I'm back, if you noticed I was missing! I loved all your reviews -- I was worried at first, I only
got two reviews when I first posted it, and then I left in utter despair over the fate of my fic. And
then I came back, and opened my inbox.
And fell over. My thanks especially to Scarabsi -- who was hysterical on my behalf -- and to
everyone else who liked. I looove reviews . . . they're like marshmallows, only less fluffy.
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"Oooh, Are you out to solve a case? A murder mystery?" Wil, our secretary, leaned forward
eagerly, shaking his head so his bangs brushed over his eyes. "Was it the butler who dunnit? The
heir? Ooh, was it that blonde dame who just left?"
I'm pretty sure Lucius wouldn't have liked being called 'that dame' but I wasn't going to push it.
"No," I said sullenly, still not happy with the grinning Matthew that was following me.
"No?" A pout on his face appeared. "Pity." Wil shook his head even more energetically, before
grinning up at me again. "What are you doing? Something important?"
Matthew laughed jokingly. "Ohh, yes. Verry important," He flashed a light smile at Wil. Wait, so
the loud and chatty secretary gets a smile, and I have to deal with his mocking, rakish, fluxingly
aggravating grin?!
I glared at him. Right . . . important. "We're finding some pampered princess's lost pony," I
grumbled. "Some . . . some 'Priscilla Cornwell' dame."
Wil's eyes widened. "C-Cornwell? YOU'RE being given the Cornwell case?"
Matthew gave a conspicuous cough, and Wil hastily added, "Er . . . I mean, the Cornwell's . . .
are, really really important . . . Really, really important people, seriously, they are! And rich!"
Important? Why was I given such an important case, then? I blinked. "B-But . . . shouldn't this
job have gone to Karel, if they're that important?!"
"Karel?" Wil looked startled. "I . . . think he got suspended." I gave him a look, asking an
unspoken question. Wil answered it. "Yeah, suspended again. He ALWAYS claims it's for self-
defense, but . . ." His look of unease was unfeigned. "No one can ever PROVE it . . ."
I coughed, and leaned forward. "What about Lyn? I'm pretty sure she hasn't gotten suspended
for anything . . ." Lyn was rational, and I admired her. Like, a friend, I mean, not like THAT.
Wil started. "Er . . ." I stifled a reaction as, to my surprise, Wil's grin turned mischievous. "She
kinda . . ." He made odd flapping gestures with his hands, and I tilted my head to convey my
confusion. He shook his head and said bluntly, "she, well, eloped." Oh. "Last night, they found a
note on her desk explaining why she wouldn't be at work for a bit."
Ok then, that explained Lyn . . . "Good for her, I guess . . . but where's Eliwood?" Eliwood was
just as good, if not better, then Lyndis.
Wil's grin grew wider. "He's with Lyn."
". . . oh." I blinked, and then it really hit me. "OH. Well, good for him, too . . .."
Wil sighed dreamily. "Yeah," he rested his chin on his folded hands, glancing blissfully at the
chalk ceiling. "It's great they finally figured it out."
I snorted. "With your help, right?" I muttered. Wil was the most disorganized and useless
secretary in the world, let me tell you, but the one thing he DID do right was play matchmaker. I
hadn't been one of his pawns yet, but I'd heard a few stories, involving closets and closed spaces.
I sighed and stuck my hands into my pockets, kicking Wil's desk leg half-heartedly.
Damn it. The commissioner hadn't given me this job because of my skill, or even for my open
mind. It was because I was the only reasonably competent idiot LEFT. Gee, it's nice to be a last
resort . . .
And Matthew, damn his perceptiveness, seemed to have caught onto my train of thought.
"Aww, Guy," he tutted, forcing me to swivel my head to watch his eyes seemingly swirl
amusedly. "You're still trying too hard, aren't you?"
The emphasis he put on 'still' was probably just my imagination, but I really didn't like being
reminded that I knew him. Matthew wasn't the most stunningly likeable person I'd ever met.
