AN: amazing! The next chapter is actually here! Thank you to all who reviewed. I responded to all of you with that handy dandy review response thing (how long has that been around?) unless you were anonymous, in which case, see the bottom of the page, as per usual.

Chapter four: In Which There Are the Usual Suspects

"Insanity in individuals is rare, but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule." – Freidrich Nietzsche

"You can add this onto the list of reasons you love me!" my insolent squire, Sacharell informed me smugly, beaming at me in a disgustingly cheerful manner. Personally, I saw no particular reason to be even slightly grateful. At an ungodly hour this morning, Alan, Jon, Raoul, Sacharell, and his eternal sidekick Douglas had broken down the door to my room, stormed in, pounced on my sleeping form, and tied me to a chair. In no way, shape, or form, did I find this to be a cause for general rejoicing.

"Really?" I asked my soon-to-be-former friends incredulously, "I'm dying to know how exactly this benefits me. Do enlighten me, please. Preferably before these damn ropes cut off my circulation." Raoul had the good grace to look slightly guilty.

"Ahem. Yes, well," he began apologetically, "perhaps we got a tad carried away." I snorted indignantly. "But we had to make sure you'd listen to us!" He continued with a bit more conviction.

"It's for your own good!" Douglas added cheerfully. I'd never liked Douglas.

"These things always are." I muttered, seething furiously. Alan tutted at me.

"Gary, we've put a lot of time and effort into this!" he snapped, sounding inexplicably miffed. No doubt it was the early hour. He never was a morning person. "Allow me," he continued, "to introduce you to: Romance Assistance For The Hopeless. RAFTH for short. We're here to assist and support you with your predicament."

I said the first thing that came to into my head. A mistake, as it turned out. "Please, mithros," I prayed, "Make them go away." I finished with a tiny whimper.

"Well, I like this," Jon commented explosively, "after all the thought we've put into this, all you do is…is…Gary, we're trying to help!"

I will pause my narrative briefly to explain a matter that is, no doubt, bothering you. Please note, that it wasn't as if I wasn't touched by my friend's endeavors on my behalf. I was, in a backwards way. But… my friend's collective opinion on love was less than romantic. They had trained with the finest at the love-her-and-shove-her school of thought, and were proud members of the fuck-her-and-chuck-her society. Whatever I wanted with Cythera -and I still wasn't sure- it wasn't that.

"Look," Alan was saying, "I've snooped around a bit, and it seems that her ladyship values music above all other virtues."

"So," my squire continued happily, "we've prepared you a song to sing to your lady love!"

"And the details are all taken care of!" Raoul reassured me.

"Everything is taken care of!" Jon told me, "It's foolproof!" I just gaped at them with a mixture of awe and horror.

"Have any of you morons ever heard me sing?" I demanded, " I sound like a drunk cat with a chain around its neck!"

Douglas fixed me with a condescending stare. "Gary," he told me calmly, "all that's been taken into account. You'll have an instrument to accompany you, and hopefully distract from your voice. Are you better with a lute or a harp?"

"Are you thinking at all?" Alan demanded. I felt a flicker of hope, which went out as quickly as it came, when he continued, "how are you planning on lugging a harp onto her balcony?"

"You're right. Better make it a lute then." Douglass replied.

"I've never touched a lute in my life!" I cried hysterically, "I'm not even sure I know what it looks like!"

"Details, Gary," Jon reminded me sternly, "that's why we're here."

"We're here to help in any way we can." Raoul added. I grimaced, feeling slightly dazed.

"Brilliant." I muttered, "That's exactly what I need."

"Right," Jon said, "now go into the garden through the east gate. Douglas will meet you with the lute. Go past the statue of Wesley the Inconceivable, and make a left at the rose bush. Find the pond. Her room is the third up on the left. Alan and Sacharell will be waiting with the ladder. Clear?"

"Painfully clear." I replied.

"Excellent!" he cried, "so we're a all set for tonight!"

"No!" I cried hastily, "I have…uh…a pressing engagement that can't be postponed. Sorry and all that."

"Listen to him" my squire, who seemed to have mysteriously developed a death wish, said fondly, "I already checked. You don't have anything tonight. He'll be there, " he continued, addressing the others, "and so will we." He finished threateningly.

TBC

AN: so, another chapter. I have a case of semi-writer's block, so it might be a while. When you review, please tell me if you want Gary and Cythera to end up together, and tell me one line you want in the song! Bonus points, and a sneak preview of the next chapter if you can tell me the movie that inspired the title for this chapter. Thanks to the highly intelligent and attractive group of people who reviewed the last chapter.

Jules: thanks for your vote! I still haven't decided, but I aim to please!

Confusedpink: I'm glad you find it interesting. I'm attempting to be original! Is it working?

And a note for Daine's twin…I'm sorry you're not partying. Ah well…btw, don't give your drunken friends coffee. You'll end up with a wide-awake drunk on your ands, I know from experience. And orange juice is the ultimate hangover cure. I kid you not.