A/N: Believe it or not, this story has an actual plot that had time put into it- these two universes are not thrown lightly together. The idea first came to me whenever my friend and I were watching Petshop (the anime) and I commented on how much Leon reminded me of Bill from GSC. From there, this fic was born.
I hope that people will enjoy this, since it's my first *serious* crossover- (The Chibi Files is not serious. At all. -_-;) and that it lives up to the characters of both series.
In any case, I do not own GSC (Gunsmith Cats) or Petshop of Horrors. Please, R/R and let me know what you think.
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The man smiled as he sat at the table across from the Chinaman. The negotiations were going well now that he'd explained his reasons for wanting the animal. He stirred his tea once more with his silver spoon, watching the tan liquid swirl around in its china confines.
"So. We have an understanding then, Master Farcelli?" The Chinaman asked, watching his slightly balding customer stare at the ripples in his oolong tea.
"Yes, of course. The forementioned price I told you is acceptable as well?"
"Oh, yes, I believe that it will be more than sufficient."
The man put his spoon down and watched, entranced. The tan liquid continued to spin around, slowing down to a turtle-paced turn, until the liquid reached equilibrium, small white bubbles foaming at the top. Done with watching, he smiled genially towards the pale-faced man.
"Then shall we quit with the pleasantries and get down to the business of cementing this contract of yours?"
"It would be my pleasure," the man said, smiling. "After all, turning a dream into reality is my whole reason for being here." He stood up gracefully and reached beside him to a small tea table, picking up a piece of paper and pen, then striding next to where the man sat with his forementioned tea.
"Just sign here. Remember, we are not responsible if any of these terms are broken."
"I understand. Just give me the pen."
The balding man smiled as he signed the contract of ownership. Of course he had every intention of following these guidelines. Which is what they were of course. Guidelines, that is.
The Chinaman grinned as he watched the man sign. Another dream fulfilled.
*********************************************************************
"Rally! Rally, where the heck are you?" A petite blonde yelled to the wooden walls that answered her with silence. The young woman put her hands on her hips, then rolled her eyes. "She's always here whenever I need someone to criticize my choice in food, but never when I actually need her. RALLY!"
"I heard you the first time!"
A black haired young woman looked around a nearby corner towards the blonde, her blue eyes slitted in annoyance. She raised an eyebrow, then sighed. "May, what do you want?"
The blonde grinned with a cat-like grin. "There's someone on the phone for you."
"Someone on the phone for me? If it's about Gunsmith Cats, then why can't you handle it?"
A wider grin replaced the blonde's already cat-like one. "They asked for you specifically. Rally Vincent."
Rally dropped her irritated act and instead looked at May with suspicion. "Asked for me specificallly, huh? What aren't you telling me, May Hopkins?"
"Nothing," the blonde retorted, holding out the wireless phone to her partner. Rally raised an eyebrow, but swiped the phone from the woman's hand. "I swear, if it's any of your bomb friends playing a prank-"
"Oh trust me, it's not," May winked before heading back into the deeper confines of the shop. Rally looked nonplussed for a moment, then put the phone next to her ear.
"Hello, Rally Vincent, Gunsmith Cats. How can I help you?"
"Well hello. If it isn't my favorite pussycat."
Rally internally promised death to a certain blonde-haired partner of hers as she gritted her teeth. "Hello, Mr. seven-eleven. What do I owe the pleasure of this call to?"
"Ouch! That almost hurt," Bill responded on the other end. "But I'll let it slide just because you're so sly, my pussycat. Can't a guy call once and a while just to make some pleasant conversation?"
"No conversation is ever pleasant whenever you're involved." Death to a certain bomb-crazy partner. Soon.
"Oh, are we still sore about my last blackmailing attempt?"
"I checked up on that so called 'clause' of yours afterwards. May didn't have to file a weapons patent on those things if she wanted to use them."
"Well..." the phone's voice drawled for a moment. "Maybe I told a little white lie. But who did it hurt? Certainly not May- I've been told by my superiors that they want to possibly make a deal with her about those stun-bombs of hers. They're much more effective and less harmful than those tear-gas hoses."
"You still lied."
"Well... chalk it up to the fact that maybe I needed an excuse to see my favorite kitty once more, hmmm?"
Rally sighed, exasperated with the police officer. "What do you want, Bill?"
"Maybe a trinket from my favorite gun store."
"A trinket?" Rally raised an eyebrow, listening. "What could you possibly want from our store that you couldn't get from either your department or the army grunts downtown?"