You either had to love him or hate him; that was just his personality. You had to choose.
Guess which I picked.
" . . . Fiend," I hissed at him. "What drives you to hold such a grudge against me?!"
Damn his evil, loathsome grin! "I don't hold grudges, Guy," He said light tone. "Why would I
hold a grudge against you?"
"DUH!" I shrieked. "I k-kind of, you know, L-LEFT you?"
"With no notice, yes," Matthew agreed jovially. J-Jovially?! He's not supposed to be . . . jovial!
He's s-supposed to be wretchedly depressed at m-my not being there! Not that I c-care, or
anything, but . . .
"I kinda left for a reason you know!" I tried not to spit it out too hurriedly, attempting to curb my
stutter. "Y-You're not supposed to be here!"
"Well, I'm here now anyway, aren't I?" Matthew sniffed. "And . . . did you have hazelnut coffee
this morning?"
How the hell'd he know that? Matthew's eyes were a lot closer then they were before. Blinking,
I realized that in our, er, difference of opinion, we'd ended up nose to nose. Well, not really;
since I wasn't tall enough to do that, I was sort of glaring up at him from very close to his collar.
He was just looking down at me amusedly.
"Wait a sec;" A voice cut in curiously. I glared to my right at Wil. Wil was gnawing his lip
confusedly. "I mean, maybe I'm not seeing the whole thing right, which happens a lot but, did
you two used to . . . " He trailed off, taking an eyeing note of my close proximity to Matthew.
He coughed.
I stumbled back from Matthew as I choked. How dare he even THINK that! Me, and . . . me,
and MATTHEW! Like that!? No! "NO!" I shook my head vehemently. "I WORKED for him!"
"Ooooh, okay." Wil nodded. "I get it, now." He waved his hand dismissively, and then leaned
forward, resting his chin on interlaced fingers attentively. "Go on, don't let me stop you, this is
fun to watch."
I'd been interrupted mid argument, so I just glared at Matthew and muttered a sullen insult. It
was pretty creative, too, with vast use of my refined and extensive vocabulary. " . . . Sneaky
bastard."
Matthew's face was surprisingly serious as he frowned at me. What, he suddenly decided to
take offense? I insulted him all the time two years ago, and he never seemed to care.
"You know," Matthew murmured, leaning in closer. I tried to step back, but hit Wil's desk.
Amber eyes inspected mine thoughtfully for a moment, and I felt my face grow warm as he
leaned to make his eyes level with mine. " . . . You're making a bigger deal out of it then I am.
Tell me," his eyes glittered as a familiar grin grew slowly on his face, "Guy. Are you feeling . . .
guilty?"
The blood that rushed to my face was enough of an answer. D-Damn him. . . he was r-right. As
usual. I DID feel guilty, and as a result, my tone immediately went defensive.
"S-So what if I'm feeling guilty?" I shot back. "I've got a r-right to!" I slid to the left from under
Matthew's far-too-close self, towards the door.
Matthew leaned back with a smirk. "Of course, Guy." He yawned. "My taxi's waiting, and I left
my hat in there, so let's hurry up, shall we?"
I gaped at him. I'd pretty much gone out and shouted an a-apology in his EAR a-and all he did
was . . . s-sit there, a-and SMIRK. Like that! See?! He was doing it again, right in front of me!
Smirking at me! Fiend!
I didn't voice any of this, though. I've got a bit more control than that (Not to mention, it'd give
him a weeks worth of verbal ammo). I stalked past him with a growl.
"Wait, Guy!"
I jerked back, giving Wil a less concentrated version of my glare. How dare he ruin my
infuriated exit? Couldn't he see I was trying to stomp out the door so I could slam it back into
Matthew's nose? Matthew grinned as he walked past me, to reach the door first.
Wil reached under his desk and tossed me a nondescript black umbrella. "It's really coming
down out there," he warned in his cheerful tone. Why, why did we have such a tactless
secretary!?
