AN: What is this? Two updates in the span of one day? But 'tis the case. I wanted to get this out a little early as I am moving tomorrow – to Britain! And as I don't know when I'll be able to get an Internet connection, I thought I'd give you all a little treat if there should be a delay.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does.

Chapter VII

"Is it possible to be more infuriating?"

Pacing the length of the room, Levy stopped by the window, before turning sharply on her heel to stomp back and across to the vanity, arms crossed over her chest and fuming softly. From beside her, Lucy watched with an amused smile on her face, seated as she was on the edge of her bed. Sunlight bathed the room in a warm glow – the promise of a good day, and below, the muffled scuffle of feet and the faint clink of glasses and murmured voices reached their ears – Mirajane and Cana having no doubt gotten to business with the chores of the day.

"I mean, it's not like I was asking him to smuggle me into his office so I could shoot him," she continued, her pacing picking up speed. "I just want to help. Is that so much to ask? To help bring down the man who's a thorn in the side of the entire city?"

Lucy shrugged. "Well, it's not the easiest job, Lev."

Levy threw her hands up. "Did I say it was? I just...I feel helpless, Lu. Argh! This would be so much easier if I was a man! If I could hold a gun or...or throw a punch! I wouldn't be so...so socially crippled."

Lucy raised a brow, a smile tugging at her lips. "You think that'd convince him to let you in on his job?"

She snorted. "Probably not. He's too pig-headed for his own good – wouldn't accept help even if his life depended on it, I'm sure."

Sighing heavily, she sat down on the chair before the vanity, casting a look at the reflection staring back at her. It was the morning after the big party, and her hair was it's usual bird's nest – and even more so after a night of restless sleep. Her dress hung innocently by her dresser, and her shoes had been discarded haphazardly somewhere in the room upon her entrance the night before, seething as she had been after the events and her little stand-off with Gajeel.

Rubbing a hand against the bridge of her nose, she scowled at her reflection. Perhaps things would have been easier if she truly had been a man. Claiming her father's company for her own was out of the question in her current state – no one had ever looked at her as anything but her father's docile, pretty daughter who liked to do 'frivolous' activities like read books and learn new languages. And the face staring back at her from the mirror was just that – the face of the good, proper daughter. Running a hand through her hair, she grimaced sourly as her fingers snagged in a few tangles.

Well, maybe not so proper. She looked like she'd been through a storm.

"Hey," Lucy said, rising from her bed to cross the room. Coming to stand beside her, she picked up a comb from the vanity. "Don't look so glum. Things will work themselves out, you'll see," she murmured as she began to comb through the errant locks, a wistful smile on her pretty face. "You're strong – you always have been, and your father would have been proud of you, if he was here."

Levy sighed, shoulders slumping. "Perhaps. I still feel like I want to do something, though. I don't know what, just...I can't let him win. Not after everything he's done," she said, shaking her head.

Lucy frowned, tightening her grip on the comb. "I know."

Hissing as the teeth stuck in a tangle, Levy caught an apologetic murmur from her friend, before the tangle came loose. She inhaled deeply, a grumble on her tongue, "And it's not helping the situation that he is so...so..."

Lucy smirked – she didn't need to be told who 'he' was. "Stubborn? Thick-headed?"

"Try 'ludicrously unreasonable'."

"Oh, but he'll come around, you'll see," Lucy said with a wink. "Maybe he just wants to keep you out of danger, because he's so taken with you?" she teased.

Levy snorted. "Yes, that's it, Lu. That is exactly the reason," she mocked with a roll of her eyes. "He's barely agreed to tolerate me. He still thinks I'm a spoiled princess."

Lucy shrugged. "Well, you know what they say about that line between love and hate," she said.

"That it's like a crater?"

Lucy grinned, before her eyes softened, and a saddened smile settled on her lips. Levy blinked. "What's the matter, Lu?"

Her friend sighed, her hands stilling in their ministrations. "I'm sorry, Levy," she said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "For everything. I didn't know at first, what had happened with your father. I couldn't believe he'd just left you like that, but..." she shook her head. "What happened to the body?" she asked.

Levy averted her gaze to her stocking-clad feet. "Unmarked grave," she murmured. "Outside the city. I'll have it moved when...when I've made things right," she said, her brow set in a determined look as her hands clenched against the side of the chair.

Lucy hummed. "How many know the truth about what happened?"

She sighed. "You, Gajeel...Makarov, probably. He'll have told him by now. Jet and Droy, and...Alexei, of course."

