Fuuma looked at Kome. He looked long, and he looked hard, and after close to half an hour, he thought he saw something. But this was not enough; he'd been without real sight into the hearts of people for what felt like hours now, and it was frustrating - it was like being unable to feel, unable to hear, unable to taste.
And now....
It seemed he had at least part of the key to Kome's heart. His mood no more improved, he kept silent and continued to watch, thinking vaguely that perhaps he could take out some of his frustrations on her. There would be no more Wufeis on his record.
Meanwhile, having apparently decided that Kome was going to require something heavier than mere speech and touches, Nakago began to adjust his strategy. Standing and adjusting his hair, he made his way casually over to the shadowed corner in which Seishirou had staked out his base.
Seishirou failed to react with any kind of awe. "Something I can do for you, general?" he said, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall.
"No," Nakago said simply, and began to strip.
Seishirou raised his eyebrows, but refused to comment and opted rather to enjoy the view in silence.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Nakago took off all the armor he was wearing and lay it against the far wall until he was left dressed in a plain white shirt and tight-fitting blue pants. The shirt he adjusted, tucked in, and a moment later he looked ready for a nightclub rather than a war.
"Impressive transformation," Seishirou said, eyeing him curiously. "New battle tactics?"
"Something like that," Nakago said, and leaned against the wall next to him, arms crossed. "It is, after all, easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar."
Seishirou chuckled darkly and lit up a cigarette in spite of previous requests; it wasn't as if anyone was presently paying attention anyway....
Kome had never been so uncomfortable in her life; it was true that she had no guns to work with and no knives to polish, but besides that, something about this entire situation was simply not right. The setup itself almost obscene as it was.
Almost.
Somehow, it was hard to label any of these men as specifically obscene; all of them were behaving like gentlemen and obeying her few, small requests - although she had the odd and not-quite-comfortable feeling that if they chose NOT to, there would be nothing she could do to stop them.
She didn't like feeling that way. Not at all.
"Would you like something to eat, Kome-chan?" Treize intoned gently, leaning toward her with eyes that seemed to be made to accompany intimate whispers in dark bedrooms.
Kome stared for one moment. "Not from you," she blurted, and looked away. Damnit... was she blushing? YES. That kami-damned FREAK had made her BLUSH...
Ooh, this was getting personal.
Washu chuckled softly. "Food, eh? What, they think I'm just going to drop it in there for their convenience?"
Juri snorted. "You are, aren't you?"
"Of course," Washu said, pressing some buttons. "I'm just amazed they figured it out so quickly."
"Well, Treize always was a smart bastard," Juri said, stealing one of the strawberries from the tray as it went by.
"Now, now," Washu gently chided. "THOSE are for the guests." And she grinned like the devil himself.
"Well, I think I could use some," Treize said, and stood up. He waited for a moment, listening carefully. Then came the soft, shick sound of those odd tiles sliding back, and suddenly a tray laden with strawberries and warm chocolate syrup appeared at his side, jutting out from the wall.
Well, he thought with a smile, and brought the tray over to her.
Kome ignored him and his tray. No food for her; she had decided.
...her stomach rumbled.
"Mm," Treize said, dipping one of the strawberries. "Oh, my, this does looks good," he opined, tilting his head a little to the side as he inspected it. He held it out. "Do you want one?"
Kome ignored him.
Treize shrugged and took a bite, closing his eyes and savoring the hapless fruit considerably more than necessary. "Mmm... ooh, Mz. Kome... these ARE delicious!" confirmed the hedonist with a groan, tilting his head back just so, letting the gold in his hair catch the light.
And to her detriment, she looked.
Treize lay on the floor on his side, propped on one elbow with his lips parted. Head back and eyes closed, he held his hand with elegant poise just in front of his face, positioned so his first two fingers could just barely come into contact with his mouth. For all the world, he looked as though that strawberry had pushed him into a state of bliss heretofore unseen by man or beast, and Kome did the only thing she could.
She stared like a hungry dog at a Longhorn steak house.
Aware of this, Treize turned his head to look at her sidelong, eyes heavily lidded . "Do you want some, Mz. Kome?" said he, purring her courtesy title as though it were a secret name between lovers.
Kome's throat worked; her mouth opened, then closed, but no sound other than a tiny bit of choking came out. Finally she managed to swallow once, and gathered enough of her wits about her to respond.
"N.... noo-ooo," she said with a little hiccup, clenching her fists in her lap.
Five men laughed softly at her response, and that finally spurred her back into action. Kome jumped to her feet. "You PERVERTED BASTARDS!" she pronounced, and aimed a furious kick at the strawberry tray.
Treize, contestant or no, had no desire to be covered in chocolate syrup, and he moved just in time to avoid it. The tray with its lovely food went smacking up against the wall right beside where the "door" remained hidden, and Kome herself stormed to the far side of the lighted center of the room. She glared hatred and curses in Treize's direction.
"YOU," she said and pointed, vitriol dripping from every syllable, "will NEVER... come NEAR me... AGAIN!"
"Saaa... and why is that, Kome-chan?" interrupted a smooth, barely post-adolescent directly voice behind her, and Kome spun to find herself facing Fuuma's chest. Looking up slowly, she glared with shaky defiance in his face and crossed her arms. "Non of your kami-damned business," she cursed at him, spitting on the floor to emphasize her point.
Fuuma, however, was not bothered. Smiling and lowering his head a little so as to catch her eyes, he moved forward with inhuman grace and caught her arm. She hadn't expected such direct, forceful contact, and so did not initially fight back; and in that fleeting second, she lost her only chance for resistance.
"I know your secret," Fuuma said, suddenly leaning in close to her so his breath brushed her cheek. "I know why you fear love; why you fear attention, why even the moderate flirtings of my fellow men terrify you so much. I know your fear." His eyes softened, becoming, if possible more warm than any she had ever seen - except perhaps for her one and only boyfriend, the one who'd died in the Mothra attack of '84, the one whose warmth and love she would always remember because he had been the only man who would ever truly love her....
And looking into Fuuma's eyes, suddenly she knew that he knew that. And he understood it. And... he didn't judge her for it.
Fuuma brushed her lips with his. "I think you're beautiful, Kome-chan," he said, in a voice that sounded exactly like Tenchi-kun's had so many years before, and Kome's willpower broke.
"N...n...nobody loves me!" she sobbed, and abruptly burst into tears.
Fuuma made comforting noises and gathered her against his chest, petting her hair and kissing her head, pausing in the latter only to glare with triumph at the rest of the occupants of the room. "There, there, Kome-chan," he purred and pulled her with him into the dark. There were a few more noises, some hushed sounds of emotion, and then silence.
Seishirou rolled his eyes. "Point for Fuuma," he said quietly, and Nakago nodded in silence. Privately, Nakago was very encouraged by this; Fuuma had obviously found the key to reviving some of his lost power, and if that undisciplined whelp had pulled it off, then surely HE could do the same.
Akio, meanwhile, was regarding the strawberries. "What a waste," he said calmly as Treize stood beside him.
"Most assuredly," Treize replied. "But there will probably be more when we need it."
"There certainly will," Washuu confirmed, licking her fingers clean as she ate the last powdered doughnut. "So where does that bring us, Juri?"
"Twenty points for Fuuma for a successful seduction, mental, physical, and emotional; three points for Treize for a partial physical."
"Only three?"
"He spilled chocolate sauce on his shirt."
Washuu laughed aloud; experiments were good, but smart-ass assistants were even better, and as considered which guinea pig to release next, she couldn't help but smile. This was turning out to be a wonderful day after all.
