Hypothetically, Maybe, Of Course?
Disclaimer: I do not own YGO. This is a work of fanfiction done for a writing challenge (i.e., pick a random song, set the timer to one hour, write/edit within that hour, then post. Though I did go back and correct all the typos after the hour was up...)
Song: Taylor Swift's How You Get The Girl. Obviously I do not own that, either.
Rated for language.
...
He had been surprised to find her here- tendrils of brunette hair framing a swan-like neck hidden between shelves- because he hadn't been sure that she could actually read. It wasn't that big of a surprise given their location, but still. Her? With a brain? Libraries were full of books, and ninty-nine percent of them didn't have pictures except on the back page. The only logical conclusion was that she actually could read, and that was puzzling. Never in their decade-old acquaintance had she demonstrated any semblance of using or even possessing a brain. Yet here she was, tucked into the corner of the Philosophy section surrounded by Plato and Nietzsche, absentmindedly chewing on the end of a pen that had already exploded across her chin.
Wonderful, just wonderful, Seto Kaiba thought. Not only could Tea Gardner read, she was reading the original, unannotated versions of the text, whilst inhaling carcinogens, but still reading and, by the thoughtful expression on her face, actually thinking about the words on the page.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, or do both at the same time with a samba and a hula-hooping panda. Who would have thought Gardner would be the brain out of that lot of dimwits? Not that Taylor or Muttler were much competition, but still. Gardner? With a brain? This was surely the worst day he's seen in a while. Motou with a brain he could buy. Gardner with a brain was just a grand cosmic joke designed to make his day even worse than before.
Now Seto hadn't wanted to visit the venue prior to the fundraising gala. Wasn't it quite enough that the publicity team infringed upon precious product launching time with these...mingling opportunities with hungry paparazzi without needing to wake him up early, too? At least Mokuba was excited about this collection of paper and dust. Seto supposed if someone had to accompany on this dust mite infested vacuum seal, Mokuba would do. The younger Kaiba found everything about New York City amazing. Everything from dirty sidewalks to exhaust fumes to slightly less dirty and slightly less carcinogenic libraries, evidently. "But Seto," Mokie had not-quite-whined-but-insisted, "it's the main branch of the public library and there is sooooo much history behind each portion of the foyer-"
Seto drowned what was left of the history in a brimming mug of black...garbage that did not qualify as coffee or even a beverage suited for human consumption. He sighed again, louder this time. And blinked. And wondered if the cup was filled with hallucinogens because he rounded the corner and there she was, quite possibly the last- well, next to last, seeing as Muttler wasn't hanging around like a lost, neutered puppy- person he wanted to run into a city of several million, curled into a red velvet chair, one long leg under the other. The hair was longer than he remembered, limbs leaner, too, with a touch of a prima ballerina's grace (Seto was absolutely sure Mokuba nattered on about Gardner's dream of dancing in New York somewhere between the symbolism of gargoyles and the rare collector's editions), but the eyes were the same. Crystal blue and eerily calm compared to the sudden flush of pink that raced across cheekbones.
"Kaiba." The voice was the same, too, wrapped in amusement, if a little richer in sarcasm.
"Gardner." The reply was deliberately clipped and antagonizing. "I see you've finally learned how to read. Or did someone finally teach you which direction was up?"
For a moment he was sure she would stick her tongue out at him, or, at the very least, throw a book in his general direction (the old Gardner would have) yet all she said in gracious, bantering tone was "As charming as ever, Kaiba." Then she smiled and a dazzling white light blinded his senses. "I'd ask how you are, but you're just going to be an ass so I'm not going to. How's Mokuba?"
"Fine." So he's an ass, is he? Well, Seto Kaiba is a very fine ass, thank you very much, Gardner. And just because he didn't blather on about the heart of the cards or some stupid sentimental shit like being there for each other and keeping in touch through thick and thin. People were disappointments, and the sooner Gardner made peace with that the better. Just because he wasn't a fan of all that hugging and encouragement nonsense. If Mokuba wanted to be coddled, he would hire Teletubbies instead of ex-military.
Sadly, the boy himself did not share Seto's aversion to people with IQs less than twenty. A dark magenta-blue blur launched itself at Gardner, who caught the squirming mass by the arms in a surprisingly graceful twirl. "Tea! We've missed you sooooooooo much!"
This time Gardner didn't bother to hide her amusement. "I've missed you too, Mokuba. How are you doing?" She ruffled the younger boy's hair and Mokuba practically bounced with joy. "Did you get my postcards?"
"Yes! I loved the macaroon one from Paris! Are you going back soon? Seto's flying there tomorrow and you could totally ride with us on the blue eyes if you want."
If anything, Tea looked even more amused than before at the shape of the jet. "I wish, Mokuba, but, unfortunately, I've been roped in hosting some fundraising gala tonight. Some rich jerk-" here she shot Seto meaningful look that imbued jerk with less than family friendly equivalents- "is sponsoring our newest ballet and I'm supposed to make sure he doesn't get bored to death."
"Too late." Seto shot back. So he was a jerk now, was he? Well she was an acid tongued, Energizer Bunny-sized drummer with an annoying propensity for getting under his skin! He had half a mind to drown himself in canapés, or at least a couple good limoncellos, hold the lemon.
This was going to be the worst day ever. No doubt about that.
And without coffee, too.
Ugh.
...
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