Title: Accent
Rating: PG (for fashion)
Pairing: Crawford/Schuldig, of the vague and fluffy variety
Characters: Schwarz
Disclaimer: --
Author's Notes: This is, in fact, a drabble gone horribly wrong. And just for the record, I happen to approve of Schuldig's tastes in clothing. And if there are any factual, um, inaccuracies in this, well, pretend there aren't. :P I swear it makes sense.
Schuldig had assembled a Look for himself. It was so easy to pretend to be other people, but he tried his best to take only small pieces of others for himself. He pretended to be a long-haired hippie in the park. He pretended to be a character in a war movie with a sweet green jacket. He liked piecing aspects of people together until they fit just right, holding the pieces close inside him and cherishing them like buried treasure. He is so lucky he can steal a part of them away without their noticing. He glows with the people inside of him.
Waiting to cross the street, he saw a man wearing a yellow bandana. He liked the bandana idea, he decided as he tried one on. It was a nice accent, but his Look needed a dash of something more, yet.
The idea of earrings had fled instantly when Schuldig first encountered Aya, and tattoos were out because he constantly thought of clever new ideas for them, and shades were tragically overdone, but . . .
The problem with shades was Schuldig didn't like seeing shadows; he liked seeing red.
"They'll match your blood," Farfarello had said in approval.
"Okay, but what's the point?" Nagi had said.
Everybody knew red and green were complimentary colours. Amateurs.
Schuldig looked over his shoulder.
Crawford never commented on Schuldig's fashion sense.
Once, Crawford caught him actually wearing his red sunglasses. They were on the roof on a warm, pleasant night, but Schuldig wasn't trying to get away from it all. He was watching people down on the street, but he wasn't looking to take parts of them for himself. His ensemble was complete.
"Why," Crawford said, "would you need night vision?"
"It's just fun."
Schuldig wouldn't tell Crawford he liked pretending to be him.
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