.1000 Oceans.
His hands shook as he grasped the chipped coffee mug in one hand, blood bleeding into the crack where he'd cut his lip. He could taste the blood mixed with a ceramic something or other on his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the unique flavor. He brought the cup to his dry, chapped lips again, letting the bittersweet flavor of the coffee mix with the coppery taste of blood. It was unnervingly delicious.
He slammed the cup down on the aged wooden surface of the table, the remnants of the coffee splashing against the sides of the mug and splattering across the table, absorbing into the surface and leaving behind a impromptu pattern. The noise was loud enough to scare away the puppy that slept peacefully in the corner, causing the young creature to yelp and skitter away into the next room, away from the sudden disturbance. Trowa watched sadly as his eight-month old treasure, Reverence, scampered away from him, apologetic that he had caused such tumult in the life of his small friend. His hand continued to shake uncontrollably, and he grasped it with his other hand to cease its unwelcome quivering.
His vision was hazy as he watched the motions of his hands, everything going by a little slower than usual. He waved his hand in front of his face, his eyes not quite following as quickly and the result was Trowa seeing a large tan blur as his hand fluttered limply in front of him.
He realized that in addition to his hazy vision, his sight was also affected by the hot, boiling tears that began to well in his eyes.
[these tears I've cried]
//Why am I crying?// Trowa questioned himself, feeling each tear scorch his face, and he quickly rubbed him away with the back of the sleeve of his old, cherished navy blue sweater.
[I've cried]
The sweater was worn with age; he must have washed it over five hundred times. The color had faded considerably, but it was still soft, warm, and comforting. The way he liked everything to be. He often bunched the v- neck collar up to his nose and inhale deeply, smelling the smells that were all too familiar and precious and dear to him-the smells of fabric softener, gardenias, and the unmistakable scent of Heero.
[a thousand oceans]
He remembered when Heero had first given him the sweater. It was after the war, and they were on a shuttle back to L-1, where they had mutually decided to spend their lives together-for the time being, at least.
[and if it seems]
Fingering the frayed edges of the sleeves, Trowa recalled that the air conditioning within the shuttle was almost unbearable; he was wearing a turtleneck, but he was still shivering like crazy.
[I'm floating in the.]
"I'm fine, Heero," he had said to him. But his face gave him away, his shoulders and arms shivering slightly and his lips trembling as he drank his coffee from the shuttle-issued styrofoam cups. Heero had immediately stripped his body of the sweater and thrown it in Trowa's lap.
[and I always will]
"Well, don't expect me to dress you," Heero had said, a small hint of a smile on his lips as the intense, dark haired boy closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest to attempt to sleep through the long flight ahead of them.
[I can't believe that I would keep]
He always looked so peaceful in his sleep. So unlike how he was when he was awake; demanding, on the edge, vehement, and fierce.
[keep you from flying]
As he slept, his long eyelashes became noticeable, fluttering as he dreamt of things that Trowa would never become privy to. His face was relaxed, his eyebrows no longer creased into a concentrated countenance that never seemed to go away completely.
[and I would cry]
Only in his sleep.
[a thousand more]
Trowa's sleeves were damp with scalding tears that never fell from his face; or never had a chance to, Trowa immediately jamming the heels of his hands, covered in the sweater, into his eyes, moistening the sweater sleeves thoroughly.
[if that's what it takes]
He stood, adorned only in a pair of soft, flannel pajama pants and the beloved sweater, walking towards the mirror to wash off his face.
[to sail you home]
He passed Reverence on the way over, kneeling down and taking time out of his way to ask for forgiveness from Reverence, who forgave easily as Trowa lovingly scratched the dog's ears. Trowa decided a trip to the bathroom could wait, and he sat beside the puppy on the tan carpeted floor. Reverence quickly curled up into Trowa's lap, Trowa smiling at the animal's hurried pardon. He stroked Reverence quietly, remembering the first day he'd laid eyes on the small puppy.
[sail you home]
He had once told Heero that his dream growing up as a boy was to have a pet, a golden retriever puppy, he had said. For some reason, that struck a chord in Heero, and the next day, Heero had come home with a golden under his arm. A red ribbon was tied around the dog's neck, the dog panting happily and squirming in Heero's grasp to scurry towards his new owner.
