High Class, Middle Class and No Class

"Ah!" A shout could be heard from the Prince's personal attache and assistant's room. "What the-?!"

"Danny? What's wrong?" Mac called through the door.

"Imagine my surprise when I find that my pillow's been replaced with a duck." Danny breathed, whipping the door open to greet his friend with a crooked smile...while in his boxer shorts.

"Hm...we don't even have ducks here." Mac frowned. "In any case, I want you to make Lindsay some breakfast. It's her day off and I want her to rest well...but put your pants on, first." Mac pointed.

"Yes, sir." Danny nodded, grabbing his glasses-some pants-and heading to the kitchen. "Would it be cruel to make bacon?"

"She grew up on a farm, Danny!" Mac frowned. "She even told us that her best friend was a pig named Mordecai until she was five."

"Eggs and biscuits it is."

"Hey there, dumdum." A sweet voice called playfully.

"Jessica, I told you to stop calling me that." Mac sighed.

"I'll stop when you stop calling me Jessica! It's either Jess, or Angell!" The woman puffed, motioning with her hands to pick one or the other. She had a fittingly angelic face framed by rich, glossy chocolate tresses which flowed to the small of her back and around her feathered wings. As a guardian angel, she wore a uniform: a white tunic with black jeans. The guardian angels of the magical world were like the police; as protectors of people, they weren't like normal angels, who were actually the dead people in line to be reincarnated. Even their halos were different. While the norms had halos floating above their white clad bodies, guardian angel's halos were more so like gold bands that wrapped around the head.

"Fine, I'll call you Angell, but only if you stop calling me dumdum." Said Mac.

"Can I call you Mac-y?"

"No."

"Mac-Man?"

"No."

"Big-Mac?"

"No!"

"Mac-Attack?"

"No, no, and no, again!" He huffed.

"You're no fun." She placed her hands on her hips, still floating beside him though her wings didn't move.

"I thought you had a meeting with some police officer from the fairy...place." Mac blinked, walking and talking.

"Not for another hour, and you and I have to have a talk, anyway." Se said pointedly, stopping in front of him and spreading her wings so he couldn't get by. "About marriage."

"Can't we do this later?" He asked like a teenager, making to walk away, but Angell simply took out a feather and threw it at him like a ninja star...or like a piece of chalk a teacher throws at the annoying kids. It flew by his ear and came back to her like a boomerang. He turned unhappily and frowned. "Fine."

"Your father asked me to look after you; and as the prince, that includes marrying so you can become king...and hopefully producing and heir." She said bluntly, scratching the back of her head.

"I'm in no hurry to marry or even see any of those annoying, creepy, unattractive, unintelligent, conniving-"

"Conniving?"

"Yes, conniving."

"Well, are there any women you do like?" She sighed.

"No, not..." Mac trailed off as his mind wandered to the friend he's made. Of coarse that friend happened to be a gorgeous Greek woman with curly hair that he wanted to take in his fingers and spin for-

"Mac?" Angell snapped her fingers a few times.

"Yes?" He blinked, snapping out of it.

"Oh...it's that woman Stella you met the other day, isn't it?" She grinned like a Cheshire cat on cocaine. "Ah? Ah? Ah?"

"No! Stella and I are friends!" Mac bit defensively.

"Me thinks you doth protest too much." She said sagely.

"Stella is a kind, sweet, caring, beautiful, attractive, intelligent, –"

"Well, you're just proving my point now, aren't you?" She smirked, letting her wings fold by her sides again. "She is pretty."

"She's beautiful..." Mac sighed helplessly.

Taking it as a sign of defeat, Angell smiled gently. "You're lovesick, aren't you? Claire?"

"Claire had curly hair." Mac muttered absently, walking to the end of the hall and opening the doors to a room seldom used: her room.

Lady Claire Conrad was Mac's late-fiancee, but sadly, she was killed when the far-west two towers of their castle were attacked by a neighboring kingdom. They never found her body, giving him false hope until, after two long years, even he had to give up. They'd rebuilt the towers which were her room and the heir to be's, and Mac had left them as they were to visit on his down days.

"What is it about you and curly hair?" Angell smiled, shaking her wavy haired head and floating after him, closing the doors respectfully.

"I don't know, I just...love it." Mac stared up at the painting of his Claire dreamily, as he often did after her death.

"Mac, I'm not just your assigned guardian, I'm your friend, and I care about you." Angell said firmly, turning his head toward hers. "And I want to see you happy, so I want you to meet with Miss Stella again."

