Comics Cookies and Revenge
By Lejindarybunny
A/N: There's a special treat or two in this chapter.
Disclaimer: The Incredibles, Syndrome and all affiliated characters are the property of Disney/Pixar.
Chapter 12: Behind You
The blond led her upstairs to a small, comfortable office, which was almost more of a sitting room. Vex noticed that in the last two days she had been in so many beautifully furnished rooms that the novelty was finally starting to wear off.
"Sit, sit," he urged, gesturing to the couch, and sitting himself in the chair opposite it. "Now, we will begin our discussion. First, I must ask, 'as le garcon expressed any preference to you? 'E 'as a fragile ego, and we would not want no bruise eet, oui?"
Vex laughed. She liked Maurice more and more. "No, he hasn't said anything, but I was thinking, I don't want anything that's going to look flashier than what he wears, since I'm his lieutenant..."
"Eez zat what you American's call it zese days?" Maurice smirked.
"Maurice! I...I've known him for two days, okay?" She stared at him wide eyed. Did it seriously look like they were a couple? Maybe Maurice was just a big flake.
The Frenchman held his hands up. "Pardon moi, pardon moi. I merely assumed...It was tres rude of me."
"It's okay," she assured him, "But can we just get back to my outfit?"
"Ah, mais oui, mais oui," he nodded distractedly. "Zo, did you 'ave any thing in mind then, pour vous?"
Vex considered this. Through the years she'd drawn herself in pretty much everything from outlandish opera costume, to cyberpunk body armor. But as she looked back on it now, she didn't think any of it was good enough to actually wear. "Um, not really," she admitted.
"Very well, get up zen, let me look at you," he gestured for her to stand.
She stood awkwardly; rather uncomfortable that she was being mentally dissected by the French designer. It made her think of runway beauties and photo shoots, which didn't help her self-confidence. Come to think of it, she hadn't been particularly self assured at all today; she was practically a bundle of nerves.
Maurice was busy looking her over, and making various sketches in a design book. Perhaps Vex had forfeited her chance at input completely. That was a relief. She imagined Syndrome returning to find her in one of her own costumes and demanding to know what the heck she was wearing.
"No, no, no!" snapped Maurice suddenly, jumping to his feet. "What is this mademoiselle?"
She was taken aback. "Huh, what?"
"If my subject eez looking like an 'omeless waif, zen what I design is 'omeless waif material!"
"H-hey!" Vex protested. "That's mean!"
"And? What are you going to do about it?" he tapped his foot challenging her. "You are going to get mad at me, yes? Or are you simpely some 'omeless waif zat Syndrome 'as taken in out of ze goodness of his heart?" the sharp faced designer sneered at her.
Now Vex really was getting angry. How dare he say that to her! "Excuse me!" she snarled, tensing and crossing her arms. "I don't think you're being paid to make condescending remarks, monsieur."
"Yes, yes! Zat is it, mademoiselle!" Maurice laughed. "Stand zat way and I can work! Tres bien!"
He'd been trying to get her angry? Oh for crying out loud, couldn't he have just asked her to stand a different way? It's not like she wouldn't have listened. Stupid flakey Frenchman...
"Ahhh..." Maurice said delightedly as he scribbled. "Now I see ou you are, ma cherie."
"Oh?" she demanded.
"Shh! I must create!"
Vex rolled her eyes.
000
Syndrome drove around the city rather aimlessly, with three hours to kill, and nothing to do. Now out of Maurice's disconcerting presence, he was rather annoyed that he had been so entirely dismissed. Not that he wanted to spend more time than necessary with the effeminate Frenchman, but he was suspicious about whatever Maurice wanted to do that he couldn't with Syndrome there. More than likely he was being overly sensitive, but also, the car felt just a bit empty without someone in the passenger seat.
Well, in a few hours he'd go and pick Vexxation up, but until then, he'd just have to occupy himself somehow. He turned his thoughts to his new base, which tomorrow, would get up and running. Of course, that left him with the conundrum of what he was going to do when it was fully functional. Doctor Rasputin's research intrigued him. He'd had no idea that the late doctor had worked on Supers at all, nor did it appear that anyone else did. One thing that Syndrome kept himself up to date with was developments in the Super community, and if anyone had been batting Rasputin's theories around before now, he'd have known.
