Disclaimers: We do not own Pet Shop of Horrors. That honor belongs to Matsuri Akino-sama. We only like to take her characters out for little joyrides into the insanity that is our imaginations. All rights belong to her and the rights for the song belong to Decca Broadway and whoever else came up with it.

What Is This Feeling?

Part 1

What is this feeling?
So sudden and new?

I felt the moment
I laid eyes on you?

My pulse is rushing…
My head is reeling…
My face is flushing…
What is this feeling?

Fervid as a flame
Does it have a name?

Yes…
Loathing
Unadulterated loathing…

(From the 'Wicked' soundtrack, Decca Broadway Records)

A/N-The first of a series of little vignettes that take you through the thoughts of each of the Characters minds. First up is the redoubtable Leon Orcot and his musings on … you guessed it, Count D.

Rated for Leon's foul language. Yes, he does talk that way if you look back through the manga. (Whee! Leon has a bad case of potty mouth. D should wash his mouth out!)

Sighs Please excuse the Spaz that is my Beta reader. She just got out of the hospital and is heavily medicated.

Sometimes he makes me so damned mad that I forget I'm a cop.

That damned smug little smile and the way he acts like he knows more than he's saying-more than he's willing to let on. It pisses me off so bad I just want to smack that fucking better-than-thou-art smirk off his disturbingly pretty face. And, oh, how I really want to shut him up once and for all when he goes all fucking high-and-mighty on me about how humans aren't fit to live.

Damned stupid smile. Damned know-it-all Count and his pet shop from hell. Goddamned freaking goat-thing that's determined to bite me every time I'm near him. Stupid thing loves Chris though. Plays with him constantly, and never lets him out of sight when they leave the pet shop. Like he's determined to guard Chris or something. Him and that raccoon are never far from Chris, ever.

At least the raccoon's nice. I think she likes me. Uses me like a tree whenever I'm around, climbing up onto my shoulder and chattering like a squirrel. Pon-chan, at least, I can tolerate. Better than that damned goat-tiger-sheep monster from hell. She doesn't leave scars on my ass, at least.

Frigging Count.

Smug bastard. I know what you're thinking. You think there's nothing I can pin on you and damned if you're not right all the damned time. But that's okay. One of these days you'll slip and I'll get the evidence I need. Just you watch. All it takes is just one little mistake, one tiny little thing I can prove, and you're gonna find yourself behind bars so damned fast your head'll spin. Oh, you can bet on that.

Stupid tea. Too damned sweet to drink and accompanied by enough sugary desserts to send a diabetic into sugar-shock just by looking at them. I know he's a vegetarian, but does he live off sugar?! I've never known a grown man who can eat that much sweet stuff and not be sicker than hell. But he just downs it like its freaking … manna or something. Whatever that stuff is that's the bread of life. Yeah, yeah, so I haven't been to church in a while.

I keep forgetting, okay?

At least he feeds Chris real food. I think I'd kill him if all he fed my brother were that same sweet crap he eats. And where the hell does he put it all, anyway? Skinny as a stick and looks like he'd break if you breathed on him, the bastard. He reminds me of some of those models, y'know, the ones that always look like they're dying of starvation? Except for the boobs. At least they have those.

He even looks like a damned woman, except for the lack of tits. I've heard him say that he gets mistaken for a woman every now and again, but I don't know how that's possible. Even if he crossdresses with the best of them, I always knew he was a man. And it's not just his voice. It's the way he acts, the way he carries himself or something. Damned if I know.

Damn him anyway. Why the hell can't I get enough on him to put him away? Jill - what the hell does she know, anyway? - calls it obsession. I'm not obsessed! I'm not! Just a little… determined. He pisses me off. Stupid, smug bastard. He'll get what's coming to him sooner or later. And I'll be there when it happens.

I'll be there. God knows, I'm always over there. Hell, anymore, it's like I live at the damned pet shop. Oh, I go home to my apartment to sleep, but I spend more time there than I do anywhere else except at work. He's always inviting me to tea with that small little smile of his. The one that says, 'I know you. I know you won't turn me down.'

And I don't. I stay; breathing in that god-awful incense and sucking down cup after cup of his tea. I stay, and wind up involved in some weird stuff that I can't usually even imagine. My imagination's getting better all the time though. Hell, one time I thought I saw a bunch of funny-dressed people in his shop. Course, I was a helluva lot more then half-drunk at the time, but it was still weird as shit.

And god knows, that place is the fucking epitome of weird. There's something there that just draws people in, keeps them coming back time and again. Or at least the ones who don't end up dead under mysterious circumstances.

I can understand that, just a little. I feel the pull myself, just a tiny bit. It's like a… smell or something. Sometimes, when I'm really stressed, it kinda reminds me of mom. I smell that freaky incense and for some reason, I'm reminded of the way mom smelled. Clean laundry and homemade treats. Funny thing is, the incense doesn't smell like that, but sometimes it brings that to mind. It's weird.

Like D. Things don't get much weirder than him. Half the time I want to smack that frigging smirk off his face, but sometimes-just sometimes, he does something that surprises me. Like this one time…

I got off early and was on my way over to the pet shop to see Chris. I spotted the damned goat and knew wherever he was, Chris wasn't far away. I stopped to watch, staying out of sight. Don't know why, but my gut told me to stay put and I usually trust my gut feelings.

Chris was halfway up an old tree, cradling a little squirrel in one hand. It was just a tiny thing, a baby really, and must've fallen out of a knothole I saw a little above Chris's head. Chris was putting him back, like the really good kid he is. He managed to do that and was on his way down out of the tree when a branch broke and he started to fall. Before I could even move, D was there. He caught Chris before he hit the sidewalk and held him, soothing away the tears from the scare and carefully taking care of the scratches he'd gotten from the fall.

It surprised me a little, I guess, cause he looked like he really cared about Chris. Maybe more than a little cause there was worry in his odd-colored eyes as he wiped blood off of Chris's face and carried him to the pet shop.

It's funny, y'know, cause I never thought he could give a damn about anything but his freaky pets. God knows, he acts like most people are lower on the evolutionary ladder than slime molds and lawyers. Show him a dead body and he has no concern whatsoever. It's like we humans don't even rate.

Stupid prick. I'll show you how we rate when I throw your skinny ass in jail. You think you're so fucking smart. One of these days I'll prove to you that I can be just as smart. You just watch. One of these days, you're going to be knocked on your ass and left speechless. That's a promise.

Someday, I'll make you admit that you don't know everything. I'll show you I can still surprise you, you bastard. It may take me a while, but I'll prove it to you.

I'll prove to you that I…

Fuck this shit. I need another beer. My brain hurts and damned sure thinking about D and his freaky pet shop isn't going to help.

Yeah. Beer and sleep. Sleep is good. If I'm asleep, I'm not thinking about him. D. Really, not gonna think about him anymore…

Damned smug bastard…