Something That Will Never Happen, but Did Anyway
By Sad WTF
Chapter 5. Thank God It's Friday
---
"What is it, Walter?" asked a concerned Seras as she joined Walter out in the hallway. The older man frowned for a moment and glanced into the common room before speaking again.
"I have noticed that Sir Integral has been acting peculiar today," he sighed. "You may have noticed by her sudden interest in watching the television with you in the common room, perhaps?"
Seras frowned. "Well, I did think it was rather odd at first, but it is quite pleasant once you get used to it."
"Pleasant or not, a sudden change like this must mean something. Why, just awhile ago, when she spoke to me, she sounded just like–"
"Hey!" interrupted Maxwell loudly, barging out into the hallway. "Quit harassing her with your manky talk and lay off!"
Walter looked at Seras with a 'See what I mean?' expression, but Seras was too happy to oblige Integral by going back inside to watch more mindless programs. Walter sighed and shook his head, worried.
---
Integral's brow furrowed deeply as she stared in shock at the papers in front of her.
"That bastard," muttered Integral to herself as she reluctantly allowed Maxwell to cross her mind. She just couldn't believe the sheer power Iscariot held – power that Maxwell hadn't apparently been using to its fullest extent. Iscariot might have found and crushed Millennium by now had Maxwell chosen it to happen.
Integral sighed. She didn't think Maxwell was stupid. Well, not very stupid, anyway. She figured there was some stupid Catholic law that forbade him from using his own forces. She wondered if she could have an audience with the Pope, but decided against it due to the fact that she wasn't Catholic enough. And she wasn't going to start learning how to be one if she could help it.
Integral smirked to herself as she recalled the offended expression on that old man's face as she refused to eat what was offered and went out to eat instead. Who cared if it was Friday? Nobody was going to tell her what to eat. She could hear that annoying girl still laughing over the fact that she slowly savored chicken salad as Father Ronaldo watched in utter horror.
Integral was interrupted from her musings when someone she definitely recognized walked in – Father Alexander Anderson. She raised an eyebrow at the intrusion, but did not question it. She was used to people entering without knocking, though she had reprimanded many today for it, and was too tired of the subject to bring it up for today. It was when Anderson sat on her desk (yes, she considered it her desk now) that she looked up and glared.
---
"But why do you refuse to eat it?" asked Walter, pushing the pot roast closer to Maxwell's face.
"Because--..." Maxwell had to stop himself from mentioning it was Friday. "...I have a cold," he trailed off, meekly.
Walter frowned and looked carefully at Integral's features. What had those damn Nazis done to her? He knew she wasn't like this before she left. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Walter asked, softly.
Maxwell stared at the butler, feeling a twitch coming to his left eye. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, nothing serious happened when you were attacked by Millennium?"
"I'm fine. Quit meddling." Lord, Integral had such nosy servants.
Walter sighed and pulled back. He gave up, but only for tonight. Tomorrow he was going to pry all the information he could out of her if it was the last thing he did. "Very well. What would you like to eat instead, sir?"
"Nothing. I'm tired," snapped Maxwell. "I'm going to bed."
Walter stared after Integral's receding head as she quickly exited the room. She didn't look particularly ill, though her manner said otherwise. He sighed and looked out the window at the setting sun, hoping for a solution to this mysterious problem.
---
Father Anderson was as dazed as a dazed dazer on a dazerrific daze contest. Never in his mind's eye would he have pictured what had just happened.
Maxwell had yelled at him.
Not the whiny boobish bickering he was used to being subjected to. No, this was a tremendous yell of yells, and it unnerved him beyond anything. He was actually nervous, yes nervous, of what might happen if he did not accomplish his mission. He shuddered just to picture a wrathful Maxwell.
Wrathful Maxwell. What an oxymoron! Until now, that is. Never had the priest dared to yell at him. The others, yes, but him, never. Yet, horrified as he was, Father Anderson was actually happy. The man actually did have guts underneath all that simpering frailty! For the first time in his life, he was proud to say that he worked under Father Maxwell. Grinning simply, he straightened himself, ready to find this Millennium organization.