What caught him the most was that Rasputin had been able to suppress powers, or so he claimed, make supers into ordinary people. If Syndrome could find even some of his research...
Conventional science knew that supers were as old as humanity himself though in old times they'd been called magicians, witches, or monsters; it was some sort of accident of genetics, they said, and one that didn't always breed true. No one knew what about a person gave them special powers, and, as Syndrome discovered, not a lot of people were trying to find out. Either you were a super, or you weren't.
Truth be told, Syndrome hadn't bothered with it either. After all, if it was just some kind of unpredictable fluke, as everyone said, then what was the point?
In his mind Syndrome envisioned world he controlled, in which children could be tested for powers as infants, and if they showed any, they would be immediately suppressed.
Children would grow up hating themselves, knowing that they should be special, but weren't; had been cheated out of it.
A sadistic, predatory grin crept over Syndrome's face as he flew down the Parisian highway. They'd know what he felt.
000
Readjusting to a normal life was going to be difficult after three years living in the lap of luxury on a tropical island. Mirage...Maggie, was glad to finally be out of court, but she couldn't find it in herself to stay too near to home. All that her parents had known was that she was living abroad with a very wealthy man, and now, with the whole story out in the open, she felt ashamed.
In fact, she felt guilty twice over, first for going along with Syndrome's plots which had hurt so many people, and then, for his death. Yes, she knew logically that he didn't love her, and she knew that he had to be stopped, but she hadn't meant for him to die.
With so much heavy on her mind it was no wonder that she had turned down her mother's offer to stay at home for a while, and was currently staying in a nice hotel in Metroville. At least, she thought, the fiasco hadn't left her destitute. She still had the credit cards Syndrome had given her, which, unlike the few assets in his real name, worked perfectly well, and wouldn't run out for a long time. In fact, if she was even a little careful, she wouldn't have to work for the rest of her life, which was just as well, as she didn't have any skills, and had dropped out of college to move to Nomanisan.
She lay on her stomach on the bed, and flipped channels, hoping that watching television would keep her mind off of her worries. There wasn't much on however, and she ended up leaving it on the local news. Most of the coverage on Syndrome's attack had ended as repairs were under way, and they were back to talking about more normal things, like house fires and like the report she tuned into the middle of, kidnappings.
"...left her home around five o'clock. Sharon was last seen in the Spotlight coffee shop," the news announcer said. "Several employees say that she seemed upset, and left the establishment with an unnamed man who is believed to have abducted her. Here's what the man is believed to have looked like."
The white haired woman stared at the screen in shock. It couldn't be him. He was dead. But Mirage knew that face; she couldn't mistake it for anyone else's. Which meant Syndrome was alive.
"If you have any information regarding this man, or the whereabouts of Sharon Mitchell, please contact the police. There is a reward being offered. Our next story..."
But Mirage didn't hear the next story. How could Syndrome possibly be alive? Mr. Incredible had said that that he had been sucked into a jet...unless, unless he had actually listened to her for once and sent the robot! She had been so angry with him, she hadn't even bothered to mention it, or check.
So, everyone thought they were safe, but in reality he was up to his old tricks, completely off their radar. Sadly, Mirage believed, the girl he had abducted was in all likelihood a super, and probably already dead. But what should she do? Should she tell the police? It wasn't as though she knew where he was, just that he was alive. Would that help them at all?
But she just couldn't sit back and do nothing when he was killing people again! Especially not a poor, teenage girl! She didn't know what to do, but she knew someone who would.
000
Many discarded pages, long minutes of standing still looking fierce later, Maurice finally seemed to have something he was satisfied with.
"Zere!" he announced grandly. "Now you may relax, ma cherie. Eet is finished."
Vex stretched stiffly, and peered over at the delicate man. "Can I see it? Please?"
"Ceratainment!" he agreed, and handed her his sketch pad.
She took it, and gazed at the drawings. It was mostly black and completely form fitting, with a white V at her décolletage, a black choker, a white belt hanging decoratively around the waist, a pair of white gloves that went well past the elbows, black boots, and a cape, the same kind Syndrome wore, except it was set lower on the shoulders, more effeminately. "Oh, Maurice, it's lovely! It's perfect."
