Doo doo doo. Here I go. Thanks for reviews! I love you guys so much!
Now I respond: ::clears throat::
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tashilover: ok! Quit poking me! And um, yes. Magazines. Mmm. And you can date them. . . just not in this story.
Karina of Darkness: Yep, I have to admit it's my favourite line too. I must try it sometime though- having a melted chocolate on my head. . .
Nissi Nirvani: Um, you're right. Nothing good every comes from those magazines. Except the beauty and fashion pages. Um, I'm a Cosmo-fan. ^_^
Kyrillia: Heehee, you're curious! 'Tis a nice feeling, ne? Now satisfy your curiosity with this next chapter!! ::cough:: self-advertising ::cough::
Vampire Girl: Um yes, them Twins are great. I will e-mail you now. ::skips off::
::skips back 'cos she's not done yet:: Della C: Ack! Don't sic Rogers on me! Look, look, I dun wrote summat! ::points to the text below::
Wizardmon: Glad you're finding it funny! I live to give. Or something. . . ¬_¬
Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom: (it's so fun typing that fast, btw) Yes, it could happen to anyone. Maybe someone you know, maybe someone who lives down your street, maybe your next door neighbour's dog. It can happen to anyone. The mints are in a conspiracy. ¬_¬
And away I go! ::skips off::
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own the Twins or any characters from The Matrix. They own me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Two took a deep breath and sipped nervously on his wine. This was it. Somehow One had persuaded him to plunge into the very bowels of human existence. He was in a club. It was uptown and hip, with hordes of beautiful rich people occupying the dance floor or dotted fashionably around the tables. The bar men and women were dressed in black vests or tank tops, with the words 'The Lounge' scrawled lazily over them.
The Lounge. Known for its expensive drinks and celebrity guests. Two was pretty sure even the Merovingian would have liked this place.
His eyes flickered across the people, searching. To his left there was a guy with bright red hair. To his right there was a girl wearing a shocking pink skirt and knee high boots from Chanel. All these beautiful people and not one had made eye contact with him as he mooched alone at the bar. Eye contact, the Cosmo article had said, was the starting point to almost every relationship. He tried to catch the eye of a pretty woman who strode past him, but to no avail. Was he really that ugly? Two didn't find himself unattractive- a little. . . odd, perhaps- but certainly not displeasing to look at. Maybe it was the dreadlocks, or the fact he never took off his sunglasses, that repelled women. Or maybe it was the almost vampiric skin. He cursed The Menovirgian inwardly. How was he supposed to be accepted as a human if he barely looked like one?
He felt a nudge at his arm. Someone was waiting to be served at the bar. He looked down and blew out his cheeks, bored. Then he noticed the delicate sandals that belonged to this someone. Then his eyes trailed upwards past some wonderfully long legs. The dress she was wearing subtly accented her figure, which pleased him. Her skin was dark, and contrasted heavily with his own, but there was something about her that drew him towards her. Something he could not quite put his finger on. He wanted to continue, just looking at her, before he realised she had noticed his rude staring. She looked back at him, and for a while neither spoke.
Finally assured he had made sufficient eye contact, he held out a hand.
"Erm. . . hi."
A smile broke out on her lips, it made her whole face lighten up. Her nose crinkled a bit when she smiled- it made him want to smile too. Strange- all these things he had never noticed before, never even thought about before. He must be learning.
She took his hand and shook it, though he could sense she found it awkward. Maybe he shouldn't have done that. Damn. He would have to warn One about the non-hand shaking rule.
"Hello. My name's Mia. What about you?" Hmm, judging by her voice, she was English. That would provide something to talk about. He guessed she was from London, but he couldn't quite tell. Not just by listening to seven words, anyway. He realised she was still waiting for his name, and though his brain ran through a list of thousands of fake names he could have told her he had already spoken the truth.
"Two."
"Really? Are you serious?" She raised an eyebrow. Two liked it when she did that. It made her. . .more appealing, somehow.
"Um. . . yes. I am."
She shrugged.
"Whatever." Then, "I can't help but notice you're accent. It seems we both are from the other side of the Atlantic."
He nodded. Good, he thought, you've got a conversation going.
