Um… Hullo! (See. British.)
NO! I forgot to say goodbye last chapter in a foreign language! Oh well. You'll just get two 'goodbye's this time. Since I'm a happy, strange freak of George, I feel like wishing you another HAPPY TODAY! Even though for me, today isn't goin' that well… *sigh* Oh well. Time for the much-anticipated disclaimer.
MY WARPED DISCLAIMER: Hmm. Do you think Shadow Gundam will kidnap the guy who owns G Gundam for me?
Kyoji: I dunno.
It's worth a try… Shadow Gundam! Go kidnap the guy who owns G Gundam and make him gimme—No, wait! I got a better idea. *snickers* Go kidnap Kyoji!
Kyoji: *as Shadow Gundam picks him up* AHHHHHHH! HELP!
He, he. Now Kyoji is all mine! MWAHAHAHAHA!
George: *sulkily* I thought you liked me, mademoiselle ShadowTide.
Hmmm… Kyoji, George. Kyoji, George… Choices, choices…
Stalker: *dodges flower pot that was thrown at him* While ShadowTide is making her hard decision, I guess it's up to me to do the real disclaimer. *sigh* I hate my job… THE REAL DISCLAIMER: ShadowTide does not own G Gundam. She'd like to own Kyoji or George, but that will never happen. Sort of like how I will never be able to get rid of this stupid eye patch while I have this job…
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Mobile Fighter G Gundam: Promise of a Rose
Chapter IV: As if it Weren't Enough…
It was rather embarrassing to walk around the palace with pink hair, and I suspected every servant I passed had to try very hard to stifle their laughter. I am not sure why I did not fire Renee after this latest prank; something—the light in her eyes, I suppose—kept me from dismissing Raymond's niece. Praying that Miss Marie-Louise would not be present, I walked into the dinning room and…there was the beautiful princess of Neo-France, sitting poised in a fancy leather chair.
She looked at me curiously. "George? Is that you?" she asked, trying to stop herself from giggling.
With a resigned sigh, I replied, "Yes, Miss Marie-Louise. My new mechanic decided that it would be hilariously funny if I had pink hair." I took a seat next to Marie-Louise and piled my plate with the food that was sitting at the table.
"You mean the girl who wore that…revealing black dress that night?" Marie-Louise questioned.
"Oui. The one who wore that horrid gown and spiked the drinks. She also poured beer on Gundam Rose, pulled my hair numerous times, gave me a rubber fencing sword, tries my patience every second, calls me 'Frenchie', and has now bleached my hair," I replied grumpily.
Marie-Louise put her hand gently over mine in comfort. "She sounds awful. I really do think you should send her back to the gutter she came from," she suggested.
I shook my head sadly. "I—I can't. Her parents would most likely hang her if she lost her job one more time," I told my princess. "And," I added reluctantly, "and there is something…something dazzling about her eyes."
The princess removed her hand and winced. "Don't you think my eyes are dazzling, too, George?" she asked quietly.
I smiled at her. "I have never seen a more beautiful face in my entire life," I answered.
Marie-Louise's eyes lit up and she flung her arms around my neck. "Oh George…" she murmured and hugged my tightly. Uncomfortably yet happily, I wrapped my arms around the princess, holding her close to me.
Maybe today will turn out all right after all, I thought to myself. "Mon cheri," I said softly into Marie-Louise's hair and started stroking it gently. Although I had never said that I loved her, I think Marie-Louise knew exactly how I felt. We stayed in that comforting hug until I heard someone clear his throat loudly behind us. Marie-Louise blushed and we both quickly removed our hands from around each other. I turned around quickly to see Raymond standing in the doorway with a small smile on his face.
"Master George," he addressed me, "which room would you like me to prepare for Master Chibodee?"
I blinked, confused. "Chibodee? Now what gave you the illusion that he would be coming here?" I asked.
"This letter," Raymond answered and showed it to me. I growled inwardly, but remained calm. Chibodee… My hair… Renee…
"When is he coming?" I questioned.
My butler scanned the paper. "Tomorrow at noon," he replied.