"She lives in the western district and has a beautiful brown stallion named Aiden. She's Greek, with caramel curls and eyes like big, sparkly peridot stars. She's fairly tall but still shorter than me and tan, with a dancer's form." Mac rushed, trying to recall every memory of her.

"I'll find her, Mac." Angell laughed, placing her hand on his arm and nodding to him for reassurance. "Aren't too many Greeks 'round."

"And she doesn't like spiders!"

"Hey Adam, hey Flack." Angell greeted the two men fondly, winking at the latter mentioned.

"Hey Jess, how's it going?" Adam smiled, putting up his hand.

"Good Adam, thanks!" She smiled back warmly. "By the way, love how you made Danny's pillow into a duck!"

"Ah thanks, that's we god parents do." He shrugged.

"You look angelic as always." Flack smirked.

"Did you just get your game out on me?" Angell asked with a smile and a faint blush on her cheeks that she hid well.

"What?"

"I think it's pretty good." She took a seat in between Flack and Adam, spinning around on the stool. "Yo! One light brew over here!"

"You got it!"

"Whoa there, Angell, you're gonna make yourself sick, spinnin' like that." Flack said as he watched her spin with no end in sight.

"Nah, I'm good." She chirped happily. She stopped herself abruptly and slammed her hands on the counter as her beer slid down. "Thanks!"

"So, how are things...?" Adam looked away from his two friends.

"Oh, you mean how's Kendall? She's good!" Angell smirked, nudging her shy friend affectionately. "She asked me how you were."

"Really?" He asked with stars in his eyes.

"Yuppers." Angell nodded as she held her glass up. The three of them clinked their mugs together and drank one sip each. As Angell set hers down slower than the others she directed her serious gaze at the mahogany counter. "Mac's met someone."

"Really?" Adam gaped like a fish.

"Let me guess, gorgeous Greek woman named Stella with curly hair and green eyes?" Flack murmured, taking another swig.

"Yeah...how'd you know?" Asked Jess.

"I'm her god-parent...or as I prefer, brother." Flack answered, putting his suds down. "I got assigned just a few days ago."

"I never thought I'd see Mac get over Claire, and I want him to be happy..." Angell trailed off, not knowing what to say. I want hin to be happy...but...he's not ready? He shouldn't be in love this soon? He doesn't shower often enough? Well, that one wasn't true.

"I think I know what you mean. I haven't met this Mac character, but I'm sure he's a nice guy. Still, I like Stella, she's a real sweetheart, and I don't want anything hurting her. She's suffered enough."

"I feel the same way about Mac. He's like a little brother to me and I can't bear to see him in pain like he was after Claire died. I'm glad he's found a woman he could really love, could be in love with, but I also want him to be careful."

"Well we both have the whole older-sibling-over-protective thing goin' on, huh?" Flack chuckled.

"It would seem so, but girls don't really have that threatening thing when it comes to siblings, just friendly understanding. I'm sure Stella's a sweetie, and I can't wait to meet her." Jess smiled.

"She is a sweetheart, just don't say it to her directly."

"Montana?" Danny called through the white wooden doors that marked the room of the Prince's personal attache and assistant's room, knocking softly. He got no answer. "Lindsay?"

"Yeah?" She finally called, sounding tired.

"Can I come in, honey?" He asked sweetly.

"Fine...just don't call me honey!" She yipped.

"Deal, cowgirl." Danny chuckled, opening the right door and entering with the silver platter. The huge room was an ivory wash with yellow sun splashing in through the draped windows. In the center-far from Danny and the doors-was a beautiful canopied bed with gold, twisting pillars and blush pink adornments. A head of honey-blond hair was tilted towards a book that rested in her hands. She looked up. "Hi."

"Hi." She said somewhat dazedly as a blush came to her cheeks, seeing the spectacled man walk in with a sliver tray, steam and a delicious aroma floating off of it. She could smell biscuits, fresh strawberry jam, freshly churned butter, eggs, and even some orange juice. Though, what really called her attention was the red rose resting in a crystal vase beside the biscuits and butter.

"I brought you some breakfast, 'case you were hungry." He started nervously, setting the tray on her bedside table and trying not to stare at her morning fresh face as she sat before him still in her nightgown. "Mac wanted you to have a nice day off."

"Oh." She nodded, disappointment flying over her face briefly. Danny seemed to pick up on it and sat down, giving her a smile.

"The rose was my personal touch." He smiled, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks. "I thought...you know... it's pretty...you're..."

"Thanks, Danny." Lindsay smiled back, picking up the tiny vase and inhaling its fragrance gladly. "This is, uh, this is nice."

"I was going to make bacon, but-ow! No pinching!"