"Maybe something that hasn't been invented yet. That requires a certain amount of slyness that I can only get from a certain pussycat of mine."
Rally closed her eyes, letting her free hand rub them via the bridge in her nose. "A certain pussycat? Why don't you just get to the point, Bill? I have no patience for games with you."
"Let's just say one of the crime bosses I usually do undercover work with the station for just spent a large amount of money."
"And... what would this have to do with me?"
"I've been ordered by my bosses to get back into the game and keep tabs on the guy. What I need you and your adorable kitten for is to help me get or make some weaponry that can pass through his defensive block. Preferably alive."
"And why should I do this?" Rally sighed, rolling her eyes. "You know I don't like dealing with you, Bill."
"Maybe for old time's sake?"
"...not good enough."
"Okay, then. I didn't want to have to resort to this, my fine feline," the policeman drawled on the other end, "but it's just come to my attention that you happened to sell a few weapons to a Mr. Austin Powell?"
Rally went over a checklist in her head, trying to recall all the people she'd had in her store the last couple days. Something finally clicked, and she spoke into the phone, her tone of voice questioning.
"Yeah, I remember him. Tall guy, curly black hair and a short mustache? He wanted a .45 with a quick-load clip."
"I hate to break it to you, my darling kitty, but he's an escaped convict by the name of Carl Vocelli. Any documents he gave to you were most likely forged. And although you can't be responsible for not knowing these documents were forged, every single gunshop in the United States is sent a calendar with names and faces of people not to sell guns to. I'm sorry, my dear pussycat, but I'm afraid if you don't help me..."
Ralley sighed, inwardly bashing May for ever having picked up the phone. "If I don't help you...?"
"I'm going to have to report your lovely self and collect on the $500,000 fine that comes from selling a convict arms."
"Bill-"
"I'll be around in half an hour."
The other end of the phone line made a quick 'click', and Rally put the cordless phone onto the nearby desk. Damn him. Damn that stupid seven-eleven-freaking-
"So... what'd he have to say?" May asked, popping her head in to see what had transpired between the police officer and bounty huntress.
"May, remind me that I need to find an anti-cop spray. Now."
May sighed, crossing her arms and looking at the ceiling. "What'd he get us for this time?"
"Selling arms to a convicted man whom we didn't even know was convicted. He's going to be here in half an hour."
May grinned, slightly sly. "Well, we'd better get ready, then, hmm?"
"Not only am I going to have to find an anti-cop spray, but an anti-bomb-bunny one too. Especially if certain partners of mine don't shut their traps."
It was too late, however, for May to get the joke, as she had already vanished back into the store. Rally rolled her eyes and sighed. Between cops and blondes, she was cursed for life.
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Leon Orcott stared at the computer screen, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. A very wealthy personage had just been in to visit the Chinatown pet shop run by the eccentric Count D. And if there was one thing that annoyed Leon, it was people continuing to buy from that stupidly annoying Chinaman.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, placing his hands behind his head. "If it isn't one thing, it's another."
"It's another what?" Jill asked, turning around a nearby cubicle corner and raising an eyebrow. The Los Angeles policeman's computer caught her eye, and she smiled. "The pet shop again, huh? When will you learn, Leon, that Chinatown has its own set of rules, and that normal people like us will never understand them?"
"Hi, Jill," the policeman answered, raising a hand in welcome towards the blonde. He then placed it behind his head once again, and sighed. "I swear, sometimes I get so aggrivated by that stupid Chinaman-"
"Sometimes?" Jill grinned slyly, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, okay. But I'm not obsessed, get it? I just want to know what the hell is going on in there. If I don't get some real answers, answers that make some sort of sense, then I swear I'm going to go insane."
Jill laughed, shaking her head. "I always tell you, Leon, you need to get a little imagination on your side." The blonde secretary sat down in a nearby chair and appraised the police officer. "So, what's it this time? Death? Murder? A killer rabbit?" A small grin painted itself on her lips.
"No. Nothing, yet. Just a very, very rich person who's purchased something from our favorite Count." Leon pursed his lips together. "As much as I want to believe that this will be an incident where there will be no unhappy ending... I know that stupid pet shop."
"Come to think of it..." Leon suddenly said, sitting up and putting his forefinger and thumb against his chin, "That wealthy person that went into the shop was Lewis Farcelli."
"Farcelli... Farcelli... why does that name sound familiar to me?" Jill asked, tapping her finger on the table.