I caught the umbrella in one hand and clenched it in my fist. Maybe I could use it to whack
Matthew with . . . no, too convenient. Nothing that satisfying could ever be that easy; Matthew'd
end up winning any 'sparring matches' (so he called them) we might have, damn him.
Matthew, in typical arrogant form, opened the door for me with a cheery grin. What was he
trying to pull, looking all charming and gentlemanly, holding the door for me!? He didn't have
anyone here to impress. I grumbled as I edged through, keeping Matthew in the corner of my
eye.
Pausing in the entryway, I shook open the umbrella. It wasn't very large. Heh, Matthew couldn't
fit under it with me, not unless he decided to squish in against me. I was pretty sure that he
wouldn't want to, not the way he antagonized me. He'd rather get --
My thoughts were cut off as I felt Matthew grab the umbrella handle as well, and pull it towards
him. Unwilling to get wet, I was pulled along with it, and was yanked into Matthew. The
umbrella was too small for us to split apart much farther.
Matthew . . . was very warm against my side.
There weren't many options. I could shove Matthew away, but since he'd gotten a pretty firm
grip on the handle himself, he'd probably take the umbrella with him. Or, I could willingly get
wet, but that'd result in my hair getting soaked. I was pretty fond of my hair -- especially when it
was dry. Or, I considered, as a last resort, I could stand Matthew's (warm!) proximity until we
reached the taxi.
Did I mention, Matthew was warm?
Well, I guess if I could mooch off his body heat as a result of it, it wouldn't be that bad . . . I
gripped the umbrella tighter, pulling it closer, and Matthew moved with it.
Mmm . . . warm. I was colder then I thought, I guess, for me to like the warmth so much. It was
actually soft, to, and if I pressed into it it surrounded me more. I could feel it from below my
cheek, and rubbed my nose against it. Inhaling deeply, I thought vaguely that the fact that it
smelled like evergreen and sandalwood was just a plus.
"Guy . . ." I heard lowly in my ear.
"Hmm?" I half muttered, half moaned softly. I felt the warmth's breath hitch.
"We're . . . at the taxi." Was that voice hoarse? I opened my eyes, blinked twice, and looked up
lazily at Matthew's unreadable face.
. . . Oh, crap. I'd ended up, in my temporary stupor, with my face half-nuzzled against his
shoulder, both hands clenched around the umbrella -- which Matthew was holding very close to
himself -- and the rest of me leaning against him.
The taxi door had -- luckily -- already been opened, and I literally threw myself at it in my
desperation to escape. I bolted into the taxi, clambering to the other side of the backseat. The
leather cushions were freezing, and the stark contrast of the cold compared to, ah, earlier, was
noticeable.
I looked firmly out the window as Matthew got in next to me. Don't look at him don't look at
him don't look at him don't look at ME don't look--
"So . . . where are we going?" I almost jerked when his words hit me. I ran a few ideas through
my head, and after few moments consideration, said warily, "424 Curry Cross Lane, for now." I
frowned. "We'll have to visit the Cornwell House tomorrow, since that Raymond guy seemed
like he'd be busy today."
I blinked at the window. I could see Matthew's reflection scratch his chin bemusedly. "It seems
you've not improved since we parted ways."
I bristled. "Of course I have!" I snapped, my anger not hitting him full force since I wasn't ready
yet to face him.
The cabby had picked up the address from our conversation, and the car jolted forward. I
reached out absentmindedly to pull down the privacy screen.
"You would never have turned your back near me two years ago," Matthew's voice had a
speculating sound. "I'll have to fix this."
I furrowed my brows in consternation, watching his oddly serious face, before twitching. "My
back's to you, but I can still see you. You have a reflection."
A mocking lilt took his tone. "Can't stand to look away from me, hmm?"
I jerked to face him, a mistake in the close space. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not working
with you because I want to!" I retorted hotly. "You didn't seem so willing to be rid of me
earlier...!"
The demonic grin reappeared in full. "Are you always so cuddly?"
I flushed deeply at the reminder of the 'umbrella incident.' H-Hey, it wasn't like I'd m-meant to
do that. A-And, to M-Matthew, of all p-people!
