. 

When she heard her enter the kitchen, the wraith turned, flowers 
dangling from her incorporeal hand. "Savil, dear--" 

The blooming vine fell to the linoleum, and Miranda's expression 
transmuted from tenderness to shock to indignation. 

"Savil! Wh-what the hell are you wearing!" she cried, one hand on her 
chest. "That's INDECENT!" She jerked her other hand wildly at the 
ceiling, indicating the upper floors. "You march yourself back upstairs 
and put on something else. Something that doesn't make you look like a 
Vegas stripper! Go on!"

***

Saffie blinked once at Miranda as if she had no idea what the 
apparition had said.  One of her hands ghosted down along the left row 
of catches, for a moment, and then finally, she murmured, "No one could 
possibly strip out of this dress! It takes even longer to take off than 
put on!"  

The fact that what she had pointed out was more than true did not seem 
to have any interest in calming her ghostly companion, who only had 
interests in pondering another outburst, and would have done so it 
seemed, it she herself hadn't spoken up at once.

"B-but! Schu-baby bought this for me! It's a netch costume!"  Then, 
after a moment's pause.  "A netch is not a stripper."

And neither was Farfarello, but with delightfully doggy enthusiasm, he 
shortly came bounding through the kitchen door, the basket he had been 
holding filled to the brim with bits of colored fabric.  

"Woof woof!" he said.

"WAI! Mon petit chen! Chen bien! Tres bein chen!" And then, with a 
little wink and a shy little tilt of her head.  "May we get back to 
arguing in a moment, Mme. Miranda?" And with that, she bounded over and 
kissed her puppy all over his scared face, which involved flicking away 
the note she had earlier left there, and someone had scribbled "You 
sure are!".  

Since the table had been left naked, and she was sure there was nothing 
prepared that would have to be served at once, Savil upset the basket.  
Out rolled all manner neatly twisted bits of fabric, a case of needles, 
some thread, and a box of tiny, colored buttons.  Not to mention a tube 
of silver glitter.

The little girl, humming now and giggling on occasion, reached into one 
of the drawers, pulled out a scissors and a pencil, and began to sketch 
something out on the yard of peach felt.

(OOC: A netch is a beastie in Morrowind- they are sort of bronzey on 
the back, and sort of blue underneath, and they float.  Savil's dress 
is nothing but a tribute to the many sleepless summer nights I spent 
whilst my sister played it with the volume all the way up.)

***

Miranda hovered beside the stove, fuming silently, glaring wholly 
unheeded at Savil. Then she turned away altogether and began fussing 
over the dishes. 

"Such a sassy little minx you are! What that brother of yours was 
thinking by buying a child your age such a garment! Netch, indeed!" In 
a state, the wraith whirled about and drifted over to Savil. She took 
up beside her chair, glowering, and clicked the spoon she held upon the 
table edge to get her attention. 

"Whatever are you doing now!?"

***

"I'm making a surprise for Nagi-chan! It won't take too long, and 
besides, the tomatoes are always better if they soak for a bit, and 
hollandaise doesn't take too long, so I'll just fix that when I'm all 
done!"

Her smile had come traipsing back as usual and she gave the now 
overwhelmed as well as unhappy spirit a peace sign, not as a wish for 
contentment, but a signal of her own fresh mischief.  

Having snipped a few pieces out of the felt, she unwound a strand of 
peach thread and which she cut with her teeth and slit through a needle 
without any wire.  Piercing the cloth with it bit by bit, she began to 
wind their edges together. Farfie stole over and began to snuffle at 
the pots, where he burned his nose, and shortly came over to drop his 
head in Saffie's lap while she worked.

"Aww! Poor doggy! But you know better than to sniff mommy's cooking.  
No, no! You really do... saa... who did Schu-baby learn to sew from!? 
This looks like a sewing machine did it."  And after a moment more 
humming.  "You called him a minx too, didn't you? Wow..."

*** 

Miranda shook a misty finger at Savil. "Yes, I did, and the name fits 
him just as it does you!" 

With a nod, and a hmph, Miranda wafted over to the stove again, but 
didn't stir or prod or peek at anything. She simply stood hunched over 
with her chin upon her hand, and stared out her window at the blue sky 
with glazed eyes. Farfarello made the mistake of approaching her, 
sniffing, and she sent the spoon down to swat him hard on the nose. 
Then she drew herself up and floated to the door. 

"You want to prance about like a fancy woman, you do it. But I better 
not catch you and that boy of yours doing naughty things upon the altar 
like your brother does!" 

Another staunch nod, another fierce glare, and Miranda evaporated into 
thin air. 

/I'll be watching youuuuu!/ 

***

"Wouldn't that mean you want us to get naughty on the altar?" Saffie 
wondered aloud, and then slapped herself lightly over the cheek with a 
giggle for a VERY sexy image had taken her thoughts just then, where 
usually she found herself accustomed to those she found in other 
people's minds.  Her own seemed different to her- bland, shockingly 
bland.

But only quiet greeted them.

"Mme. Miranda...? Oh, bother.  We've scared her off, Farfie-chan!"

A few sad whimpers in canine assent.  She sighed, scratched her puppy 
behind the ears, and stooped to gather up the fallen morning glory, 
which she wound in her hair so it perched above her bangs like a tiara.  

"We're good at that, aren't we?"

"Bark bark! Owwwwwwwwwo!"

"She'll be back."

That true or not, for the time being, she was left alone with her 
pooch, to stitch, and to glue, and to turn the oven down when the 
croissants were done, for her surprise took somewhat longer than they 
did to finish.  She hummed to herself a few snatches of Luna Sea songs, 
much more slowly than they had meant to be played, for she found no 
rush, no reason for a rush. The white floor was struck with tiny 
threads lost from her fabric, and from the needles when she cut them 
free.  

It wasn't complicated what she fixed, but it did, like most good 
things, make a mess.  All of which ended up swept into the basket and 
hidden for the time being.  The mouse cheeped as if applauding.  Only a 
few strands of blond, synthetic hair remained where she had been 
sitting, for she held her work before the window to dry in fresher air.

One batch of hollandaise and tofu on all the otherwise empty plates 
later, Savil, nibbling a single green grape, went traipsing up the 
stairs to the room she shared with Naoe Nagi.

The boy lay sleeping on his stomach, half lost in an icing of pale 
champagne sheets.  He had not worn the top to his pajamas, only the 
bottoms and the cartoon chicks there peered at her as she slunk up 
beside him, and knelt on the floor where she could just see his face.  
The way he looked so ingenuous and lost in his dreams, smooth as a 
painting meant to capture light only.

"Ohayo!" she called in a squeaky voice then, only her hand above the 
rim of the bed.  "I'm going to be all etchi with you, Schwartz! Of 
course I am!"

On it was perched a hand puppet.

Of one Kuudou Youji.

***

Nagi's eyelids were reluctant to open, and they did so in frantic 
flutters; open, snap shut. Open, snap shut. Finally he gave up 
altogether, and snuggled back down with his pillow, thinking it all 
some quirky dream. But then something very soft slapped him on the 
middle of his back, and he was roused again against his will. 

"Mmm?" he croaked. "Wha..?" 

He heard a snuffling sort of noise from somewhere near his bed, and, 
groaning, Nagi rolled over onto one side, tucking his pinned arm under 
his head, and swishing a hand through his tousled hair. He then 
attempted to open his eyes again, and managed to accomplish it, being 
now turned away from the window. 

And he scowled in a grumpy sort of way, and let his other arm collapse 
across his face. 

"Oh, that's SO not funny, Savil."

***

Hand-puppet Youji bent over in sorrow, sniffling.  The clear green 
plastic buttons of his eyes shed not one tear.  

"Oh, boo-hoo! It's true then! No one loves Youji-chan!"

Though, in spite of this, the he made a dive for the boy's chest, and 
snuggled there, making what were really VERY feminine murmurs of 
pleasure.  

"They just want to sleep with him! WOE is ME!"

Woe was very much him, for the doll found himself forcibly withdrawn to 
a much lonelier corner of the bed.  His maker popped up them, and spoke 
to him, seeming just a little bit perplexed.  "And I though you would 
make Nagi-chan happy this morning!"

"Oh no!" he responded.  "You're the only person I make happy, and 
that's only because I'm so messed up!"

"So desu ne!"

By some telepathic trickery, they both managed to sigh at the same 
time, bowing their heads in unison. 

Savil though "hmmed" loudly and shortly spoke up, tugging a little on 
her companion's arm.  "Ne, ne! Is it because he has a stiffy that you 
don't like him?"  

To the wavering question that floated between then, she reached over 
and disrobed the doll, who was found to have a rose-tipped felt 
erection under his shiny pleather pants.  Despite that he had no other 
appendages besides his arms.

***

Nagi looked every inch a jaded boy whore lying there as he was, wholly 
unimpressed and sprawled half-naked amidst rumpled sheets. He yawned 
delicately behind one hand, then drew himself up on one elbow. "I 
wouldn't have Balinese--or any member of Weiss--if I were offered 
chests full of flawless opals and carpetbags full of gold coins." 

/No, not even Omi./ 

/That I thought of him then means nothing--except maybe that I'm sorry 
I didn't kill him the last time we fought./ 

"No, Savil, it is NOT the same thing." 

Still frowning, Nagi fell to rubbing his eyes, and yawned once more, 
and then he sort of sank in on himself, head lolling on one side and 
eyes closed. He only opened them again to gaze once more upon Savil, 
who was conducting a whispered conversation with her Youji puppet. He'd 
missed something about her before. 

"Savil...Where did you get that dress?"

***

Saffie had rather started to giggle again, being quite smitten with the 
images of mutilated Omi that filled her mind.  Why, they were in just 
as much disarray as the boy's mind always seemed to be! And Nagi seemed 
to have some very cute sexual tortures in mind!

/Bad rabbits! Very bad!/

Then the little perk of an epiphany in his thoughts and she turned to 
catch his eyes just as they fell towards her. 

"Hmm? Oh, this? Schu-baby ordered if for me from Paris.  From the nice 
people who made his little black dress, remember them?"

Nagi did not seem to recall the dress in the first place.

"The one he wore when he whipped Omi that one time, speaking of him. 
Anyway, he had this made for me a few weeks before we left The Planet, 
but we didn't show Bradley 'cause we figured he'd get pretty mad."

"I don't think it's THAT bad! Muuu!" Asserted Hand-puppet Youji, who 
had taken Nagi's rejection of him very well really.

But the little girl gave him only a wink before hiding him behind her 
back for the time being, for in those moments she jingled to her toes 
and twirled like a little whirlpool in the nearest spotlight of sun.

"You like it at all?"

::And I'm sorry I got you up early, but breakfast is ready, and 
besides, we can wake Schu-baby up however you want... tehehe!::

***

"Oh~h, I do like it. It reminds me of a puzzle, what with all those 
catches along the sides. And I am quite fond of solving puzzles." 

/And I don't think you're one bit sorry for waking me at this hour. 
What is it? Nearly 9?/ 

But Nagi was not all that upset with Savil, as his teasing little grin 
proved. He flipped back the covers, and rose from their bed, catching 
her hand and kissing the back of it with a naughty twinkle in his eye. 
"I am all for breakfast," he declared as he padded off to the bathroom; 
a flowing, long-sleeved, pullover black shirt and a pair of faded jeans 
hung on the door.  Nagi flipped on the sink's cold water tap and cupped 
his hands under the stream. He splashed his face twice, then covered it 
with the clean hand towel he'd also laid out the night before. Patted 
his face, and scrubbed at his dampened hair, and then he tossed the 
towel away. 

Savil was twirling in circles around the room, seemingly pretending to 
dance with her puppet. Smiling softly, Nagi paused to watch her 
pirouette about for a moment. Then, he shook off his reverie and, 
hesitating only for a second, stripped himself of his pajama bottoms 
and took down the pair of jeans. He leaned against the counter as he 
stepped into them. 

"As for waking Schuldich--how about I levitate him down to the kitchen, 
lay him gently on the floor by the table with a pillow under his head 
and a blanket over him, and we see how long it will take him to wake 
up?" Nagi yanked the shirt off its hanger and slipped it over his head. 
Savil had stopped spinning and was now sitting on the floor before him 
in a giggling, dizzy heap. He held out his hands to her, and she 
swatted at the air once or twice before she found them. It only made 
her giggle even more, and Nagi did too as he urged her onto her feet. 

"That is, unless you have a better idea?"

***

She most certainly did NOT have a better idea, but just in case he did, 
she asked Hand-puppet Youji... "So, what do you think of Nagi-chan's 
plan."

"I think Schuldich is a big, fat, meanie pants!" The doll responded, 
indignantly turning his back on his creator.

The boy's lips trembled with a sort of unsteady smile that comes at the 
folly of a beloved person... the sort that teases, but yet can not be 
ignored.  

In the mean time, she gasped and clapped her fingers over her mouth.  
"Oh NO! That can't be right.  Schu-baby isn't FAT! He isn't, is he, 
Nagi-chan? Because... wah! If he's fat, and I'm his sister then... I 
must be fat! Or I will be and..."

Hand-puppet Youji sailed from her hand and darted around her skirt, 
looking for a pocket, but finding none.  The upper hem pulled a little 
from it's catches then, and the bit of felt and blond hair curled up 
against her waist before the fastening did itself once again.  

