That evening, Kurtis entered the dining room to find Bryce and I on the floor in the middle of a serious tickling match.
"Oh, Kurtis. Hello," I said, "Hillary says dinner should be ready in about five minutes."
My time out had not been observed by my opponent, who grabbed a seat cushion off the nearest chair and pelted me around the head with it. I screeched and returned in kind, but missed Bryce's temple and fell flat to the floor under my own momentum. Bryce took the opportunity to pounce and pin me to the floor, yelling at Kurtis, "Quick, tickle her!"
Unfortunately the offer was accepted, and I shrieked and kicked as hysterical giggles took a hold of me. There was a polite cough from the doorway to the kitchen, and we stopped, looking up to see Hillary standing ramrod straight with a food cart at the head of the table, one eyebrow raised.
"Dinner is served, m'Lady," he announced with exaggerated ceremony. He always did take his role as butler very seriously.
Giggling and helping each other to our feet, we staggered to our chairs, drunk on excitement. The meal was served, and Hillary sat down to join us. Bryce, as usual, never one to stand on ceremony, started wolfing down fajitas from the Mexican spread Hillary had prepared for us, indulging my love of foreign foods. Kurtis, opposite, looked a little uncomfortable, probably because it was his first formal meal in my household, which I had been informed many times was intimidating enough in itself to those not raised in wealth. I smiled at him and reached for a taco.
"Go ahead, no formalities here. Take a cue from Bryce." Kurtis laughed and began to eat, relaxing noticeably.
Bryce's obliviousness to manners was again demonstrated when he said, mouth full, "So, come on, what happened in Paris, then?"
A silence descended on the table as I cast my eyes downwards, and all others fixed themselves on me.
"That's no proper dinner conversation," Hillary admonished.
"It's alright, Hillary. It's time I told you," I said, swallowing my food and glancing at Kurtis. He sent a flicker of an encouraging smile my way and took another bite of his chips. "I left for Paris when I got a phone call from Werner saying that he needed to see me urgently."
I continued my story in between mouthfuls of dinner, feeling a certain catharsis, until I reached the part where I described seeing Kurtis in the Café Metro, though of course I didn't know the significance of it then. At that point, Kurtis leapt in.
"I was stalking her," he said nonchalantly. All eyes turned to him. I had already heard his version of events on our way back to England, which, I remembered with a smirk, had elicited more than a few curious glances from the air hostess who was already showing more interest in Passenger Trent's welfare than I cared for, though I'd barely admit it to myself.
Obviously receptive to the unspoken calls for embellishment of the statement, Kurtis stared back uncomfortably for a second before resting his fork on the edge of his plate and speaking again.
"I used to be in the Foreign Legion, and when I left in lived in Paris for a while. I have contacts there. Got to Paris on the trail of Eckhardt, heard this 'Croft Woman' was poking around, speaking to Von Croy and milking my own sources, and figured I needed to see just what she was up to. Then, of course, she turned out to be useful, so I got in her way a bit, let her know I was watching her, followed her to the Louvre and let her do my dirty work for me."
That, of course, made very little sense to Bryce and Hillary, who just stared blankly, Bryce forgetting his food for all of two seconds. I picked up the story again, explaining how Kurtis had revealed himself to me on his bike and smoking by the dock, and continuing on to fighting Brother Obscura and then getting the fruits of my labour pillaged. I artfully omitted the body search that had preceded my mugging, flicking my gaze to Kurtis, and then quickly lowering my eyes as I noticed him staring back at me with a playful smile. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirk to himself at my embarrassment.
The tale continued on through dessert and finished in the middle of coffee and cheese, Kurtis and myself trading vocals as each of us told our own sides of the story as it unfolded. Hillary nearly choked on a spoonful of Black Forest Gateau as Kurtis described in vivid detail the looks and antics of Boaz, and uncomfortable silence again fell on the table as he told of being tricked by her playing dead and being stabbed.
Sensing this, Kurtis lightened the mood. "Well, I just pulled myself right off that overgrown porcupine spike and cut her head off with my chirugai. Served her right, huh?" He laughed, and we followed suit, though I think all of us knew how awful it had actually been for him.
I'd heard all about how, suspecting that the place would start coming down when I'd defeated Eckhardt – he'd been amazed to hear that Karel was the true power – Kurtis had held onto consciousness with his fingertips, forcing himself to his feet and staggering out, hoping against hope that he'd survive and leaving his chirugai partly because he couldn't face the extra feet to retrieve it and partly because he'd hoped that it would lead me to him. It had worked.
The story finished, our listeners sat thoughtfully for a few moments, letting the tale sink in. Bryce was the first speak.
"All that, and you're worried that you're getting too old for it?"
I stared at him, my mouth open in mock shock for a second before laughing out loud. I leaned forward and swatted him, and Hillary and Kurtis joined in our mirth, the mood around the table considerably lighter now that the saga was out in the open.