"Y-You were warm!" I protested in immediate reaction, before catching my words. My blush
deepened. Sure, just GIVE the guy enough verbal weaponry to kill a horse. See if your pride
cares.
Matthew's eyebrow went up. "Were you cold? ARE you cold, Guy?"
I blinked. That was an unexpected question. "Er . . ." Well . . . "Kinda, I guess. My coat isn't all
that great . . ."
Matthew leaned towards me with a suddenly wide grin. He was uncomfortably close to my face
at this point. " . . . I can think of plenty of ways to . . . warm you up," he purred. His tone caused
my eyes to widen.
I didn't really get what he was saying, but I had a feeling it was something to do with his usual
teasing. Apparently, I was supposed to react, but I had no idea what I was supposed to be
reacting to . . .
I blinked my eyes back to normal size. Stick to what you're good at -- being honest. "Er . . .
How?"
Matthew blinked back. He stayed frozen for a moment, before giving a small sigh and sliding
back to his side of the taxi. I watched uncertainly as he took off his jacket and -- I squawked --
slung it over my shoulders.
In total honesty, I MEANT to throw the thing back in his face and tell him -- loudly -- that I
didn't NEED his 'charity warmth.' But, somewhere along the way, it turned into me
unconsciously snuggling deeper against the evergreen scented cloth. I didn't even realize I was
doing it until I caught Matthew smirking in the corner of my eye.
I grumbled incoherently at him, and he flashed a toothsome grin before speaking.
"So, what's at this '424 Curry Cross Lane' of yours, anyway?" he asked mildly.
I frowned. "A friend of mine, but in this case, a contact." I shrugged. "It's the wealthy side of
town, with plenty of horses. They might be able to help me since," I hesitated. "I don't know
much about the things."
"Me either," Matthew said genially. "I don't usually like rich people that much; is your friend
very . . ." he frowned, looking for a word.
I smiled, which I don't do often, and leaned back. Matthew observed my actions warily. "Louise
isn't anything bad," I assured Matthew lightly.
Matthew jerked sharply back.
What? What was wrong with the name Louise? I scowled at him. "And just so you know, she's
NOT used to" -- arrogant bastards. -- "you. Don't . . ." I waved my hand vaguely in the air,
trying to convey disgust but probably just looking stupid. " . . . Don't be yourself, OK?"
The taxi jolted as Matthew blinked at me, face oddly blank at my statement. " . . . She? Your
contact . . . is a dame?"
"She's not JUST a dame!" I growled in her defense. "Louise is one of the best people I know!"
"Ah . . .." Matthew paused and -- my god, it's a miracle -- fell silent. What, no more snide
remarks? I scowled. Was I suddenly not good enough for him?
Crossing my arms, I frowned sullenly out the window. Not t-that I was pouting . . . I-I wouldn't
pout over anything to do with that infuriating Matthew . . . or would I?
. . . Let's ignore that question for now.
The rest of the ride was quiet until the cabby's noisome declaration of our arrival -- and I had to
pay him, since Matthew had conveniently left the car first.
I looked up at the familiar house. It was Victorian-esque, actually a gift to Pent and Louise from
the Head of their university. Lord Pent was a successful professor there, largely aided to that
status by his wife.
Matthew, too, looked up at the house, but with none of my ease.
"This place is a bit too . . . " Matthew frowned at the elaborate copper chasing on the
doorframe. I shrugged.
"They get their money from the University. It's . . ." I reached and pounded the doorknocker as
I spoke. "They're not really like most rich people."
"I figured that," he said almost numbly, "considering that they're willing to . . . deal with you."
I rolled my eyes. That was a pretty lame barb. I didn't even jump at it. With a small shrug, I
stepped back. I guess Matthew wasn't the type to know people like Louise and Pent.
The door open widely to reveal a cleanly dressed butler, who blinked at me. "Sirs?"
I winced. "Erk, look, I know you don't like the whole 'sir' act, so . . . just drop it."