[sail you home]
"He knows you wanted him," Heero had said, brushing the excess puppy hair from his dark suit. "Since he's yours, you're the one who's going to feed him, let him out, clean up after him-all that. I'll have nothing to do with him."
[I'm aware what the rules are]
Trowa had nodded, too wrapped up in a bundle of Reverence, who he'd named on the spot. It was what the world had needed, post-war. Reverence. Veneration. Respect for the world that he and Heero and the others had worked so hard to mold with clumsy, naïve fingers. He surveyed his hands as they glided though soft, velvety puppy fur, his right hand still trembling as nimble fingers became lost in the downy wonder coiled in his lap.
[but you know that I will run]
Heero had always shown Trowa in many ways how he disliked the puppy's presence in their house, and how the dog was an incredible waste of money. Trowa always nodded, then snuck peeks at Heero when he was alone with their pet. He'd catch Heero feeding it the last hot dog, or scratching the back of its ears playfully. He knew Heero really loved the dog, and he felt no need to argue when Heero brought up time and time again how much Heero thought the dog a bother.
[you know that I will follow you]
Standing and carrying the still slumbering pup in the crook of his left arm, Trowa entered the bathroom, pushing open the door with his free hand and turning the light on. The light flickered a little before blinding him harshly. Trowa cursed the fluorescent lights that glowed an eerie green tint, and set the puppy down by his bare feet. Immediately, Reverence snuggled against Trowa's feet, and Trowa's toes which were once cold, began to warm up against the dog's body heat it happily shared.
[over Silbury hill]
He planted his hands on the counter, gripping it bleakly as he leaned in closer towards the mirror. There was dried blood along his lip where he had sliced it on the brim of the mug. There were large bags under his eyes, which were red from the unwanted tears that were still somewhat present in his dull green eyes. He noticed nonchalantly that his eyes tended to change their shades of green according to when Heero was around; Heero had been gone for days and his eyes were now a dim olive that stared back at him as he peered into the looking glass.
[through the solar field]
Slowly, he turned activated the tap, pushing the knob up steadily. Not allowing the water to warm, he splashed cold water on his face, attempting to stop the searing tears from falling down his face. The cold did him good for the time being, and he sighed, letting the water trickle down his face, falling from his jaw and onto the sweater. He'd have to wash it again sometime soon.
[you know that I will follow you]
He leaned forward again, inspecting his lip. The bleeding had stopped, but he needed to remove the dried blood. Carefully, with his fingernail, he began to scrape the blood off carefully, pulling back in pain and hissing in a breath when he got too close to the wound. Reverence sensed that Trowa was in pain, and he rubbed up against Trowa's ankle, concerned. Trowa smiled and rubbed the puppy with the top of his foot, cleaning away all the blood delicately.
[and if I find you]
Trowa remembered when he was painting the outside of their home, a dark forest green, the color of Trowa's eyes. Heero had wanted it that color and Trowa had complied by nodding in silent agreement. Then, one day, he'd slipped from the ladder, falling down two stories onto the lawn below. He was alright save for his left leg, which was twisted in a completely unnatural position, blood gushing from the knee where the skin had split on a jagged root in the ground. Heero had come running, first aid kit in hand; the same first aid kit he'd used countless times to patch up Trowa's minor wounds on Peacemillion and even prior to that.
[will you still remember]
Heero had been so.so gentle. Tender, even. So different than the harsh façade he sometimes put on. Trowa knew he was fortunate enough to see these rare, affectionate moments that most people thought Heero didn't possess. Trowa knew otherwise.
[playing at the trains]
All the blood cleared away from his lip, Trowa leaned back to view himself in the mirror, all wounds healed or healing. His lip was still a bit swollen, but that wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was that his eyes still burned with tears.
[or does this li.]
He thought something was wrong with himself, the way he couldn't even will himself to cease something as trivial and suppressible as crying, but he found it nearly impossible for the tears to die out, continuing to wipe them away hastily.
[little blue ball]
//Do I miss him this much?// he thought to himself, going down to the level of sniffling a little bit along with the tears that continued to surge from his eyes like a never-ending current. Trowa sighed.
[just fade away?]