Leon made a mock gun towards Jill and 'shot'. "I know why it's familiar- he was in the news about five years ago for running an underground mob scene. He was absolved of all his crimes in court and given a clean slate. Lately, he's been putting most of his business into the horse business."
"Horse business?"
"Racing and breeding stallions. He runs a racetrack north of the city- makes millions, I'd bet, having people come in and bet on which ones win. Although he doesn't allow only his own horses to compete, as that'd be unfair. Only one of the horses in each race is one of his own... and from what I hear, it's actuall pretty fair on which horse wins."
"Sounds like he made a complete turnaround."
"I'd like to think that too, but word has reached my ears that Mr. clean slate may not be as honest about changing his ways as he says he is. His money has been passing hands quickly, and he hasn't been making the kind of money he's been giving out from his own horses. I suspect he's back to his old tricks."
"And you think he might be working with the Count from the pet shop."
"Yes, I do."
Jill grinned. "You know what you have to do if you want any information, Leon."
The blonde man sighed, unhappy. He crossed his arms, then nodded dejectedly. "Although I'm getting tired of finding bakeries that don't know me yet."
"I'll get to that paperwork. You go find out about our newest mob boss."
"I owe you another dinner, Jill," Leon said, winking while he grabbed his jacket. He walked towards the exit of the police station, leaving behind the secretary in his wake. He then turned and smiled at her. "I'm just grateful that D hasn't asked for any favors like that- I can't imagine what I'd do then." He smiled, then waved. "See ya!"
Jill shook her head, then smiled as she watched him exit the door. "Some men..."
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"And this stall would be for... who, Master Farcelli?" The stablemaster asked, looking around the new extension that connected from the stables of Farcelli's steeds to his own house.
"A purchase I made," the brown-haired man answered, smiling. "A rare find, indeed. I will be taking care of this one personally, Charles."
"I... don't understand. Is my work not good enough, sir, that you want to take care of this personally, or...?"
"Charles, Charles, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I have a special obligation to this specific animal." Farcelli smiled and patted his stableman on the back. "Perhaps, one day, I will explain to you. However, right now, I am unable to say exactly why this specimen is so... unique." He smiled, and then peered out a nearby wooden window towards the front of his estate, only to see a horse trailer attached to a truck pulling in front of the stables.
"Ah. It seems my newest acquisition is here already."
"Master Farcelli? Will you need any assistance?"
The man smiled, and shook his head. "No, but thank you, Charles. Why don't you take the rest of the day as a holiday off?" The stableman smiled, then nodded, used to not questioning his employer's odd visits by people. He strided out, leaving the rich man alone with the truck and its attached horse trailer.
A man, dressed in a simple blue jumpsuit, walked out of the truck. Farcelli nodded to him, then walked over towards him. The man held out a clipboard to the rich horse owner, as well as a pen.
"Sign here, sir. Master D wanted to make sure that the mare arrived in one piece."
Movement from inside the trailer assured Farcelli that the animal bargained for was inside, and he nodded, signing the waver that the man had given him. The jumpsuited man nodded, taking the clipboard. He walked over to his truck and disconnected the tailer from it, then tipped his hat to Farcelli. He jumped into his cab and took off, leaving the horse trailer behind.
Farcelli looked at the trailer and grinned, although he looked around first to see if anyone else was around. Seeing no one, he opened the trailer door and walked over to the stable, opening the door to lead her inside.
When he opened the door, he turned to face his newest acquisition, and his eyes widened. He gasped, not expecting what was before him.
Instead of a mare with four hooves and an equine snout, a lithe, tall lady stood before him. Wide golden eyes stared at him with a deep intelligence, framed by white locks that curled down her face. Her face was centered around an elongated nose that flattened into a wide, almost equine set of nostrils. Long, flat ears rose from either side of her head, ending in sharp curves.
Farcelli gasped, beholding the female presence in front of him. He held out his hand to the female, inviting her into the stable. She blinked, then held out her own hand towards him. The man looked down to see a dual set of long fingers joined by a shortened thumb. He looked up into her intelligent golden eyes, and smiled when the equinal woman gave him a faint grin back.
He reached out with his hand and stroked the white mane that not only encircled her face, but the long tresses that continued from her neck and down to the small of her back.
"I... I never imagined... you are much more beautiful than any mare I would have expected. The Count was right. You are indeed a gem."
Farcelli smiled as he showed the creature its stable, leading it by the hand. There was no way a beautiful creature like this could be a horse, no matter how odd she looked. Although the Count may have promised him the finest filly in all of existance, he was far from unhappy with this... substitution.
Far from unhappy.
