I'm sorry this is so late! I knew exactly what I wanted to happen in this chapter, but for some reason I just could not find the words for the life of me.
If Juvia's speech patterns are confusing, I apologize. I was trying to illustrate that they're changing in regards to Natsu, and are therefore not exactly consistent.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.
Juvia and Natsu rapidly discovered a large problem with their being stuck together. Or was it a small problem? Regardless of semantics, they had a size issue that they needed to deal with. Pronto.
Lucy had been onto something about the bathroom situation.
And it was ballooning into a issue that could not be ignored, and cause much suffering.
Namely, the stalls were too small to fit two people. At all. Let alone comfortably, when they were attached at the wrist.
The situation was not being made better by their less than stellar coordination skills.
"Ouch, Natsu-san! Watch where you're elbowing Juvia!" the water mage demanded, twisting in the tiny space to give herself some room and hopefully remove the pink-haired fire mage's offending limb from digging into her breast.
The pair were in the women's restroom, Juvia feeling more comfortable there. But this decision was swiftly backfiring on the pair. "Natsu-san, let's just give up..."
"No!" Natsu protested, frantic. "I really need to go, Juvia!"
"Juvia was just going to suggest a larger stall, or the men's restroom," she huffed, annoyed by his implied accusation that she would just let him suffer with a full bladder. She wasn't heartless by any stretch of even her very active imagination.
Chagrin at his misunderstanding written across his face, Natsu nodded. "Sorry, Juvia," he apologized. "I just..."
"Really need to pee; Juvia gets it." Rolling her eyes, she attempted to shimmy out of the stall's confines. "Natsu-san, you have to work with me here!" she snapped. "If you really want to go, that is."
Natsu stared at her for a long moment. "You said, 'me,' instead of your name," he observed. "And... you've been calling me, 'you.'"
Flabbergasted at Natsu's words (did he really need to go or what? This further delay he was causing on a supposedly urgent problem perplexed her), Juvia growled, "What is Natsu-san's point?"
"No! Uh... no point! it's nothing! Um... urinal or stall? The guy's room has a stall big enough to fit Elfman."
"...You might have mentioned that earlier," Juvia muttered, sarcasm dripping from every word that left her mouth.
"I did?" He tilted his head to the side, trying to recall if he had. "I don't remember that. Why did you want the smaller stall, then?"
"No, just..." Juvia sighed heavily. "Never mind."
"So are we going or... what?"
"Yes! And Natsu-san can use the urinal, but do it with your other hand because if Juvia's hand comes anywhere near your... thing... then Juvia is going to cut off Natsu-san's hand."
Natsu squeaked in alarm, holding his free arm to his side and hopefully out of her reach. "Got it!"
Juvia had the sneaking suspicion that he might be thinking of his other hand - the one not attached to her - would be the one cut off. It didn't matter, though. So long as the threat worked.
"Lahar! What is the meaning of this?! What are we supposed to tell the public - that we can't even keep our prisoners within their cells?! Was that not the point of switching to the metal and stone ones, instead of the specialized lacrimas? You assured us that they would be just as effective, as well as more efficient in upkeep and cost!"
The mage restrained a wince at the rage permeating Gran Doma's voice. This was just not his day. "Sir, we are still investigating how this occurred, and one of my top intelligence officers is gathering information as to where the criminal went as well as who might be responsible. I must ask for your patience."
"So you don't know," Gran Doma hissed.
"That is what I just said, sir, yes." Lahar could not keep the annoyance from leaking into his speech. They had been discussing this topic on a loop for the past half an hour. Despite this, they were no closer to a conclusion than when this meeting had begun. In fact, he wasn't entirely certain as to why it was a one-on-one meeting with the Chairman of the Magic Council himself. When he had responded to the summons, Lahar had been anticipating being brought before the Council in its entirety.
Before he could be reprimanded for his ill-thought-out comment, however, his lacrima buzzed. "Excuse me, sir, but my subordinate is paging me now. If that is all, may I leave to take his report?"
"Bah! Begone with you, then!" Gran Doma growled, dismissing Lahar with a rather patronizing wave of his hand.
Lahar bowed, and then took his leave of the Chairman's chambers. Once he was back within the confines of his office (Calvin having removed himself to the infirmary under great duress and much cajoling), Lahar removed a screening lacrima and checked the room for listening devices or spells. It wouldn't be the first time one of the higher-ups decided to do a little illicit eavesdropping on what the Head Captain of the Custody Enforcement Unit was up to - all under the pretext of weeding out possible corruption, of course. He was even more paranoid of such after that fruitless meeting he had just undergone. The room was revealed to be devoid of outside observation, so Lahar removed his communications lacrima from his pocket and set it upon his desk.
Doranbolt's image filled the lacrima's smooth surface. "Hey, what gives, Lahar?! I've been trying to get a hold of you for forever!"
"I highly expect that to be an exaggeration," Lahar said dryly. "Besides which, I was in a meeting with Gran Doma."
"Oooooh." Doranbolt winced in sympathy. "How did that go?"