Maurice laughed. "Ah, merci, merci. I decided zat we must work with what Syndrome was wearing. Sort of a matched set, non?"
Vex nodded. "You designed his, didn't you?"
"Well, he 'ad a great many ideas of his own, but I helped him realize them, and mais oui, it was made at my shop."
"Do you design these kinds of clothes often?" she asked.
He laughed. "Non, non, zat would be Edna Mode's specialité, not mine. 'E came to me, because she refused to cater to his...extravagance."
'Whereas you're quite flamboyant yourself,' Vex thought amusedly, but did not say.
"Now, would you like me to explain zee benefits of zee outfit to you?"
"Uh, sure," she agreed. Vex hadn't thought there were any, other than looking extremely attractive, that was.
"Now, vous comprenez, the fabric eez not made in zis shop, rather I 'ave it ordered it from Madam Mode, oui?"
She nodded. "Okay."
"Ze fabric is bullet proof, fire proof, stain proof, and non-conductive," he told her, ticking them each off on her fingers. "Almost indestructible."
"Wow, okay..." she stared at the picture, and thought, 'So basically, if I get hit in the chest, neck, or upper shoulder, I'm screwed.' "Uh, but aren't these parts vulnerable then?"
Surprisingly, Maurice shook his head. "No, you see, zere is actually fabric zere, it is simply completely invisible, and you can barely even feel it, oui?"
"Oh, alright," she nodded but she thought it sounded a bit like an emperor's new clothes situation. She trusted Maurice though.
"Now, le garçon will not be back for another hour yet. I will 'ave Michelle bring us something to eat while we wait for him."
"Thank you," Vex smiled, sitting down on the couch again.
"So, you must tell me," Maurice said curiously, leaning forward, "'Ow did you become acquainted with un garçon like Syndrome?"
Personally, Vex was wondering exactly how much Maurice actually knew about Syndrome. She remembered that he had said he had heard Syndrome was dead, so did that mean he knew about the Omnidroid incident?
"Well...It's complicated," she began. "How well do you know Syndrome?"
"You mean, do I know of his 'illicit activities', non?" he said with a smile. "Oui, oui. So long as le garçon does not wreck my shop, je ne m'inquiète pas ce qu'il fait avec du son temps."
'I don't care what he does with his time' was what Maurice had said. "Oh, okay then..." she shrugged. "You know who Mirage is?"
"Ah, oui, cette femme," Maurice frowned, "le garçon has brought her to my shop many times."
"You didn't like her?"
"Let us say I do not believe she was not a compagnon approprié non?"
"What was she like?" Vex couldn't help but ask.
"She had excellent taste in things that she did not need," he said, "but continue with your story, sil-vous plait?"
"Well, Mirage deserted him, and everyone thought he was dead. So, he wanted to get his operations running, but I guess he thought he needed a second in command. So he kinda, stalked me over the internet."
"Vraiment?"
She nodded. "We talked for a few minutes, and he asked me to meet him somewhere," she told him, starting to see that the whole story sounded kind of...insane. "I agreed, and he told why he wanted me. I said yes, and just kind of...left. Everything."
Maurice watched her bemusedly. "Well," he chuckled, "Such is ze force of his personalitié, non?"
"It sounds crazy, doesn't it?" she sighed.
"Non, non, vous êtes une femme courageous," he assured her. "Zere are not many who would follow their hearts as vous."
"I suppose..."
"Do not suppose, believe in yourself, 'ave zat same courage with you at all times."
Maurice was right, wasn't he? She had been quite brave, or at least quite rash, when she had let Syndrome carry her off into the night. Why was she hesitating now? The next time he gave her an opportunity to get close to him, she should take it! Right?
"You really thought we were a couple?"
"Oui, mais, I should have known zat you were not, 'ow shall I say, official, as yet. Ze way le garçon looks at you is cautious. 'E does not know if you will reject him if he, ah, 'makes a move', non?"
"You think so?" she asked, and then continued. "Why do you call him that all the time? Le garçon, I mean?" She'd been curious about it from the beginning.