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Well???? Read/review/let me know what you think. And always remember, the pets in the Pet shop are never what you think. ^_~
I hope that people will enjoy this, since it's my first *serious* crossover- (The Chibi Files is not serious. At all. -_-;) and that it lives up to the characters of both series.
In any case, I do not own GSC (Gunsmith Cats) or Petshop of Horrors. Please, R/R and let me know what you think.
***********************************************************************
The man smiled as he sat at the table across from the Chinaman. The negotiations were going well now that he'd explained his reasons for wanting the animal. He stirred his tea once more with his silver spoon, watching the tan liquid swirl around in its china confines.
"So. We have an understanding then, Master Farcelli?" The Chinaman asked, watching his slightly balding customer stare at the ripples in his oolong tea.
"Yes, of course. The forementioned price I told you is acceptable as well?"
"Oh, yes, I believe that it will be more than sufficient."
The man put his spoon down and watched, entranced. The tan liquid continued to spin around, slowing down to a turtle-paced turn, until the liquid reached equilibrium, small white bubbles foaming at the top. Done with watching, he smiled genially towards the pale-faced man.
"Then shall we quit with the pleasantries and get down to the business of cementing this contract of yours?"
"It would be my pleasure," the man said, smiling. "After all, turning a dream into reality is my whole reason for being here." He stood up gracefully and reached beside him to a small tea table, picking up a piece of paper and pen, then striding next to where the man sat with his forementioned tea.
"Just sign here. Remember, we are not responsible if any of these terms are broken."
"I understand. Just give me the pen."
The balding man smiled as he signed the contract of ownership. Of course he had every intention of following these guidelines. Which is what they were of course. Guidelines, that is.
The Chinaman grinned as he watched the man sign. Another dream fulfilled.
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"Rally! Rally, where the heck are you?" A petite blonde yelled to the wooden walls that answered her with silence. The young woman put her hands on her hips, then rolled her eyes. "She's always here whenever I need someone to criticize my choice in food, but never when I actually need her. RALLY!"
"I heard you the first time!"
A black haired young woman looked around a nearby corner towards the blonde, her blue eyes slitted in annoyance. She raised an eyebrow, then sighed. "May, what do you want?"
The blonde grinned with a cat-like grin. "There's someone on the phone for you."
"Someone on the phone for me? If it's about Gunsmith Cats, then why can't you handle it?"
A wider grin replaced the blonde's already cat-like one. "They asked for you specifically. Rally Vincent."
Rally dropped her irritated act and instead looked at May with suspicion. "Asked for me specificallly, huh? What aren't you telling me, May Hopkins?"
"Nothing," the blonde retorted, holding out the wireless phone to her partner. Rally raised an eyebrow, but swiped the phone from the woman's hand. "I swear, if it's any of your bomb friends playing a prank-"
"Oh trust me, it's not," May winked before heading back into the deeper confines of the shop. Rally looked nonplussed for a moment, then put the phone next to her ear.
"Hello, Rally Vincent, Gunsmith Cats. How can I help you?"
"Well hello. If it isn't my favorite pussycat."
Rally internally promised death to a certain blonde-haired partner of hers as she gritted her teeth. "Hello, Mr. seven-eleven. What do I owe the pleasure of this call to?"
"Ouch! That almost hurt," Bill responded on the other end. "But I'll let it slide just because you're so sly, my pussycat. Can't a guy call once and a while just to make some pleasant conversation?"
"No conversation is ever pleasant whenever you're involved." Death to a certain bomb-crazy partner. Soon.
"Oh, are we still sore about my last blackmailing attempt?"
"I checked up on that so called 'clause' of yours afterwards. May didn't have to file a weapons patent on those things if she wanted to use them."
"Well..." the phone's voice drawled for a moment. "Maybe I told a little white lie. But who did it hurt? Certainly not May- I've been told by my superiors that they want to possibly make a deal with her about those stun-bombs of hers. They're much more effective and less harmful than those tear-gas hoses."
"You still lied."
"Well... chalk it up to the fact that maybe I needed an excuse to see my favorite kitty once more, hmmm?"
Rally sighed, exasperated with the police officer. "What do you want, Bill?"
"Maybe a trinket from my favorite gun store."
"A trinket?" Rally raised an eyebrow, listening. "What could you possibly want from our store that you couldn't get from either your department or the army grunts downtown?"
"Maybe something that hasn't been invented yet. That requires a certain amount of slyness that I can only get from a certain pussycat of mine."