"Well, I guess there's one way to find out either way, isn't there?"

A laughing beckon and the two children scampered down the sunbeams in 
the hall until they reached the master bedroom.  Like tiny robbers they 
peeked around the lips of the door as if it murmured at their touch, 
seeing the little, sunlit demon beyond, hoping he was still quite 
asleep.  

Luck smiled, grinned and laughed! Not only was Schuldich still swaying 
in the flower chains of his own sleep, but he was exactly as Crawford 
had left him- flopped down on his stomach in the exact middle of the 
bed, one more ray of light settled on the cerulean of the brand-new 
sheets that had shown up two days before.  The satin glowed and so did 
he.  No grin stained his lips.  He was so deeply distant from the 
waking world, not even that remained to him.

Of course, quite suddenly, he was no longer EXACTLY as Brad had chosen 
to leave him, but rather hovering down the hallway, his pillow still 
balled up between his cheek and the hands that had slunk under it in 
the night.  Saffie and a torrent of swallowed giggled bounded after 
him, as did one groggy Jasper who was being tugged along by the little 
girl.  Through the sanctuary he floated and down the tiny hall that 
lead to the kitchen where he landed with barely a thump in the shade 
just below the sink.

"Mmm... cheez-its... I know I'm not supposed to have 'em in bed but... 
ooh, bite me."

The children regarded each other with fallen faces, and she laughed 
outright, no longer especially fearing if her brother awakened.  She 
let the chair she pulled out her for lover squeal all it liked and 
Jasper hoot in appreciation in any way an owl could when he saw the 
mouse duct-taped beside a spring of parsley on his plate.  

There were three other plates of course, wearing circlets of tofu 
drizzled with hollandaise.  The serving trays wore pearls of mozzarella 
and wings of tomato.  In the center of the table sat a basket of 
croissants and another of plums and green grapes.  They didn't do as 
good a job as offsetting the dozing telepath as the blue sheets did 
though.

***  

Nagi dove straight for the basket of chocolate croissants first, and 
one of the uppermost buns landed upon his plate beside the tofu. He 
speared a bit of this last with his fork, casting glances in the 
direction of the sleeping telepath. Nothing but mumbles about Cheez-
its, Chopin and edible strawberry lube. He chuckled behind his coffee 
cup over that last. 

"You'd think he would have awakened by now, what with all the delicious 
smells of your cooking and all the noise we're making." 

Savil giggled and spooned some of the tomato laced mozzarella onto his 
plate, followed by a few grapes. Nagi set his cup down, and picked up 
one of the succulent little gems between finger and thumb. But instead 
of placing it in his own mouth, he held it out for Savil to sample, 
smiling softly all the while. 

***

::He will probably be disappointed when he wakes up that I haven't got 
any cheez-its, but then again, he did eat all of them yesterday.::

Saffie, with one if her hands still wrapped around the throat of the 
spoon she had been minding, regarded the grape most curiously, her eyes 
skipping up a moment to meet Nagi's, for the gentle grin of his there 
lingered too and all around his body like a trickle of glad and 
shimmering fog.  The Nagi-flower she imagined in that fancy up and 
sprouted crimson bells about his ankles, and she laughed then.  The 
spoon left her, and ever so slowly she began to lean from her chair, 
bit by bit, her lips nearing the shimmering bit of green he held.

Her tongue darted out over her lips, just for him.

But all of a sudden she lunged.  The grape vanished.  The curtains 
stirred with their movements rather than the wind.  And it was not one 
but two pairs of lips hovering by Nagi's fingers.  

Schuldich, tangled in his sheets, simpered up at the boy while his 
sister quietly chewed, rolling her eyes all the while.  "Good morning!" 
He chirped and then, with a glower that would have gone much better had 
he not yawned in the middle of it.  "Floor's cold you know."

Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and stretched more or less as he 
did every morning, his sheet fluttering down to a cobalt puddle at his 
feet.  Finished, he regarded it with a shrugs, and then let it be.  
Savil's eyes tracked him as he moved, the way one follows someone they 
are speaking to, and Nagi of course, heard nothing, sensed nothing of 
anything they might have offered one another, though her hand came and 
brushed up around his while her brother got his muscles straightened.  

He bent and nuzzled her cheek with his nose then, coaxing her to turn 
and kiss him on the lips, just a little.  Jasper got a peck on the top 
of his head.  To Nagi the telepath murmured, "This was all your idea? 
Not bad at all, Herrchen." 

And then he took him by the cheek and slipped his tongue into his 
mouth, darting about it for an instant before taking his own seat and 
casting a happy sort of look Saffie's way as he went for the plums.

***

Flushed and tingling all over from Schuldich's kiss, Nagi took another 
bite of his croissant, dealing a last caress to Savil's hand before she 
pulled it away. 

"You're awfully happy this morning," he said as he went for another 
helping of mozzarella and tomatoes. "Dare I ask why?"

***

"You can ask all you want!" Schuldich replied, having by then set his 
single plum in the middle of his plate for admiring purposes.  Plums, 
after all, were one of the few fruits he thought made any excuse for 
modern art any longer.  Apples had those tapered feet, and oranges 
weren't so smooth and gleamy.  "But you should know the answer by now.  
Or did someone decide that getting laid repeatedly and very well isn't 
any reason to be obnoxious in the morning? I didn't think so.  YAY!"

He clapped to himself, and Savil did not so much as sigh to this.  As a 
matter of fact, she had quite smiled when her brother had bussed her 
boyfriend, and the remnants of that wayward glee still lingered on her 
own lips.  "Bradley says you're supposed to eat while he's away."

"I am too eating!" The trickle of juice running down his chin testified 
to that.  "These are divine by the way.  Why the hell didn't we get a 
plum tree before?"

"We lived in apartments and hotels and Bradley said no plants in the 
house that weren't ferns."

"Right, right. Well, we have a church now, and no Bradley for a few 
days and plums.  I'm satisfied."

Or at least, he was happy for a few more moments of plundering the 
flesh of his fruit down to the insides he could not bite, and then the 
liquidy grin he'd worn faded away as he stared at his hands with a soft 
sort of look that betrayed him to be imagining something else.

::He left a note for you.:: Saffie thought, spearing a wayward snibble 
of tofu before Jasper could have some to go with the remains of his 
mouse (which he had seemed quite delighted with otherwise).  Her 
considerations themselves came out tasting like plums, and her brother 
was at once convinced she had done so on purpose.

Then again, he had felt it.  ::He did? Oh, OK.  I'll read it later 
then.::

::After breakfast.::

::No...:: His tongue stole over his palm then, chasing the last of the 
sweetness from the creases in his hand.

A question after this too fragile for words to handle.  

Schuldich looked up at Savil and the way the light was dancing from the 
threads of her hair that hadn't quite been trapped by ribbons.  His 
gaze was warm and serious, and Nagi didn't see it.  ::I know what it 
says.  I didn't... pick it up or anything but...::

::...he always tastes that way but seems to say so.::

::Aren't people funny, always, always wanting words?::

::So you should...::

::I don't want to, not just yet I...::  Having deemed his hands clean 
enough by then, the elder telepath reached over and touched his 
sister's cheek.  ::Aw, you know why I've been neglecting you! You know, 
right?::

::You saw he thought you wouldn't make up with him, so you did.:: She 
smirked.  ::Repeatedly and with a lot of noise!::

::Exactly so... maybe things won't be that way then... and I don't 
want to worry.  There's nothing in the world worth worrying about 
when you live like we do...::

::How about how pissed Nagi-chan's getting because we're ignoring 
him?::

Both Marlow children gulped and abruptly turned to the head of the 
table where their companion had seated himself, oddly enough, in 
Crawford's chair.  Such a thing, they knew, could be no accident.  
Schuldich waved and his sister took the opportunity to finally pay some 
attention to his tofu and hollandaise.

"So, Herrchen? That's the truth you know! And we'd like very much if 
you'd get to know that truth.  We've got an idea.  Now, you don't have 
to like, do both of us at once..."

"Scary ne~!"

"But how about we all move into the master bedroom for awhile, hmm? 
It'll cut down on travel time and, yes, you can lock out whoever you're 
not interested in at the time."

"Or not."

***

Nagi looked from one to the other of his companions, considering their 
offer as he munched on one of the grapes he now held in his hand. It 
was a shocking notion, really, and to Nagi, it couldn't have seemed 
more natural. So, as his eyes trailed back to Schuldich's again, he 
plucked one more grape from the stems cradled in his right palm and set 
it adrift in mid air. It hovered, then gracefully rolled towards the 
redhead. It came to a stop above his plate, and hung there. 

"All right," Nagi murmured, keeping a thread of his power looped to the 
fruit. "I'll bring my toothbrush and cup to your room after breakfast." 

/Because...that's all I'll really need, isn't it?/

***

"Well, maybe some pretty underwear." Saffie said, seemingly pondering 
such ideas herself, decking her lover in blue boys and shiny leather.  
"I love pretty underwear."

"Then we'll buy you some when we go out today.  I'm sure a city of 
perverts has to have at least one pair of panties, even if most of 
those perverts are guys and all." Schuldich yawned yet again, smiling 
himself, sort of at the boy and sort of at the fact he had come down to 
using the word 'pervert' despite that he found all people were 
somewhere, soemhow such creatures of fancy and cheap bondage comics.

"Can Nagi-chan help me pick them out?"

That, however, caused him to cast his sister a mostly-baleful look.  "I 
get to help too."

"YAY!" And without further ado, she began to applaud, at first by 
herself, and then with the puppet retrieved from her belt over one 
hand, making a soft thump-thump when she hit him.  

As for the elder telepath, he tried to flick the grape before him this 
way and that, but it simple wouldn't budge for him, just spun a little 
when he touched it, which he did, almost compulsively it seemed.

But then he changed his mind and drew quite close to it, kissed the 
glistening skin of it and at last with a slow, and whimpering sigh, 
kissed the flesh of it all over as if it had become the tongue of one 
of his other lovers.  His eyes were closed as he smoothed it all over, 
left tiny pricks of his teeth about its shoulders, and even if their 
thoughts he still knew, perhaps the two children were nowhere in his 
fantasy.

Though Savil at least behaved as if she could see that imaginary lover 
as well.

"Ooooh..." said Saffie.

"Weirdie," said Hand-puppet Youji.

His tongue still twined around the grape, Schuldich glanced up, blinked 
for an instant and them mumbled... "You made a doll of one of the 
Weiss... COOL! Let me play with it!"

***

Nagi rolled his eyes as he set his cup gently down on the table. "Oh, 
don't Savil. He'll only make it into a sex toy." 

/Oh, it was no secret how much you wanted Balinese./ 

He got a barefooted kick against his calf for that remark. Nagi didn't 
even glance Schuldich's way, not even when he imitated Youji giving 
some smartass challenge. 

"Whatever," he mumbled around a bite of tofu. Nagi dabbed at his lips 
with his napkin, then laid it aside for one last sip of coffee. He 
glanced over at Savil with the softest of looks. "I don't mind getting 
new underwear for bedtime. Anything you like is fine--but no vinyl. Or 
rubber." 

He stood up, dishes in hand, and took them to the sink. "That's more 
Schuldich's thing, anyway."

***

"Ex-xactly!" Schuldich announced, puffing himself up as much as he 
could, for he was plainly delighted with the fact Nagi had shown the 
audacity to bring up one of his kinks at breakfast.  ::The boy's not 
much of a conversationalist usually.::

::True, but that makes no difference to us.::

The, on other remarks. "And I was NOT going to make it into a 'sex 
toy'... just fondle myself with it a bit.  Now, if it was a hand-puppet 
Aya... well... you couldn't hold me responsible for my actions!"

Neither of the children had anything to say about this, however, the 
sheet sailed up from the floor and dragged itself up over his lap of 
accord other than its own.

Saffie tickled him a little just along the more sensitive billows of 
his consciousness and bit herself into a brand new plum- ::Doesn't need 
to be one anyway when he can do that.::  "I like lacey things anyway," 
she concluded, having no consideration for the flow of the carious 
discussions going on at all."

"Speaking of which, do we have any spare lace?" Schuldich inquired.  
"I've got a slightly more wicked idea than usual."

She nodded, was kissed on the head, and got to watch her brother go 
bounding out of the room, sheets in tow, which was doubtless for the 
best for the ideas of Aya being wrapped around him, one way or another, 
had lingered places besides his thoughts or those sent back and forth 
between his sibling and himself.  

"Bradley said you were to eat, damnit!"

***  

Nagi shot her a look over his shoulder as he rinsed out his cup under 
the faucet. "When has he ever done what Crawford said?" 

She turned her luminous eyes his way, and sent him a silent reply, to 
which he shrugged. "I mean, in terms other than some vision or other. 
At least he has the good sense to listen to him then." He rinsed and 
dried his hands, then threw the towel onto the counter. Then he swept 
down to give Savil a kiss and an awkward hug. 

"But never mind him. Thank you for a lovely breakfast." 

/I can't wait to see what sort of panties you pick out for me./

***

While his family were plotting over their breakfast, Crawford was 
checking into his hotel--the Langley-Hamilton, which was located in the 
heart of Chicago's business district, and was one of the finest such 
establishments in the city. He'd chosen one of their deluxe rooms. It 
had a splendid view of downtown, but he chose to keep the curtains 
drawn as it was daytime. In his opinion, cities only looked their best 
at night, with their lights glimmering like jewels. 