He remembered vaguely being slapped, the force of the blow sending him to the hard wooden floor of the kitchen. Heero had struck him, the emotional pain far out besting the physical. He knew he could take the throbbing of his cheek, but the sting in his heart was what continued to haunt him, every time he thought of the episode in the kitchen. Heero's eyes were dark and intense, more intense and severe than Trowa had ever seen them. He didn't remember what Heero had said, or even what the hell had happened to cause Heero to go off into such fantastic rage. Heero's words blended together like a the sounds of a crowded subway. From there, all Trowa recalled was the slamming of the door, and the ignition of Heero's motorcycle blaring in his ears, ringing as it became more and more faint.
Heero hadn't been back for weeks.
[I'm aware what the rules are]
During the second week Heero had been gone, Trowa had taken to sleeping the days away, not bothering to eat, cursing himself for being so weak.
He'd spoken to Duo as to what to do. Duo knew as well as Trowa that he couldn't just label it an abusive relationship, because it wasn't one. It was a relationship of respect.
"Respect that Heero needs to do what he needs to do right now," Duo had said, embracing Trowa like a true friend. "He'll come back to you if he knows what's good for him. The fact that he knows you'll be here and that I know YOU know he'll be back is what will bring him home."
[but you know that I will run]
Trowa had taken Duo's words to heart, abiding by them accordingly and lying around the house with Reverence as his company. He'd snapped out of his daze when his laptop announced an incoming message.
It was Heero.
For nearly three hours, Trowa had watched on, tears of every emotion available streaming from his eyes as he viewed the commlink message from Heero. He couldn't tell where Heero was by where Heero was sitting, but he knew his lover was alright.
Heero had tears in his own eyes. He explained that his actions were rash and unacceptable. So much like the Heero that Trowa knew and loved. Heero touched the screen gingerly, Trowa reaching up to touch Heero's fingers through the screen.
"I thought that by settling down, I had given up on life. I need to tell you that I was wrong. You didn't weigh me down; you were the catalyst that helped me become what I am now. You've made me everything I wanted to be.it took me so long to realize that."
Heero smiled one of his extraordinary smiles, the kind that didn't make itself known unless Heero was sure it was needed.
"I love you," Heero had said. It was the first time the words had passed the stoic man's lips. Trowa's heart ached; soaring with the fact that Heero had spoken the words he'd yearned to hear for so long, and crumpling with the fact that Heero wasn't in his presence to embrace, to hold. Heero answered his unsung prayer by saying he'd be home soon to show him how love can endure.
The message had been days ago. Trowa looked at himself blankly in the mirror. He wanted Heero home with him.
[you know that I will follow you]
Quickly and with purpose, hot tears burning his face, he ran upstairs, Reverence at his heels. He threw a suitcase on the bed, rummaging through his drawers and packing the necessities. He needed to be with Heero as soon as he could.
Perhaps the twinge in his heart would subside, the ache that caused the tears to continue to fall and blur his vision.
[these tears I've cried]
//He might be on his way home,// his mind screamed, frantically shoving clothes haphazardly into the suitcase, not caring if anything matched or if it anything was actually clothing.
[I've cried]
He needed to see Heero.
[a thousand oceans]
//But I need to go to him. I need to find him, now."
[and if it seems]
He pushed the cover down on his suitcase, zipping up the sides. He whirled around, ready to jump out the door and take himself wherever his heart told him to go-even though it told him to stay right there. To stay home.
[I'm floating in the.]
He stepped back, dropping the suitcase by his feet.
[and I always will]
Heero was standing in the doorframe.
[I can't believe that I would keep]
Heero looked tired. Fatigued.
[keep you from flying]
His eyes grew soft as they viewed Trowa, Trowa's eyes now overflowing with tears from pent up emotion that he couldn't begin to describe.
[so I would cry]
The grief. The anger. Most of all, the elation.
[a thousand more]
"Going somewhere?" Heero said softly, reaching a hand out to Trowa.
[if that's what it takes]
Trowa stood motionless. It was like a dream; everything was in slow motion.
[to sail you home]
He ran to Heero, jumping into the boy's arms and toppling them to the ground.
[sail you home]
Trowa looked at Heero beneath him, their faces inches away.
[sail you home]
His tears dripped from his face and onto Heero's cheeks; Heero leaned up to kiss them away.
[.sail.]
"Forgive me?" Heero asked.
[sail you]
Trowa shook his head, then smiled slyly. "Yes."