"Ah," Maurice laughed. "Eet is because when 'e turned up at my shop, I could only remember him as a small boy, non?"
"You'd met him before?" Vex asked, puzzled.
The Frenchman chuckled nostalgically. "Ah, oui, oui. I was not always a fashion designer, you know."
"Oh?" she was just becoming more confused.
"'Ave you ever heard of ze criminal, Bomb Voyage?" Maurice asked with a grin.
"Yes, of- wait, you were Bomb Voyage?" Vex stared at him incredulously. Well, it certainly explained why he didn't care that Syndrome was a villain!
"Ah, oui, oui, I was quite the menace, years ago."
"But- how would you know Syndrome anyway? He wasn't a villain when you were."
"Vraiment, mais, écoutez vous, and I will tell you the story."
"Okay," Vex was on the edge of her seat, listening.
"When I was twenty, and full of desire pour fortune et notoriety, I robbed banks as ze infamous Bomb Voyage. One night, I was accosted by le hero, Monsieur Incroyable, who was zen accosted 'imself by un petit garçon, in ze most ridiculous attire! Ze boy, he insisted zat 'is name was 'Incrediboy', and 'e was trying to convince ze hero to let him become a 'sidekick'.
Seeing an escape, I put a bomb on ze boy's cape, hoping Monsieur Incroyable would be occupied trying to rescue le garçon to worry about moi. I was right of course, so everything worked perfectly. Zat was also ze night zat the Hero restrictions began. I like many of ze criminals of ze time, used zat to our best advantage. I amassed enough money to return to France, and used it to begin my fashion business."
"Wow," Vex said, a few more pieces of the Syndrome puzzle falling into place. He hadn't gone into any kind of detail when telling her he wanted to be Mr. Incredible's side kick. Probably because it was a very bitter memory. But now she knew a little more.
"So you see, when 'e came to me seven years later, already beginning 'is little enterprises, all I could remember when I looked at 'im was 'is ten year old self, Incrediboy, non?"
She nodded. "Why did you become a fashion designer though?"
"Ze occupation called to me, and I had ze money to try whatever I wanted, non? I could be as daring with my fashions as I liked."
"Chasing a dream?" she asked.
"Oui, chasing a dream," he agreed. "Oh, mademoiselle, can I trust you will be discreet with zis information? All zis time and le garçon 'as never recognized me. I would like to keep it zat way, you see?"
Vex nodded. She liked Maurice, and Syndrome didn't really need to know his fashion designer was an ex-criminal. If it ever did become vital information, she'd tell him. But it wasn't like Maurice was going to attack them.
The door opened and a woman with a tray of food came in.
"Ah, here is lunch," Maurice nodded. "'elp yourself ma cherie."
000
Of all the people Violet expected to be at the door, the person who was there when she answered it was fairly low on the list.
"Mirage?" she asked, puzzled.
"Hello," the white haired woman greeted. She seemed a little nervous, and quite frankly, she didn't trust her. "Is your father home?"
"Uh, I think so..." she turned around and called over her shoulder. "Dad! There's someone at the door for you!!"
He dad showed up a minute later. "Who is it, Vio- Oh. Mirage, hello. It's nice to see you."
'Nice to see you out of court, you mean' Violet thought to herself. Her dad so had a crush on the blonde floozy.
"It's nice to see you too, Bob," she said. "Can I come in? I have something important to talk to you about."
"Oh, of course!" her dad nodded, and ushered her into the living room. "Go upstairs, okay, Violet?"
"Yeah, sure dad," she nodded. 'Yeah, right. And let you flirt around while Mom's at the grocery store?' She headed upstairs, and was accosted at the top of them by her younger brother.
"Hey Vi!" he asked excitedly. "Who's here?"
"It's Mirage," she whispered. "If you go to your room and don't cause trouble while I listen in, I'll tell you everything they say, alright?"
She hated bargaining with the kid, but it was the only way to get things done without him messing them up.
"Uh," he deliberated. "Allllright. But you better tell me everything."
"Alright, alright, now shoo, okay?"
Dash zipped off.