He turned on the TV, and then proceeded to unpack his garment bag. His 
socks wound up in one drawer, the three dress shirts and suits in the 
narrow closet. He folded the bag up and hung it in the closet as well, 
then turned his attention to his suitcase. It held mostly his robe, 
toiletries, his gun and silencer and bullets, a small tape recorder and 
a few tapes--jazz for this trip. Chicago called for such a change of 
pace. He flipped through the ones he'd brought along, selected Ella 
Fitzgerald, and popped the cassette in the player. 

Or he would have, if the slot was not already occupied. Crawford 
frowned in puzzlement as he removed the tape. It was white, and most of 
the black letters had been rubbed away; on one side of it, someone had 
drawn a downward aiming arrow in blue marker. It wasn't a tape he'd 
ever seen before, and he suspected that someone had purposefully placed 
it in his player, and that someone was undoubtedly Schuldich. 

Just what could Schuldich possibly want to say on a tape? If he had 
recorded his own voice... 

Ella was forgotten, and odd tape replaced. Crawford pressed the play 
button, and waited. Nothing came out. He stopped play, and reversed the 
tape, and repeated the procedure. There came a distinctive crackling, 
and then the tape hissed, and just as he was about to stop the tape 
again, the first few bars of "Layla" by Derek and the Dominoes came 
raging over the machine's tinny speakers. 

"What'll you do when you get lonely 
And nobody's waiting by your side? 
You've been running and hiding much too long. 
You know it's just your foolish pride. 

Layla, you've got me on my knees. 
Layla, I'm begging, darling please. 
Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind." 

He snapped the tape silent with a sudden punch of the stop button, and 
then sat staring at the machine. What the hell was he up to, giving him 
such a song to listen to? Was he trying to tell him something? And if 
so, just what was it he wanted to say? That he knew about the visions? 
That he actually returned his secret feelings? 

Or...was he just messing with him like always? 

With Schuldich, it was hard to say. 

Hesitantly, Crawford punched play again, and sat there with the machine 
cradled between his hands. He listened to the song, solos and all, 
until the tape went back to its former crackle and hiss. Then he shut 
it off, and set the player on the bedside table. 

And then he phoned room service and ordered a Stolichnaya martini with 
an olive, and silently cursed his maddening lover. 


(a disclaimer--the rights to the aforementioned song belong to Eric 
Clapton and some record company. No copyright infringement was
intended.)

***

In truth, Ran could have lingered awhile longer at the Villa; Claire 
had told them all the shop wouldn't open until 11:30, as she had some 
sort of appointment to keep that morning. Wanting not only to lose 
himself in the relative solitude of the city streets, but begin phase 
one of his scheme, he had chosen to stroll towards the establishment of 
one Mme. Solange Brouchard, former actress, notable empath.   

Mme. Brouchard's shop, called L'Allegro, was a patisserie--that 
is, it was a bakery. Its front was more window than wood, but what wood 
there was to be seen had been painted a dark, glossy red, and sprinkled 
liberally with butterflies of different shades of green. But the rich 
colors she had chosen to adorn her building with were nothing compared 
to the delights which flirted with passersby behind her gleaming panes: 
Croissants, both plain and chocolate and fruit filled; tartines; 
napoleons; strudel; buns; all manner of bread; pies and cakes of all 
description. 

It was that last for which L'Allegro was famous, for Mme. Solange 
was a master of cake decorating, and was not afraid of experimenting 
with her recipes. And it was one such creation which Ran hoped to 
purchase. He had heard that on occasion, a cake would be ordered, but 
would not be picked up for whatever reason. On those instances, Mme. 
Solange would offer the cake for sell at half price (or less, even). 

As it turned out, Ran had decided to visit at a most opportune time, 
for she had such a cake, one baked just the evening before: A fluffy, 
white frostinged, chocolate affair. Daisies in the form of strawberry 
slivers and raspberries had been scattered across its top and sides. It 
was beautiful, just the thing for a teenage girl, and it only cost him 
$12. 

He handed the smiling, elegant Mme. Solange his money. She gave him a 
receipt along with a purred promise that the cake would be boxed up and 
ready to go when he returned at 4. 

Pocketing the receipt with a glance at the huge clock that hung above a 
tailor's across the street, Ran headed off for Claire's, thinking that 
by now she would probably be on the premises. As he rounded the corner 
and reached the second to last curb separating him from the shop, he 
found the door standing open, and the lights were on. Her voice met his 
ears as he crossed the street, though he had no idea what she had said. 
He figured she was upset about something. 

He was wrong, though. Rather, she was crowing in delight over her 
latest creation, just born ten minutes before Ran had made his 
appearance in the shop's doorway. Blackberry White Chocolate Crumble. 

"Ah, this'll be a hit I think! Ran! C'mere, kid, and have a taste of 
this." 

He promptly stepped behind the cases and took the proffered spoon, 
considered what he'd just put into his mouth, and then gave judgment. 

"It's good." 

"'It's good?' Is that all you can say?" 

"Well, yeah." 

She stared at him for a second, then gave a little laugh. "At least 
you're truthful." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the 
storeroom. "You better get your stuff sorted and your apron on. We may 
be hit with a crush pretty soon." 

Ran gave her a single nod, then went off to the storeroom to do exactly 
that.

*** 

Before he had gotten a proper chance to slink into the chocolatey 
shadows of said storeroom though, Ran heard a whine behind him for the 
first of probably many times that day. Genevieve's whine, and she that 
morning had no objection to making it as nasal as could be. "But we 
wouldn't have such a mess today if it wasn't a holiday! No fair! No 
fair! NO FAIR." 

"Oh!" Elspeth there, calling from all the way across the shop as she 
fiddled with something in the window. "But it's a great advertising 
ploy, you have to admit that! Almost as good as this!" Saying so, she 
held up a small sign reading, in purple magic marker letters 'Five days 
without a major bloodbath.'" 

"It is *NOT* a ploy!" This insisted by one inimically gruff Claire. "It 
is the truth, a celebration of triumph over great hardship and things 
like that! Held in honor of stuff." 

"More like a celebration of great stench." Genevieve again, who had 
gone to fetch some tape for the sign her co-worker held and ended up 
not needing it at all, for their mutual overseer snatched away the bit 
of posterboard and made as if to cast it into the garbage. Rather 
though, she read it, laughed, glared as if she had not meant to laugh, 
and jammed it under the plaque on her office door where it hung for 
many days, long after five were well up. Genevieve took the tape and 
stuck it to her forehead because she could think of nothing better to 
do with it at the time. 

"Funny how people honor disasters." 

"Girl, it wasn't one of those either! It was just special. Now, you're 
too young to remember." 

"I do so remember! I have pictures! All of people with their hands 
over their faces but still... say, may I have some more blackberry 
ice cream?" 

"It's Blackberry White Chocolate Crumble!" 

"Woul can I have some?" 

With a sigh, Claire handed over one of the still be-creamed mixing 
spoons, evidentially in the name of quiet and sanity, of which she 
certainly would never get. "But don't have any more! That's the special 
of the day. You eat it all up, you'll get more for than you do if you 
slurp up all the fatal chocolate on All Saints! And speaking of special 
days, where is the burning blue peppermint!? We can't have a proper 
Dragon Day without THAT. BOY! Check the freezer for me!"

***

Ran whipped the long apron strings around his waist twice, and tied 
them en route to the freezer. Frosty clouds billowed out in greeting 
as he swung open the unwieldy door. 

"What's all this about Dragon Day?" he asked, and promptly found 
his mouth full of the special of the day as delivered by one 
impishly grinning Elspeth. Ran attempted a scowl, but with a taster 
spoon dangling from one corner of his mouth, he looked more 
clownish than disapproving. 

"It's a holiday, silly!" she giggled. "Haven't you been paying 
attention?" 

Ran rolled his eyes in exasperation, and tossed the spoon into a nearby 
trash receptacle as he crossed the threshold into a land of cartons and 
tubs. "Yeah, I have," he called. "And no one's been specific." 

If Elspeth or anyone else had replied to him, Ran didn't catch it; the 
freezer was so thickly insulated as to muffle any outside sounds. He 
relished the silence, quite frankly, and was tempted to draw out his 
search for the needed burning blue peppermint. If Claire hadn't 
possessed such a fervent temper, he would have--but he wasn't in the 
mood to incur wrath that day. He was too happy for once; it struck him 
as a most curious feeling. 

The burning blue peppermint was located (it being in a nondescript, 
plastic coated takeout carton on the shelf between two boxes of milk 
chocolate covered honeycomb. He guessed it by its smell), and was 
promptly delivered into the hands of his employer. She traded him it 
for a cup of black coffee. 

"You're so thin, it's a wonder you don't catch your death just walking 
past the refrigerator." 

Ran sniffed, but said nothing else--not even when she shoved a cup of 
ice cream into his free hand. A scoop of something called Orange 
Caramel Creme Fraiche. He almost refused it, but relented when he 
noticed Genevieve and Elspeth were just finishing up cups of their own. 

"Eat and drink and mind the cases," Claire said. "I'm going to get to 
work on this." 

Ran eyed the small carton in her hands over a bite of ice cream. "What 
are you going to do with that stuff, anyway?" 

***

"Make the most fearsome ice cream ever known to man!" This announced to 
more or less everyone within earshot, and probably a few people who 
originally hadn't been, Claire began to cackle quite madly and in spite 
of her limp, took off cavorting around the shop.  Ran's eyes tracked 
her all around the tables she skipped past and she paid them not the 
least bit of heed.  Then again, the same pretty much went for the girls 
who all took off after her, whirling with their sample cups as if paper 
had become dance partners.  Unlike the boy, none of them seemed to have 
any difficulty believing ice cream could be fearsome.  "Come along! 
There's a vat of virgin vanilla needs sullied at once!"

"Yay!" They all cried, clapping.  Seraphina ducked into the back for a 
moment, only to come back with a tongs.  Her boss took this from her 
and with a grand smirk dove into the paper box, only to come out with a 
long strand of freeze-dried peppermint leaves, or what, had it not been 
electric neon blue, would have looked very much like peppermint.

Like peppermint though it did not behave.  In fact, it did not seem to 
be in any sort of mood fit for an earthly mint. The presence of that 
single stalk made the air within the shop seem to cool as it passed 
one's lips, made everything shimmer just a little to the eyes for so 
insistent and exhilarating were the vapors that curling invisible from 
the leafy stalk. 

"Aww hell!" Claire announced after some time.  "Just throw the whole 
box in! No extra pepper berries though!"

"Yay!" All the girls cried.

And much to Ran's shock, someone else shouted just the same in echo.  
Many someones.  He turned towards the window to see that in the short 
time since he had arrived, there was indeed a throng beyond the glass, 
one he watched as if rather they were fishes in an aquarium and he a 
the curiously fascinated passerby.  Though... it seemed several of them 
were got up like fishes or something like them.

More like... dragon's maybe.

Elspeth came flouncing along the row of cases then, humming to herself 
and watching the more subtle flavors she could no longer guess the 
fragrances of.  Once again, she wandered up to Ran's side, adopting 
much the same sort of analytic gaze.  "Hmm... not too many people in 
costume this year.  What a shame.  You know not to wait on anyone who 
isn't dressed up or wearing a clothespin on their nose, right?"

***

Ran gave his coworker an odd look. "What? Why--" 

"Because it's tradition," piped up Genevieve from the threshold of the 
lab, "and anyone who won't honor the traditions of the day doesn't 
deserve any ice cream." 

"Why would anyone want to walk around with a clothespin on their nose?" 

"Just do what you're supposed to do, and leave us to our work." 
Genevieve flounced off out of his sight. The bemused Elspeth did 
too, but in a less dignified way. A pair of black sailcloth curtains 
closed over the doorway, and ared neon sign came on above the doorway 
which said, 'SURGERY'. Ran rolled his eyes.

Apres elles, le deluge. The large clock which dominated Valdemar's main 
square boomed out the hour of 11:30, and at once, the waiting crowd 
beyond poured in. Ran no longer had any time to wonder about dragons or 
clothespins or annoying little girls.

***

Or rather, some of the crowd poured in.  Most of them skipped, or sang.  
The trembles of a dozen tambourines rippled through the peppermint on 
the air.  A few of the customers stopped in the door to take in the 
aroma and within moments of their epicurean folly, were pushed this way 
and that into the interior.  As for those who neither poured nor 
skipped, they lumbered and tip-toed in their fabulous costumes, for it 
was the dragons of the bunch who could not move with haste or glee.  

And what costumes! As mild as the day might have been, they spared no 
layer of sparkly silk, no sequin, no metal scale stitched into their 
owner's hair.  

"Why, if it had been any warmer, I should have roasted to death!" One 
man informed a boy who had complimented his tail and five other lads 
holding it off the ground for him as they tried not to sweat themselves 
on the delicate iridescent plastic that made up the outer coating of 
his suit.  

"I can arrange for that!" A more noble fellow laughed, the hand-blown 
glass eyes hanging before his own then made to blink as he pulled a 
latch somewhere in the depths of the padding that surrounded him.  A 
volley of knotted yellow and orange silk sailed from the silver lame 
teeth around his face and struck the gleaming creature before him.

