Author's Note
Yes, Musey, here is the next chapter…I am weak, and cannot resist the idea of Rochefort/Aramis…hey, whatever happened to Gisbourne/Locksley?
Also, even as I wrote this chapter it seemed a little weird to me…but I think that was the way to go.
---
An Exercise In International Relations
Chapter Seven: Oh…Er. My. Well.
In which Rochefort and Norrington talk sensibly and rationally and sort the whole mess out.
Shyeah. Right. I can't believe you fell for that.
---
Liza didn't quite understand what was going on, but she'd decided to sneak into New Pet's case so she could take care of him -- you see, Old Pet was very good at taking care of himself, so long as he got a cuddle or two, but New Pet…
Well, Liza had decided that New Pet needed her.
But she was certain that neither she, nor New Pet, needed that funny stuff they had last night. Her head felt really weird.
Old Pet would be very disappointed. She hoped he wouldn't be too angry at him for clawing at the screechy thing that wanted to make her go away. She knew he'd understand that she was only trying to take care of her pets, really.
(And besides, that banshee deserved what she got. Her New Pet said so. HAH! Oh, oww…)
---
It had taken a while to calm Elizabeth down after Jack's little…announcement, but calm down she had.
Then, of course, they had to explain to Will why she'd been so riled up, and, of course, then promptly calm him down.
Jack didn't see what the problem was. Even Elizabeth grudgingly admitted the man had a certain attractiveness (Jack said 'sex on French legs', Elizabeth said 'perhaps a little handsome'), but maybe that hadn't been the best way to say it…he'd assumed they knew!)
Well. Maybe that was foolish. As if Rochefort was going to tell them.
Speak of the devil. "Morning," he said cheerfully.
"Go die." Rochefort suggested. He had placed Sparrow firmly in the same category as Porthos -- to be tolerated only when there are no other options. Considering the only other option he was interested in involved swords and lots, and lots of blood, tolerating him would have to be it.
But he didn't have to be friendly.
(Jack disagreed. Rochefort had been very friendly the other night. So friendly, in fact--
The author would like the keyboard back now, thank you, Jack.)
"Is that any way to greet a friend?" Jack pouted at him. "I bet you'd be a lot nicer if my name were…say…James?"
There was a blur of action, and then Jack was lying on the ground, clutching his nose. "Y'bastard!"
"I assure you, Captain, I know exactly who my father is, and he was indeed wed to my mother. Now, can you say the same?"
"…!"
"My apologies. You appear to be busy. I won't bother you."
---
Norrington came to visit. It was not one of his best ideas, but he wanted his cat back, damn it.
"Rochefort?"
Brilliant. First Madame Turner locks the liquor cabinet, and now this. Not to mention bloody Sparrow. And Porthos of all people visiting! What did I do to deserve any of this? Oh, that's right. Sparrow. "In here."
"I wish to retrieve my cat," he said, stiffly, not meeting Rochefort's steady gaze. "And return this." He put Rochefort's hat delicately on the table.
"You know," Rochefort was beginning to be morbidly amused by the situation, "You are acting entirely too much like a jilted lover. Are you jealous, James?"
"I most certainly am not!"
"You are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am n--I will not stand here and bicker with you like a child!"
"All right, then. Fine."
In the moment's that passed, Norrington had time (barely) to notice a few facts:
Gautier Rochefort's tongue was in his mouth.
Also, the man was very, very warm when pressed quite that close.
And did he mention the location of said warm body's tongue?
(Which, incidentally, tasted like red wine, but given that he could see half a bottle that had probably belonged to the Turners, that wasn't surprising)
He also noticed that he wasn't stopping him.
"Oh…er. My. Well."
"There. Now, your cat is upstairs, go away."
There was a long period of silence as Rochefort returned to his book, followed by an outraged outburst.
"You can't just--!"
"Are you still here?"
Oh, that was just it.
Norrington stormed out, and slammed the door behind him, ruining the effect by apologizing to Elizabeth for slamming her door as she passed, looking surprised.
Gautier Rochefort was the strangest, most confusing and infuriating man he'd ever met.
He was sitting in his study before he realized he'd left Liza behind.
---
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"Your Commodore, storming off like that."
"Yes, why? He often does that around that 'Captain' of yours."
"I know that stomp. That's 'Gautier is the most infuriating man on the face of the earth, and possibly the most bizarre as well'."
"You can tell from this distance?"
"Oh, yes."
"He looked very angry."
"Gautier is very infuriating."
"Then why do you keep defending him to people?"
"Truthfully?"
"Truthfully."
"I think it annoys him."
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Author's Note
Well…that was really, really weird. I started out with the idea in mind that Rochefort would just get irritated by everything and plant one on 'im, but that's maybe not exactly how I meant for it to turn out…I don't know. Don't hate me if you hate this chapter, it's all kinds of strange to me. And very, very short. Short and sweet? Maybe.
Teehee. Am so evil.