I got up from my chair. "Please excuse me, Miss Marie-Louise," I said with a polite bow and left the room, rushing up the stairs to Renee's room. No longer did I care about politeness. I was dealing with a demon. "Renee, when did you ask Chibodee to come here?" I interrogated as I slammed open the door.
Renee quickly whirled around, hiding something behind her back. "What?" she asked.
"When. Did. You. Ask. Chibodee. To. Come. Here?" I growled.
"Chibodee? I never told him to come," Renee protested sweetly.
I grunted. "Please, answer my question. It will save you a large amount of trouble and discomfort," I threatened.
Renee laughed at me, yet I saw her eyes flash in fear. "Maybe Chibodee decided to come on a friendly visit," she suggested.
I could just picture the halo above her golden hair. "Monsieur Chibodee wouldn't visit unless he was given an invitation," I said coldly.
"Well, I'm tellin' ya I didn't ask him to come!" Renee continued protesting.
"Yes, you did," I persisted.
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No."
"Oui."
"No!"
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No," Renee retorted, her eyes flashing in anger.
I decided that our current exchange of words would get us nowhere, so I turned to leave the room with these parting words: "This is war, Renee Bishop."
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The moment George closed the door, I fell onto the floor laughing hysterically. Oh, this was perfect! There was no one better in the world to pull pranks on than Gundam fighter George de Sand. Just remembering the look on his face sent me onto the floor again. I had only been in Neo-France for two months, and I had already driven George insane. Finally, my laughter abated and I took out the project I had been working on earlier: a scrapbook of pictures of George. Most of them were from that party where everyone got drunk. I smiled evilly. Just wait 'til tomorrow, Frenchie, I thought to myself. Just wait 'til tomorrow…
Thinking to finish the album, I continued to place the pictures in order. There was when I replaced the fencing sword with a rubber one and Frenchie had fallen flat on his face. There was him with his new "do." There he was when I had sprayed beer all over him and the Rose. There was…I gasped. Our dance! Well, so it was mostly my dance, but… George looked so handsome. And so do I, I realized with shock. I guess what people say about my clothing is true. But the shocked look on George's face was priceless. I snickered to myself and continued with the album.
It was the day after, at exactly 12:01. I wondered where Chibodee was. He wouldn't be late, would he? It would spoil my plan. I told George that Chibodee's plane had been delayed until 1:00, and if everything went as planned, Chibodee would get one hell of a surprise—as would Frenchie. I snickered and Raymond looked at me suspiciously. I quickly went back to my more melancholy look. Then I heard bickering.
"Shirl, you said this would be a vacation!" protested a man with blue hair and pink bangs. His eyes were a pale green color and he wore a long jean jacket, jeans and a red shirt with a yellow star. Around his neck was the oddest thing: a black choker.
"Isn't visiting George a vacation?" a redhead retorted.
"No. It's a sparing ground," the man answered with a grin. Then he saw my uncle and me. "Where's Frenchie now?"
Oh, this is GREAT! He calls George "Frenchie" too! This'll be a blast! I thought happily.
"Hello, monsieur Crockett," Raymond said politely with a resigned sigh.
" 'Ey, Raymond. Who's the pretty young lady next to you?" the man, Chibodee, I assumed, asked.
"This is my niece, Renee," Uncle said. I grinned impishly at the Neo-American.
"I'm Frenchie's new mechanic," I explained.
"I didn't know George had such a hot girl on his new crew," Chibodee said, then passed me. I guess I was blushing, because the redhead came up to me.
"Don't take his teasing seriously," she pardoned. "He's a natural flatterer."
"And we're here to keep him in line," added a brunette with round-rimmed glasses. "Oh, by the way, that's Shirley and I'm Bunny."
"And I'm Cath," an African-American said. A blonde walked up behind her, carrying luggage like the other three.
"My name's Janet. Nice to meet you," the blonde said. I looked at my watch.
"C'mon in. The show's about to start," I said with a grin. The four looked at me in a strange way, but followed me in anyway.