They both laughed and forced their tongues into one another's mouths, 
costumes aside.

"No kissing in the shop!" Claire bellowed, though just how she had seen 
the display could not be known.

Only one thing could be said for certain though of all the home-made 
dragon pelts before Ran, they were not based upon one theme, but rather 
the most outrageous chimeras as could dwell in the hearts of man or 
herald.

A bevy of such ladies in masks and shiny green shirts appeared, and 
through these more modest of outfits, Genevieve spotted the Herald with 
the beaded wig and designed at once to follow her about, not that Ran 
hadn't been left to his own devices at the counter to begin with, 
fighting to hear speech over the chatter which circulated about the 
wavering and chatty crowd. 

"It's like this every year!" Duchess Stonebrook sighed.  "I'm so glad I 
talked my daughter out of working here.  She'd just be trampled to 
DEATH."

Her last line spoken onto the magenta crystal beast that happened to be 
enveloping Lady Jessica at the moment.  "Ah, you're lucky.  Better 
trampled then what has befallen my house through my children."

"Really, it DOES sound like you're exaggerating," a passing Lord 
sighed, not intending to do anything but insult it seemed.

"Oh, I had heard she'd gotten a JOB.  Is it that bad, Jessica?" The 
Duchess asked, having tripped the lord up and stolen his clothespin.

"It IS! Oh, I don't wish to talk about it.  I should have known it was 
a bad sign for all things when the Villa closed."

"I heard she works there now!" A whore this, trying to make trouble for 
his own amusement.  "Has the Villa gone straight?"

"Oh, my no! She is sorting paper there!"

"You're right, rather she was trampled..." And then he went on his way 
as well.

Once more, Stonebrook, patting the shoulder of the dragon.  "At least 
you've got a veritable wellspring of information out of the girl now.  
You should be happy."

"She doesn't tell me a THING about the goings on there! Ever 
incorrigible.  I have to rely on other sources as usual..."

"Oh!" Gasped Tokimi-sama.  "I knew the new Dono is the lover of the 
Koichirou-dono, but is it true he won't keep the boy he brought with 
him?"

"So far!"

Marquees Cottington was obliged to fan herself at this.  "Oh my!  Then 
is it also true that this 'lover' is a frigid, Asian street punk?"

"I believe so..." Lady Jessica again, no one had heard her cough of 
nervousness that she tended to give when telling people only what they 
wished to hear.

The duchess one more time then, "And that he used to be... something 
called a Seiyuu? That he has terrible teeth and dyed hair? OH! What a 
mess! We deserve some ice cream after this! We shall all melt in fear 
otherwise."

***

Despite the murmurs and laughter which bounced around the close little 
shop, Ran had caught the mention of the Villa, and got his first 
glimpse of the woman who was Primera's mother--or as close of a look as 
he could get, with her being in full costume. But even though he could 
not clearly see her face due to the ornate mask she wore, he could see 
that she was nothing like Primera. She obviously lacked her child's 
discretion, her unpretentiousness, her kindness. Those failings were 
reflected in her speech, and in the words of both her companions as 
well. Bored, pathetic vipers, the lot of them. 

Ran developed a sudden and vehement distaste for Dragon Day, for 
Valdemar. He'd never liked snobs. And so, when the ladies approached 
the counter, and he found himself placed in the undesirable position of 
having to wait upon them... 

"I want the special," the woman with the jade feathered fan declared 
haughtily. "Two scoops." 

"And I'll have the same," proclaimed the crimson dragon, gesturing to 
the gold clad woman to her left. "And Her Grace will have a triple dip 
of the Butterscotch Hazelnut Swirl." 

Ran looked from one to the other in utter hatred. Oh, the idea of 
serving the ones who had debased him in public--it was all too much for 
him. 

"No." 

The one whom the dragon had called "Her Grace" drew herself up in 
pulsing indignation. "I beg your pardon?" 

"No, I won't serve you. If you are so desperate for ice cream, someone 
else will have to take your order." 

All three gaped at him, and all three in unison cried, "WHAT?!" Of 
course, they weren't used to be denied anything. 

"That's funny. I never thought the acoustics in this shop were bad." 

There was a brief pause, and then they advanced upon the cases in a 
seething mass of sequins and silk, looking every bit the caricature 
dragons they had decked themselves out as. "Why, I NEVER!" gasped the 
Duchess, hand covering her yellow chiffon-swathed bosom. 

"You impudent brat!" railed the Marquise. "How dare you!" 

But Ran said nothing, just matched her glower for glower. 

Lady Jessica thumped her beringed hand down on the edge of the case. 
"I'll have your job for this!" 

"Ran," murmured Elspeth at his elbow, "you should cool it." 

"Yes, *Ran*--and what sort of name is that?--you should!" 

Ran folded his arms across his chest. "If having this job means I have 
to wait upon the likes of you, then go ahead and ask for it." 

The Lady Jessica drew herself up stiffly, pursing her dark red lips in 
a frown. "All right, stripling, I will!" She gathered a handful of her 
sweeping costume away from her ankles, and marched over to the 
curtained doorway, swishing cohorts in tow. 

"Claire!" she shouted. "Come out here at once!" 

"Now you're going to get it," Elspeth murmured in his ear. But Ran 
only shrugged, and moved away to fill an order for a pair of blue 
and red robed, smirking heralds who were sporting gold 
glitter-sprinkled clothespins upon the ends of their respective noses.   

***

"You know," Genevieve mumbled unto Serafina, "It's really good we 
didn't get to put our sign up in the window to-day."

Serafina, still rubbing her fingers where they had been struck after 
their untimely appearance in the Burning Blue Peppermint ice cream, 
gave assent with a sort of unintelligible mumble.  "Right, we would 
have had to take it down right about now."

"Well," here, spoons appeared in both of their hands, and in the fact 
their boss's presence now loomed elsewhere, they both began to eat.  
Straight out of the vat, seemingly oblivious to the fact the ice cream 
their dyed their lips a very noticeable neon cerulean.  "He did last 
longer than most newbies."

"Yes, over a week.  Seems I owe you that lovely batik scarf from the 
window of Chat Vert."

"Would that it was cold enough to wear it!"

"WHAT!?" bellowed Claire.

"Would that we both had earplugs!"

And, being totally oblivious to the discussion taking place in her 
lab, the owner stormed out into the crowd, which parted before her 
as if she was indeed an earth-bound storm cloud ready to put bolts 
of lightning through just about anyone who ired her in the 
slightest, fearsome frills of theirs aside.

No one answered her at once.  The bevy of nobles stood, tapping 
their feet impatiently as if they figured her to be a telepath 
rather than a telekinetic.  Needless to say, the world did not 
bend over backwards to accommodate their whims, and Claire's 
genetic code was no re-written on the spot.  

"What's the boy gone and done this time?" she finally thought of 
demanding.  "or is something else not to your liking, Lady Jessica? I 
explained to you before I don't order my staff to dye their hair to 
match anything.  WHATSOEVER!"

"Pity you can't dye his temper to actually wait on us!" Tokimi-sama 
butted in with the opening of a fake swoon that never quite reached 
completion.

Jessica thumped her in the ribs with one of her elbow spines and went 
on herself.  "Why, he won't wait on me! I've done nothing but come in 
here asking for a few cones for mes amies and myself and suddenly I'm 
being accosted by this ROGUE with a funny name!"

"He didn't actually hit you though, you're just being melodramatic, 
right?"

"RIGHT! But I still don't see..."

"Boy, will you behave and serve the lady?" The, 'before she makes a 
scene' being implied in a slight eye-roll and some insult mouthed that 
was garbled the way she turned too quick.  

Either way, Ran shook his head.

And Claire's hands once again sailed into the air.  "AW! All he wants 
is a LITTLE respect! He's not as uasedta getting walked all over by you 
people.  Don't you know that Ran's onea those special named they only 
give certain people? Why! It means 'he who pierces enemies loins with 
sakura petals'! And this boy? Why, he's a fifth generation err... 
Tsurugi, or some word that sounds like 'Tsurugi'."

Either way, it was fortunate at this point that no one noticed Ran had 
taken his turn rolling his eyes, most certainly not at anything that 
involved cherry blossoms or anyone else's loins.

"Awful lot to have gotten into one syllable..." Jessica offered at last 
in blank wonder.

"Oh, Japanese is very compact." Claire's nods though were cut off by 
someone shoving through the crowd and being subsequently cursed by her, 
oohed and ahhed by everyone else.

Despite the fact that the face of the intruder could not be made out.  
Nor any of their figure, their being.  Their taste in dress not 
associated with Dragon Day.  All that could be certain was that they 
seemed to like blue terry cloth, for such was what covered the outfit 
of their foam-padded costume that came together to form around them a 
plump and very happy dragon with a rainbow on its tummy and flowers for 
claws.

A note fell from its palm to the space before Ran.

[Hello! I would like two scoops of Burning Blue Peppermint on a regular 
cone.  Thank you!]

The script of the letter was Carly's.  

***

"Welcome, Carly-sama," Ran said, whisking the note off the glass as he 
perfunctorily eyed her costume. "I'll get this for you straight away." 

"Oh, you'll serve *her*, but not us!" piped the Duchess. 

Ran didn't deign to glance in the trio's direction as he swept past 
them to address his employer, much to their visible irritation. 
"Claire-san, there's a customer who wants some of that Peppermint 
concoction." 

"It's Burning Blue Peppermint, boy, and there's some freshly made back 
there. Learn the name!" 

He wandered off with any sort of reply. In his wake, a nasty titter 
rose from the disgruntled ladies, to which Ran gave them a scathing 
look over his shoulder as he whisked through the curtains. But it was 
nothing like the reception Serafina and Genevieve received. 

"Well, I can't exactly say I'm sorry to see him go." 

"Me either. I--" 

The speaker had paused as she had just spotted Ran, her puzzled 
companion looked up from digging another spoonful of ice cream from the 
vat to her, and then to where she was looking. And then she demurely 
lowered her gaze in a show of embarrassment. Ran just scowled and 
marched over to where they sat. 

"Oh, spare me," he snarled, snatching up a scoop Claire'd used to 
measure out ingredients. He peered into the vat, and dug out healthy 
sized scoops of cream, dumping them out onto the table. Anywhere it 
looked like their spoons had touched. Then he dropped the scoop onto 
the table, and hefted the vat into his arms. 

"Guess you've got a mess to clean up. I suggest you brats do it before 
Claire-san returns. And don't try to pin it off on me, either." 

Ran grumped off beyond the curtains, past the bickering quartet. Claire 
threw up her hands with an "Elspeth! Get this unpleasant lot their ice 
cream!" and then stormed off to the lab again. Ran shoved the vat into 
the space she'd set aside for it in the freezer case, and then went to 
fetch a cone. A fresh scoop followed. Ran toiled in silence as he 
dragged the utensil around and around the bright blue confection. When 
he had placed two alluring scoops upon the sugar cone in his hand, he 
spoke as he handed it off to Carly. 

"I didn't expect you to go in for dressing up."

***

The dragon beside him shrugged, and with only one of her plush paws, 
pulled off her headdress.  That snuggled under one arm, she smiled at 
him from underneath her hair, which had probably been wound into a bun 
at one point, but was, at this moment, a terrible, un-Carly-like mess.  
Her little pink tongue darted out and ran circles around the tip of the 
cone then.  Within moments, her lips had turned to a smile as cyan as 
the fluff about her neck.  She seemed more delighted than even a child 
could have been.  So taken with the concoction, she quite forgot to pay 
Ran until he cleared his throat.   

Only then did anyone in Lady Jessica's party manage to speak through 
their rage, and when they did, it was not to the impatient Elspeth.  

"HOW DARE YOU PUSH IN FRONT OF US!"

"Why... why... this is an outrage! You got ice cream before us.  A 
conniving little gossip like YOU!"

"And... and... your costume!" Wailed the lady herself.  "It's cuter 
than mine!" Tears began to leak from under her mask then.  Big, 
soggy, ugly tears.  "You'll never get away with this!"

Carly waved to Ran, and despite the barriers of fuzz and foam around 
her, bolted for the door at a really fantastic speed, the host of 
gossips on her heels all the way down main street.

Claire just stared after them, and after a moment, disobeyed her own 
'no smoking' sign by whipping out a cigarette and lighting it, a most 
extraordinary thing for her to do considering she had never smoked 
before that her male clerk had seen.

To his disapproving glare, "Hey, I needed that, boy.  Don't you say 
anything.  In fact... here..."

And with that, she limped around the edge of the counter and got behind 
it with him, twirling a pair of scoops like six guns before she began 
dishing out cones with such a pedestrian flair to her movements, 
everyone watching her, for the most par, quieted down quite shortly 
after the latest incident had passed.

And of course, by then, something else had to come and disturbed the 
general quititude.  One Lord Vyx appeared tearing through the door 
then, his walking stick forgotten and one hand clutching at his heaving 
chest.  Claire and Ran looked as if they mean to run for him, but he 
waved them off. 

He was laughing, and winded.  Nothing more.

