A/N: Thank you all for the welcomes back! The excitement is infectious, and so I am thrilled to put out another chapter here. It's rather short, but it actually was the beginning of a much larger installment which I am still working on. I decided to split it and post what I have, but hey, who's gonna complain about that? ^_^
And if I may comment on my own story for a second, I'm actually not sure why I made Lady into a huge biatch. I have nothing against her character, but then I figured, why not? Drama is fun, and the more there is, the better! I hope most of you feel the same.
Thank you again and enjoy!
Nero sighed, standing at the door of Dante's room and looking about for something that would work.
"Can I help you find something?"
Following the voice, Nero turned to see Trish looking at him curiously. Embarrassment struck him as he momentarily felt like a customer lost in a clothing boutique.
"You wouldn't happen to have any large gloves I could borrow, would you?" Nero asked. Trish smiled at him and nodded, then beckoned for him to follow to her room.
Her room was not what he expected, though truthfully he had no presumptions about it. As he walked in, he supposed he expected more color and softness, but the reality was as unremarkable as Dante's, giving new meaning to the phrase "bare necessities". There was a bed with white sheets, a simple bureau, a tan-shaded lamp, and a small, wooden desk. The only thing that might have suggested that the room belonged to a woman was a faint but sweet smell of perfume. The room was also much cleaner than Dante's, except for the parts littered with personal antiques, doodads and trinkets instead of dirty laundry. He supposed they were souvenirs from all the jobs she had.
"For your arm, I presume?" Trish asked as she rummaged through one of the drawers of the bureau.
"Yeah," Nero said.
"I'm sure I've got an old pair of long ones around here," Trish said, digging deeper.
A moment of awkward silence passed between them, save for the faint rustling. Though they had found little in common with one another since their brief introduction, Nero trusted Trish, noting that he had done so immediately despite not knowing hardly anything about her. Though she seemed to be of few words and rather aloof, her demeanor was confident and reassuring, and it gave Nero the impression of her as a wise old mother--not that he would ever tell her that.
She was still burying herself in her drawer when she suddenly asked, "Can I ask you something?"
Thinking of no reason to deny her, Nero said, "Yeah."
"Where do you see yourself in a year? Two years?"
Nero was blindsided, anticipating a question about his size or color preference. He stopped short of physically staggering, but brought a hand up and ran his fingers through his hair as he thought of a good answer. Unfortunately, the answer was not forthcoming, for he never in his life gave one thought to a question like that. He was a man who lived day to day, minute to minute.
Trish chuckled quietly as the silence drew on while Nero pondered. Deciding some answer was better than none, Nero then said, "I don't know, honestly. I guess I'll be in Fortuna doing what I usually do."
"Really," Trish said. "I'm sure Dante would be very disappointed to hear that."
Nero furrowed his brow, for he was confused and slightly aggravated by the remark. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when Trish said, "Found 'em!"
Nero shifted gears once again to note the long, scarlet-colored gloves that Trish lifted out of the drawer like pieces of butcher meat. Though they naturally were quite feminine, they appeared long and wide enough to conceal a good amount of his Devil Bringer, and also seemed to match its ruddy color.
"Try these," Trish said. Nero almost smiled at her excitement, and forgot all about their conversation as he squeezed his thick arm through the cloth of the right-handed glove. He flexed his fingers and wrist once it was fully applied. The fit was very snug, to be sure, but the cloth covered his arm until just below the elbow and obscured the azure glow nicely. He did not think he would be able to do much better, so he nodded appreciatively.
"I think this will work fine," Nero told her. "Perfectly, in fact. I just hope you're not too attached to these gloves."
"Oh, no, don't worry," Trish said. "They're pretty old, and I probably haven't worn them since the day I bought them. Besides, I can just buy another pair with Dante's paycheck."
Nero chuckled and said, "And have him take it out on me? In that case, I better be careful."
He had never seen Trish laugh before, so it surprised him when she did so after his remark. She then said, "I think Dante may have it right this time."
Nero, again ready to ask her to elaborate, but was distracted when he heard heavy click-clack of heels pass by in the hallway, followed by a loud slam of a door.
"I think you better get a move on," Trish said. "Good luck today."
"Thanks a lot," Nero said. He left her room and, when he made it to the top of the steps, paused for a moment when he noticed Dante slumped on the couch and wearing an uncharacteristic expression of deep contemplation. He moved to descend the steps, but felt nervous, like he had just missed something gravely serious. He found it difficult to marry in his mind Dante's depressed aura with the incurable flippancy he was so used to.
He was relieved, then, when Dante suddenly looked up at him and smiled a second later. "You feeling okay there, squirt?" he asked, a bizarre question to Nero given that he should have been the one asking it instead. Except for the "squirt" part, the diminutive implication making Nero think twice about giving a shit about the older man's feelings.
"Was feeling as old as you look after coming in from the cold, you geezer. Thanks for throwing my shit out the door last night, by the way," he replied. He saw the concern that flashed across Dante's face, making Nero immediately say "I'm fine now, though. So, when are we leaving?"
"Anytime," Dante said, moving to meet Nero at the bottom of the steps. Nero involuntarily thought about Lady's words and thought to push him away, but it was too late. Dante had closed the distance and wrapped his strong arms tightly around Nero's frame. Nero was taken off guard by how purely affectionate the move was, and his doubts were tranquilized by Dante's comforting scent and warmth. He felt his eyes sting a second time that day, wondering how long it would be until Dante stopped making him feel like the center of his universe.
