This chapter was kinda delayed 'cause I got sick and the sheer thought of sitting in front of a computer made my head explode (I got better).
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Chapter 7
After the feast Shalte had insisted on preparing before she and her husband left, the cake Virginia had baked the day before was brought out of the refrigerator under loud cheers from an at that point already quite intoxicated Gallows. Virginia lit a number of candles stuck to the cake.
It was a very abstract piece of pastry to say the least, not quite round in the shape and a surface that was an uneven landscape of whipped cream mountains and valleys. The whole cake seemed to lean slightly and the slant looked even larger in contrast to the candles that stood straight upward.
Virginia made it a point to mention it had not looked that way when she had put it away the day before. Somehow it must've had sagged and more or less collapsed under its own weight. When asked to explain why a cake would behave like that Clive failed to come up with any plausible explanations with the excuse that desserts were not really his field of science.
The skewed cake was placed on the center of the table in front of Jet. He was told that it was customary for the birthday boy/girl/android to try and extinguish all of the candles in one single breath of air. If this was accomplished a wish he was supposed to make prior to the extinguishing would come true.
Despite finding the whole concept of wishing quite silly Jet asked for a powerful gold attracting magnet. It had been a close call between that and a gag for Gallows who hadn't shut up since the first drop of alcoholic beverage found its way down his throat.
Since it was his birthday he was then served the first piece. Virginia gave him an extra large one. He studied it warily looking for ingredients that didn't belong there or other things the not so talented, much feared chef might have put in there. The fact he didn't find anything only made him more nervous. Past experiences had taught him that nothing Virginia cooked ever tasted the way it should. She knew this as well and yet she had gone ahead and baked a cake. Jet wondered why. Was it her way of punishing him for something?
Looking up he caught everyone watching at him expectantly. No one had touched their piece of the dessert yet. They obviously wanted him to try it first. Was this also some kind of custom or were they simply afraid to taste it without guarantees of its safety?
Jet wondered if this certain element of suspense was common for birthdays.
Then, with the expression of a soldier sent out to cross an uncharted mine field on a pogo stick, he brought the spoon to his mouth. Fighting the urge to close his eyes and say a prayer he steeled himself and took a bite.
Utter silence ensued. Jet finally did close his eyes and didn't see Virginia nervously chewing on her bottom lip.
"Um…" the nervous girl broke the silence, "It probably tastes horrible, right?" she looked down at the plate before her. "I guess it was silly of me to think I could bake a cake…"
Out on the field it was actually Clive who did most of the cooking. As with most things he approached the task in a very much scientific way and while his food was edible the lack of love and passion in the way it was prepared prevented it from ever becoming more than just filling for empty stomachs.
With Virginia's it was the exact opposite. The little factual knowledge she possessed was substituted for with great affection and devotion for the task.
Unfortunately affection and devotion alone were seldom enough.
"You don't have to eat it, Jet. We can just throw it away…" she sighed, momentarily overcome by a feeling of uselessness.
"It's not that bad" replied Jet and ate another spoonful. Virginia jaw dropped open. "I've had worse" the white haired boy shrugged.
Not… bad? she stared, utterly speechless, at Jet as he ate yet another piece.
"He's right" the voice of Clive snapped her out of her awe, "While the consistency is a bit… peculiar the taste is actually not bad."
"You… You're not just saying that to be nice are you?" she looked her three teammates around the table.
"Come on Ginny, does Jet ever say things just to be nice?" Gallows spoke with a mouth full of dessert.
"Damn straight I don't" Jet concurred with a great sense of pride.
Tentatively tasting her own culinary creation Virginia looked honestly astounded at the unusually pleasant taste that spread throughout her mouth. Her look roused great laughter from the noisy Baskar until he nearly choked on a piece of cake and the laughter gave away into coughing.
"…Must be the power of love, man" he spoke with a hoarse voice as the coughing finally died out. "It's the only force in the world powerful enough to turn our Ginny into a master chef" he laughed some more, oblivious to what he had just revealed.
"Love?" repeated Jet with a quirked eyebrow. All the color had drained from Virginia's face. Clive cleared his throat, looking sternly at the Baskar.
"Oh" said Gallows, "of course." he turned to look at his white haired friend, "I shouldn't talk about it" he stage-whispered across the table so that every one could very well hear. Then he gave the puzzled birthday boy one of the most obvious winks in the history of that particular facial movement.
Virginia hid her face in her hands. This was definitely not the way she wanted Jet to learn of her feelings! Curse Gallows and his alcoholism!
Jet stared at the Baskar for a moment with an expression that said nothing of his thoughts. Then he shrugged.
"Whatever…" he took a sip of wine, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Virginia let go of the breath she'd been holding. Fortunately you could always count on Jet's ignorance.
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People tend to react differently to alcohol. While some people seem to find happiness in drunkenness others experience only depression and sadness. Some people grow restless, violent or paranoid while other become simply talkative and loud.
Of the drifter quartet Virginia and Gallows were happy drunks, the latter more frequently than the former.
Clive, the eldest and perhaps most experienced of the four, was best described as a sober drunk, absorbing alcohol with little side effects except maybe for one; his tongue loosened and he could speak for hours on end. But then, even that wasn't such a great difference from his sober self.