"Ah, my good lady and my ever-charming Ran!"  (The former Weiss not 
being especially thrilled with this assertion, especially since it was 
one of Kim's slips which had revealed his name in the first place.)  
"It is only that on the way here I beheld the most fantastically 
hysterical sights! There were a bunch of ladies in dragon suits tearing 
down Aleksander Way! Which any sensible person knows is quite flooded 
at presently due to the fact the Duke of Memoria likes to water his 
hibiscus plants this time of day.  Someone really ought to tell him 
they're long dead... anyway, what a sight! I've not laughed that hard 
in YEARS!"

Claire nodded and clapped Ran over the back.  "Well, good for you then 
to have laughed at something besides one of your own jokes."

"Oh! You're in an awfully cruel mood for one of your own holidays!"

They stuck their tongues out at each other, but otherwise ceased their 
bickering early.  Vyx ambled over to the counter and plunked his elbow 
on the space before his friend, smiling at him but saying nothing at 
first.  He plainly wanted to be admired and nothing more, and indeed, 
his costume was quite different even from the many sorts that had 
appeared in the shop that morning.  He wore a purplish fuschia tunic, 
all sequins and rhinestones.  Sewn to it were a pair of tiny, ribbed 
wings.  They darted when he moved, but did not put out anyone's eyes or 
go up anyone's noses as some of the other costumes' had done.  His 
pants were made of shiny silk, his boots of silver.  He had purchased 
gloves and cut the fingers off to show the world the three inch finger 
nails he had had put on the night before- they were purple of course.  
His hair was down, and over his two ears were a pair of tulle, wire and 
bead fins.  Dragon ears.

All this though, suddenly ceased to mean anything to him, and he leaned 
towards Ran a bit, brushing his finger over the rim of his glasses.  
"Oh, I know I told you yesterday when you bought them but I just ADORE 
your glasses!"

***

"You would," Ran remarked dryly. "Pity you don't have a pair today. 
They would match that costume perfectly, if not accurately, right down 
to those gaudy fingernails." (Accurately, in that dragons don't usually 
wear spectacles--only make themselves into them.) 

Vyx struck another pose, twirling his cane for effect. Ran only smirked 
bemusedly at him. "I take it you want the special?" 

Another pose, this time with a bow, a flash of two fingers and a stroke 
of one dragon-y ear. Ran moved back to get a cone, and set about 
topping it with two scoops. He rose, and passed it over the counter to 
Vyx, eyeing as he did those wickedly violet fingernails. Vyx handed him 
the requisite pay, but made no move to leave the counter. 

So Ran, after he had deposited said pay into the register, walked back 
over to where he stood, and beckoned him closer. "Um..." he murmured 
just loud enough for Vyx to hear, "Ken and the women who work for him 
have got it in their head to throw a party tomorrow." He colored 
slightly. "I just thought...well, maybe you'd want to come over and see 
the Villa, see where he plans to set up the flower shop, and have some 
refreshments as well." 

"Do I get to come too?" came a whispered voice at Ran's elbow. Mildly 
startled, he glanced down to find Claire standing beside him, peering 
at him expectantly from over a ridiculous pair of glasses: Oversized, 
yellow plastic ones that bore glittery rainbows at their corners, and 
had bright blue earpieces. 

"Where did you get *those*?" 

"I'm getting into the spirit of the day. Answer my question." 

"Well, I don't know. Are you going to smoke anymore?" 

She made an irritated sort of noise. "If I want to, I will." 

"Not and get away with it, you won't." 

She indignantly adjusted her goofy party spectacles, and just as 
indignantly reached for the pack of cigarettes she carried in her apron 
pocket. Whipped out another just to spite him, and lit it, and just 
barely dodged his snatching fingers. 

"Bloody prig." 

"Those things will kill you." 

"So will being run over by a speeding carriage--but that doesn't stop 
me from crossing the streets of Valdemar." 

He frowned at her in deep disapproval. "Stubborn." 

"Yes, you are. Now serve the other customers and don't cause me anymore 
problems." 

"Keep out the riffraff, Claire-san," he called to her retreating 
figure, "and I won't." 

She purposely puffed hard upon her cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of 
noxious vapor, all in defiance of him and his ilk. Ran rolled his eyes 
as he turned away from her. It was with mild surprise that he found Vyx 
still standing there, obviously amused. 

"Oh," Ran said with a tiny shake of his head, "back to what we were 
talking about--would you like to come to the party?" 

***

"Rude ex-damsels who invite themselves over aside!!!" This shouted far 
too loudly in a merry lilt, though met, naturally, with various non-
threatening sorts of curses.  Vyx chuckled again, dabbed a bit of blue 
from the tip of his nose with his handkerchief, and then went on much 
more quietly this time.  "Yes, I would dearly love to come visit you, 
my boy.  And not only to keep Madame Claire in line, the noble nature 
of that cause aside."

He paused then, and had another lick of his ice cream which once again 
deigned to end up on his nose.  For a second he crossed his eyes, and 
then looked up, expecting to go into one of his longer apologies it 
seemed.  Rather he simply smiled and pointed to his companion's lips, 
crying aloud.  "A-HA!"

After all, there was the faintest hint of a grin there.  The wonder of 
it where it wished to be and nothing more.  

"I've been wondering just where your smile has gone cavorting off to 
these past few days. There it is! Why, if I'd known sticking my nose in 
my cone would have brought it back, I would have done it at once. Or 
perhaps gone about all morning with one stuck there."

Ran shook his head then, and looked as if he himself would rather be 
sighing at that moment, but that left him right away, and as for Kim, 
he spun his waffle cone between his fingers, feigning he might do as he 
had suggested and relish it no less.

Just then though, as Elspeth herself was preparing another complaint of 
some sort, the door jingled and from behind it rose a gale of relived 
sighs that attracted more or less everyone's attention.  Standing there 
was a gaggle of what could only be former whores, as they had all 
gotten themselves up in the least amount of clothing possible, and wore 
clothespins so utterly outrageous it was doubtful a person back on 
earth would have mistaken them for such.  Ever.  The collection of them 
all looked as if they had droopy rainforest plants crammed up their 
noses rather than had anything *ON* their noses.  

"YAY!" shouted one.  "We made it in time this year!"

A merry assent to this as a herald forced her way through their crowd, 
demonstrating none of them had the sense to move.

"They haven't started the story yet, have they?" Another asked of a 
woman, very well dressed and huddled in the corner with a dish of hot 
fudge-smothered Irish-Frost.  

"No, they haven't at all.  It's very odd, usually Claire starts going 
on before the shop even opens."

All eyes trailed over to the laboratory door.  One that shortly made a 
pinging sound as if something had detonated behind it, and began to 
smoke as it was opened.

"Umm..." Ann began then, trying to shake the ash from her hair.  "By 
popular demand, Claire has differed the telling of the story of Dragon 
Day to Lord Vyx."

"But you'd better believe I'll correct everything he says wrong!" 
Bellowed the woman in question from somewhere distant and smoking.

"As soon as you're EXTINGUISHED!" Genevieve insisted.

***

"I told you those cigarettes would kill you," Ran added. 

"And I told you to lay off, so do it!" Claire barked, snapping her 
fingers at him for emphasis. "Besides, it wouldn't be a holiday without 
an explosion or two." 

"Really? I'd hate to see what happens around New Year's then." 

Claire began vigorously brushing ash from her clothes and hair. "Keep 
it up, boy, and you won't." 

Ran only smirked at her and then made to gather the multitude of dirty 
scoops for washing, but Claire stopped him. "No, no, don't bother with 
that now. I need you to help me." 

The scoops were submersed in a basin of warm, soapy water, and Ran left 
them there, drying his hands on a sheet of paper towel as he went. 
"With what?" he asked as he tossed the spent towel away. 

"Just come with me." She cocked her head to the storeroom, and Ran 
followed her there. A few minutes later they emerged again, carrying a 
smallish, round, red wooden platform about a foot high with a diameter 
of five feet. In their absence, the girls had moved aside the tables 
and chairs from the middle of the shop, and it was there where the 
platform was placed. Claire stood back to admire it for a moment, 
dusting off her hands. Then she turned towards Lord Vyx. 

"Whenever you are ready."

***

Lord Vyx was evidentially very ready, for just a smidge of time before 
Claire had finished, he had darted up onto the platform like a giant, 
magenta and violet dragon fly, and then, owing to the fact he had 
neglected his walking stick, promptly cursed his knees.  That finished, 
he took a sweeping bow to all assembled, and was handed a hankie by one 
onlooker who thought he might do better without ice cream on his nose 
for he had quite forgotten he was even wearing it.

"My, this is much nicer than a table.  I don't get the feeling it will 
decide to fall over at the most inopportune of possible moments."

"Well," the proprietress began, casting her now quite spent cigarette 
into the washing trough.  "It's actually for making announcements about 
who's been added to the Banned for Life and After list, but, well, 
better than you suing my ass off. B'sides, I mean to use it later.  The 
boy's brought me a bunch of new faces."

All of the other clerks then crossed themselves, Elspeth backwards, and 
before Ran could inquire if they were being religious in anyway or 
simply their usual dramatic selves, had all dropped in a semi circle 
about the platform, sitting like a coterie of kindergarteners, all with 
their legs crossed. A few of the whores followed suit, and Claire found 
it necessary to pull Ran down into a chair beside her so he would not 
lose his seat.   

"Heralds, demons and... err... boys of the evening; my most esteem-ed 
bearers of Butterscotch VSOP; we are gathered here today to hear the 
most harrowing of tales that has ever been told on Terra."

"I thought we were here to get married!" One boy cackled, and shortly 
got a pummel in his ear.

"That of how, one summer, many years ago, Mme. Claire was, beyond all 
logic, all sanity, all lust for ice cream that the summer brings, 
forced to close her shop for one whole day not previously appearing on 
her schedule.  This situation may seem fantastic in and of itself, but! 
The events which lead up to what we now call dragon day were, to say 
the least, some of the last mystical happenings left in the sphere of 
mortal men, and in celebration of them, Mme. opens but half a day on 
this day every year, and those of us not willing to so dress the part 
of the beast must wear clothespins to get any service..." 

A pair of Heralds about to enter, shortly ducked back outside and began 
chatting very frantically with a fellow camped outside the door with a 
basket of such items.  

"It was the day a dragon came to Valdemar."

***

Lord Vyx then paused dramatically, and quiet murmurs of expectation 
rose from the knot of listeners surrounding the flashy orator. Ran, 
however, turned to Claire, who was in the midst of settling her silly 
spectacles upon the top of her head. It wasn't a moment too soon for 
Ran; damn goofy frames they were, in his opinion. 

"A dragon?" he muttered incredulously. "In Valdemar?" 

"Of course there was one here!" she hissed back. "Why would anyone make 
something like that up?" 

"I didn't say that anyone had, Claire-san. I only--" Ran began, only to 
be silenced by Claire's hand upon his arm. 

"Shh, boy," she whispered. "The details will be told, if only you'll 
show some patience." She dealt him two firm pats of her palm, and then 
sat back and gazed upon Lord Vyx with sincere, unyielding interest, 
hands folded primly in her lap. 

Thus hushed, Ran looked from her to the brightly turned out group 
around them. Then he looked skeptically at the smiling Lord Vyx, who 
was holding one hand up in a request for silence.

***

"Now, now, I'll start now, if none of you would mind," he began, 
smirking lightly at the assembled as he turned a little on his heels to 
better see them all before him.  His feet dragged a little on the 
platform, so rather he seemed less the raconteur and more the music 
box dancer with its gears ground down from years of little girls 
watching the ballerina who knew only one step.  

"It was a summer much different from this one, many years ago.  Before 
most of you were born, I would assume." At this, he stopped a moment 
before the collection of former whores, and they all giggled as if they 
were younger still before him.  But he swept away from them then, and 
faced the open door, more or less.  In truth, he was looking towards 
where Ran had settled himself, casting him small glances now and then, 
as if he had after that no other audience besides the swordsman.

"Why, there was no spring in the air like there is now! Just this 
frightful, humid heat that made the feathers on everyone's hats droop 
and killed almost all the flowers on Moonsong way!"

This elicited a dismayed gasp from young and old alike, even Claire, 
though she smiled, reminded suddenly it seemed. 

"Except of course for the Hibiscus the Duke of Memoria is still 
caressing over, seven years after it's passing.  It didn't rain though 
that year, not one drop until the leaves were just about ready to put 
on their crimson clothes.  Not even a cloud of it came this way! Of 
course, the pool at the Plaza did a wondrous business."

"Hey," Claire pouted, "I could have sworn this was Dragon Day, not Go 
on About the Pool Day!"

Which got her quite a huff and the tip of Kim's walking stick tapped on 
the ridge of her glasses.  "Madame.  I assure you, it is!  I'm merely 
trying to set the scene a bit for those who've not heard the story 
before."

She gave Ran a bare glance, rolled her eyes, and them fell back to 
watching her customer.  

"Well, it would have been all those years ago yesterday that it 
happened.  Most of you've had occasion to visit Rethwellen then? You 
know what dragons sound like? Very well I should hope! I'm never to 
forget my days there at all, never in my life.  Or what a dragon looks 
like from a distance! But... it was morning, just dawn, yesterday of 
many years ago when the most mournful of cries came seeping through 
everyone's open windows with the sun.  Over and over again and again! 
And no one knew just what to make of it.  It was almost like an infant 
and a flute and a whole host of weeping women.  We were all frightened, 
just frightened beyond words.  Everyone starting to think the heat had 
brought on some frightening phenomenon of Terra as yet unknown to man.  
This world isn't settled after all.  We can't even say it's a world 
proper, like Antiterra.