Violet peeled off her outer clothing, kicking it behind the laundry basket, so that she was just in her super suit. She'd taken to wearing it all the time, minus the gloves and boots, under her clothes, it didn't weigh anything, so it wasn't inconvenient.
She disappeared, and crept down the stairs. She was in luck, the conversation hadn't gotten beyond dad offering her coffee yet.
"You said it was important?" her father asked.
"I did. Have you been watching the news lately?"
"Yeah, but it seems like it's mostly good news these days, with the super laws finally being repealed."
"It's not all good news Bob," Mirage said. "Did you see the report on that girl from the suburbs they think was kidnapped?"
"The one in Upstateville?"
"Yes."
Violet suppressed a gasp. They were talking about Sharon's disappearance! But why would Mirage think that was important? Violet narrowed her eyes.
"The drawing they're running of her kidnapper, it's Syndrome, I'm sure of it."
What?!
"What?" her father demanded, echoing his daughters thoughts, "That can't be, he's dead!"
"No Bob, he's not. The Syndrome that got sucked into the jet was a robot, but I didn't know that, until just today."
'Yeah, sure you didn't,' Violet glared at her. But what on earth would Syndrome want with Sharon?
"Okay, I'll accept that," her father nodded. "But why would he want to kidnap this girl?"
"I don't know for sure. My guess is she was a super, in which case there's not much hope for her," Mirage hung her head.
A super? Sharon? Violet had never had any reason to suspect that her some time friend had any powers, but then, to her knowledge, no one knew that she was a super either, so it was possible. But that meant she might be dead! Violet was horrified.
"Do you know where he is?"
Mirage shook her head. "No, he hasn't contacted me, and he never gave me any of the information on his aliases, or other places he might go. He was a secretive man."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"I don't know, Bob. I really don't. I just thought you needed to know he was alive, so you'd be on guard. He'll probably come after you again."
"I figured."
"Not soon though, he hates you, but he'll want to build his defenses first."
"We'll be on guard. The first time he makes a move, I'll get him"
Her dad nodded.
"I have to go," Mirage said, standing.
"You'll tell me if he contacts you, or you think of anything else?"
She nodded. "You'll tell me too, won't you?"
"Sure."
Mirage shook his hand, and even at thirteen Violet could tell that she wanted to do more than that, but didn't. She nodded to him.
"I'll show you out," he offered.
"No need," she walked down the hall, and out the door.
'So that's it?' Violet demanded of the woman, in her thoughts. 'You tell us your old boss is back, and he's got my friend captive, and that's it? You're going to wait until he 'makes a move?' Sharon's in trouble now!'
A week ago Violet would probably been having public histrionics about it in the stairwell, but now, she had learned to bite her tongue when it wouldn't do any good to throw a fit. Obviously her father wasn't going to do anything, since he believed Sharon was dead. Violet however, refused to accept it, and so she would have to do something herself.
She tiptoed up the stairs, picking up her clothes, and tried to slip into her room without being noticed. No such luck, of course, Dash caught her.
"Well? What did they say?"
Violet rolled her eyes. "Syndrome's back."
"What!?"
"Shhh!!" Violet urged. "He's not here or anything. Calm down, okay?"
"But he died in the explosion."
"Not according to Mirage."
"Wow."
"Yeah. Don't say anything to mom and dad, okay?"
He nodded.
"I'm going to my room.
000
Syndrome hadn't quite driven around the entire three hours; he'd done a little shopping. For instance, he's been happy to find a video store that sold American DVDs, and had picked up a few, knowing he'd regret not having anything to watch at the base.
As he headed back to Maurice's shop he saw a set of mannequins in the window that caught his attention, and he lurched to a shop in front of them. The driver behind him, who had narrowly missed a collision, sped past, shaking his fist and swearing loudly in French. Syndrome ignored him, getting out of the car.
The mannequin in question was wearing a pale blue midriff sweater, with a hip-hugging black skirt, both of which were covered by a spider-web of loose silver mesh, a black translucent shall was thrown over the shoulders, silver bangles adorned the wrists and it had high black boots with silver buckles.
'Well now,' Syndrome thought to himself. 'Vex can't very well go shopping in Paris in what she's wearing,' he rationalized. After all, you had to be fashionable to buy fashion in France, or no one would take you seriously. He wanted Vex to be taken seriously.