"Yes, so it would seem. It's nice to hear another English accent. It's a break from all these American ones, I guess." He was surprised how easily the words slipped off of his tongue. They were almost as sweet as the wine he was drinking.
She smiled again, and he was amazed by her perfect teeth.
"So. . ." She said. "Which part of England are you from?"
Shit. He hadn't thought this far ahead. He had forgotten that she would ask questions. The article said that she would. Not having actually having been to England didn't help. His brain went into overdrive to pull a name of a city, a town, anything that would be an appropriate answer. Something that would seem normal. He cursed The Matrix; it had programmed him to only have an English accent, not actually be English.
"Uh. . ." He said after what seemed an eternity. "I'm from. . . everywhere. I've been around. Travelled up and down the place."
"Yeah." She said. " That must have been. . . nice. I always wanted to travel. I guess that's why I'm here, instead of over there."
"Um. . . Can I get you a drink?" He asked. Inside his stomach flipped; if she said yes, he was almost there. If not, he had failed. The Cosmo article had said so.
"Sure. I'll have a double vodka and lemon. Please."
He ordered without fuss, trying to stop himself from grinning stupidly. He had had a conversation and was now buying a drink for this wonderfully attractive woman. He couldn't wait to brag about this to One.
The night seemed to fizzle away blissfully. Two was amazed how easy it was to talk to Mia. She didn't ask any questions about his appearance, and not too many about his past either, which was a good thing. She did, however, ask what he did for a living. He decided the best option here was to bend the truth a little, because lies always bred new lies that were hard to remember. He told her he was a bodyguard, (true) who worked for a snobby old French man (true) who kept moving all around the world, so that's why he was here (true). There were parts he left out, parts about assassination and hacking and blowing up things, well, he figured she didn't need to know about that just yet- they had only just met, of course.
He wasn't sure if she was getting drunk or not, but he couldn't help but notice when her brushed the top of his hand when she ordered another drink. Something was definitely different, though he wasn't sure what. They were no longer just idly chatting, no longer just two strangers at a bar. He had learnt all about her- he knew she was a publicist; had lived in America for two years and that she had an apartment, not far from here. Two wondered about it- pictured it in his mind. It would be as beautiful and classy and. . .sexy? (he wasn't sure. All of this was new to him) as she was- he imagined her there, lounging on the couch, smiling her wondrous smile, wrinkling up her nose. He wanted to be there too.
She brushed past him again, slowly. She was definitely doing it on purpose. Cosmo had said that flirting was all about subtlety. And eye contact. You could never get enough eye contact.
She chatted away, sipping on her vodka and lemon, and Two nodded and 'umm- hmmed' in all the right places. He was amazed by how much he was infatuated by her, and he had only known her for two hours! He figured he must be learning all sorts of things- how to talk to act, talk, be around women- but something else too- he was learning to like them.
"Do you want to dance?" She asked, innocently enough, though her smile was a little more devilish than before. Two liked the devilish smile. But the dancing suggestion he did not. He knew nothing about dancing, and he wasn't going to start learning about it now.
"No. That's alright. I don't dance. I can't."
She sighed and punched him playfully on the arm. His first instinct was to block it, but he realised she was just jesting.
"Don't be stupid." She said. "Everyone can dance. Even you. Look, come here." She motioned him closer with her index finger. "Just move with the music. It's easy." She danced a little, raising her arms above her head and turned a full circle. Two cursed himself for not being able to take his eyes off of her butt. He wasn't sure if she noticed, but if she did, she pretended not to.
He grudgingly let himself be led to the dance floor, and, as if Fate was on his side, the DJ put a slow song on. The crooning singer soon had all the couples on the dance floor, swaying gently in each other's arms.