"But finally, a few in the Dono's employ, who had been with each other 
in the early morning hours, despite policy and all, came running into 
town, saying they had seen a dragon going over head.  Why, that wasn't 
in the least unusual of course.  Until they admitted the beast had 
flown low enough that they could see it's eyes, and that one of them 
was gone.  That crying, it had fallen into the woods.

"So... we all put on our least favorite boots and went marching into 
the forest."

***

"Boots?" Ran piped up suddenly. "Why would anyone want to put on boots 
to meet a dragon? For that matter, why would anyone want to meet a 
dragon face to face?" 

"Hmf," Claire snorted. "What silliness. A dragon shows up literally out 
of the blue--why wouldn't we want to go see it? As for the boots--we 
put on boots because that's just what you *do* around dragons, boy." 
She rolled her eyes again with a small shake of her head. Ran looked 
quite put out. 

"That does not explain my question. Or any question I have--and I have 
several." Shooting her a sulky parting look, Ran turned back to Vyx. 
"What do these creatures look like anyway?" 

***

Lord Vyx had just been mumbling, sort of to himself and sort of to 
everyone present- "We certainly didn't want to get our nice shoes dirty 
traipsing about the woods..." a line which the ladies who had not fled 
with Lady Jessica found painfully hysterical for reasons he himself 
plainly did not grasp, nor wish to grasp.  But then the second question 
from his friend and so he whirled back to face him.  Only now did 
anyone scowl, having at last begun to notice his nepotism.  

"You've not seen one then? Not from a reasonable distance I mean, as in 
not just little dashes in the sky by dawn and dusk?"

Ran shook his head emphatically, causing his glasses to migrate 
somewhat down his nose.  A pause, and he blinked above their rims 
before sliding them back into place and glancing about, hoping that no 
one had gotten a good look beneath them.  No one had.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Vyx cried then, throwing his hands up and 
causing the platform to rock just the slightest bit.  With a few 
cracking bones, he promptly seated himself on the edge of his stage, 
one knee drawn up against himself.  "Well, I don't know rightly where I 
ought to begin, except of course perhaps that when *I* first had the 
fortune to behold one such creature off the shores of Rethwellen, I 
didn't take it for a dragon at *all* and had to ask what in the blue 
blazes I was looking at.  They're not like anything at all on earth, or 
anything any Antiterran imagination ever dreamed up.  They're very... 
very wiggly, you see, and..."

Claire's fist came down and bopped Vyx upon his head.  "That's enough 
of that! I told you very specifically I won't have you spoiling 
Rethwellen for another lot.  Admittedly, that WAS a good ten years 
ago I said that, but we do this EVERY YEAR!"

"Exactly, part of the tradition."

With a groan, the proprietress once more faced her one and only boy.  
"You really should wait until you see one.  Trust me, whatever Vyx 
would tell you wouldn't do them justice.  Wiggly indeed."

"May I go on now?"

"Yes, and hurry it up this time!"

Here the crowd offered various agreements, and so with a little help 
from his walking stick, Lord Vyx got to his feet, mouthing a little 
'sorry' to Ran before indeed continuing.  "So, there half of Valdemar 
was, out in the middle of the woods wearing boots with our pajamas, 
since after all, no sane person on Terra rises before ten..." A little 
cough here, since he himself seldom left bed after six.  There were, 
after all, other traditions not belonging to Claire, and rising late 
was one among many. "And this was back when pajamas were still 
fashionable, but after nightgowns were considered unisex.  Good thing 
for us too!"

He paused here, and smoothed his dragon ears a bit, his eyes leaving 
the audience all together, Ran included, for some moments, seeing what 
it was he was about to describe once more.  His words fell somber now, 
and all the giggles winked out one by one like candles burning away 
into nothing.  

"It wasn't hard to find the beast, but I don't think any of us really 
expected it to be as difficult as it was to look upon it.  We were 
never sure if it had gotten into a bit of a row- though mind you, even 
in the time since no one has ever seen a dragon fight another dragon -
or if someone or something not properly called a beast itself had done 
it harm.  If it was simply old and unlucky.  As I said, it had but one 
of its eyes and there was what we took for blood elsewhere on it.  It 
had fallen straight out of the sky and become entangled in the woods, 
not even very deep in them.  Had the trees wounded it then? It seemed 
almost impossible- a thing majestic as a dragon harmed by the woods and 
not that lived there! And why had it been cast from the sky to begin 
with...?

"Oh, there was a chance! We might well have known if any of us had 
plucked up the courage to come near it sooner.  But the dragon was 
still alive, and we feared it, even wounded or sickened as it was.  
Why, I myself never did come especially close.  Louis did, after 
awhile, when the few children there were living here came out of 
the tear it cut in the tree tops and stood right before that one, 
great eye... He and they, they ran their fingers over... err... 
its nose I guess one might say.  And oh, it stopped moaning then 
and it purred.  Sounded like the heart of the universe would 
sound if the universe indeed has a heart.

"And then it... simply couldn't go on much longer I suppose."

Lord Vyx once more fell silent, though he did blow his nose rather 
loudly in a violet handkerchief produced from his pockets.

***   

The ending of Vyx's tale struck Ran as being disappointingly anti-
climatic, for he had been expecting to hear about deluges or wildfires 
or citizenry transformed into hors d'oeuvres by said beast. He also 
thought the old man was a bit silly to cry over a dragon who was 
clearly suicidal in his private opinion, but he kept that notion to 
himself. 

"So...you all made a holiday out of the day a dragon crashed landed in 
the forest?" 

"Weren't you listening?" queried Claire. 

Ran gave her a hard look. "Yes, but I can't believe what I've heard." 

She huffed at him, then threw up one hand with an exasperated glance at 
Vyx. "He has no sense of romance." 

"So I've been told." Ran wiggled a finger under his frames to swipe at 
one eye, then stood up. A few others did the same; the rest lounged 
where they were, contentedly chatting amongst themselves between 
nibbles of ice cream. Ran folded up the chair he had been sitting upon, 
then turned and held out a hand for Vyx to steady himself upon. 
Climbing up onto things was easier than climbing off; his advanced age 
made it difficult either way. 

"I find it incredible, but that's not to say I didn't enjoy hearing 
your story."

***

Lord Vyx beamed at his companion, held his hand a little longer than he 
needed too, swinging it playfully in his own rather than pulling away 
slow and sexy as he might have done if he was trying to seduce.  He 
wasn't, but he had that little look to him like he wanted to give the 
boy a big, wet kiss just the same.  "Why, thank you, Ran.  Makes it all 
worth it to hear you say that, you know.  Just delights me."

"And if I had said anything along those lines, you'd have just given me 
a plain ol' thanks."  Claire groused, but then burst out giggle 
herself- everyone rolled their eyes at her a moment, and then went back 
to their chatting for the most part, except of course for one of the 
little former prostitutes who wore a gilt and iridescent clothespin on 
the end of his slight nose.  He pointed to it when he spoke.  

"Why do we have to wear these things though!? They're ever so 
uncomfortable, and OH! I think I've burst a capillary!"

Vyx snapped his fingers then, and tried to whistle for attention, 
though with his gloves on he didn't do very well in that at all.  Ran, 
much to his surprise, did so for him. 

The owner of the shop sighed- "Just like last year... its always 
something." 

"Epilogue, my friends.  Epilogue.  Concerning the means of plugging up 
your little noses, when I'm sure isn't doing wonders for our tasting of 
Mme. Claire's delights.  You see, after we had a proper funeral rites 
for the beast, there was some debate as to what to do with its body, 
which could not be resolved contemporaneously at all.  It wouldn't do 
to burn it and burying it would take ever so long.  We all decided to 
sleep on it, which would have worked well, were it not for the... 
odoriferous nature of its remains.  Like rotted seaweed it was, and 
quite overpowering.  Why, it was such that not a soul dared venture 
outside their houses for days without something to cover their faces! 
And not at all on the first day.  Such it was, that Claire was rather 
obliged to close, for there wasn't a soul about willing to try and eat 
ice cream with such a smell about."

"It's true!" Claire sighed, mockingly burying her face in her hands.  
"It's all true!" One of lord Vyx's ears went cockeyed though no one had 
touched it, and she giggled before dashing away behind Ran.

***

Ran wondered if his employer had been sneaking drinks on the sly in 
honor of the day as well for Claire was not one to giggle oh-so-
girlishly and act so amusingly coy. He was about to turn and smirkingly 
make inquiries along those lines when an unexpected gust of wind rose 
to wildly tousle his hair--his and no one else's. 

"Stop that," he muttered, whirling about to cast a dark eye upon her. 
But 
Claire merely giggled again and dashed away. Another smattering of 
customers clamored at the counter for one more cone for the road. Ran 
found Vyx attempting to smooth his crumpled ear. The older man gave him 
a merry, twinkling grin, which the redhead shyly returned. 

"About tomorrow night--the invitation I extended to you includes Louis 
as well. If he would like to come, that is." 

***

"Oh, how lovely! Thank you!" Vyx quite exclaimed, obviously having not 
cared whatsoever for the fact just about everyone in the shop turned 
and stared at him before going back to their cones.  After all, they 
had certainly been watching him before during his story.  It was only 
after they had already looked away that his face fell somewhat, and 
he pulled his walking stick into the crook of his arm so he could rub 
his chin a bit. 

"I only wish I knew if he was free! But I don't, not at all.  I'll ask 
him as soon as I get home then! Oh, I do hope he can make it!"

And then, sweeping up a little closer to Ran, "Just so long as... 
err... you wouldn't mind forgetting all that lovely nonsense I 
told you about his days as a singer.  Gets a bit touchy about 
that he does."

On the other side of the room, Claire boggled for a moment before 
turning away and shaking her head.  Her smile had gone completely.

***

Ran could understand why a person would want to forget his past, for 
such an endeavor he had often wished to undertake when he was but 
someone who handled fragile, beautiful things by day, and who handled a 
deadly, well-blooded katana by night. Even now, he couldn't escape. 
Flashes of grim memory haunted his thoughts, both waking and dreaming. 
He wondered if it was the same for Ken. 

And then he remembered where he was and who he was trying to be, and he 
hauled himself out of his bitter musings. "I won't say a word to Louis. 
I'm sure Ken won't, if he knows anything about him." 

Vyx eyed him concernedly, as if he'd noticed some subtle change in his 
mood, and Ran dropped his gaze to the floor, then to his watch. It was 
nearing half-past twelve. An argument erupted between Elspeth and 
Genevieve and a clothespinned girl whom Ran recognized as being the 
cashier at MacGregor's the day he'd gone with Vyx. Claire looked as if 
she might send them all flying out the open door. 

When he turned back to Vyx, he found the older man was still regarding 
him with something akin to worry. Ran did not smile or try to reassure 
him. "I'd better get back to work before Claire brings the shop down 
around our ears." He stepped back and made him a small, polite bow. 
"Come at seven. I'm sure there will be drinks served as part of the 
refreshments, as Ken's assistants appear to be quite fond of alcohol." 

A little smile tugged at his lips then as he went off to join the fray 
behind the ice cream counter.

***

"Ah, you're just a gem.  A lovely bit of amethyst on a thread of gold 
wire." Vyx bowed then, not as the courtier he was most often, but as a 
friend of Ran's back in Japan might have.  He didn't make one move 
whatsoever to sweep his clothing about.  Just bowed, hands at his 
sides, and came up to find Ran just rising to meet his eyes.  

"Seven it is then.  I shall be there, though certainly not with bells 
on.  I wouldn't want to embarrass you that way.  No promises about 
Louis though."

Claire sighed again, and grumbled rather than call for her boy 
outright.  Lord Vyx rolled his eyes at her a moment and sought once 
more a smile on his companion's lips.  Found none there, just purple 
lenses and a sort of remoteness.

"I'll see you then."

One of his gloved hands stole over the boy's cheeks then, just holding 
him there- nothing more.

With a wave, he slipped out the door then.

He was blushing, just a little, for a single crimson hair had stowed 
away on his finger tip.

*** 

No one in the Crawford-Marlow residence had ever been that particular 
about when they went out, and if they did so together.  It was always 
that one of them at least found one reason or another to take longer 
than humanly possible getting dressed, getting ready, having a screw in 
one of the back rooms.  Today, the honor of delay fell once again to 
Schuldich, but as he was the champion of such things, no one had ever 
really expected less.

Especially not after he had been sighted running down the hallway with 
a load of Brad's laundry in his arms which he was sniffing 
delightedly.

Or when he swore and emerged from his bedroom, naked but for not one 
but two needles jammed in his finger (the wound now wearing a glittery 
band-aid and a few smears of cake-mix lip gloss).

The results of the trial he wore now on his right hand, and Hand-puppet 
Youji was delightedly looking them over, oohing and ahhinh to himself 
in his shrill little hand-puppet voice.

After all, perched on Schuldich's fingers was a Hand-puppet Brad, made 
out of the last outfit Brad had worn before the morning he left.  One 
could only hope the likeness suited him so much he wouldn't fret TOO 
much over the obliterated Armani suit.  Even puppet Bradley's little 
tie was made from a life-sized tie.  His glasses from real wire with 
bits of Lucite set in them.  And Aubrey had draw his face on with 
markers rather than simply sewn on pink thread and buttons.  Two great, 
big, blue sharpie eyes with heavy lashes, a wholly kissable pout. 