Erk shook his head, his violet hair falling in front of his eyes. He brushed it back curtly. "Yes,
yes . . . I know, but you've brought company. Appearances, and all that."
"Not necessary," I shook my coat off before Erk got a chance to take it, hanging it beside the
door. "Not with Matthew, anyway."
Matthew noticeably stiffened as Erk gave him a cursory inspection, but Erk just snorted. "Lady
Louise is going to be thrilled at the chance to stuff a new guest with her cooking."
I hung my hat and turned back towards Matthew. He had mimicked my actions, and was now
standing nervously near the side of the room. I could tell that he wasn't exactly comfortable in his
surroundings, and (damn my good nature) I tried to make it easier on him.
"Listen, just follow my lead, OK?" I muttered, standing next to him. "Louise doesn't tend to
judge."
Erk has good hearing, and his wry sarcastic snort at my comment startled me. "Don't worry,
anyone Guy brings, Louise is bound to love instantly." He turned to face me, gesturing me to
follow. "She's got a soft spot concerning you."
I coughed. Matthew glowered. Erk raised an eyebrow.
"Right . . . follow me." I didn't really need to be led upstairs, I knew my way around, but since
there was 'company' -- I shot a look at Matthew -- Erk wasn't about to leave us be. Wise
choice, Matthew'd probably get into the silver otherwise.
He dropped us off in the tearoom and told us Louise would be there shortly. I didn't have to
look around, but Matthew frowned at the semi-luxurious surroundings with a vague sense of
distrust.
"Guy," Matthew ground out, "We aren't staying long, right?"
The way he said it made it more of a command then a question. I shook my head. "We won't be
here long, just long enough to ask permission to see the stables."
"Guy!"
I turned in time to catch the warm hug I was being enveloped in. I couldn't help the small smile
that spread on my lips. "Louise, hello."
Louise broke the hug, but not the embrace, holding me at arms length. "You just came
yesterday, you never visit twice in a row like this!" She gave me a playful smile. "You want
something, don't you?"
I shook my head. "Guilty. I'm on a case, and I thought you could help."
Louise's eyes widened as she stepped back. "A case? Oh, so it's business?"
"Yup," I nodded, and Louise then looked behind me, where Matthew was standing.
I blinked. "What? Oh, right." I cleared my throat. "Louise, this is Matthew Ostia, my partner.
Matthew, this is Louise Etruria."
Matthew was very serious, and kinda stiff, as he stepped forward and offered his hand.
"Pleasure to meet you." He didn't sound very sincere, and as they shook hands I could see that
his grip was a bit too tight.
I elbowed Matthew and gave him a warning glare. He rolled his eyes and leaned back, crossing
his arms impatiently. He intently looked me, his expression clearly saying that his civility wasn't
required.
Louise isn't stupid. She saw the not-so-civil look I passed Matthew in return, and coughed
delicately. "Why don't you two . . . chat, while I go get you some coffee?" she offered with a
mild look.
I tilted my head towards her with returning smile. "That'd be great, Louise. And Matthew and I
will . . . chat," I spat out the last word with a pointed glare at my partner. Louise backed out the
door. Slowly.
"Matthew!" I hissed, the second she was out of earshot. "What are you doing?!"
"Nothing!" he hissed back testily. Testily? Nothing I knew of got on Matthew's nerves. What
was his problem?!
That was a good question, actually. "What's your problem?!" I demanded.
Matthew's eyes glittered as he jerked his face closer to mine. "We're on a CASE, NOT making
social calls to our girlfriend's houses!"
G-Girlfriend? Louise? "W-What?!" He thought Louise and I were . . . involved? . . . I mean,
Louise was pretty, but . . . she was like my mother. I shook my head fervently, my braid
swinging around over my shoulders, eyes wide.
"No, no no no no!" I denied hastily, wondering why I was so desperate to get my point across
to Matthew. "Louise and I . . . we aren't like that. She's . . . not my type." Very true. "Besides,
Lord Pent would kill me." Even more true.