"Hey now, peeps!" The DJ said, his voice booming throughout the joint, "I wanna see all the luvvvv-ers up here! Take your ladies by the hand and I wanna see some dancing!" Mia raised an eyebrow, and slipped her hands round Two's waist. He was sure the whole room could hear the beat of his thumping heart. For them to be this close- it was kind of scary, but kind of nice. Gingerly her wrapped his arms around her, and when she did not object, they rocked together in the slow relaxing beat of the music. Two was content for it to go on forever. Half-heartedly, he wondered what his Twin was doing right now. . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
One chewed loudly on his popcorn, bored out of his wits. He was in the hotel room, watching a trashy movie of some kind. It was about two teenagers who travelled back in time in a telephone booth. The plot was just plain stupid, but not as stupid as the main characters- humans really did believe in the lamest things. He squinted his eyes and looked at the screen. Come to think of it, one of the characters almost looked like one of the rebels he had met not long ago. . .
Too bored to stay awake, he switched the T.V. off, and fell asleep. He checked the clock. 12.35. As he slowly slipped into slumber, he wondered if Two had been successful at getting a date.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Successful? More than that. Three billion light years more. Two had done it- got her number, arranged a time to see her again, and it that wasn't a date, what was? And what was more, when he had chauffeured her back to her apartment and walked her to her door, she had kissed him. It was just on the cheek, and she was definitely drunk by now, so it didn't mean much. But still. . . it was soft and warm and there was nothing more in the world he had wanted than to be kissed by those lips again and again. It seemed that he had learnt about lust too.
As he drove back, he couldn't stop himself from smiling. It was as if she had pasted herself onto his mind and she was all he could think about. It was a strange feeling, something he was not used to. He was used to lots of things; being shot at; the vile insults hurtled at him from The Merovingian whenever he was in a temper, and even used to the fact that his (and One's) face was no. 27 in the America's Most Wanted List. But a crush? There was no programming knowledge for that. It was something he'd have to figure out on his own. Smugly, he fingered the piece of paper in his pocket that had her cell number scrawled tipsily across it. He wasn't going to call her tomorrow- the article said that would look too desperate. And not in a week's time either, she would feel as if he had blown her off. Three days, he rationalised, would be enough. Or maybe he could narrow it down to two. . . or maybe tomorrow was his best bet. He would find out soon enough.
*~*~*~*~*~**~ MEEP! Well done! You read it! ::applauds::
So. . . what will happen next? Will One get a date? Will Two keep his? You will only know if you review and inspire me! ::cough::
Till next time,
~*Eddie*~
Now I respond: ::clears throat::
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tashilover: ok! Quit poking me! And um, yes. Magazines. Mmm. And you can date them. . . just not in this story.
Karina of Darkness: Yep, I have to admit it's my favourite line too. I must try it sometime though- having a melted chocolate on my head. . .
Nissi Nirvani: Um, you're right. Nothing good every comes from those magazines. Except the beauty and fashion pages. Um, I'm a Cosmo-fan. ^_^
Kyrillia: Heehee, you're curious! 'Tis a nice feeling, ne? Now satisfy your curiosity with this next chapter!! ::cough:: self-advertising ::cough::
Vampire Girl: Um yes, them Twins are great. I will e-mail you now. ::skips off::
::skips back 'cos she's not done yet:: Della C: Ack! Don't sic Rogers on me! Look, look, I dun wrote summat! ::points to the text below::
Wizardmon: Glad you're finding it funny! I live to give. Or something. . . ¬_¬
Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom: (it's so fun typing that fast, btw) Yes, it could happen to anyone. Maybe someone you know, maybe someone who lives down your street, maybe your next door neighbour's dog. It can happen to anyone. The mints are in a conspiracy. ¬_¬
And away I go! ::skips off::
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own the Twins or any characters from The Matrix. They own me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Two took a deep breath and sipped nervously on his wine. This was it. Somehow One had persuaded him to plunge into the very bowels of human existence. He was in a club. It was uptown and hip, with hordes of beautiful rich people occupying the dance floor or dotted fashionably around the tables. The bar men and women were dressed in black vests or tank tops, with the words 'The Lounge' scrawled lazily over them.
The Lounge. Known for its expensive drinks and celebrity guests. Two was pretty sure even the Merovingian would have liked this place.