[home.]
His hands shook as he grasped the chipped coffee mug in one hand, blood bleeding into the crack where he'd cut his lip. He could taste the blood mixed with a ceramic something or other on his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the unique flavor. He brought the cup to his dry, chapped lips again, letting the bittersweet flavor of the coffee mix with the coppery taste of blood. It was unnervingly delicious.
He slammed the cup down on the aged wooden surface of the table, the remnants of the coffee splashing against the sides of the mug and splattering across the table, absorbing into the surface and leaving behind a impromptu pattern. The noise was loud enough to scare away the puppy that slept peacefully in the corner, causing the young creature to yelp and skitter away into the next room, away from the sudden disturbance. Trowa watched sadly as his eight-month old treasure, Reverence, scampered away from him, apologetic that he had caused such tumult in the life of his small friend. His hand continued to shake uncontrollably, and he grasped it with his other hand to cease its unwelcome quivering.
His vision was hazy as he watched the motions of his hands, everything going by a little slower than usual. He waved his hand in front of his face, his eyes not quite following as quickly and the result was Trowa seeing a large tan blur as his hand fluttered limply in front of him.
He realized that in addition to his hazy vision, his sight was also affected by the hot, boiling tears that began to well in his eyes.
[these tears I've cried]
//Why am I crying?// Trowa questioned himself, feeling each tear scorch his face, and he quickly rubbed him away with the back of the sleeve of his old, cherished navy blue sweater.
[I've cried]
The sweater was worn with age; he must have washed it over five hundred times. The color had faded considerably, but it was still soft, warm, and comforting. The way he liked everything to be. He often bunched the v- neck collar up to his nose and inhale deeply, smelling the smells that were all too familiar and precious and dear to him-the smells of fabric softener, gardenias, and the unmistakable scent of Heero.
[a thousand oceans]
He remembered when Heero had first given him the sweater. It was after the war, and they were on a shuttle back to L-1, where they had mutually decided to spend their lives together-for the time being, at least.
[and if it seems]
Fingering the frayed edges of the sleeves, Trowa recalled that the air conditioning within the shuttle was almost unbearable; he was wearing a turtleneck, but he was still shivering like crazy.
[I'm floating in the.]
"I'm fine, Heero," he had said to him. But his face gave him away, his shoulders and arms shivering slightly and his lips trembling as he drank his coffee from the shuttle-issued styrofoam cups. Heero had immediately stripped his body of the sweater and thrown it in Trowa's lap.
[and I always will]
"Well, don't expect me to dress you," Heero had said, a small hint of a smile on his lips as the intense, dark haired boy closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest to attempt to sleep through the long flight ahead of them.
[I can't believe that I would keep]
He always looked so peaceful in his sleep. So unlike how he was when he was awake; demanding, on the edge, vehement, and fierce.
[keep you from flying]
As he slept, his long eyelashes became noticeable, fluttering as he dreamt of things that Trowa would never become privy to. His face was relaxed, his eyebrows no longer creased into a concentrated countenance that never seemed to go away completely.
[and I would cry]
Only in his sleep.
[a thousand more]
Trowa's sleeves were damp with scalding tears that never fell from his face; or never had a chance to, Trowa immediately jamming the heels of his hands, covered in the sweater, into his eyes, moistening the sweater sleeves thoroughly.
[if that's what it takes]
He stood, adorned only in a pair of soft, flannel pajama pants and the beloved sweater, walking towards the mirror to wash off his face.
[to sail you home]
He passed Reverence on the way over, kneeling down and taking time out of his way to ask for forgiveness from Reverence, who forgave easily as Trowa lovingly scratched the dog's ears. Trowa decided a trip to the bathroom could wait, and he sat beside the puppy on the tan carpeted floor. Reverence quickly curled up into Trowa's lap, Trowa smiling at the animal's hurried pardon. He stroked Reverence quietly, remembering the first day he'd laid eyes on the small puppy.
[sail you home]
He had once told Heero that his dream growing up as a boy was to have a pet, a golden retriever puppy, he had said. For some reason, that struck a chord in Heero, and the next day, Heero had come home with a golden under his arm. A red ribbon was tied around the dog's neck, the dog panting happily and squirming in Heero's grasp to scurry towards his new owner.
