AN: Eeeeeewww, you know I really feel like there's no way I can apologize for not updating. I can always go with "better late than never..." or "the longer the wait the better it is..." Anyway, I hope that many of you are subscribed are still going to read (and maybe a review, must I beg?) The first two chaps were updated, so I'd skim through... Or not. I've been going through my nanowrimo (I wanted to turn it into an original story, I'll do that eventually, but it'll stay as is for now) and the first fifty pages appear to be non-train-wrecked, so chapters should come fairly regularly. For those of you who followed If I Tell Thee you know I keep that promise.

After this, the AN's should be at the bottom, so that they're out of your way and you can read it at your own interest. :)

Act Three

Michiru found herself at the bar the very next day, some where around noon, her stomach flipping over nervously. For some reason, this time around, she felt far more nervous—what was she getting herself into? Was she in over her head? She stood at the door carrying her purse, and wore a dress that widened passed the hips and stopped at her knees. The heels were lower, for that she was thankful, and pointed. Her favorite kind of shoes. Covering her fingers, up to her wrists, where delicate white gloves.

The cafe and bar had changed drastically in order to keep up with the time of day, and for that Michiru felt refreshed. It had a more calming cafe feel, the lights white and orange instead of the lively colors that she had seen the night before, as she stood across from it in the lobby. The room was whiter and wider. It seemed to be reasonably busy on the inside, people holding coffee or eating sandwiches delicately between two fingers.

As if sneaking around, the blue haired woman moved cautiously across the lobby. This was the place that connected the massive two-towered hotel with the convention center. As she walked towards the cafe and bar, it began to feel more pleasant as she waited. The ceiling of the lobby had to have been at least four stories high, the ceilings arched and made of glass. Filtering through it was the bright sunlight. The floors were of a warm marble, decorated with red carpets and green plants along the reflective walls. In the center was the main desk where one could check in, ask directions, get the itinerary—it was the brain of the whole building.

Off towards the right of the lobby desk, about forty feet, was the lounge. It was enclosed with glass and jazz. Inside was teeming with others, all in their midday best, glittering in the warm, sparse lights. There were small round tables, and at the other end she could barely make out the main bar.

Michiru did what she always did in situations as extreme as a date. Her emotions would remain in a box. This is, until her mind could no longer contain them, and then she would start panicking. This occurred about ten minutes before the main event. But by this point it was too late to start screaming, so she would continue, outwardly, with dignity.

She dressed robotically, picking her second favorite dress (since she hardy knew the man.) She shook her head and moved into the bathroom and applied a light layer of makeup. The soft brush glided reassuringly across her cheekbones, and she relaxed. She painted soft, smoldering colors above her lashes, and blended according to the angles of her face, and her nerves slackened. Eventually, she returned to the bedroom to pull up her stockings and snap them into place with garters. The sheath was complete and Michiru faced herself in the full length mirror.

It wasn't a serious date, she knew, but dressing up was part of her ritual, her guard that protected her and kept her sane. She was out the door the next second before she could blink and argue with herself.

Already, she could see Haruka sitting at a table nearer to the front facing the road as she made her way towards the cafe. In his long fingers he held a newspaper and seemed to be engrossed with the article he seemed to be reading. Michiru was slightly taken aback at seeing the physical form of the paper. Most business men opted more for the digital format, allowing them to not even hold the material. He seemed somehow old fashioned as she watched him sitting there.

Michiru shook her head and snapped out of her reverie. She was so drawn to just looking at him. The feelings she felt were the kind that she had not felt in a while. They felt alien and she felt even more ill at ease, doubting them. She moved her feet forward and took reassurance in the even clicking of the heels of her shoes.

She passed through the bronze archway that had once been sleek black the night before and the floors appeared to be porcelain tiles. Her feet stopped in front of the table where Haruka sat moments' later, and before she could feel awkward, he looked up.

"Please sit," he smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners as his hand gestured to the empty seat across from him.

Michiru slid into her seat, observing him. "You're early."

"I didn't sleep all that well to be honest." Slowly he folded the paper, though not neatly enough to lay flat on the table, next to a worn, hard bound journal. Michiru searched his face for the sleep that he was obviously missing. She was fooled.

"I have trouble sleeping in strange beds too," she agreed.

Haruka shook his head. The lack of sleep appeared on his suddenly drooping shoulders as he relaxed them. He stirred his coffee around distractedly.

"I travel all the time," he mused out loud, rubbing his chin. Michiru was surprised to see that there wasn't even the slightest hint of stubble. She screwed up her blue eyes before realizing that he was still talking. "I have a lot on my plate at the moment."

"Why did you go to the convention if it's a waste of your time?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I have to go. If anything it's to prove something to my company. Actually, it's a nice distraction for a while."

Michiru didn't ask for any more details. She thought that it would be none of her business to know any of his personal life. They had just met after all. And yet she couldn't help but be curious. They ordered breakfast, Michiru opting for orange juice instead of the aromatic-tempting coffee. Caffeine seemed to upset her stomach whenever she was somewhere unusual and she didn't want to risk it.