"Oh, Kurtis. Hello," I said, "Hillary says dinner should be ready in about five minutes."
My time out had not been observed by my opponent, who grabbed a seat cushion off the nearest chair and pelted me around the head with it. I screeched and returned in kind, but missed Bryce's temple and fell flat to the floor under my own momentum. Bryce took the opportunity to pounce and pin me to the floor, yelling at Kurtis, "Quick, tickle her!"
Unfortunately the offer was accepted, and I shrieked and kicked as hysterical giggles took a hold of me. There was a polite cough from the doorway to the kitchen, and we stopped, looking up to see Hillary standing ramrod straight with a food cart at the head of the table, one eyebrow raised.
"Dinner is served, m'Lady," he announced with exaggerated ceremony. He always did take his role as butler very seriously.
Giggling and helping each other to our feet, we staggered to our chairs, drunk on excitement. The meal was served, and Hillary sat down to join us. Bryce, as usual, never one to stand on ceremony, started wolfing down fajitas from the Mexican spread Hillary had prepared for us, indulging my love of foreign foods. Kurtis, opposite, looked a little uncomfortable, probably because it was his first formal meal in my household, which I had been informed many times was intimidating enough in itself to those not raised in wealth. I smiled at him and reached for a taco.
"Go ahead, no formalities here. Take a cue from Bryce." Kurtis laughed and began to eat, relaxing noticeably.
Bryce's obliviousness to manners was again demonstrated when he said, mouth full, "So, come on, what happened in Paris, then?"
A silence descended on the table as I cast my eyes downwards, and all others fixed themselves on me.
"That's no proper dinner conversation," Hillary admonished.
"It's alright, Hillary. It's time I told you," I said, swallowing my food and glancing at Kurtis. He sent a flicker of an encouraging smile my way and took another bite of his chips. "I left for Paris when I got a phone call from Werner saying that he needed to see me urgently."
I continued my story in between mouthfuls of dinner, feeling a certain catharsis, until I reached the part where I described seeing Kurtis in the Café Metro, though of course I didn't know the significance of it then. At that point, Kurtis leapt in.
"I was stalking her," he said nonchalantly. All eyes turned to him. I had already heard his version of events on our way back to England, which, I remembered with a smirk, had elicited more than a few curious glances from the air hostess who was already showing more interest in Passenger Trent's welfare than I cared for, though I'd barely admit it to myself.
Obviously receptive to the unspoken calls for embellishment of the statement, Kurtis stared back uncomfortably for a second before resting his fork on the edge of his plate and speaking again.
"I used to be in the Foreign Legion, and when I left in lived in Paris for a while. I have contacts there. Got to Paris on the trail of Eckhardt, heard this 'Croft Woman' was poking around, speaking to Von Croy and milking my own sources, and figured I needed to see just what she was up to. Then, of course, she turned out to be useful, so I got in her way a bit, let her know I was watching her, followed her to the Louvre and let her do my dirty work for me."
That, of course, made very little sense to Bryce and Hillary, who just stared blankly, Bryce forgetting his food for all of two seconds. I picked up the story again, explaining how Kurtis had revealed himself to me on his bike and smoking by the dock, and continuing on to fighting Brother Obscura and then getting the fruits of my labour pillaged. I artfully omitted the body search that had preceded my mugging, flicking my gaze to Kurtis, and then quickly lowering my eyes as I noticed him staring back at me with a playful smile. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirk to himself at my embarrassment.
The tale continued on through dessert and finished in the middle of coffee and cheese, Kurtis and myself trading vocals as each of us told our own sides of the story as it unfolded. Hillary nearly choked on a spoonful of Black Forest Gateau as Kurtis described in vivid detail the looks and antics of Boaz, and uncomfortable silence again fell on the table as he told of being tricked by her playing dead and being stabbed.
Sensing this, Kurtis lightened the mood. "Well, I just pulled myself right off that overgrown porcupine spike and cut her head off with my chirugai. Served her right, huh?" He laughed, and we followed suit, though I think all of us knew how awful it had actually been for him.
I'd heard all about how, suspecting that the place would start coming down when I'd defeated Eckhardt – he'd been amazed to hear that Karel was the true power – Kurtis had held onto consciousness with his fingertips, forcing himself to his feet and staggering out, hoping against hope that he'd survive and leaving his chirugai partly because he couldn't face the extra feet to retrieve it and partly because he'd hoped that it would lead me to him. It had worked.
The story finished, our listeners sat thoughtfully for a few moments, letting the tale sink in. Bryce was the first speak.
"All that, and you're worried that you're getting too old for it?"
I stared at him, my mouth open in mock shock for a second before laughing out loud. I leaned forward and swatted him, and Hillary and Kurtis joined in our mirth, the mood around the table considerably lighter now that the saga was out in the open.