At that, Matthew blinked, and looked around the room as though checking to see if anyone had
been watching. He turned back to me, hesitantly. "Lord Pent?"
"Her HUSBAND. Related to some English noble," I emphasized with only slightly nervous
gestures.
"Oh . . ." Well, at least Matthew had the grace to look sheepish about it. I'd worked with him
for over a year (to my dismay), and I knew he usually treated women with respect -- when he
wasn't wheedling information out of them with his roguish charm.
Just now . . . he hadn't.
"Louise is a lady!" I said hotly. "W-What the hell were you d-doing there?" H-He'd just . . .
He'd just automatically treated L-Louise l-like GARBAGE! I sucked in a breath to start a new
barrage of insults.
My anger was instantly and mysteriously quelled by the almost gentle tone Matthew asked his
next question. "You seem protective of her," he noted softly, "How do you two know each
other?"
I considered briefly to not answer out of spite, but surprisingly -- to me, anyway -- I sighed, and
sunk into the nearest chair almost wearily.
"When I was starting out," I started slowly, "I got a case, from Louise. She wasn't yet engaged,
but obviously infatuated with Pent, and trying to help him find some book. I was hired for
assistance . . . We talked a lot, and . . .."
I fell into silence for a minute. Louise had hired me because, according to her, she'd liked my
hair. I hadn't cut it since, even though it'd be wiser in my line of business to go with a more
trimmed look.
"She's become the closest thing to a mother . . . " I said softly, with a tilt to my head. I
swallowed, not having intended to say that much aloud. I hastily finished with a abrupt, "I've ever
had."
Why was I telling Matthew all this? It wasn't like I HAD to explain things. I certainly didn't have
to mention my mother, least of all to him. I mean . . . I shook my head.
Matthew sat on a couch across from me. "What happened to your real mother? Dead?" Came
the predictable question.
I don't want to think about her. "N-no, she's . . ." I stiffened. Don't r-really want to think about
her, a-at all. " . . . s-still b-back home."
"Oh . . ." Matthew trailed off slowly. I was surprised. Usually, once he found a subject that
made me uncomfortable, he'd press it until I either stuttered myself into a hole (extremely likely)
or attacked him (also extremely likely).
"It doesn't matter," I said sharply, almost determinedly. "Louise is the kindest and most sensitive
woman I know, like I said. She's got a strong mind and a good heart, and I'd choose her over
my . . . my real m-mother, any day."
Matthew, to my shock, grinned widely. His eyes practically sang, 'I know something you don't
know.' "Ah," he purred. I narrowed my eyes. He knew something, didn't he, but . . . what?
What, what, what could he --
I heard a feminine clearing of the throat. I jerked my head up, and damn my overactive blush!
Louise stood in the doorway, holding a small tray, smiling softly. It's not like it mattered that she
heard me, since it was complimentary, but . . . I-I'd never t-told her anything about how well I
thought of her.
Matthew was -- d-damn him! -- still grinning. I cleared my throat. "H-How long have you b-
been there?" I asked nervously.
"Since you were telling him how we met," Louise said lightly, putting the tray down on the small
table in front of us. Matthew's grin widened, as did my eyes.
"Y-you knew she was t-there!" I accused him in a slightly too loud voice. "Y-You . . .you . . ." I
couldn't call him anything I'd normally call him. Louise was there. Just my luck.
Matthew leaned forward, flashing one of his . . . more charming smiles, directed more at Louise
then at me. Of course. He never SMILED at ME, all I got was that goddamned GRIN. "Every
beautiful woman deserves to be praised," he chanted.
What the hell? He thinks she's my girlfriend, and he hates her. I tell him she's married, and he's
all over her! I scowled at him. "You DID hear the part where I mentioned her HUSBAND,
right?"
He grinned at me. "Perfectly."
I lifted one of the proffered coffee's to my lips before realizing Louise's eyes were lit with humor.
"Your friend is such a scoundrel, Guy. I'm surprised you trust him so much."