Saffie and Schildich though decided to hold hands then as they strolled 
down the street, which left their two puppets making out between them.  
As such, they furnished all of the appropriate gurgling noises amid 
their own laughs.  

As if they hadn't been much of a sight already! Saffie had tied the 
sleeves to her costume on, and her brother squeezed into a pair of gold 
lame bellbottoms and a plain white shirt.  Besides having a lovely walk 
themselves, they had each decided to take their respective pets for 
along.

Jasper fluttered on and off the ground now and then, Farfarello 
presently stopped to sniff at a well-be-sniffed tree.

"Chen mal! Come along, Farfie-chan! We don't have time for that."

He whimpered, but came scuttling along after her just the same, chasing 
a sunbeam from the back of her dress all around her ankles.  Her 
brother whistled at a herald and they exchanged some  telepathic 
insults that sent her tumbling down the street into some people in 
dragon costumes.  

Yes, it was a fine day to go out, all hold-ups aside.

Even if Nagi was almost a block behind.

::He's embarrassed, poor thing.::

::He'll get used to it, and if he doesn't, tough.::

"Oh Brad."

"Oh Youji."

*** 

"Oh hell." 

The youngest Schwartz surely was dragging behind his companions, 
rolling his eyes behind the midnight blue shades he'd just nicked from 
a sidewalk vendor. He should have known that they would make spectacles 
of themselves. He should have known Savil would have brought her pet 
along. 

Said pet who was now digging through the garbage near the clothing 
boutique whose windows Savil and Schuldich had stopped to admire. Nagi 
stilled his footsteps as well, not wanting to close the distance he had 
established between them. He leaned upon a cast iron lamp post which 
had not been positioned in the concrete just right, hands in pockets, 
and disinterestedly studied his surroundings. The neighborhood in 
question was one of the older ones in Valdemar, and as such, bore an 
air of genteel poverty about it. The shops were all of stone or brick, 
and their fronts often bore carvings of mythical beasts, flowers, or 
birds. It was one such carving which caught Nagi's eye: That of a 
taloned, granite gargoyle with bulging eyes, lolling tongue, and two 
sets of wings--one bat-like, and one swan-like. It was crouched as 
if it might pounce upon anyone who dared approach. 

It lived above a shop called "The Caterpillar's Coven," and in the 
door, in stained glass, was a top-hatted caterpillar reclining upon 
mushrooms as he smoked a hookah. Intrigued, Nagi pushed away from the 
lamp post, and headed towards the shop. The smell of lilacs hit him as 
he entered, propelled through the air by the bundle of smoking sticks 
in a bowl just to the left of the door. Sleigh bells announced his 
arrival, but no one appeared to greet him; he only heard a mumbling 
voice say, "Welcome," from the vicinity of the counter. Nagi glanced 
over to find a girl with long, white-blonde hair hunched upon a stool 
with a book in her lap. She did not return his look. Behind her hung a 
series of deep, dark shelves which lined the wall from ceiling to 
floor, and held rows of stoppered glass jars, both large and small. 
They all contained either herbs or brightly colored pills. 

Nagi said nothing in reply, just proceeded to amble through the shop. 
It seemed to be a sort of drug store, but none like he'd ever seen 
before. All the cleansers, moisturizers, shampoos and the like were all 
touted as being "All-Natural." But beyond the usual drug store fare, in 
one corner there were two racks of vintage clothes, a shelf holding 
shoes and toys and books. Posters advertising concerts long-past or 
bands long-gone dotted the walls here and there. 

The boy wandered about, amused by what he'd seen. But as he turned the 
corner past the aisle where herbal medicines and vitamins were kept, he 
found a real prize. A hookah, and not just one, but four---all of 
different sizes, shapes. He was stunned. 

/Oh.../ he thought at his absent companions, /you two have got to see 
this./

***
  
"See what?" Schuldich inquired, slinking the last few feet up behind 
Nagi, and to his tart little statement- "You considered something 
regarding my ass?"

The boy gave him a sharp glare that was plain even with his glasses in 
place to which he did no more than was to be expected of him- just 
smirked.  

Behind them though, the mumbling voice again, just barely loud enough 
to be made out- "No pets."

Followed by Savil's dainty little unhappiness.  "But Farfie-chan is a 
good doggie!"

"Rules are rules, missy."

"The sky is orange."

"The sky is orange."

"I don't mind dogs at all! As long as they are so-so-cute."

"I don't mind... OH! What a pretty puppy you have there."

Schuldich peered out of the aisle and laughed along with his sister for 
a moment, for she was only just giggling behind her palm in the most 
lady-like of ways, and it seemed to him her little coercion was worth 
more enthused praise from him and his owl- they both cawed.  The clerk 
didn't care either way, and had reached down from her stool a moment to 
scratch Farfarello's head.  He yipped, and she went back to her book 
for awhile, leaving Saffie to admire the T'pau poster that hovered just 
above a row of vermillion candles.  

"Wow, they really weren't photogenic at ALL!" she remarked.

As for Schuldich, he chased Nagi all the way back to the hookahs then, 
stooping beside one of the larger one's to give it a proper once over.  
The lame of his pants squeaked when he moved, but he paid it no 
attention whatsoever, just ran his hands over the throat of the 
apparatus.  "It's not bad, yours in much better condition, even though 
this one's even new."

A shady little glance his way then.  "But... you're not thinking of 
starting a collection, eh? More like... making good use of the one you 
have now?"

Hand-puppet Brad appeared then, though he spoke with the telepath's 
voice (for he made no effort for the comedy his sister used when 
playing her creation).  "Since I'm not home, I can't have a problem 
with that, now, can I? Besides, I'm SURE my Aubrey doesn't mind."

Concluded Aubrey then- "So... what do you say to that?"

(OOC: If you know anything about T'pau, you need help.  Just a friendly 
reminder from all of us at CV :).)

***  

"As if it matters what I say." 

Nagi resumed his consideration of the hookah selection, then set down 
the one he'd held in favor of the new one Schuldich had picked up. That 
he had psychically wrenched it from his hands, and had caused him to 
yelp loudly in protest wasn't really important. 

/Too bad. It's mine now./ A smirk over his shoulder, and Nagi swept a 
pair of cinnamon-clove scented pillars off a shelf as he passed it, 
sending it hovering to the counter with the hookah. The girl looked up 
when he approached the counter; her eyes were as grey as rain clouds. 
She shut her dogeared paperback and laid it upon the counter behind 
her. 

"Finished shopping?" 

"Yes," Nagi's wallet wriggled out of his back pocket and sailed into 
his hand. 

"You don't want anything else?" 

At her incredulous tone, Nagi ceased his counting of his money to 
coolly stare at her. "Obviously, I don't." 

She met his eyes steadily for a few heartbeats more, then rolled her 
eyes, and shook out a paper bag to put the candles in. "...Tourists..." 
she mumbled under her breath. 

***

Schuldich moued quite loudly at this and marched over to the counter 
himself which he, as was his habit, proceeded to lean against so his 
shirt popped open and his chest was laid somewhat more bare than it 
ought to have been.  It was almost a shame the girl cared nothing for 
the sight.  "Wellllll... when you're done, I want to see what other 
*playthings*." At which he glanced down at Nagi and the change that was 
sorting itself, thinking ::Collecting hookahs to put me off! That's a 
new one.  I find it charming.::

Though Saffie offered a rather different opinion on the matter, having 
appeared between her boyfriend and her brother as if out of thin air.  
::It's a pretty hookah, but I like the one you bought the other day 
better, just because it's old.::

Then both together, their giddy, impish joy ringing between his ears.  
::We know you want some! C'mon! Just a LITTLE?:: 

And the boy did not seem to be able to make up his mind which one he 
most wanted to glare at first.  Farfarello walked around in several 
circles, got tied up in his leash, and promptly flopped down.  As for 
the clerk, she rang Nagi up and then, dripping disdain, turned back to 
his lounging companion, and the owl who had started to chew on one of 
her joss sticks. 

"Oh, c'mon! Show me whatcha got back there for in that thing already."

Heaving a sigh, she reached under the counter for a moment, coming up 
with a pair of poppy-red glass candy dished, found two more on the 
shelves behind her- they all ended up on the counter, making each other 
clank, and all four shortly were disrobed, their mingled dark-earth 
scent coming up in a breeze that seemed warm, but in truth wasn't at 
all.  Saffie sneezed.  

Of the dishes, one held a pale black powder that almost shimmered, one 
a raven paste, the third a wet, oily-looking goo and the fourth a damp 
talc of velvet brown.  While Savil, with one finger under her nose, 
admired the contents of the dishes, her brother, despite having asked 
for them, had lost all interest whatsoever.  Rather, he crossed his 
ankles and cupped one of his cheeks in his palm, staring with fond, 
distant eye upon something that had been hidden behind one of the candy 
dishes.

"That's what I think it is..." he commented, sounding almost nostalgic 
as he pointed to a vasaline decanter tucked away in the back.  "Fancy 
finding that stuff here..."

*** 

Nagi spied the decanter as well, prompted by Schuldich's dreamy 
musings.  But then he turned his attention to the array of candy 
dishes.  

/Trust you to get all misty eyed over some sort of narcotic./  

"Well?" asked the girl impatiently.  

"I'll take that," Nagi replied, pointing at the third dish of goo, "and 
that," he added, pointing then to the first dish of iridescent black 
powder.  

The girl smirked nastily at him.  "You do know you shouldn't mix them, 
don't you?"  

"I'm not a fool," countered Nagi testily.  "But apparently, you are."  

Scowling, she started to make a retort, but then froze.  All the anger 
drained from her face, and she backed down, cowered almost.  "An ounce 
of each then?" she asked somewhat meekly.  

Nagi's brow lifted slightly in surprise, and he shot a sidelong look at 
both his companions.  Schuldich was lost still in his reverie, but 
Savil gave him a charming smile.  He smiled back.  "Yes," Nagi said to 
the clerk.  "That'll be enough."  

She replaced the other two dishes, and took the ones Nagi had chosen 
over to the back counter, where she began measuring it into a plastic 
bag; from time to time, she'd drop it in the empty pan of the brass 
balance she kept on hand for such tasks.  As he watched her work, he 
sent to his sweetheart,  

/I take it you told her what I was, and what I was contemplating doing 
to her shop, then?/  

***

Saffie smirked, just for a moment before leaning over to peck Nagi on 
the cheek.  She lingered there for a long time, just breathing against 
his skin, and he didn't seem the least bit interested in asking her to 
move.  ::All that and more.:: She finally thought.

"Hey, you know what?" Schuldich spoke up quite out of the blue.  The 
clerk gave a yelp and nearly spilled Nagi's powder all over herself.  
"I think I'd like something too."

And then he made as if to make her guess just what it was he liked, for 
he said nothing, just stretched so that the lame over his ass flexed 
with him.  She tugged at the collar of her shirt, not sure what would 
please him, or the telekinetic at his side.  Just then, he started 
himself, and swatted something on his shoulder though nothing was there 
besides a glimpse of the boy's glare.  His own smile was dripping 
wicked when it returned.

"OK, OK.  Lemme smell that Acapulco Gold."

"Umm... alright..." she sounded rather as if he had asked her for 
unicorn fur, but nonetheless, took up the vaseline decanter he had 
been so admiring and pulled the stopper out with a soft 'thunk'.  
It was immediately replaced by one of Schuldich's long fingers 
that came out bearing a few, tiny threads of something the color 
of ginko leaves in autumn.  When he sniffed it, his eyebrows rose 
for a moment, and a lipstick easy smile came to his lips rather 
than one of his more befitting smirks.  

"Aaa, that takes me back.  You know how hard it is to get good weed in 
Japan?"

"I neither know nor care, I'm afraid."

"Great! Two ounces of that and some papers then."

As, with a sigh she tried to choke back, the clerk reached for another 
bag under the counter, he told the two children at his side, "Contrary 
to what he thinks and says most of the time..." at which Hand-puppet 
Brad appeared, "I do have a sentimental streak."

"And this is always your favorite kind?" His sister giggled.

"That too."

***

"So you've smoked weed before. Why am I not surprised?" 

/I bet you won't leave any of that behind for Crawford to find, hm?/ 

A vague retort drifted down into his mind, and Nagi smiled as his 
wallet wriggled back into his pocket, and the bags of opium he'd 
selected drifted over to the counter and put themselves into an 
unbleached sack with raffia handles. This he blithely plucked out of 
mid-air, and stood by to wait while his hookah slid itself into plain 
cardboard box which bore the shop's logo. 

The girl just stared in goggling disbelief until he'd turned his 
attention upon her. She quickly resumed her measuring of the Acapulco 
Gold. Nagi nearly laughed. 

/Silly bitch./ 

A wild cackle broke out from his companion. The box containing the 
hookah floated gently over to him, and Nagi set it down onto the 
counter. Schuldich's laughter died away, and the boy leaned over to 
slip him some tongue, along with a good grope of his ass. 

/I've decided./ 

He pulled back with a smirk, then turned to Savil and swept an arm 
about her waist and a kiss upon her lips as Romeo might have Juliet 
upon their balcony. 