Lucy frowned. "Jet and Droy? Your dad's errand boys?"

Levy nodded. "Who do you think helped me with the body?" she asked, hands moving to her lap where she splayed them flat against her skirt to keep them from shaking. "They swore to keep it a secret, and I trust them. They loved Daddy, and they would never do anything to hurt me."

Lucy's frown deepened. "Do you know where they are now?"

Levy shook her head, an almost sheepish smile tugging at her mouth. "I...left without saying anything. I needed to disappear for a while, without anyone knowing." She bit her lip. "I feel kind of bad about that, after everything they did for me."

"What you did was necessary. It's not an easy choice," her friend answered, and a frown tugged her brows down in the mirror. Levy's gaze softened.

"What about you? Have you heard anything from your father?"

Lucy snorted. "It's only been a few days, so no. And it's not like I'm expecting him to send out a search party or anything."

"Don't say that."

"What? It's the truth. He'll probably throw a fit once he realizes the engagement he's been planning isn't going to happen, but he'll find a way to work things out. Perhaps he'll adopt someone," she jested with a snort.

A smile tugged at Levy's lips. "Yes, I heard rumours about that." A grimace tugged at her expression. "I think I met him once. Wasn't he a little...strange-looking? And a bit of a brat?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "That's putting it lightly. God, if I'd been forced into marrying him...I don't know what I'd done. Thrown myself in the river, maybe. Oh, wait," she said with a wry smirk.

Levy grinned, before a hiss tore itself from her lips, and she clenched an eye shut and bit down on her lip as another tangle came loose under the comb in her friend's hand. "So what are you planning on doing now?" she asked, voice strained under the pressure on her poor roots.

Lucy smirked. "I don't know yet. Marry someone way below his standards, maybe? Just to irk him?"

Levy grinned. "Got your eye on someone?"

"No."

"You sure? There's no one special that's caught your eye?"

"I'm sure."

Levy met her gaze in the mirror, eyes twinkling. "Not even a certain pink-haired bootlegger?"

Lucy snorted. "He's got the same level of perception as a rock – he wouldn't know interest if it slapped him in the kisser."

Levy felt a giggle bubble in her chest, before erupting into a peal of laughter, and for what felt like the first time in ages, she allowed herself the liberty. She hadn't felt like laughing since the scandal – with everything that had happened since her father's murder, the loss of the company and her eviction from high society, there had been few reasons to laugh and little joy to find in her new and undesired situation.

Since coming to Fairy Tail, though, and into Makarov's custody...she found there were reasons to smile. And laugh, and it felt good, despite everything. Wiping a tear from her eye, she met her friend's smiling face in the mirror.

"Sorry, Lu."

Lucy grinned. "For what? It's good to see you laugh. You've been so tense since you've arrived."

She snorted. "Well, it's not exactly been the cat's pyjamas so far, has it?" she said, and her thoughts once again found themselves drifting back to her primary object of both annoyance and interest.

He really was something else, Gajeel Redfox. She'd taken him for a simple street-thug, but there was obviously more to it than that. And even if she hated to admit it, he intrigued her. Like a novel in a language she didn't understand – he'd become a source of immense interest, and the more ardently she tried not to think about him, the more she found her thoughts drifting in just that direction. It was incredibly frustrating.

Especially when he was so intent on being an ass.

She hadn't asked the impossible. And it wasn't that she didn't recognize the risks. And he understood! To some degree, he understood where she was coming from – she'd seen it in his eyes, his stance – she'd even thought she'd been about to tip him over into her favour, but then he'd suddenly turned away and left her, like...like some jilted trophy cast off by her lover. And after bearing everything...

The comb snagged in her hair again, and Lucy apologized with a murmur, but Levy didn't flinch as she seethed in her chair, thoughts too far away to notice the pain. Her eyes flickered over to the luxurious dress hanging from her dresser, and her gaze softened some. In a way, it represented her new life – her new home with Makarov and Fairy Tail. It was pretty and playful and everything she hadn't known she'd wanted in life.

And it was everything she couldn't have. Not until she'd avenged her father and cleared her family's name. She was the only remaining McGarden and woman or not – cast out heir or not – she would see justice handed to the man who'd taken everything from her. She might not have the means physically, but she knew someone that did. And even if he didn't want to, she wasn't about to let him have his way so easily, and if he thought he could just order her around he had another thing coming. She'd said she wouldn't sit idle and wait for something to happen. But she would not resort to begging – she would find other means. She could be plenty persuasive if she put her mind to it.

