Disclaimer is in chapter one.
Author's Note:
I'll just say now…I have no idea why I wrote anything from the cat's perspective. I just do weird things sometimes. But I had fun with it, so Liza's views of things -- unique, and often completely wrong -- will probably show up fairly often. At least once a chapter, probably.
Thank you kindly to everyone who reviewed, of course! I 3 you all.
Bwah. Not sure about the 'smart match' quote, but that's the way I remember it, and enough people have said it that I wouldn't be surprised if it came up again in gossip later, hence Rochefort's having heard it bandied about. And promptly using it.
Yes, he's finally being a right bastard. Admittedly he's not bothering with things like 'subtlety', but he's only playing, so it's not as though he's all that worried.
***
An Exercise In International Relations
Chapter Three: Such Pretty Kittens
In which Liza misunderstands the situation completely, and Rochefort is mean.
***
Dinner with the Turners turned out to be painfully awkward. He had intended it as a conciliatory gesture -- 'yes, I know he's a prat, but we all have our little ways', and 'no, Turner, I don't hate you for stealing the woman I love' -- but Rochefort appeared to be delighting in making everyone feel as uncomfortable as he possibly could manage.
"If a man stole my intended, I doubt I would be inviting him to dinner in my home," he said, very, very quietly -- but loud enough that everybody heard him. Norrington stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. Turner looked indignant. Elizabeth looked as though she'd like the ground to open up and swallow her.
"Mr Rochefort--" Turner began, but was hastily cut off by his wife.
"Will, would you please pass me the salt?"
"Passing up a smart match for a blacksmith…" Rochefort continued in that soft, 'tsk, tsk' sort of a tone.
"A smart match and a marriage for love are two different things!" Elizabeth flared. Evidently her restraint did not extend to herself.
Rochefort chuckled, noted the pained expression on Norrington's face, and let the meal continue in silence.
***
"Your little swan doesn't like me very much." Smart girl.
Norrington glanced over. "Mrs Turner?"
"Mmmm. I do not see why you wanted to marry her. She is pretty enough, I suppose…" Rochefort tilted his head thoughtfully. "Willfully blind, though."
"To?"
"You. She doesn't see, does she? She assumes you thought her a 'smart match'…at least, that's all she thought of it. Or am I remember her words wrong? You were nothing in the face of 'true love'…"
"You were very rude." Norrington stated, a slight narrowing of the eyes suggesting it wouldn't be a wise course of action to push this. "You are being very rude."
"My manners are not the issue. You love her. No…not love. Love is…not that. You think you love her. It hurts the same as love, though. Doesn't it?"
"What business is it of yours?"
"None. Merely an amusing way to pass the time."
Rochefort could hold his drink very, very well. Right up until he couldn't. Norrington probably would've hit him, if it weren't for the fact that in the long silence while he struggled not to hit him or say something he would regret, Rochefort passed out.
Bloody, buggering, hell.
Carrying Rochefort up the stairs so he could get him into bed -- his own bed, of course -- was not Norrington's idea of a pleasant way to spend an evening.
He doubted it was anyone's idea of a pleasant way to spend an evening.
It was, however, the way he was spending his.
Liza was sat in the bedroom doorway, watching with vague amusement. She wasn't sure what that word meant, but she was sure it wasn't very nice -- her pet didn't use it very often, and only when nobody could hear him. Her new pet was sleeping -- and he positively reeked of that awful stuff he kept drinking.
Hang on a minute.
Why was her pet taking off her other pet's clothes?
This was very peculiar. She was under the impression that one didn't mate with one's own sex -- well, it was rather pointless, wasn't it? Then again, she mused further; they would have very pretty kittens. Maybe they'd found a way around it?
Oh. Her pet was leaving.
She was a little disappointed. She'd gotten herself all looking forward to little ones.
Sometimes life just isn't fair.
***
Porthos, as far as Aramis could tell, was cheerfully ignoring anything that suggested even remotely that this wasn't a good idea. Aramis didn't know Porthos's cousin, Armand Gillette, but he did know that the fact that the idea of Porthos visiting him sent Athos into fits of hysterical laughter was probably a bad thing.
(And kinda scary)
"Porthos, have you ever considered perhaps…" Aramis cast about for a tactful way to put it, and failed, "perhaps he doesn't want a visit?"
"Someone not want to see me? Aramis, a man of god such as yourself should not be drinking this early in the day! I'm shocked at you. Shocked."
That was really the end of that conversation…
"Did you find out where Rochefort ended up?" Aramis asked, idly.
"Somewhere in--" Porthos stopped, and began to snigger evilly.
Aramis had a bad feeling about this.
***
Author's Note:
Anyone fearing m-preg after Liza's little moment of confusion, don't worry. That's just the cat not quite grasping it.
Also, there's your Aramis. I wasn't going to bring them in yet…but happy now?
Bwahahahahaha.