They lapsed into a silence and the jazz music felt even louder, more wild and intertwined. In the background, just barely a whisper, were the sounds of people chatting endlessly, as well as the sounds of glass tinkling in the air. Now that she was inside, Michiru was able to get a closer look at the hovering lights from the ceilings. She stared fascinated.

"Those lights," Haruka observed wistfully, "Are commonplace back at home. Makes me almost homesick."

"Oh?" Michiru asked, glad for the conversation opener. She placed her clutch down in front of her. "Where are you from?"

"One of the moons from Uranus."

That surprised the aqua haired woman. There was a pause, when Haruka flagged down a waiter, and ordered a second round of drinks. A drink that was very close to moonshine, he had insisted—a good starter. Michiru wasn't so sure. She was still stunned by where he said he was from. She could have sworn that he was from Earth, or even from one of the cities of Mars.

As the woman waited, the wild and alive notes around them caught her attention, pulling her in. Music had that kind of effect on her—it was as if it was some sort of piece of her was brought into reality.

The drinks came in no time, Michiru barely missing the waitress as she came. The sound of two tumblers scraped softly across the surface of the table. She blinked, looking up as the waitress walked off—and glanced at Haruka. Haruka wasn't looking at the waitress.

"Where have you been?" his voice barely spoke above the jazz, blonde head to the side.

"Here," Michiru replied immediately.

Haruka chuckled. "No you weren't. You weren't on planet Earth. Not even the moon, Mars, Saturn, or Pluto. I've never gotten looks like that when I traveled to places like that."

His face broke into a smile. Michiru felt like squirming, like she couldn't lie under that blue colored gaze. But she kept her cool—barely.

"So you grew up on Uranus?" Michiru smiled back innocently. She relaxed into her chair.

"One of the moons of Uranus," Haruka corrected. He didn't seem to be the least bit caught off guard. "Miranda to be more specific. As a kid, I grew up in the cities around my father's business. When I had just barely enough instinct and wisdom, I started working for his company... I've been traveling since I was about fifteen—and I've never had a look like that." He wiggled both of his eyebrows has he turned the spotlight back onto her.

Michiru struggled to keep her composure. It was an odd feeling after so many years of preening up on her defenses. She continued to listen to the almost unpredictable throng of notes that weaved in and out of other conversations.

"See? That wonderful, mysterious look," Haruka said. His eyes seemed to be laughing at her.

The blue haired woman hid her lips behind her glass. She suddenly realized that Haruka was only flirting with her, teasing her. She was almost fascinated by his throaty laugh. She blinked and took a sip of her drink. The gentleman began to follow her movements, paused, then put his own glass back down.

Michiru nearly choked.

"Oh my," she barely uttered. Fortunately she was able to hold the drink down and not cough.

It was like being set on fire, and her skin felt like amber and gold. The heat radiated all the way to her toes. However the taste on her tongue left little to be desired: it reminded her of rocket fuel.

"This is nothing like my father's wine!" she said breathless.

Haruka beamed, but turned his head to the side again at Michiru's last comment. "Your father's wine?"

Michiru nodded, taking a smaller sip this time around. "My father owns a vineyard. He loves his job, and I grew up tasting it—not to get drunk or anything—but to taste art." She shook her glass. "This is crude, but somehow so... wondrous..."

They made small talk as they nibbled on their orders. Though mostly they faded into a peaceable silence. Michiru watched the people around them, as she tried to avoid the fact that Haruka seemed to be observing her. She was unused to the attention, but she didn't seem to mind all that much. Between one of the silences a question popped up into her mind. She looked at him, and his eyes jumped in surprise.

"What do you do in your business actually? I have forgotten to ask."

"I'm the head CEO of Sky King industries," Haruka replied easily. "We mostly sell lighting. Actually," he opened an arm towards the cafe and bar, "the lamps in here were designed by the company. Outdated but designed by SK."

Michiru had heard of the company, but she couldn't quite remember where. "Oh," she said. She eyed one of the closer fixtures. It was a simple thing, but she stared almost fascinated as it hovered almost cheerily by a support beam. She also hammered her brain for any information on the company, but couldn't remember a thing... It sounded so familiar!

When she turned back to look at Haruka, he was also looking at the small light almost wistfully. He gestured towards it. "I think it was one of Setsuna's design's. She's been working on perfecting this particular design for quite sometime."

"Who knew that so much thought would go into something as simple as a lamp?"

Haruka shrugged. "You'd be surprised. Lighting is also a pretty thriving business. It's a staple for society to be able to see in the dark after all."

They faded into silence once more as they finished up their meal. Michiru had a hard time pacing herself as she glanced up from her plate almost as if to see what he was thinking. The last bit of silence seemed more awkward as if they both sensed the end of their time together. Michiru couldn't help but wonder if Haruka had meant to say something more, but she couldn't think of anything else to say to break the silence.

