ummm... what can i say? some sugar high wrote this... i don't know if it's continue-worthy or not... tell me!
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i don't own trinity blood... sigh... not tres, neither...
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Dance Dance
"There's no way we can go in the way we are," Father Wordsworth said sensibly, after looking out the window for five minutes.
"But there's no other option to scoping out Count Von Beregern," Abel argued.
"I didn't say we couldn't go in - only that WE CAN'T go in as we ARE."
A silence.
"Yeah..." the grey-haired Crusnik conceded. "I guess we don't fit in..."
"You THINK?" Leon growled. "I always thought these uniforms were shit. Undercover casuals would be much better -"
"No respect..." whimpered Abel.
"No respect? It's common sense! With these things on," the curly-haired felon yanked on his uniform lapel. "We might as well stamp ourselves on the forehead 'POLICE'!"
"I don't have anything on my forehead," Abel disagreed. "People don't look at me and think 'police'."
"Noooo. They think 'nitwit'."
"WHHHAATTT?"
"Too true..." murmured Wordsworth.
"Oh yeah?" retorted Father Abel. "When they lok at you, Leon-san, they think 'criminal' -"
"SAY THAT AGAIN!" roared Leon, now nose to nose with his partner.
"Fathers. I would suggest you calm down. Father Leon's blood pressure is rising dangerously and might cause -"
"Hey! Don't treat me like an old man! I'm not the one with grey hair! - And - hey! - stop laughing at me, moron!"
"BOYS!" Sister kate sighed looking around the small rented hotel room with a grimace. Somehow the main AX team had found spots to sit and stand - the fathers: Havel, Wordsworth, Abel, Leon, Hugue and Tres. Squished between Abel and Leon, Sister Esteher hunched, fuming with annoyance as the two older Fathers bickered about stupid little things (in her opinion) over her head. Sister Kate, herself, was uncomfortably floating between a silent Hugue and a thoughtful Havel.
"Getting BACK on topic," growled Esther.
"Ahahaha!" Abel laughed weakly at her sparking eyes.
"Well..." Havel said softly but commandingly.
Everybody stopped to listen.
"I hate loud music."
Everybody blinked.
A pause.
"I'm not going in - not unless there's extenuating circumstances..."
"Nor I!" Wordsworth agreed. "Count me out."
"Same here," Hugue blinked.
"What we need," Leon said, breaking the resulting silence. "Is a hot chick. That'd surprise 'em!"
Everybody looked at Esther.
"Uh... why me?"
"Well... Kate is transparent -" Wordsworth pointed out. He sighed. "If only Sister Noelle were still here..." He trialed off at the suddenly depressed faces of Havel and Abel.
"Shut up, Wordsworth," Leon barked. "Esther, you'll be fine! You're cute! You're feisty! You're the perfect date - and it'll go okay - especially since Uncle Leon will be there -"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
"NOOO!"
"Oh no, you don't!"
Sister Kate, Havel, Abel and Esther said at the same time.
"What? I'm the perfect choice - I'm the most suave and street-wise - not like the airhead here -"
Abel blinked.
"Eh? Airhead? Eh? Eh? Who's an -"
Looking at the puzzled priest, the rest sighed.
"He's got a point," Hugue said dourly into the silence.
"No. He's just eliminated another candidate," Sister Kate corrected. "We ALL know what Father Leon gets like when he's in a bar with alcohol and girls -"
"Geez! You make me sound like a monster..."
"Absolutely," Esther glared.
"Hey - hey... you called me an airhead," Abel said in outrage.
Everybody sweatdropped.
"He's just getting it now?" Havel sighed.
"Hopeless," Esther slumped down.
"Father Abel," Tres intoned (always serious). "I suggest you reconfigure your circuits - they seem to be faulty -"
"I'm not a monster."
"Maniac -"
"Nymphomaniac."
"Then we have no choice," Havel interrupted the chaos.
Everybody fell silent again.
"There's only one option..."
"Eh?"
"Wordsworth, Hugue and I detest loud music. Sister Kate is transparent. Abel..." Here the priest paused at loss for words.
"Is... stands out - Leon has no control. Esther can go - but she needs a companion, so there's only one option by logical reason -"
Everybody's eyes followed his gaze -
To the stoic Tres.
"T-t-t-tres-san?" Abel stuttered. "Can he do it?"
"WHAT A WASTE! AW! MAN!" wailed Leon.
"Amazing idea," Wordsworth nodded.
Tres blinked.
"This doesn't compute..."
"It's fine," Sister Kate said. "All we need to do is get the right clothes for you and Sister Esther - you need to wear the most stylish clothes to get into a -"
"A club like that," finished Esther, trying to hide her worry and act like a tough girl. "We can do it, Tres-sempai!"
"Affirmative."
Was there a note of puzzlement in the robot?
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How hard can it be to get into a Dance Club?