"Lev? You okay? You're looking...odd."

Levy quirked a smile, meeting her friend's gaze in the mirror. "I was just thinking."

Lucy raised a brow. "Yes, I could see that. You looked a little scary. Kind of like my old governess – you remember her? She used to try to force me into longer frocks, and she'd have that horribly calculating look on her face." She grimaced.

Levy snorted. "Well, you were quick to raise your hem when it became the fashion, Lu. And she was of the older generation, if I remember correctly. This was the one with the hawk-nose, right?"

Lucy grinned. "A sight to behold," she jested with a wink. Levy grinned, and breathed a sigh of relief when Lucy finally relented the comb, placing it down onto the top of the vanity-table. "All done. Well," she said, flicking one of the errant waves with a smirk. "As good as it gets, anyway. I could do better with some heated iron."

Levy smiled, running her fingers through her hair. "Thanks, Lu – it's better than it was when I woke up," she said with a wink.

Lucy grinned as she turned away from the vanity, headed towards her dresser. "You want to borrow a new dress today?"

Levy shook her head, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her short yellow frock. "It's alright, I'll use this one if you don't mind."

"You sure? I bet this one would look good on you," she said as she rifled through her extensive collection. "Here, I'll–"

A sudden pound on the door had them both jumping like rabbits, and Lucy placed a hand to her chest as it swung open to reveal none other than their former object of conversation. Looming in the doorway, Gajeel leaned against the frame, brow raised in a challenge as he took in the two of them. Levy could only gape.

Lucy, however, was quick on the uptake.

"Excuse me!" she all but shrieked. "Show a little decency, if you'd please!" she snapped. "What if we hadn't been dressed?"

Looking her over, Gajeel snorted. "That'd be your problem, then," he mocked, and Lucy was about to retort when Levy cut her off, stepping forward.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, more surprised than angry. It wasn't that she'd thought he'd ignore her or that they wouldn't speak again – he was still her bodyguard, and he was obliged to protect her as much as she was to let herself be protected. Their disagreement the night before was in theory just that – a disagreement. They still had to tolerate each other even if they had different opinions on what exactly he had to let her in on in regards to his job.

Still, she'd thought she would have to find him – not that he'd seek her out first.

The thought made her more giddy than it should.

Red eyes swept across her form, and she blushed despite herself, but he only grinned. "And here I thought you couldn't get any shorter," he quipped, gesturing to her stocking-clad feet. And he was right – without her heels he seemed to loom more over her than he'd used to. Levy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, straightening her back.

"Is that all you came for?"

He rolled his eyes. "Can't take a jest," he grumbled, but motioned with his head to the hallway behind him. "Put some shoes on, we're going out," he said. She blinked.

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

She raised a challenging brow. "I wasn't aware I was taking order from you," she snapped. Gajeel snorted.

"You will if you wanna learn the trade," he said with a shrug, turning to walk out. "I'll leave in five – be downstairs or I'm goin' alone."

"Wha–"

He stopped, turning his head to look at her, one brow raised in a challenge. "You said you wanted to learn the trade," he repeated.

Levy blinked. He rolled his eyes. "Well, I ain't waiting forever, princess."

She shook her head, thoroughly confused, and she ran to catch up with him, completely forgetting to put on her shoes but not really caring. "Wha-what trade?" she asked as she grasped his elbow, feeling bold.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he turned, holding the door open as a mischievous grin spread across his face. "Whaddaya think?" he asked, red eyes gleaming devilishly.

"I'm teachin' ya how to shoot."

She should have known he was going to be trouble.

Really. Men like him were all about being unpredictable, weren't they? Perhaps it was a gimmick? Perhaps he was physically incapable of choosing one manner and then sticking to it?

All these thoughts circled through her mind as she tentatively followed her assigned protector through the winding back-streets away from the speakeasy and towards another unknown destination. Well, unknown to her, at least – he seemed to know exactly where he was going, as always, but then he probably knew the Alleys like the back of his hand. His form was a towering thing before her, his broad shoulders all but blocking her view of the road ahead, and though his shoulders were tense, they were so for a different reason than last time. Anticipation, she gathered. Maybe even a little bit excitement.

She was intrigued.