Michiru stirred around the last remaining bits of lettuce around with her fork as she looked up at Haruka with glittering eyes. "So," she said, "What are you doing here?" She met his blue eyed gaze and felt almost thrilled at the idea that he seemed to be enjoying himself.

He wiped his mouth with the cloth of the napkin before placing it right next to his own emptied plate. "What are you doing here?" he shot back. He smirked, leaning forward. Then the blonde sighed heavily, suddenly serious. "I'm probably here for the same reason as everyone else. You?"

"Vague," observed Michiru with a raised eyebrow. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm hoping to further my career and get higher up into the company. That would be the logical answer—my real answer is that my friend happened to drag me here."

Haruka chuckled. Michiru cocked her head to the side at the sound of his laugh. It was musical, and she began to wonder... But no... She shook her head and tuned back into what he was saying.

"That's not why people really come here."

Michiru sat back into her chair. She had never felt such at ease this quickly with someone before. Normally it took months to feel this way towards anyone she had met—even with Minako. But at his reply, she cocked an eyebrow. Haruka immediately looked like he had said too much, and his cheeks flushed. Suddenly he seemed flustered. They were on their second glass of alcohol and the blonde opted for something more smooth and not quite so strong for his date. Michiru was thankful.

"And why do people really come here?"

The blue haired woman followed his gaze. He was staring towards the exit of the hotel, watching the cars as they whizzed down the street like shooting stars. Michiru liked the reaction, and couldn't help but smile. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well?"

He shrugged again and seemed to regain his calm composure. "Well," he shrugged, looking at her again, "You know... Partying... One night stands... The bullshit seminars..."

Michiru immediately wondered if he was going to the same presentation that she was going to go to in the morning—about sexual harassment. "One night stands?" she asked innocently. She leaned forwards until her head was resting on the backs of her folded hands somewhere in the middle of the table.

Haruka swirled the liquid in his tumbler, looking sheepish. The look faded into an unreadable gaze. He shrugged. "A lot of drama is packed into these four day seminars." He turned his head to the side. "I don't know why I'm revealing so much—it's strange. You're strange." The blonde nodded his head in her direction, and Michiru felt her heart hammering in her chest. "I like this."

The blue haired woman wondered if he was talking more to himself than to her until the last comment when he was finally looking up at her from his glass. She felt as if she was only getting half of the story, but somehow, she felt honored.

"What? You like the feeling of digging yourself into a hole and not being able to struggle out?" she asked ruefully.

Haruka laughed at that one and shook his head. "Sometimes it makes us humble to be around people who hands us the shovel!"

Soon they had both finished eating and Michiru tried to remain calm as she picked up the white napkin from her lap and folded it neatly, placing it back onto the table top. Their chairs scraped across the tile and they both began to walk towards the exit. She felt her gut sink, disappointed that he hadn't invited her to something else. She hated to admit to the fact that she had enjoyed her time with him. Michiru tried to remember that there was a calling card still in the pocket of her traveling jacket, but it didn't seem to bring her any comfort.

"You have anything that you're going to today?" he asked, looking over at her. Haruka looked exasperated, like he'd rather be underwater basket weaving than being in the place. He smirked.

Michiru glanced up at the clock hanging from the lobby as they exited the bar. She pursed her lips as she calculated the time. "There was something that Minako wanted me to attend with her in about twenty minutes."

"I wanted to thank you about the time you allowed me to spend with you. I hope that you enjoyed it as much as I did," said Haruka warmly.

Michiru wanted to turn to face him so that she could at least shake his hand with her thanks. She suddenly felt something soft against her cheek. Shocked, Michiru turned her head in that direction. Their lips touched. It was a flutter, and she felt the electrical shocks tingling from her mouth to her brain, surging through the rest of her body. Haruka had meant to kiss her on the cheek before leaving, but that was obviously not what had happened. His eyes jerked open, and the color to Michiru's cheeks rose. They both pulled away—but not all that far. Michiru could feel his warm breath across her mouth as they stared at each other, shocked.

Michiru stood very still, afraid to scare him away as well as afraid of what to do. It was as if something inside of her had suddenly woken up. But, as she watched, he closed his eyes, and moved slowly and cautiously forward once more. Michiru found that she was lifting up her chin towards him, and he obliged her, kissing her again.

This time the second kiss was deeper, more than just an accidental peck. The electrical volts again shot through her whole body and her whole body responded in turn. It was more powerful this time, all centered on that small, exploratory touch.

Tentatively, Haruka kissed her top lip, and she opened her mouth just slightly. She felt as if her lips were burning, her head spinning, but she couldn't stop. She found with shock that she wouldn't stop. Her tongue tickled the skin between her mouth, and she was rewarded with a sharp breath coming from Haruka.

Unwillingly, he pulled away. "You're a clumsy one," he commented. The blonde's cheeks were flushed, and Michiru barely noticed the world outside of them both. Before Michiru could respond, he lifted her head gently with his fingers. A wry smile touching his lips as he touched his forehead with hers.. "But I don't really mind it."