/Tonight, I want you both./

***

The Marlows grinned upon him then, slinging their arms about what they 
could reach of Nagi- Savil his waist and Schuldich his shoulders, 
drawing himself close enough to pet his sister's hair where it had 
tumbled from her bun.  

They each kissed him on his cheeks, their tongues darting out over his 
skin between their lip prints, and then cupped him with their hands, 
turning him this way and that as if admiring him, though it seemed 
strange... had they not already known pleasure from the sight of him?  
Did he seem different now perhaps? Or was it that they each savored the 
image of him in the other's arms that took their fickle fancies so?

Still wondering, still linked about and bringing a gusty fright to the 
clerk's intoxicated mind, and with Farfarello carrying their things, 
they stepped once more into the street where the splitting, dewy 
afternoon had still lingered rather like late morning, and the sprites 
of gossipy murmurs trailed after their shadows and the little holes of 
light between their arms.

::Oh, we're thrilled alright...:: Schuldich there, all blue-green candy 
wine.

::Did you think we wouldn't be? We can be disgusted if you like! We do 
very well pretending!:: And Saffie trailing just behind, a nameless, 
living flavor like the way the earliest spring dawns taste.

"So..." giggled in unison.

"Would you like..."

"... if you're going to play with us..."

"...to go get..."

"...some new toys?"

And while their lover glanced between them, the two telepaths embraced 
before him by way of their hand puppets (Youji crushing Brad into a 
little ball), had one little kiss of their thoughts between them and at 
last, both kicked Farfie in his shins so he would walk behind them 
where he belonged.

***

"Toys?" Nagi blinked at that, not minding a bit that he was being 
petted here and there by someone's wandering hands. He didn't even mind 
the odd, occasionally shocked looks the quartet got as they meandered 
down the sidewalk. 

"I only thought about buying some panties, but..." 

/Hmm.../ 

While handpuppets Brad and Youji felt each other up, Nagi considered 
his choices. Of course, there were the usual things like cock rings and 
manacles and butt plugs, but were such things suitable to use in the 
presence of one's new girlfriend? 

He felt Savil's telltale tickling at one corner of his mind, and he 
smiled at her, even while he flushed a little. 

"I wouldn't care," he said, looking from one to the other. "Maybe we 
could...buy costumes even? Or caramel sauce? No chocolate, though, 
please. The taste is too heavy for me to take that much of." 

/And I think I'd like to see Schuldich in a collar and chain some 
night./ 

/And I want Saffie in pretty, elaborate lingerie that takes time to 
remove./ 

/Blindfolds. Nipple clamps. And a vibrator for Savil./ 

They passed by a boutique window, behind the glass stood mannequins in 
cocktail dresses. Nagi tipped a nod in its direction. "I'd even dress 
like a girl." 

/Otherwise, of course, I am open to suggestions./

***

Both Marlow children beamed form ear to ear, and stopped a middle, 
smack in the middle of the street, much to the chagrin of a carriage 
which was on its way down from said street, headed towards where Lady 
Jessica's boarding house used to be.  

The driver, quite unused to seeing a boy glomped by both another boy 
and a girl, stopped most accommodatingly, and starred as if rather he 
had come face to face with a jackrabbit prancing about in velveteen 
trousers and wearing Christian Dior pumps upon it's ears.  But now, it 
only they two crushing Nagi half to death with their over zealous 
embrace.  

Farfarello and Jasper looked at each other as if they were embarrassed 
to be part of the scene.  The owl shrugged, and the dog found his ear 
itched, whereupon he tried to scratch it with the owl, who was smart 
enough to flutter away as its owner began tugging him along once again. 

Schuldich after awhile, hoisted him up with his free hand and left the 
boy be only Savil's while he scampered up before them and their 
floating bags a few paces, the owl nestled on his shoulder and 
partaking once more of his hair. 

"Oh, I can think of... a few things.  Don't you know, Nagi-chan?" 
Schuldich piped up once more then.  "We *LIKE* being able to indulge 
other people's whims they dare not speak... well... usually dare not 
speak."

"That we enjoy being subs."

::Because it's just such wrong.::

::And because, just like you know, or should know, that's where the 
real power lies.  Buried under someone else...::

***

"Like...they've shared some secret in making you the sub? A person's 
gone and made you privy to their unspoken desires, and you..." Nagi 
arched a brow in a questioning sort of way. Schuldich only smiled 
rather knowingly as he gently ruffled the tiny owl's feathers along his 
breast. Savil cuddled him like she might a stuffie. 

"Hm. I suppose I can see your point. However, I never thought of 
playing the sub as fulfilling some need for control over another. But 
then, I don't really need to strive for control, do I?" 

/I already have it. And Crawford knows it./ 

His fingers strayed upwards across Savil's back until they encountered 
a lock of her hair. There they lingered. "I want to be the one who's 
controlled. I want to be ordered about, forced to be someone's 
plaything." 

/For you see, I really have no way of experiencing such mastery 
otherwise. What little I do possess over myself is so tenuous.../ 

/After all, I only have to think it, and this city would explode./ 

At his side, Savil shivered from either excitement or fright. Nagi 
knew not which one until he turned his head to look at her and 
wound up being thoroughly, sweetly kissed. He blinked at her when 
she pulled away, somewhat startled. Savil only giggled and nuzzled 
his nose with her own. He smiled deeply into her eyes, then 
glanced over at Schuldich. 

"But that's not to say that I won't be up to playing the dom for you, 
Schuldich."

***

Schuldich gave the boy a meaningful sort of grin, one twinged with a 
sort of sleeping little wickedness, like a promise never kept, or the 
promise of such along with many, many more sensuous things.

"That, Herrchen, is just what I wanted to hear..." His words trailed 
away then and more than his eyes fell against the boy.  There were 
feathers in his touch, for Jasper lost his hold on his shoulder and 
nearly fluttered onto Nagi's as his master pulled his lips into the 
embrace of his own.  He did not linger though, but rather drew 
somewhat away, combing his hair from his eyes with his fingers and 
the downy feathers that had fallen from his bird onto the sidewalk 
which they drifted down to before being lost utterly in the passing 
footsteps of the afternoon pedestrians, for they were not the only 
ones about.

::And not the only ones with naughty plans at all!::

::Of course not...::

Savil though, froze on one curb of the street, and while her eyes were 
still wide from whatever she had sensed, began to laugh, twirling on 
her toes with Farfarello's chain winding and unwinding about her 
ankles.

Schuldich, with his eyes on the clouds then, rather than the two 
children at his heels.  "We can always... show you what's on our minds.  
But first, a bit of shopping..."

***

"You're home early!" Veronica giggled a little as she swept the door 
open for her master, once again, one clear and empty afternoon like 
they never ever seemed to run out of in spring, even though it wasn't 
spring, and they both knew that well enough.  The way he glanced about 
the street that lined the facade of his townhouse proved that.  It took 
Vyx a moment to look up to her, even though he had seemed to know 
before that she was there.

"Oh, 'tis nothing, my sweet.  I've only gone and worn myself out," this 
assured as he climbed in the last of his steps and into the front rooms 
of his home that went more or less unused now.  The dust wheeled around 
his ankle, clinging here and there to him in greeting before the maid 
could brush it away. "Ah... and embarrassed myself a little I suppose."

"Embarrassed? Oh! L-... Vyx-sama," for upon hearing his story about the 
fellow in Claire who called her employer that, Veronica and he had 
rather decided she should call him that rather than anything else, 
because it was, after all, much more affectionate. "I didn't know you 
could be embarrassed anymore.  I thought you decided you wouldn't be?"

"I did..." He admitted with a shrug as he clomped back into the 
chambers left touched by their lives.  Not much of the pale silt 
outside followed him, and what did was all confined to a few 
cobwebs on his dragon ears, which he took off and hung in the coat 
closet beside his beloved hat.  "But... Japanese people don't like 
to be touched that much, do they?"

"I really have to say I don't know."

"Ah, it's alright.  What's done is done."

"That's true... the red-haired boy again?"

"Yes."

Silence then, and once he had sunk down in his favorite parlor chair 
and sagged against the chipped frame of the window overlooking the back 
yard and the paths of forest left behind this of the older rows of 
houses, she sank down and sat at his feet.  A stocking she coaxed from 
one pocket of her apron- thread and needles from another, and this she 
began to sew as she spoke to him.   "Well, how did the story go this 
year?"

That called his attention away from the rabbits he wished to see 
frolicking and dusted it all around her instead.  "Why, it went quite 
splendidly! I only forgot the last part for a few moments rather than 
an hour like last year."

"Oooh! Yay! I'm glad! But... was it the real end or the one you give it 
when you tell it to all the little children of joy?"

"Ah, it was the censored version, my little mouche.  For what good 
could I possibly do to tell just young, bright things THAT about 
dragons? That they shan't find its bones even in the woodlands any 
longer, for no sooner had the blessed thing breathed its last..."

"Dragons don't breathe."

"A figure of speech, only." And he bopped the side of her head with his 
toe before remembering he hadn't taken his boots off.  A moment of 
struggle and they both landed alongside his chair.  "But either way, it 
got no peace in rest for all manner of beasts never seen before or 
since in Valdemar, thing too fantastical for words... all descended 
upon it and ate it all up on a week, a thing that humungous! You tell 
children these days that what scientists ever saw that creature 
decided that dragons are no better than mice, and live only to 
feed others... what do they say? They grew up believing it is other 
living things feasted on by dragons! Ah, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"No, not really."  

"Ah, but it even makes me sad after all these years... like so many 
other things."

A soft hand alighted on his ankle, and once more he smiled only for 
Veronica.  "You don't seem sad at all."

"I'm not.  It isn't the kind of sad like when you're younger.  It's... 
I can't really say.  I bet Louis would know! But speaking of which, 
Ran has invited us to a party at the Villa tomorrow at seven of 
the clock."

She gasped then, and the stocking fell from her lap though she plainly 
cared nothing for it any longer.  Rather, she jumped up to her little 
feet and clapped as loudly as she could before scurrying out of the 
room after her violin, popping back in for only an instant to ask, 
"Whatever are you going to wear?"

"I've most of tomorrow to figure that out and I don't plan on rushing 
it.  That and if I should tell him that... that little bit about the 
window in the villa."

"What window in the villa?" A sleepy voice asked of him, and though he 
glanced about the room, he could not find who had spoken, but sighed 
for them, whoever it had been, curling his hair behind his ears so 
perhaps he would not hear the words again, even if he wanted to.

"And the Dono will be there?" Veronica asked, plucking at her strings.

"I would hope so.  Perhaps I will get him alone and then show him..."

*** 

It was early afternoon, and Crawford, having had touched base with his 
two clients, decided to slip from the confines of his room and do a bit 
of exploring. A few drinks, dinner out somewhere nice; go to a club, 
maybe, and listen to some live jazz. He had an evening to kill, after 
all. He might as well take a bit of R&R along with work--which was fun 
in its own way to him. 

The bar he chose was a modest-looking sort of place, if one judged it 
by its exterior. Red brick and wrought iron, and a red canvas canopy 
which led practically from the curb to the front door. Inside though, 
was a businessman's haven. It was dark and somewhat plain. No 
pretensions. A piano stood alone in front of a picture-scattered, panel 
wall, and a man sat before it coaxing mellow notes from its yellowing 
keys as the ever-growing number of patrons milled about, quietly 
chatting and laughing and drinking. 

A highball glass of a drink known as a Bloody Siberian sat upon the bar 
before him. Vodka and raspberry liqueur over crushed ice--very little 
in Crawford's case, though. Just enough to chill the liquor. Just like 
he liked it. He swirled the glass; the ice chips twittered at him as 
they crashed together, slowly melting in the vodka's fiery embrace. 

/Are you listening to me?/ 

No blue-green tickle of assent teased him, just a empty kind of echo--
like one might hear in a tunnel. Schuldich was merely hiding in the 
silence between. And that was perfectly all right with Crawford. 

/So long as you're there, Aubrey./ 

Crawford took another contemplative sip, and scooped up a handful of 
peanuts from the white ceramic bowl at his elbow. 

/You haven't read it yet, have you?/ 

Someone touched him on the shoulder, fingertips so light along the seam 
of his jacket's sleeve. Crawford looked around to find a 20-something 
man with short, jet black hair and pale hazel eyes beside him. He had a 
cigar but no lighter. Would he be so kind...? 

The faint rustle of flesh against cotton and one such instrument came 
to searing life with the well-aimed touch of a callused thumb. The 
stranger smiled at him in thanks. 

/No, I guess you haven't. You would have railed at me by now, 
probably./ 

/Am I right?/ 

His skin prickled as the other took his seat, leaning in perhaps a bit 
too far than what was proper. Crawford caught a whiff of lime, warmed 
subtly from his skin. He looked the Schwartz assassin over with 
unmistakable interest. He'd never seen him before. Was he on a visit? 

/I wish you'd read it. At least before you go to bed. I...want you to 
know.../ 

/You have to know how I feel./ 

A clove cigarette slid between his own lips and Crawford waved the 
bartender over for another round. Two now. The stranger wanted to try 
what he had. 

/Words matter, Aubrey. They're solid. Everlasting. They can create or 
destroy./ 

He smiled at the man through the smoke that hung between them, and took 
a long, suggestive drag on the tip of his fag. 

/...I wish you were here./ 

*****