"So," she began as she picked up her pace, falling into step beside him. His own steps were worth two of hers, and she almost had to run to keep up, but he slowed down as he noticed her effort. "Where are we going to do...this?" she asked, tentatively, wondering if they were still going to do what he'd proposed earlier. From his refusal to let her help to suddenly offering to teach her how to hold a gun, she figured he could just as easily change his mind again.

He smirked. "You'll see."

She didn't say anything else as they continued walking, but a small smile tugged at her lips as she sneaked a glance up at him. He had his eyes trained firmly on the way ahead, gaze shifting to the sides, always alert and ready to spring at the first sign of trouble.

The dedication he had to his job, however undesired, was...fascinating. Especially considering their rocky start. He had no reason to do what he'd proposed. She wouldn't have told Makarov of her situation, let alone demand the old man to make Gajeel teach her, so she guessed he was doing it of his own, free will. She wondered briefly if it had been something she'd said, or something else.

Part of her hoped it was the former, and that she'd impressed him a little. The thought had her stomach a-flutter, and she blushed despite herself. Impressing him was not important, not past him knowing that she was more than a spoiled brat, anyway. But that was all.

"We're here."

His voice stopped her suddenly, and she startled, only to realize they'd arrived at their destination. They were in a particularly run-down part of the Alleys now, in a far corner of a back-street and standing before a looming, rusted set of double doors. Levy blinked at the sight, and watched as Gajeel pushed them open – with some difficulty, despite his strength, as it looked to have almost rusted shut.

When he then held it open for her, she could only stare in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. "You just going to stand there? I ain't holding this damn thing forever," he snapped, and she startled, before moving past him and into the dark, a blush colouring her cheeks. She shook her head to clear it, before blinking to adjust her vision. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her reached her ears, followed by a rough hand on her shoulder, and then he was brushing past her, no doubt knowing where he was going from instinct rather than sight.

A twinge of panic hit her suddenly, and she lashed out with her hand, grappling for something to hold on to. There was no way she was getting lost in a dark building where she couldn't see a pace ahead of her – for all she knew there was a staircase somewhere or something else for her to trip over and severely hurt herself.

Her fingers closed around the strap of a pair of suspenders, and she gripped it tightly as she made to follow. There was a snort somewhere ahead of her, but he made no move to remove her hand. They walked in silence for a few moments in the complete dark, the only other sounds beside their breathing being their echoing footsteps – his heavy and hers light and erratic as she tried to keep up whilst still holding on to him.

Then there was the sound of another door opening – the creak of old, rusted hinges – and she almost tripped crossing the threshold, and Gajeel cursed as she yanked roughly on the strap in her hand, pulling him with her despite his weight.

"Oye! Watch yer step!"

Pulling herself to her feet with a little more force than necessary, yanking at the strap, she glared into the darkness. "A warning next time," she snapped. He snorted.

"Ain't my fault the threshold's too damn high fer yer midget legs," he muttered, and she rolled her eyes.

"Isn't there a source of light in this place?" she asked, tone dubious despite her remark. Her vision had not adjusted to the dark yet, and everywhere she looked there was only endless black. The musty smell of old basement and rust was heavy on the air, and she was finding it a little hard to breathe. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Old warehouse – the old man owns it. It ain't used for much these days though, but some of us use it for practice."

Levy pursed her lips. "With guns then?"

"Amongst other things." She could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and felt her intrigue spike, as though these strange people and their strange habits and hobbies wasn't already a major source of interest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity in the dark, they stepped out into a space where the air felt a good deal better, and she inhaled deeply through her nose. Fluorescent lights flickered around them, illuminating the room. Turning her gaze on Gajeel, who had one brow raised in silent amusement and mockery, Levy blinked, before realizing what he was looking at and quickly snatching her hand back from where it had been gripping the strap of his suspenders. He only smirked, and she glared.

"Well," she said, averting her eyes as she let them wander the room. There wasn't much to speak of, past the rust that was, and that strange smell she couldn't really identify, like in the Pit, except this place lacked the warmth the gym had. The lights cast an almost greenish tint to it, and it flickered slightly. On the far end of the room there were targets painted and re-painted sloppily in faded black colour, and bullet-holes decorated the wall in its entirety, some more off-course than others.

Inhaling deeply, she turned, arms crossed over her chest, squaring her shoulders in determination. "So, where do we begin?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "The basics of the basics, shrimp. I'll teach you to hold a gun."

She raised a brow. "I won't get to shoot?"