Rally closed her eyes, letting her free hand rub them via the bridge in her nose. "A certain pussycat? Why don't you just get to the point, Bill? I have no patience for games with you."
"Let's just say one of the crime bosses I usually do undercover work with the station for just spent a large amount of money."
"And... what would this have to do with me?"
"I've been ordered by my bosses to get back into the game and keep tabs on the guy. What I need you and your adorable kitten for is to help me get or make some weaponry that can pass through his defensive block. Preferably alive."
"And why should I do this?" Rally sighed, rolling her eyes. "You know I don't like dealing with you, Bill."
"Maybe for old time's sake?"
"...not good enough."
"Okay, then. I didn't want to have to resort to this, my fine feline," the policeman drawled on the other end, "but it's just come to my attention that you happened to sell a few weapons to a Mr. Austin Powell?"
Rally went over a checklist in her head, trying to recall all the people she'd had in her store the last couple days. Something finally clicked, and she spoke into the phone, her tone of voice questioning.
"Yeah, I remember him. Tall guy, curly black hair and a short mustache? He wanted a .45 with a quick-load clip."
"I hate to break it to you, my darling kitty, but he's an escaped convict by the name of Carl Vocelli. Any documents he gave to you were most likely forged. And although you can't be responsible for not knowing these documents were forged, every single gunshop in the United States is sent a calendar with names and faces of people not to sell guns to. I'm sorry, my dear pussycat, but I'm afraid if you don't help me..."
Ralley sighed, inwardly bashing May for ever having picked up the phone. "If I don't help you...?"
"I'm going to have to report your lovely self and collect on the $500,000 fine that comes from selling a convict arms."
"Bill-"
"I'll be around in half an hour."
The other end of the phone line made a quick 'click', and Rally put the cordless phone onto the nearby desk. Damn him. Damn that stupid seven-eleven-freaking-
"So... what'd he have to say?" May asked, popping her head in to see what had transpired between the police officer and bounty huntress.
"May, remind me that I need to find an anti-cop spray. Now."
May sighed, crossing her arms and looking at the ceiling. "What'd he get us for this time?"
"Selling arms to a convicted man whom we didn't even know was convicted. He's going to be here in half an hour."
May grinned, slightly sly. "Well, we'd better get ready, then, hmm?"
"Not only am I going to have to find an anti-cop spray, but an anti-bomb-bunny one too. Especially if certain partners of mine don't shut their traps."
It was too late, however, for May to get the joke, as she had already vanished back into the store. Rally rolled her eyes and sighed. Between cops and blondes, she was cursed for life.
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Leon Orcott stared at the computer screen, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. A very wealthy personage had just been in to visit the Chinatown pet shop run by the eccentric Count D. And if there was one thing that annoyed Leon, it was people continuing to buy from that stupidly annoying Chinaman.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, placing his hands behind his head. "If it isn't one thing, it's another."
"It's another what?" Jill asked, turning around a nearby cubicle corner and raising an eyebrow. The Los Angeles policeman's computer caught her eye, and she smiled. "The pet shop again, huh? When will you learn, Leon, that Chinatown has its own set of rules, and that normal people like us will never understand them?"
"Hi, Jill," the policeman answered, raising a hand in welcome towards the blonde. He then placed it behind his head once again, and sighed. "I swear, sometimes I get so aggrivated by that stupid Chinaman-"
"Sometimes?" Jill grinned slyly, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, okay. But I'm not obsessed, get it? I just want to know what the hell is going on in there. If I don't get some real answers, answers that make some sort of sense, then I swear I'm going to go insane."
Jill laughed, shaking her head. "I always tell you, Leon, you need to get a little imagination on your side." The blonde secretary sat down in a nearby chair and appraised the police officer. "So, what's it this time? Death? Murder? A killer rabbit?" A small grin painted itself on her lips.
"No. Nothing, yet. Just a very, very rich person who's purchased something from our favorite Count." Leon pursed his lips together. "As much as I want to believe that this will be an incident where there will be no unhappy ending... I know that stupid pet shop."
"Come to think of it..." Leon suddenly said, sitting up and putting his forefinger and thumb against his chin, "That wealthy person that went into the shop was Lewis Farcelli."
"Farcelli... Farcelli... why does that name sound familiar to me?" Jill asked, tapping her finger on the table.
Leon made a mock gun towards Jill and 'shot'. "I know why it's familiar- he was in the news about five years ago for running an underground mob scene. He was absolved of all his crimes in court and given a clean slate. Lately, he's been putting most of his business into the horse business."