I choked, mouth too full of coffee to hurriedly deny it. Me, trust him? Louise went on, oblivious
to my discomfort, addressing Matthew. "There's not many people Guy trusts well enough to
mention his mother to. It's obvious by the way he acts around you; normally he'd be jumping at
small noises, reaching for his blade."
I was blushing again, wasn't I? Maybe I should fill in a few facts: like, say, the fact that my
switchblade was a gift from Matthew, the fact that Matthew had taught me how to use it, and
the fact that every time I tried to use it ON Matthew, I ended up on the ground, eating dust.
Hmph. I'd beat him at that some day.
But, Louise had a point. It was kinda useless around Matthew to be as careful about stuff as I
usually was, since Matthew (damn him) picked up on sounds and such before me, and was a far
better handler of fights. I didn't so much trust Matthew to watch my back as much as I . . . well,
ok yeah, I did trust him to watch my back, but it wasn't like I trusted him with anything else.
But unfortunately for me, Louise didn't know that I hated Matthew (damn him!) with the fiery,
fiery vengeance of a thousand suns, and Matthew (DAMN him!) was smirking. "Rreeally, now,"
he drew out the 'r' as his eyes flashed. Matthew turned to me amusedly, his grin returning full-
force, "I had no idea that you were so . . . jumpy, without me around, Guy."
I muttered, scratching my nose, "Yeah, well . . ." Why? Why, why, why was my heart deciding
this was an appropriate time to play "The Flight of the Bumblebee"?! On speed?!
Quick quick quick, change the subject! I shook my still-blushing head. "L-Louise, we're on a
case, so . . . if we can cut down on the small talk . . .."
"Oh!" She clapped her hands together lightly. "Of course, I'd forgotten. What do you need?"
She gestured widely. "If you need to use the library like last time, I'm sure Pent won't mind."
"Nope." I shook my head. "I was hoping to talk with the people who keep your stables; this
case . . ." is embarrassing. But, let's not tell Louise that. ". . . involves horses, and I don't know
much about horses."
Matthew spoke up. "I've never handled a horse in my life."
I was kinda surprised that Matthew would bring up attention to his . . . er, lack of considerable
wealth. He usually tries to blend with his surroundings, and he's always done that pretty well.
Lady Louise nodded. "Of course. I can't help you there, since I am not knowledgeable on that
subject either . . ." She frowned at that, her perfectionist side disapproving of her lack of
knowledge. "I'll have Erk escort you down, if he isn't . . . well, talking to Serra."
I snickered. Erk 'talking to Serra' was roughly translatable to Erk 'having his eardrums blasted
open by Serra shrieking strings of commands.' Matthew looked at me in question, and I
explained this to him -- in exactly those words.
Our hostess sighed. "Poor Erk." She yanked the bell-pull.
A moment later, not Erk, but the maid burst in. "Oooh, Lady Louise, what?"
"Please lead our guests to the stables," Louise said hesitantly.
Serra scarcely listened. Her eyes ran over the room, and found me. Oh no.
Coming within her line of sight wasn't a brilliant idea, since it seemed that Erk wasn't an available
distraction. "GUY!" Serra shrieked, running over to me, yanking me up, and glomping me in the
same motion. No, no I'm not sure if it's physically possible, but she managed. "Erky, he SAID
we had guests, but it's only you!!"
Only me? I disentangled her, panting for breath. "S-Serra . . ." I jabbed a finger at Matthew.
"This is Matthew," I sucked in a long breath, as Serra's attention was switched long enough for
me to do so, "my partner."
Matthew was looking at Serra in an odd mix of astonishment, dislike, and bewilderment. Serra
giggled, and leaned closer to me, whispering. "Look, he's fallen to my womanly charms already!
He's positively drooling!"
I coughed. Riiight. You go ahead and think that, Serra. I was pretty sure Serra wasn't the type
that Matthew went after. Wonder what type he does go after . . . no, no no! No, I don't
wonder! I don't care what type Matthew goes after!