He snorted. "Not before I'm sure you're not about to shoot yourself in the foot, or worse – me. Baby steps," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Which will be like normal steps for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Hilarious. But I was under the impression you were going to teach me to shoot."

He didn't say anything, but before she could open her mouth to ask again he reached into a pocket in his trousers, retrieving a gun, and her query died on her tongue as her eyes took in the weapon. A memory leaped out at her from deep within her mind, and nausea rose from the pit of her stomach, leaving her queasy.

"Ever held a gun before?" he asked.

She shook her head, eyeing the contraption. Intrigue and an almost eager anticipation simmered in her stomach, overriding the nausea, and surprising her. She'd never as much as fathomed she'd ever be put into a situation where she'd wish she knew how to hold a gun, let alone in one where she was actually going to be taught how to do it.

"Well, holding it is pretty basic stuff. First, there'll be none of this," he began, holding the gun very close to his chest.

"Recoil won't be pretty," he explained at her raised brow, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but didn't bother to tell him she wasn't a complete idiot. He was teaching her, and she wasn't about to irritate him so much that he decided he had better things to do.

"Like this," he said, righting his arms as he held the gun with one hand and supported it with the other. "Now, you've got your gun-hand and your support-hand," he continued, beckoning her over, to which she complied, eyeing the gun as she went.

"Here," he said, stepping around and behind her, and she startled at the sudden proximity. Reaching around with his arms, he held the weapon out to her. "Dominant hand?" he asked.

She blinked. "Oh. Right," she said, and could almost imagine him rolling his eyes. He had to think she wasn't paying attention, but she was, truly.

She'd just been caught unawares, that's all.

Raising her right hand, she swallowed when he placed the gun it it, closing his fingers around hers. She felt a hot blush crawl up her neck and colour her cheeks at the sound of his voice, a low rumble in her ears along with the thundering of the blood in her veins.

Oh, applesauce.

"You payin' attention, shrimp?"

The gruff snap sent an involuntary shiver up her spine, and she jumped slightly. Swallowing her yelp, she nodded, brusquely.

"Yeah. Dominant hand – and then?"

"You might want to support it with the other, havin' such skinny arms," he said, and before his words had a chance to register, he'd reached down to grab her left hand, lifting it up. His fingers were surprisingly warm, and the callouses caught against her skin as he placed her fingers against the weapon. And if she hadn't been so violently thrown off by his closeness and his touch, she would have caught the teasing insult.

But her mind was reeling, so she didn't. Not until she'd gathered her wits, that was, and by then he was already moving on to other things.

"There. Now, hold it out – away from yer face," he commanded, and she swallowed heavily, but complied, feeling suddenly very warm and finding it somewhat hard to breathe. Was was up with her all of a sudden?

She inhaled deeply, fingers twitching slightly beneath his, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she felt them waver with the weight as he gradually released his hold. She tried not to dwell on the leap her heart seemed to do when his fingers brushed almost painfully slowly across hers as he removed his hands.

"You holdin' it steady?"

She could feel his voice reverberate at her back, and she could only nod as she attempted to divert all her attention to the weapon she was supposed to be learning how to hold, but his closeness was making it surprisingly difficult. She only hoped he wouldn't discover her embarrassing predicament, because then she'd never hear the end of it.

"N-now what?" she asked, and tried to ignore how ridiculously husky her voice suddenly sounded. Straightening her shoulders, she attempted a picture of utmost nonchalance. She really couldn't allow him to affect her this way – who knew what would happen?

"Now you try holding it on yer own," came the remark, and then he released his grip, stepping away, and the lack of warmth startled her almost as much as the sudden weight in her hands, and she hissed as she strained her muscles to hold it up. She would not fail this. Not this simple task – not after all she'd said and all her bravado the other night.

Her hands wavered slightly, but she bit down on her lip and steeled her gaze. The feeling was foreign in every sense of the aspect, and she pushed back the unpleasant memories that threatened to leap out at her from the dark recesses of her mind – the image of her father's startled face before a bullet had lodged itself in his–

Hissing as her arms gave out, she barely had time to yelp before he was there, catching the gun and her and pushing her back to her feet. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, and pulled away before he could question her, brushing her hands down her skirt to stop them from shaking.

"Sorry," she muttered, eyes averted away from his. He didn't say anything, only pocketed the gun, but she could feel his gaze on her.

"You okay, Shorty?" he asked then, and something in her stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice, and she cursed her heart – her silly, foolish heart, for the path it had chosen and she cursed herself for not having stopped it when she'd had the chance.