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I decided to ask Renee if the plane was still delayed. That would give me more time to wash the bleach out of my hair. So far, after what seemed like thousands of washes, the pink color hadn't changed. As I walked out of my room and toward the drawing room, I thought of what I might do to Renee. Nothing came immediately to mind, but I was sure I would think of something.
"Renee, are you—" I started to call out, but the sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. There was Chibodee and his girls, sprawled comfortably on three sofas. All of them looked up when I entered. Chibodee blinked at me for a second.
"Frenchie, that you?" he asked. Oh, no. Chibodee also uses that thrice-cursed nickname! I thought.
"Oui, mon ami. It is," I answered heavily. Chibodee burst into peals of laughter, soon falling off the couch, where he lay rolling on the floor. I waited patiently for him to stop, noticing Renee grinning with malicious smirk. I'll get you for this later, Renee Bishop, I mentally promised her. Finally, Chibodee stopped laughing enough to gasp out:
"Frenchie, you look better with red." Then he went back to laughing. I glared at Renee, who smiled sweetly back at me.
"Renee, I thought you said that Chibodee's plane was delayed by an hour," I growled to her over Chibodee's laughing.
"No. It was just a setup so you would come to find me and Chibodee would see you without me having to forcefully get you out of your room," Renee explained. "Besides, he ain't seen my scrapbook yet."
I looked at her in horror, then stormed up to my room to continue to wash my hair.
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I watched as Frenchie left the room, taking what dignity he had left with him. I then looked down at Chibodee who still rolled on the floor. It had gone more or less as I had planned. And it had turned out perfectly. I excused myself and walked up to my room, taking the new scrapbook out from under my bed. I sprinted down the stairs, practically tumbling in my haste, and got back to the room. Chibodee was hauling himself onto the sofa, still chuckling. I grinned broadly and sat down next to him.
"What's that?" he asked.
"My new scrapbook," I said smugly.
"Scrapbook of what?" Chibodee questioned.
"All the pranks I've played on Frenchie," I replied.
"OOOOOOOOOOH! Let's take a look!" he shouted like an excited child. I grinned again and opened to the first page. There was when I sprayed George and the Rose with beer. And then with a turn I got to the party/ball. Chibodee started laughing when he saw George giving his performance of La Marsillaise. But he quieted when he saw me and George dancing to "Anything but Ordinary."
"Wow, you two look good together," he commented. He waved his hands frantically at my death glare. "No! Not like that! You look nice in that outfit and you two just look nice dancing together!"
I turned the page and again he laughed when he saw George fall flat on his face (the day I had exchanged the real fencing sword with the rubber one), and then at the photo of George's new hair color. I closed the scrapbook and giggled.
"And you did all this to him?" Chibodee asked me.
"Hell yah! Like any of these other prisses would," I motioned to the maids. They pretended they didn't hear me. "Anyway, it's fun to tease Frenchie."
"I hear you there," Chibodee agreed.
"Oh, go grow up," I heard one of the crew, Shirley I remembered her name to be, mutter.
"Seriously, Shirl. You should try it sometime," Chibodee recommended.
"Not for a million bucks and freedom from a forced labor crew would I even dream of doing anything like that to George," Shirley said stubbornly. Janet, Bunny and Cath shook their heads sadly. I knew what they were thinking. Wrong thing to say, is what I thought.
"I can arrange that," Chibodee said with a sly smirk, and picked Shirley up. He slung her over a shoulder and carried her out, Shirley protesting the whole time.
"Does he always do that?" I asked.
"All the time," the three answered in unison. I grinned. This would be perfect, just perfect.
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Heya, DarkDragon here. I think this was a success. The next chapter though, will be the stunner. It'll include what I fondly call "the knife incident." I'll explain later.
So for all you patient fans (yes, you, baka), have a heart and wait for the next joint effort of the DarkTide team. This should go under that after all...
~*DarkDragon*~
Ya. It is going under DarkTide, sheesh. See? Look at the author, you…What's the word for idiot again? Oh well. DarkDragon wrote most of this chapter and all of the next. Like you'd care.
Adue! (I have no clue how it's spelled, but it's supposed to be Portuguese.)
~* ShadowTide *~