[sail you home]
"He knows you wanted him," Heero had said, brushing the excess puppy hair from his dark suit. "Since he's yours, you're the one who's going to feed him, let him out, clean up after him-all that. I'll have nothing to do with him."
[I'm aware what the rules are]
Trowa had nodded, too wrapped up in a bundle of Reverence, who he'd named on the spot. It was what the world had needed, post-war. Reverence. Veneration. Respect for the world that he and Heero and the others had worked so hard to mold with clumsy, naïve fingers. He surveyed his hands as they glided though soft, velvety puppy fur, his right hand still trembling as nimble fingers became lost in the downy wonder coiled in his lap.
[but you know that I will run]
Heero had always shown Trowa in many ways how he disliked the puppy's presence in their house, and how the dog was an incredible waste of money. Trowa always nodded, then snuck peeks at Heero when he was alone with their pet. He'd catch Heero feeding it the last hot dog, or scratching the back of its ears playfully. He knew Heero really loved the dog, and he felt no need to argue when Heero brought up time and time again how much Heero thought the dog a bother.
[you know that I will follow you]
Standing and carrying the still slumbering pup in the crook of his left arm, Trowa entered the bathroom, pushing open the door with his free hand and turning the light on. The light flickered a little before blinding him harshly. Trowa cursed the fluorescent lights that glowed an eerie green tint, and set the puppy down by his bare feet. Immediately, Reverence snuggled against Trowa's feet, and Trowa's toes which were once cold, began to warm up against the dog's body heat it happily shared.
[over Silbury hill]
He planted his hands on the counter, gripping it bleakly as he leaned in closer towards the mirror. There was dried blood along his lip where he had sliced it on the brim of the mug. There were large bags under his eyes, which were red from the unwanted tears that were still somewhat present in his dull green eyes. He noticed nonchalantly that his eyes tended to change their shades of green according to when Heero was around; Heero had been gone for days and his eyes were now a dim olive that stared back at him as he peered into the looking glass.
[through the solar field]
Slowly, he turned activated the tap, pushing the knob up steadily. Not allowing the water to warm, he splashed cold water on his face, attempting to stop the searing tears from falling down his face. The cold did him good for the time being, and he sighed, letting the water trickle down his face, falling from his jaw and onto the sweater. He'd have to wash it again sometime soon.
[you know that I will follow you]
He leaned forward again, inspecting his lip. The bleeding had stopped, but he needed to remove the dried blood. Carefully, with his fingernail, he began to scrape the blood off carefully, pulling back in pain and hissing in a breath when he got too close to the wound. Reverence sensed that Trowa was in pain, and he rubbed up against Trowa's ankle, concerned. Trowa smiled and rubbed the puppy with the top of his foot, cleaning away all the blood delicately.
[and if I find you]
Trowa remembered when he was painting the outside of their home, a dark forest green, the color of Trowa's eyes. Heero had wanted it that color and Trowa had complied by nodding in silent agreement. Then, one day, he'd slipped from the ladder, falling down two stories onto the lawn below. He was alright save for his left leg, which was twisted in a completely unnatural position, blood gushing from the knee where the skin had split on a jagged root in the ground. Heero had come running, first aid kit in hand; the same first aid kit he'd used countless times to patch up Trowa's minor wounds on Peacemillion and even prior to that.
[will you still remember]
Heero had been so.so gentle. Tender, even. So different than the harsh façade he sometimes put on. Trowa knew he was fortunate enough to see these rare, affectionate moments that most people thought Heero didn't possess. Trowa knew otherwise.
[playing at the trains]
All the blood cleared away from his lip, Trowa leaned back to view himself in the mirror, all wounds healed or healing. His lip was still a bit swollen, but that wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was that his eyes still burned with tears.
[or does this li.]
He thought something was wrong with himself, the way he couldn't even will himself to cease something as trivial and suppressible as crying, but he found it nearly impossible for the tears to die out, continuing to wipe them away hastily.
[little blue ball]
//Do I miss him this much?// he thought to himself, going down to the level of sniffling a little bit along with the tears that continued to surge from his eyes like a never-ending current. Trowa sighed.
[just fade away?]
