Hey, look, brand new POV!

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Alex was in a slightly pensive mood. Knives had told them what Ace had done, let then hear what she had said. Neither he nor Vash were as surprised as Knives had been, but then again, neither of them had been as close to Ace as he was. It gave them a little more perspective. And not to be one to remember slights long past when they should be forgotten and forgiven, Alex just didn't like her. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Ok, fine. He was holding a grudge. And it was a silly grudge, but it irked him how easy it was for her to pull Knives away any time the two of them happened to be alone together. He almost never got to spend any time with his uncle, just the two of them.

Alex scuffed his toes in the dust. Knives was always so clueless about it, too. As soon as they got started on a project, or a movie, or even when he was lots younger and Knives tried to read to him, she would always show up. Then she would either pull him away, or stick around and make a nuisance of herself, falling all over Knives and hogging all his attention.

He didn't know why Ace felt she had to make sure that he and Knives never spent time together. It wasn't like he was trying to take her place as the baby of the group, or do anything to come between her and Knives. No, he had always felt that Ace had decided that Knives was hers, and that she had no need to share. Like he was a toy, or something.

And Knives was so blind.

He looked up and could barely make out the stars through the light haze. Mom always said that Knives was just a bit clueless, that he didn't know how to interact with other people, that he didn't know that his behavior was hurtful. But he had heard her one time, talking to dad when she didn't know he was awake, and she had remarked that it surprised her that Knives could be so blind.

Dad had said something about it being a willful blindness, that he wanted everything to be perfect so badly that he would ignore all but the most unsubtle clues that there was anything wrong. Mom had huffed and called that typical, and he had decided to lot let it bother him too much.

He shot a glance at his uncle out of the corner of his eye. Guess that last clue had been unsubtle enough, finally.

They paused to pay the cover to the place that Anne was playing, then filed in, Vash first, followed by his brother, with Alex last and most reluctant to enter. The city was so big, and so new, and so very full of people. And it was a whole lot darker than the ship, and that bothered him. Life should be well lit, and with all the lights he saw in the city he wondered why there where still so many shadows. The door before him opened into a dark maw, the venue shadowed from the street. He didn't know what to expect from the room, and that made him a bit antsy.

So it threw him a little more when he stumbled into his uncle's back. Suddenly worrying, he craned his head about and saw that Knives was transfixed by the vision of Anne onstage. Alex took advantage of the pause to look over the room, and he relaxed when he saw how nice and uncrowded it was.

He pushed past his uncle and remarked sotto voice, "Wipe the drool, Knives. It's very embarrassing."

He was rewarded by getting to see his uncle start, then glare at him. Alex smiled at him, then pointed after his dad's retreating form. Knives and he made their way through the room to the table Vash had chosen. It was back near the wall, not quite in a corner, but it gave one a good view of the room. Alex wondered if his dad had picked it to assuage his brother's paranoia or his son's curiosity.

After a moment's reflection, he decided it was both.

A waitress came over. Vash and Knives both ordered a beer, but Alex decided that he should just have water. The strangeness of this place was already getting on his nerves a bit, and he didn't need the added distraction of alcohol.

While looking about the room, he noticed Mark sitting and talking with another man. They seemed to know each other well enough. Alex debated going over there and talking with them, then finally decided to. He pointed to them and waited for his father's nod, then wended his way through the tables to get to them.

"Hi, Mark," he said as he took a seat. He was left with his back to the stage, but that was ok. He didn't need to see Anne look pretty. The way Knives was staring at her filled the quota for the three of them.

"Well, hello, Alex," said Mark, looking slightly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Plotting against Ace," he responded deadpan. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jeremy Herman, my boss," he said stressing the last word. "Mr. Herman, this is Alex--" he paused, searching for a surname.

Alex waved his hand in the air dismissively. "I'll adopt my dad's last name when he decides what one he wants."

"Isn't he the Stampede?" asked Mark's boss.

Alex shrugged. "Not really. And I'd be more Alex the Ambling, anyway. I'm not quite as exuberant as my dad."

"Remarkable," said Jeremy, but not to Alex. "You say he's Strife's boy?"

"He is," affirmed Mark.

"Remarkable," he repeated, then turned to stare at Alex again. "So you're the half-plant."

"No, sir, I'm the all-plant. The genes that differentiate between you and I were all designed to be dominant traits."

"Which explains why you look so much like your father."

"Yes, sir." Alex looked at Mark pleadingly, and wondered if he was going to be subjected to questioning all night.

Mark shrugged and smiled, but turned to ask his boss something about his wife.