Carefully choosing his phrasing, Lahar replied, "About as well as might be expected, given the subject matter and circumstances. Speaking of, what do you have to report?"
Scratching absently as his facial scar, Doranbolt looked mildly ill. "About that. I'm calling you from Makarov's office in Fairy Tail, on his lacrima."
"Is this a secure, connection, then?"
"I would assume so." Doranbolt snorted. "Fairy Tail does value its privacy on important guild matters, and its Master proves the rule. Anyway, we were more or less right about all of this being Fairy Tail's fault."
Lahar's eyes narrowed. "And the card mage?"
"Yeah, it's totally Cana's fault," Doranbolt affirmed. "Long story short, it was sort of an accident though. ...Maybe. This is Cana we're talking about here, after all."
The Head Captain reached under his spectacles to pinch the bridge of his nose. Closing his eyes, he took several deep, calming breaths. Then he removed his hand and opened his eyes again, gesturing at the lacrima for Doranbolt to continue. "We'll deal her involvement later. Have you ascertained the whereabouts of the escaped criminal?"
"Eh," Doranbolt quibbled, making Lahar extremely suspicious about what would next come from the Direct Line Mage's mouth. "He's... restrained? For now?"
"Explain."
"Well you see... the cards that Cana was using to develop the return system for us? Beer or something got knocked over onto all of them and they're kind of stuck together." Drawing a deep breath, Doranbolt revealed, "Along with their real life counterparts. Including Cobra."
Lahar's mouth dropped open. This was... ridiculous. This was above and beyond Fairy Tail's usual level of inanity. "Come again?"
"A ton of people are stuck together." A wry smile crossed the intelligence officer's face. "It's pretty freaking hilarious, too."
"And... and Cobra?" Lahar stuttered, still not quite believing what he was hearing. "I assume that he's... stuck to someone?"
Nodding, Doranbolt agreed, "Yeah, pretty much. He's now attached at the leg... ish... to Lucy Heartfilia. I think you know a little of her?"
Like Lahar would - or even could - ever forget having to watch the blonde's torture during the Naval Battle, and being powerless to stop it from playing out before his eyes. He held no love for Fairy Tail, but the actions of Minerva Orlando had been sadistic in the extreme. No one deserved what the girl had endured. "I know of her."
"Oh, right. You were the judge for..." Doranbolt trailed off, and then shook his head. "Anyway, she and Cobra are stuck together. So I placed Cobra under house arrest at Lucy's apartment until we get this whole debacle sorted out."
"What?!" Lahar demanded.
Doranbolt shrugged helplessly. "What else was I supposed to do? Couldn't send Lucy to prison."
Spluttering, Lahar inquired, "So you decided to essentially release him into the custody of a seventeen-year-old?! Within her apartment, no less?! I can't even begin to tell you all of the ethical complications with that!"
"She was about to cry, Lahar!" Doranbolt shouted. "She didn't want to go to prison! And she hasn't done anything wrong, here. ...Other than being a part of what is turning out to be a very accident prone guild. I told them to behave for now - other than some bruises from the initial impact and some accidental groping and maybe some hearing loss on Cobra's part, I think they're getting along?"
That... that did not sound good to Lahar. At all. "Alright, then. That decides it. I'm coming down to deal with the situation myself," Lahar stated bluntly. "If nothing else, than to help secure Ms. Heartfilia's quarters. Doranbolt, I need you to -"
"I am not a taxi service!" the Direct Line mage quickly interrupted. "Also, I'm still drunk. And hungover. Not sure how I'm both, but I am," he flatly informed Lahar. "I'm not entirely certain how I made it here in one piece, either. ...Ish. I might've bruised a rib, actually; probably when I hit the bar. I should have Wendy look at it, now that I think about it..."
"Doranbolt!" Lahar attempted to get his friend's attention, but the man continued to ramble on without seeming to notice that the line was still open.
Lahar sighed, abruptly cutting off the communication. It looked as if he would have to take the train.
He restrained a growl. While he was there, he was going to sit a certain drunk card mage down for a little... chat.
Yes. They would definitely need to talk.
"ACHOO!" Cana sneezed violently and loudly. Groaning, she rubbed her collarbone. "Shit, that one hurt," she sniffed.
Her father promptly began to panic. "Oh, no, are you sick?! Do you have a fever?! Does my precious Cana need a handkerchief?!" Gildarts frantically began to pat down his cloak and clothes, trying to locate said object. Finally producing one after an extensive search, he proffered the grease stained fabric to his daughter. "Here you go, sweetie!"
Cana eyed the discoloured, dirty... rag... with distaste and trepidation. "I think that would give me a disease."
"Canaaaa!" Gildarts wailed. "My own daughter has rejected meeeee!"
Ignoring her old man, Cana rubbed under her nose. She didn't feel a cold coming on. Which meant someone was talking about her. Probably something less than flattering.
She did not need her cards to venture a guess as to who it was, either...
Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter out a lot sooner. In the meantime, Navia week starts next week! I'm so excited! I'll try to contribute, but I'm not sure I'll be done in time...