He remembered vaguely being slapped, the force of the blow sending him to the hard wooden floor of the kitchen. Heero had struck him, the emotional pain far out besting the physical. He knew he could take the throbbing of his cheek, but the sting in his heart was what continued to haunt him, every time he thought of the episode in the kitchen. Heero's eyes were dark and intense, more intense and severe than Trowa had ever seen them. He didn't remember what Heero had said, or even what the hell had happened to cause Heero to go off into such fantastic rage. Heero's words blended together like a the sounds of a crowded subway. From there, all Trowa recalled was the slamming of the door, and the ignition of Heero's motorcycle blaring in his ears, ringing as it became more and more faint.
Heero hadn't been back for weeks.
[I'm aware what the rules are]
During the second week Heero had been gone, Trowa had taken to sleeping the days away, not bothering to eat, cursing himself for being so weak.
He'd spoken to Duo as to what to do. Duo knew as well as Trowa that he couldn't just label it an abusive relationship, because it wasn't one. It was a relationship of respect.
"Respect that Heero needs to do what he needs to do right now," Duo had said, embracing Trowa like a true friend. "He'll come back to you if he knows what's good for him. The fact that he knows you'll be here and that I know YOU know he'll be back is what will bring him home."
[but you know that I will run]
Trowa had taken Duo's words to heart, abiding by them accordingly and lying around the house with Reverence as his company. He'd snapped out of his daze when his laptop announced an incoming message.
It was Heero.
For nearly three hours, Trowa had watched on, tears of every emotion available streaming from his eyes as he viewed the commlink message from Heero. He couldn't tell where Heero was by where Heero was sitting, but he knew his lover was alright.
Heero had tears in his own eyes. He explained that his actions were rash and unacceptable. So much like the Heero that Trowa knew and loved. Heero touched the screen gingerly, Trowa reaching up to touch Heero's fingers through the screen.
"I thought that by settling down, I had given up on life. I need to tell you that I was wrong. You didn't weigh me down; you were the catalyst that helped me become what I am now. You've made me everything I wanted to be.it took me so long to realize that."
Heero smiled one of his extraordinary smiles, the kind that didn't make itself known unless Heero was sure it was needed.
"I love you," Heero had said. It was the first time the words had passed the stoic man's lips. Trowa's heart ached; soaring with the fact that Heero had spoken the words he'd yearned to hear for so long, and crumpling with the fact that Heero wasn't in his presence to embrace, to hold. Heero answered his unsung prayer by saying he'd be home soon to show him how love can endure.
The message had been days ago. Trowa looked at himself blankly in the mirror. He wanted Heero home with him.
[you know that I will follow you]
Quickly and with purpose, hot tears burning his face, he ran upstairs, Reverence at his heels. He threw a suitcase on the bed, rummaging through his drawers and packing the necessities. He needed to be with Heero as soon as he could.
Perhaps the twinge in his heart would subside, the ache that caused the tears to continue to fall and blur his vision.
[these tears I've cried]
//He might be on his way home,// his mind screamed, frantically shoving clothes haphazardly into the suitcase, not caring if anything matched or if it anything was actually clothing.
[I've cried]
He needed to see Heero.
[a thousand oceans]
//But I need to go to him. I need to find him, now."
[and if it seems]
He pushed the cover down on his suitcase, zipping up the sides. He whirled around, ready to jump out the door and take himself wherever his heart told him to go-even though it told him to stay right there. To stay home.
[I'm floating in the.]
He stepped back, dropping the suitcase by his feet.
[and I always will]
Heero was standing in the doorframe.
[I can't believe that I would keep]
Heero looked tired. Fatigued.
[keep you from flying]
His eyes grew soft as they viewed Trowa, Trowa's eyes now overflowing with tears from pent up emotion that he couldn't begin to describe.
[so I would cry]
The grief. The anger. Most of all, the elation.
[a thousand more]
"Going somewhere?" Heero said softly, reaching a hand out to Trowa.
[if that's what it takes]
Trowa stood motionless. It was like a dream; everything was in slow motion.
[to sail you home]
He ran to Heero, jumping into the boy's arms and toppling them to the ground.
[sail you home]
Trowa looked at Heero beneath him, their faces inches away.
[sail you home]
His tears dripped from his face and onto Heero's cheeks; Heero leaned up to kiss them away.
[.sail.]
"Forgive me?" Heero asked.
[sail you]
Trowa shook his head, then smiled slyly. "Yes."
[home.]