His eyes flickered across the people, searching. To his left there was a guy with bright red hair. To his right there was a girl wearing a shocking pink skirt and knee high boots from Chanel. All these beautiful people and not one had made eye contact with him as he mooched alone at the bar. Eye contact, the Cosmo article had said, was the starting point to almost every relationship. He tried to catch the eye of a pretty woman who strode past him, but to no avail. Was he really that ugly? Two didn't find himself unattractive- a little. . . odd, perhaps- but certainly not displeasing to look at. Maybe it was the dreadlocks, or the fact he never took off his sunglasses, that repelled women. Or maybe it was the almost vampiric skin. He cursed The Menovirgian inwardly. How was he supposed to be accepted as a human if he barely looked like one?
He felt a nudge at his arm. Someone was waiting to be served at the bar. He looked down and blew out his cheeks, bored. Then he noticed the delicate sandals that belonged to this someone. Then his eyes trailed upwards past some wonderfully long legs. The dress she was wearing subtly accented her figure, which pleased him. Her skin was dark, and contrasted heavily with his own, but there was something about her that drew him towards her. Something he could not quite put his finger on. He wanted to continue, just looking at her, before he realised she had noticed his rude staring. She looked back at him, and for a while neither spoke.
Finally assured he had made sufficient eye contact, he held out a hand.
"Erm. . . hi."
A smile broke out on her lips, it made her whole face lighten up. Her nose crinkled a bit when she smiled- it made him want to smile too. Strange- all these things he had never noticed before, never even thought about before. He must be learning.
She took his hand and shook it, though he could sense she found it awkward. Maybe he shouldn't have done that. Damn. He would have to warn One about the non-hand shaking rule.
"Hello. My name's Mia. What about you?" Hmm, judging by her voice, she was English. That would provide something to talk about. He guessed she was from London, but he couldn't quite tell. Not just by listening to seven words, anyway. He realised she was still waiting for his name, and though his brain ran through a list of thousands of fake names he could have told her he had already spoken the truth.
"Two."
"Really? Are you serious?" She raised an eyebrow. Two liked it when she did that. It made her. . .more appealing, somehow.
"Um. . . yes. I am."
She shrugged.
"Whatever." Then, "I can't help but notice you're accent. It seems we both are from the other side of the Atlantic."
He nodded. Good, he thought, you've got a conversation going.
"Yes, so it would seem. It's nice to hear another English accent. It's a break from all these American ones, I guess." He was surprised how easily the words slipped off of his tongue. They were almost as sweet as the wine he was drinking.
She smiled again, and he was amazed by her perfect teeth.
"So. . ." She said. "Which part of England are you from?"
Shit. He hadn't thought this far ahead. He had forgotten that she would ask questions. The article said that she would. Not having actually having been to England didn't help. His brain went into overdrive to pull a name of a city, a town, anything that would be an appropriate answer. Something that would seem normal. He cursed The Matrix; it had programmed him to only have an English accent, not actually be English.
"Uh. . ." He said after what seemed an eternity. "I'm from. . . everywhere. I've been around. Travelled up and down the place."
"Yeah." She said. " That must have been. . . nice. I always wanted to travel. I guess that's why I'm here, instead of over there."
"Um. . . Can I get you a drink?" He asked. Inside his stomach flipped; if she said yes, he was almost there. If not, he had failed. The Cosmo article had said so.
"Sure. I'll have a double vodka and lemon. Please."
He ordered without fuss, trying to stop himself from grinning stupidly. He had had a conversation and was now buying a drink for this wonderfully attractive woman. He couldn't wait to brag about this to One.
The night seemed to fizzle away blissfully. Two was amazed how easy it was to talk to Mia. She didn't ask any questions about his appearance, and not too many about his past either, which was a good thing. She did, however, ask what he did for a living. He decided the best option here was to bend the truth a little, because lies always bred new lies that were hard to remember. He told her he was a bodyguard, (true) who worked for a snobby old French man (true) who kept moving all around the world, so that's why he was here (true). There were parts he left out, parts about assassination and hacking and blowing up things, well, he figured she didn't need to know about that just yet- they had only just met, of course.
He wasn't sure if she was getting drunk or not, but he couldn't help but notice when her brushed the top of his hand when she ordered another drink. Something was definitely different, though he wasn't sure what. They were no longer just idly chatting, no longer just two strangers at a bar. He had learnt all about her- he knew she was a publicist; had lived in America for two years and that she had an apartment, not far from here. Two wondered about it- pictured it in his mind. It would be as beautiful and classy and. . .sexy? (he wasn't sure. All of this was new to him) as she was- he imagined her there, lounging on the couch, smiling her wondrous smile, wrinkling up her nose. He wanted to be there too.