Jet, on the other hand, reacted even less. Sober or not, he always remained Jet. In other words: he was an insensitive and mean drunk.
"…I love you, man, seriously." Gallows slurred and gesticulated toward the younger man across the table from him. The contents of each glass he downed seemed to make him increasingly emotional. Jet was relieved the table was in between them. "You're like a little brother to me…" he went on, "…my second one. And you are my third, Clive" the Baskar looked over at the sniper.
"I'm older than you" Clive remarked.
"Whatever" replied Gallows, "Heh, I sound like Jet… …what was I talking about again?"
"You were telling Jet how much you love him." the sniper reminded him. If looks could kill the one Jet sent him then might very well have been the end of him.
"Oh yeah" the Baskar slurred, "I love you, man…I really…do" he downed another glass of wine, "You're like a little brother to me"
Jet was experiencing the beginnings of a great headache.
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An hour or so before midnight, just after Gallows' suggestion that they go out and dance the night away had been voted down for the simple reason that there wasn't even an INN in the small town of Boot Hill, let alone a dance club, Virginia was starting to feel slightly impatient.
Jet had miraculously misunderstood the Baskar's blatant revelation from earlier and as relieved as she had been then she was already planning for ways to tell him herself.
It wouldn't be an easy task.
She would have to spell it out, that much was certain. Paint some explanatory pictures. Maybe draw some parallels between love and treasure hunting or something else he could relate to…
She would have laughed except those were the best ideas she'd come up with so far.
'Whatever' and 'I have no idea what you're talking about' weren't exactly the answers you wanted when you confessed your feelings for someone. But even Jet couldn't possibly be that ignorant? Not if she spelled it out. Could he?
"…and then, much to our collective surprise, we found traces of another mineral, one which you would not expect to find under those particular conditions…" Clive was in the midst of retelling one of his exciting adventures as an archeological assistant. Gallows had already stopped listening and started telling a story of his own bragging about his conquests with the female sex at a bar in some town. Jet was desperately trying to block out both of their voices.
He had contemplated drinking himself into a state of near unconsciousness but someone else seemed to be emptying his glass every time he wasn't paying attention. As far as he was concerned everyone was a potential suspect.
Well, maybe Gallows more than the others.
At a number of times during the evening he found his thoughts, without his consent, drifting toward Virginia. He remembered with surprising clarity how she had looked the day before, watching over him with those concerned eyes as he woke up from his fall. His head had been cradled in her lap and she had been softly caressing his face.
In his state of daze he had even gone as far as to admitting her beauty. Only to himself of course. But even though it was a confession he had shared only with himself and in a state of slight confusion he simply couldn't renounce it. Lying to yourself isn't always easy.
Virginia was beautiful. She had always been and he had recognized this the first time they met; he was the owner of two functioning eyes after all. But to actually admit it, voicing it if only in thought, was like crossing a wooden bridge with various tools of destruction, most preferably gasoline and matches, as well as a deep, burning contempt for structures that enable you to cross over inaccessible terrain such as water and rifts in the earth. It opened up for a barrage of further questions he wasn't equipped to answer yet couldn't ignore.
If someone else had claimed she was beautiful he would have understood. But coming from him it seemed unbecoming and out of place. As if he was using words he didn't fully understand.
And she had used the word cute to describe him. That was also a first.
Glancing to his side where the girl sat their eyes met. Jet opened his mouth to speak. At the very same time so did Virginia.
"Virginia-"
"Jet-"
And so there was awkward silence. Gallow, Clive, everyone.
Virginia blushed and Jet sported first a comic look of disbelief when he realized he had actually spoken and then he frowned.
"…Maybe we should leave the two of you alone for a moment?" Clive wondered carefully, breaking the silence that had become heavy enough cut with a knife.
"I need some fresh air" Jet declared suddenly and rose from his seat.
"Can I come too?" Virginia wondered.
"Why are you asking me? Do what you want, I'm not your boss." the boy shrugged indifferently.
"I just thought maybe you wanted to be alone…" Virginia made sure to sound innocent, "That's what you really wanted, wasn't it?" she looked at him with the same puppy-dog eyes she had used on her parents as a child in order to get her way.
Jet sighed.
"Well, now I'm saying do what you want." he muttered and started for the door.
"Great" Virginia said and rose to follow him, leaving Clive and Gallows alone by the table.
The two men silently followed her with their eyes as she made her way across the small room to join Jet outside. Gallows was the first to speak again as soon as the couple was out of earshot.
"…Young love…" he sighed wistfully.
"Indeed" the sniper concurred, "…you know, you're not that old yourself."
"It's not age that matters, it's experience." the Baskar explained.
"Oh"
"So, how about a little betting?" he turned to face his older teammate with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He suddenly didn't seem that very drunk. "I think they'll share a kiss tonight, care to wager against?"
The bespectacled man thought for a moment. It seemed like a good deal, Jet wasn't exactly someone you expected to partake in such an activity. But then again, Virginia could be very persuasive…
"Well, why not?" Clive shrugged, "…just one question: how will we know who wins?"
Gallows looked utterly taken aback by the question.
"Clive, Clive, Clive…" he sighed, "Were you dropped on your head as a baby? We're going to spy of course!"
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I had previously estimated this to be the last chapter but as you might have noticed so is not the case. But we're getting closer, although I have no idea how to end it.