###
Maxwell had a dream. A horrifying dream, but a dream nonetheless. But he was awake now! And knowing that what had happened was nothing but a disturbing fabrication of his own mind put him in the most jubilant of moods.
Jumping out of bed, Maxwell did an Irish jig.#
"What on earth are you doing, Sir Integral?" gasped a shocked Walter.
Maxwell tripped on a rug and fell, realizing at the same time that his jig wasn't as Irish enough as it usually should have been. That's when realization struck him. Actually, it was the floor coming up to meet his head, but that's about the same thing.
"Damn, it wasn't a dream," muttered Maxwell. He glared at Integral's annoying butler, who had apparently been snooping around the room as usual.
Walter stared suspiciously on as he pursed his lips in worry. He had suspected something, from the way she talked... But he didn't expect this.
"Sir Integral, we need to talk," he said, firmly.
Maxwell rolled his eyes. The butler sounded so much like Father Ronaldo when he said that.
---
Maxwell had agreed to dress as quickly as possible to talk with Walter, but he hadn't expected this. He stood in front of the mirror, mesmerized.
"How does she hide these!?" exclaimed Maxwell to himself. He nodded and stared some more, thinking Integral's assets would be much more interesting if not obscured by her boring underwear. Entranced, he decided to keep the old man waiting.
Said old man came barging in moments later, to find Integral standing around in her underwear, grabbing at her chest. "Sir?" asked Walter, alarmed.
Maxwell looked at him, guiltier than the butler could ever imagine.
Oh well, time for that talk.
---
Enjoy. Oh, and thank you to all of you who commented!
#I think Maxwell is Irish. I'm sorry, his first name is Italian, but that's the only reason that I would believe he is one (And even the name makes me think it was just one of those "Kouta Hirano is crazy" moments. You know, much like the Major's very un-German name). Everything else I've seen makes me think that he is, in fact, very, very Irish. I'M SORRY. Maybe he was adopted by Father Ronaldo. WTF NO.
(BTW, for those wondering about the #s, for some reason the asterisks wouldn't show up, so I had to substitute.)
By Sad WTF
Chapter 5. Thank God It's Friday
---
"What is it, Walter?" asked a concerned Seras as she joined Walter out in the hallway. The older man frowned for a moment and glanced into the common room before speaking again.
"I have noticed that Sir Integral has been acting peculiar today," he sighed. "You may have noticed by her sudden interest in watching the television with you in the common room, perhaps?"
Seras frowned. "Well, I did think it was rather odd at first, but it is quite pleasant once you get used to it."
"Pleasant or not, a sudden change like this must mean something. Why, just awhile ago, when she spoke to me, she sounded just like–"
"Hey!" interrupted Maxwell loudly, barging out into the hallway. "Quit harassing her with your manky talk and lay off!"
Walter looked at Seras with a 'See what I mean?' expression, but Seras was too happy to oblige Integral by going back inside to watch more mindless programs. Walter sighed and shook his head, worried.
---
Integral's brow furrowed deeply as she stared in shock at the papers in front of her.
"That bastard," muttered Integral to herself as she reluctantly allowed Maxwell to cross her mind. She just couldn't believe the sheer power Iscariot held – power that Maxwell hadn't apparently been using to its fullest extent. Iscariot might have found and crushed Millennium by now had Maxwell chosen it to happen.
Integral sighed. She didn't think Maxwell was stupid. Well, not very stupid, anyway. She figured there was some stupid Catholic law that forbade him from using his own forces. She wondered if she could have an audience with the Pope, but decided against it due to the fact that she wasn't Catholic enough. And she wasn't going to start learning how to be one if she could help it.
Integral smirked to herself as she recalled the offended expression on that old man's face as she refused to eat what was offered and went out to eat instead. Who cared if it was Friday? Nobody was going to tell her what to eat. She could hear that annoying girl still laughing over the fact that she slowly savored chicken salad as Father Ronaldo watched in utter horror.