She brushed past him again, slowly. She was definitely doing it on purpose. Cosmo had said that flirting was all about subtlety. And eye contact. You could never get enough eye contact.
She chatted away, sipping on her vodka and lemon, and Two nodded and 'umm- hmmed' in all the right places. He was amazed by how much he was infatuated by her, and he had only known her for two hours! He figured he must be learning all sorts of things- how to talk to act, talk, be around women- but something else too- he was learning to like them.
"Do you want to dance?" She asked, innocently enough, though her smile was a little more devilish than before. Two liked the devilish smile. But the dancing suggestion he did not. He knew nothing about dancing, and he wasn't going to start learning about it now.
"No. That's alright. I don't dance. I can't."
She sighed and punched him playfully on the arm. His first instinct was to block it, but he realised she was just jesting.
"Don't be stupid." She said. "Everyone can dance. Even you. Look, come here." She motioned him closer with her index finger. "Just move with the music. It's easy." She danced a little, raising her arms above her head and turned a full circle. Two cursed himself for not being able to take his eyes off of her butt. He wasn't sure if she noticed, but if she did, she pretended not to.
He grudgingly let himself be led to the dance floor, and, as if Fate was on his side, the DJ put a slow song on. The crooning singer soon had all the couples on the dance floor, swaying gently in each other's arms.
"Hey now, peeps!" The DJ said, his voice booming throughout the joint, "I wanna see all the luvvvv-ers up here! Take your ladies by the hand and I wanna see some dancing!" Mia raised an eyebrow, and slipped her hands round Two's waist. He was sure the whole room could hear the beat of his thumping heart. For them to be this close- it was kind of scary, but kind of nice. Gingerly her wrapped his arms around her, and when she did not object, they rocked together in the slow relaxing beat of the music. Two was content for it to go on forever. Half-heartedly, he wondered what his Twin was doing right now. . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
One chewed loudly on his popcorn, bored out of his wits. He was in the hotel room, watching a trashy movie of some kind. It was about two teenagers who travelled back in time in a telephone booth. The plot was just plain stupid, but not as stupid as the main characters- humans really did believe in the lamest things. He squinted his eyes and looked at the screen. Come to think of it, one of the characters almost looked like one of the rebels he had met not long ago. . .
Too bored to stay awake, he switched the T.V. off, and fell asleep. He checked the clock. 12.35. As he slowly slipped into slumber, he wondered if Two had been successful at getting a date.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Successful? More than that. Three billion light years more. Two had done it- got her number, arranged a time to see her again, and it that wasn't a date, what was? And what was more, when he had chauffeured her back to her apartment and walked her to her door, she had kissed him. It was just on the cheek, and she was definitely drunk by now, so it didn't mean much. But still. . . it was soft and warm and there was nothing more in the world he had wanted than to be kissed by those lips again and again. It seemed that he had learnt about lust too.
As he drove back, he couldn't stop himself from smiling. It was as if she had pasted herself onto his mind and she was all he could think about. It was a strange feeling, something he was not used to. He was used to lots of things; being shot at; the vile insults hurtled at him from The Merovingian whenever he was in a temper, and even used to the fact that his (and One's) face was no. 27 in the America's Most Wanted List. But a crush? There was no programming knowledge for that. It was something he'd have to figure out on his own. Smugly, he fingered the piece of paper in his pocket that had her cell number scrawled tipsily across it. He wasn't going to call her tomorrow- the article said that would look too desperate. And not in a week's time either, she would feel as if he had blown her off. Three days, he rationalised, would be enough. Or maybe he could narrow it down to two. . . or maybe tomorrow was his best bet. He would find out soon enough.
*~*~*~*~*~**~ MEEP! Well done! You read it! ::applauds::
So. . . what will happen next? Will One get a date? Will Two keep his? You will only know if you review and inspire me! ::cough::
Till next time,
~*Eddie*~