Infatuation was a difficult thing to rid oneself of, when it had first settled.

She nodded brusquely. "I'm fine," she said, but knew from her words he'd never believe her. But she didn't want to talk about it right now – she'd given so much when she'd told him of her father's murder, but she didn't know if she'd stand explaining in detail how the images just seemed to play out before her eyes whenever she was presented with something that reminded her of the night it had happened. Like the gun in her hands, or the name of his murderer.

She just couldn't find it in herself to talk about it. Not yet. But that didn't matter – he didn't look like the type to pry, anyways.

And he didn't. Nodding, he turned towards the exit. "Alright, first lesson over," he declared, to her surprise, but also to her relief. "Wouldn't want to go too fast on ya. And the old man said to have ya back before dark." He turned to walk out. She bit her lip.

"Gajeel."

He stopped, inclining his head to look at her. She met his gaze, unwavering, her hands clenching in front of her. She swallowed.

"Thank you," she said. "For taking the time to teach me. I know it's not...ideal, but...I really do appreciate it, and I'll endeavour to deserve your time," she said, trying not to make her voice waver. She wanted to make sure he knew that she wasn't ungrateful – that she was, in fact, extremely appreciative of him spending his hours teaching her, especially when the first thing she did was have a minor mental breakdown after barely having started.

He looked at her for a good long time – well, it felt like it, standing under his scrutiny as she was – before he snorted, shaking his head. "A simple thank you would've been enough, princess," he said with a smirk, muttering something about 'posh people' and 'ridiculous politeness' under his breath. She smiled.

"Well are ya comin' or not?" he called over his shoulder, and she picked up her pace to follow, the heels of her shoes clicking against the floor and echoing loudly throughout the room. Casting one look behind her as she passed the first doorway, Levy nodded to herself, a determined set to her shoulders.

She would succeed. Even if it took her ten more attempts just to hold a gun without remembering. She'd decided that the moment she'd confronted the man before her with her situation with nothing but hope and desperation backing her. He was her one chance of avenging her family, and she would take whatever opportunity her time with him presented her and go with it. From what her entire life in her father's world had taught her, it was that she was nothing if not an opportunist.

"Well, looks like we're heading back early," Gajeel said, and she nodded softly, falling into step beside him as they began the trek back to Fairy Tail. Inhaling deeply through her nose, Levy made a mental note to have a lengthy chat with Lucy upon her return.

She feared she was getting in much deeper than she'd planned.

Risking a glance up at Gajeel, she bit her lip. He was infuriating at the best of times, and he threw insults around like confetti, but there was something about him that appealed to her. She'd admitted that to herself upon their meeting, but she hadn't anticipated actually...feeling things, other than an odd sort of fascination. It was horribly disconcerting, to say the least, as they were much too different to even imagine the thought of them...together.

And yet...she couldn't quite seem to make herself not imagine it now. And when he was proving to not be a completely inconsiderate ass who only put himself first, she was finding it hard to dislike him too much.

Oh, horsefeathers – what was she getting herself into?

Shaking her head, she was so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't even notice that he'd stopped in his tracks before she walked right into his back. Startling at the contact, Levy blinked, before peeking out from behind him to see what had made him stop. Was there someone shadowing them again?

But Gajeel didn't look ready to spring into action. On the contrary, he looked...exasperated? Rubbing at his eyes like his patience was wearing thin, he released a heavy sigh that had her brows raising in confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked, gaze shifting between him and whatever he was looking at. At her query, he only shook his head, motioning to the wall in front of them.

"If ya thought Fairy Tail wasn't already a freakshow," he muttered. Frowning, Levy followed his gesture, and found herself looking at a large, brightly coloured advertisement splayed across the brick wall in front of them. The colours were in red and blue hues, and it had the picture of a man and two pretty girls. Across the bottom, elegantly scribbled golden letters denounced a travelling magician arriving in Magnolia, and at the top of the poster even larger letters seemed to leap out at her. She blinked, cocking her head to the side as she read the inscription, wondering what had her companion so defeated.

"The...Amazing Siegrain?" she read out, thoroughly confused.

Gajeel only sighed.

AN: Of course Jellal had to make his appearance in this. And big thank-you to Jun'Hee Hyoma Hayagriva for the idea of making him a magician. And of course, we cannot forget his posse of two! Stay tuned for the update, now with magic!

horsefeathers/applesauce: expletives

saturday night special: slang for an inexpensive handgun