"Horse business?"
"Racing and breeding stallions. He runs a racetrack north of the city- makes millions, I'd bet, having people come in and bet on which ones win. Although he doesn't allow only his own horses to compete, as that'd be unfair. Only one of the horses in each race is one of his own... and from what I hear, it's actuall pretty fair on which horse wins."
"Sounds like he made a complete turnaround."
"I'd like to think that too, but word has reached my ears that Mr. clean slate may not be as honest about changing his ways as he says he is. His money has been passing hands quickly, and he hasn't been making the kind of money he's been giving out from his own horses. I suspect he's back to his old tricks."
"And you think he might be working with the Count from the pet shop."
"Yes, I do."
Jill grinned. "You know what you have to do if you want any information, Leon."
The blonde man sighed, unhappy. He crossed his arms, then nodded dejectedly. "Although I'm getting tired of finding bakeries that don't know me yet."
"I'll get to that paperwork. You go find out about our newest mob boss."
"I owe you another dinner, Jill," Leon said, winking while he grabbed his jacket. He walked towards the exit of the police station, leaving behind the secretary in his wake. He then turned and smiled at her. "I'm just grateful that D hasn't asked for any favors like that- I can't imagine what I'd do then." He smiled, then waved. "See ya!"
Jill shook her head, then smiled as she watched him exit the door. "Some men..."
*********************************************************************
"And this stall would be for... who, Master Farcelli?" The stablemaster asked, looking around the new extension that connected from the stables of Farcelli's steeds to his own house.
"A purchase I made," the brown-haired man answered, smiling. "A rare find, indeed. I will be taking care of this one personally, Charles."
"I... don't understand. Is my work not good enough, sir, that you want to take care of this personally, or...?"
"Charles, Charles, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I have a special obligation to this specific animal." Farcelli smiled and patted his stableman on the back. "Perhaps, one day, I will explain to you. However, right now, I am unable to say exactly why this specimen is so... unique." He smiled, and then peered out a nearby wooden window towards the front of his estate, only to see a horse trailer attached to a truck pulling in front of the stables.
"Ah. It seems my newest acquisition is here already."
"Master Farcelli? Will you need any assistance?"
The man smiled, and shook his head. "No, but thank you, Charles. Why don't you take the rest of the day as a holiday off?" The stableman smiled, then nodded, used to not questioning his employer's odd visits by people. He strided out, leaving the rich man alone with the truck and its attached horse trailer.
A man, dressed in a simple blue jumpsuit, walked out of the truck. Farcelli nodded to him, then walked over towards him. The man held out a clipboard to the rich horse owner, as well as a pen.
"Sign here, sir. Master D wanted to make sure that the mare arrived in one piece."
Movement from inside the trailer assured Farcelli that the animal bargained for was inside, and he nodded, signing the waver that the man had given him. The jumpsuited man nodded, taking the clipboard. He walked over to his truck and disconnected the tailer from it, then tipped his hat to Farcelli. He jumped into his cab and took off, leaving the horse trailer behind.
Farcelli looked at the trailer and grinned, although he looked around first to see if anyone else was around. Seeing no one, he opened the trailer door and walked over to the stable, opening the door to lead her inside.
When he opened the door, he turned to face his newest acquisition, and his eyes widened. He gasped, not expecting what was before him.
Instead of a mare with four hooves and an equine snout, a lithe, tall lady stood before him. Wide golden eyes stared at him with a deep intelligence, framed by white locks that curled down her face. Her face was centered around an elongated nose that flattened into a wide, almost equine set of nostrils. Long, flat ears rose from either side of her head, ending in sharp curves.
Farcelli gasped, beholding the female presence in front of him. He held out his hand to the female, inviting her into the stable. She blinked, then held out her own hand towards him. The man looked down to see a dual set of long fingers joined by a shortened thumb. He looked up into her intelligent golden eyes, and smiled when the equinal woman gave him a faint grin back.
He reached out with his hand and stroked the white mane that not only encircled her face, but the long tresses that continued from her neck and down to the small of her back.
"I... I never imagined... you are much more beautiful than any mare I would have expected. The Count was right. You are indeed a gem."
Farcelli smiled as he showed the creature its stable, leading it by the hand. There was no way a beautiful creature like this could be a horse, no matter how odd she looked. Although the Count may have promised him the finest filly in all of existance, he was far from unhappy with this... substitution.
Far from unhappy.
*********************************************************************
Well???? Read/review/let me know what you think. And always remember, the pets in the Pet shop are never what you think. ^_~