A/N - word prompt 'Fool'
Fool
Avon's stomach fluttered with excitement. Freedom City certainly catered to all tastes. He hadn't felt this alive in years, not since stealing a fortune from the Federation. He hadn't had a confederate then and he had to admit scheming with Vila had been fun.
Almost as much fun as listening to the roulette wheel spin, as listening to the croupier announce another win, as listening to Vila ham it up. He could certainly put on an act. Avon was surprised the others hadn't seen through him yet, but they seemed content to carry on believing Vila was a fool.
The excitement had soured as Vila pushed for one more spin, too high on success to realise they were drawing unwanted attention. Sometimes that man could be the idiot he pretended to be. It was not about the money, there was plenty in the treasure room and this was far too easy. It was about the challenge of beating the system, the opportunity to prove he was not Blake's puppet, that he still could act independently and in his own interest, that the option remained open to him. Point proved, it was time to move on.
Old boy!
Vila was really pushing it, taking liberties like that. They were not equals, would never be. Vila was merely a resource to be used, admittedly an entertaining one. Vila's crowing had left a bitter taste in Avon's mouth so, while he waited for their winnings to be packaged, he sought something sweeter. The food here was to be commended, particularly the desserts. Saliva flooded his mouth in anticipation as he tried to decide which he would sample. He was in the mood for something tart but rich, sweet but sour, something complex to stimulate his taste buds unlike the bland food available on the Liberator.
He was just about to order the citrus and dark chocolate torte when he spotted the last item on the menu. He hadn't had that in years, not since he was a child. These days his palate ran to more sophisticated dishes but he felt a sudden hankering for the simple comfort food of his childhood. He felt a little embarrassed as he dipped his spoon into the sweet pink pudding, a feeling lost as the creamy smoothness melted in his mouth and nostalgia wrapped itself around him like a soft blanket.
Life had been straightforward then, people had been less complicated. His parents, polite and remote, had made their expectations clear, tutors mapped out his learning and computers provided play in the form of puzzles and strategy games. For everything else there was Nanny; illiterate but wise, full of practicalities, puddings and promises always kept.
"...has agreed to challenge the Klute at speed chess."
Avon spat out the pudding in shock and the memories of childhood with it.
Fool!
He wasn't sure if he meant dessert, Vila or himself.