I nodded seriously at her. "I wouldn't press him, Serra," I whispered sarcastically, "he might just
lose control and jump you on the spot." I only speak the truth, and it was all how you interpreted
the word 'jump.'
She wrapped her arm around my neck for better access to my ear. Serra was completely
oblivious to my sarcasm, completely oblivious to Matthew's growing distaste, and completely
overcome with giggles. "It's a curse," she drawled, "having this affect over men!"
It's a curse having to listen to her this long . . . I pried her off of me as she began cooing. Loudly.
Both Louise and Matthew could hear her supposed 'quiet voice,' since she was no longer
whispering.
"Oooh, you're so lucky! You work with him?" She jabbered as I tugged fitfully at her sleeve. "I
mean, WOW! He's got gorgeous eyes!" I froze. Er, what? I sneaked a look. They weren't all
they great. Kind of a slanted amber-ish gold . . . Unique, yeah . . .
"And that dashing, roguish smile!" Smile? What smile? All I saw was that hell-bent grin. I guess if
you wanted, you could call it dashing, or roguish, but . . .
"And those terrific muscles!" I coughed, either from her comment or her crushing grip. Muscles?
Yeah, but they weren't so terrific when being used to pin me to the ground . . . or maybe they
were . . ..
Serra yanked my arm and continued to jabber as we went down the hall. Waving a cut off
good-bye, I stumbled ungracefully as I tried my best to neither fall flat on my face nor fall flat on
Serra.
"You know," she addressed Matthew loudly as he followed, "with Guy, I made really clear
when we met, we could only ever be just friends. He's been really true to his word, he's so
HONEST!" I tried not to squirm as she hauled me along. I think she dislocated my shoulder.
"He never lies, do you, Guy?"
I wiggled my shoulder a bit. No, not dislocated, but the numbness was a sign that the blood flow
wasn't in great shape. "Er, nope . . . " I answered desperately, trying to shake her off. Serra was
detrimental to my health -- both physical and mental.
I couldn't see Matthew, but I did hear his reply. "I know." Hey, he said that like it was his
BUSINESS to know! And it wasn't! That arrogant bastard! "He's TOO honest, for our line of
work."
I couldn't pant out a reply, as I lost all my wind when Serra jerked me around the corner.
"We're here!!"
I focused my eyes blearily. The stable . . . ah, yeah, I could smell it now, phew . . . it was pretty
closed in. Hay and straw were piled against the wooden slat sides, and I could see the brown
and roan beasts in their places.
Serra wiped her skirt in what she probably thought was a prim manner, but it ended up looking
spastic. "Sain and Kent aren't here, I don't think, but I'm sure you two can find something to do
until they get here! See you later, Okay?"
And then she flounced out the door, leaving me to tend to my wounds as quickly as she'd leaped
up to create them.
I cradled my arm. " . . . Ow." I caught my breath in heavy swallows. "That was . . . painful."
Matthew rubbed his ear. "I agree." He glanced around us at our surroundings, and raised an
eyebrow, looking at me. A slow, carnivorous grin began to spread across his face.
I tilted my head. "What?"
His grin widened to a point where I was uneasy just contemplating what thoughts it might be
hiding. "We're in a stable." He leaned forward, his eyes taking on a strange golden glow.
"Alone."
. . . I didn't really get what he was trying to say, but something . . . something about his eyes . . .
----------------------------------------
Look! Cliffie!
I had too much fun with characterizations in this chapter (Erk's a butler!). If you've seen the
Louise and Guy supports, it involves a conversation about Guy's mother, and how Guy doesn't
think about her much. (I figured this might have something to do with why Guy left his tribe.) In
any case, I could easily see Louise taking on a motherly role to Guy.
(Heh . . . I made Pent British, too . . . I worked myself into giggles imagining Pent saying
something like "Bloody 'ell!" or "Bollucks!")
And while I enjoyed your comments on my 'research' . . . I didn't really research at all. I just
kind of fired questions at my Dad, the humanoid reference section.