Integral was interrupted from her musings when someone she definitely recognized walked in – Father Alexander Anderson. She raised an eyebrow at the intrusion, but did not question it. She was used to people entering without knocking, though she had reprimanded many today for it, and was too tired of the subject to bring it up for today. It was when Anderson sat on her desk (yes, she considered it her desk now) that she looked up and glared.
---
"But why do you refuse to eat it?" asked Walter, pushing the pot roast closer to Maxwell's face.
"Because--..." Maxwell had to stop himself from mentioning it was Friday. "...I have a cold," he trailed off, meekly.
Walter frowned and looked carefully at Integral's features. What had those damn Nazis done to her? He knew she wasn't like this before she left. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Walter asked, softly.
Maxwell stared at the butler, feeling a twitch coming to his left eye. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, nothing serious happened when you were attacked by Millennium?"
"I'm fine. Quit meddling." Lord, Integral had such nosy servants.
Walter sighed and pulled back. He gave up, but only for tonight. Tomorrow he was going to pry all the information he could out of her if it was the last thing he did. "Very well. What would you like to eat instead, sir?"
"Nothing. I'm tired," snapped Maxwell. "I'm going to bed."
Walter stared after Integral's receding head as she quickly exited the room. She didn't look particularly ill, though her manner said otherwise. He sighed and looked out the window at the setting sun, hoping for a solution to this mysterious problem.
---
Father Anderson was as dazed as a dazed dazer on a dazerrific daze contest. Never in his mind's eye would he have pictured what had just happened.
Maxwell had yelled at him.
Not the whiny boobish bickering he was used to being subjected to. No, this was a tremendous yell of yells, and it unnerved him beyond anything. He was actually nervous, yes nervous, of what might happen if he did not accomplish his mission. He shuddered just to picture a wrathful Maxwell.
Wrathful Maxwell. What an oxymoron! Until now, that is. Never had the priest dared to yell at him. The others, yes, but him, never. Yet, horrified as he was, Father Anderson was actually happy. The man actually did have guts underneath all that simpering frailty! For the first time in his life, he was proud to say that he worked under Father Maxwell. Grinning simply, he straightened himself, ready to find this Millennium organization.
###
Maxwell had a dream. A horrifying dream, but a dream nonetheless. But he was awake now! And knowing that what had happened was nothing but a disturbing fabrication of his own mind put him in the most jubilant of moods.
Jumping out of bed, Maxwell did an Irish jig.#
"What on earth are you doing, Sir Integral?" gasped a shocked Walter.
Maxwell tripped on a rug and fell, realizing at the same time that his jig wasn't as Irish enough as it usually should have been. That's when realization struck him. Actually, it was the floor coming up to meet his head, but that's about the same thing.
"Damn, it wasn't a dream," muttered Maxwell. He glared at Integral's annoying butler, who had apparently been snooping around the room as usual.
Walter stared suspiciously on as he pursed his lips in worry. He had suspected something, from the way she talked... But he didn't expect this.
"Sir Integral, we need to talk," he said, firmly.
Maxwell rolled his eyes. The butler sounded so much like Father Ronaldo when he said that.
---
Maxwell had agreed to dress as quickly as possible to talk with Walter, but he hadn't expected this. He stood in front of the mirror, mesmerized.
"How does she hide these!?" exclaimed Maxwell to himself. He nodded and stared some more, thinking Integral's assets would be much more interesting if not obscured by her boring underwear. Entranced, he decided to keep the old man waiting.
Said old man came barging in moments later, to find Integral standing around in her underwear, grabbing at her chest. "Sir?" asked Walter, alarmed.
Maxwell looked at him, guiltier than the butler could ever imagine.
Oh well, time for that talk.
---
Enjoy. Oh, and thank you to all of you who commented!
#I think Maxwell is Irish. I'm sorry, his first name is Italian, but that's the only reason that I would believe he is one (And even the name makes me think it was just one of those "Kouta Hirano is crazy" moments. You know, much like the Major's very un-German name). Everything else I've seen makes me think that he is, in fact, very, very Irish. I'M SORRY. Maybe he was adopted by Father Ronaldo. WTF NO.
(BTW, for those wondering about the #s, for some reason the asterisks wouldn't show up, so I had to substitute.)