Syndrome marched into the store, and had the woman who worked there box up the entire outfit, not even asking the price. Well, he had said he was going to help Vex spend the money, so here was a start.
He took his purchase back to the car, thinking about where he would take Vex while they waited for the costume to be made. Had she been to Paris before? She spoke very good French, as far as he could tell, maybe she would want to sightsee. Mirage had just wanted to buy everything she laid her eyes on.
Obviously he'd take her to diner at La Tour d'Argent, a beautiful restaurant that overlooked the river, and Notre Dame Cathedral. This reminded him, he ought to call the place now. He wondered how much he'd have to bride this time, to get one of the window tables that had been booked weeks, if not months, in advance.
He called the restaurant, and was stubbornly American until they put someone on the phone that could speak decent English, and made the proper arrangements, booking one of the private rooms. All set then. Diner was at seven. Other than that, they could go wherever Vex wanted.
Syndrome hoped that devoting the day to her would rid Vex of the residual timidity she was having around him. She liked him. She must. In all her fanfiction, she always got together with the villain. He had taken that into account when he approached her.
Obviously she was hanging back because- Because why? She had seemed pliable enough the day before. Maybe he had been too forceful, and scared her?
He recalled the events of the day before, trying to think of any of Vex's reactions that might indicate that she didn't like him in that way.
000
Syndrome, upon going upstairs to fetch the sandwiches had decided that it was time to put on his uniform. He had been so long without it that when he donned it, and admired himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but be impressed anew at the imposing nature of the dark figure he cut.
"Fear me!" he commanded the mirror, pointing accusingly and glowering. "I am Syndrome! All tremble before my mighty and power!"
The mirror wasn't quite so impressed.
Syndrome smirked, and continued on his errand. He hadn't expected, when he reached the brig, to find his prisoner already awake and argumentative as well, from the sound of it.
"I do not understand, vhat loyalty do you owe to that monster?"
Well now…he had been intending to go straight in, but now Syndrome hung back, waiting to hear how she answered the question.
"My own"
"But vhy? Do you not know vhat he is? A killer?"
"So?"
He smirked, amused by Mikhail's ignorance of who Vex was. All that the Russian saw was the bubbly, slightly self-conscious exterior. He had no idea the kind of things she thought, the kind of things that she wrote about.
"I see. So you are the type of voman who is best charmed vith vicked viles."
Syndrome smothered a snicker behind his hand, still enjoying being the proverbial fly on the wall. So, was he finally catching on?
"And what if I am?"
Then you are a fool! Can you not see he is a man who cares for nothing but his own?!"
In the end, he had been unable to convince Mirage that he cared about her. Maybe it would be better if he headed that thought off at the pass this time.
"You've got me there," he had said, setting down his burden, and standing beside the girl. "Vexxation is mine."
He put his arm around her, grabbing her closer to him. He saw her look up at him with adoring eyes, eyes that just agreed with him. He had the sudden urge to kiss her. Syndrome was not a man who made a practice of denying his impulses. Vex had melted almost instantly.
000
And then, Syndrome recalled, deciding to test his power over her further, he had instructed her to torture and kill Mikhail. That had to have been what had her on edge. After all, she had mentioned it already, asking if he trusted her. And he had shrugged that off.
Syn took a deep breath. There was only one thing to do. He was going to have to...apologize. Assure her that it was a one time only thing, and that starting tomorrow he'd have minions to do that sort of thing.
Except that he wasn't certain that was it. Syndrome clenched his fists on the steering wheel. Damn it, why did women have to be so mysterious. Fine. On top of apologizing, if things didn't clear up by tonight he would just have to ask her what was wrong.
And if she didn't tell him? Or didn't like him?
Well, that was fine. She could just be his lieutenant then. 'There are other girls,' Syndrome assured himself. 'It's not like this one is all that special.'
Except...
Shaking his head and cutting off his own train of thought, he pulled up in front of Maurice's for the second time that morning, hopped out of the car, bringing the box for Vex with him, and strode inside.
He was greeted by a waifish young lady in Maurice's employ.
"Bonjour, Monsieur," she nodded.
"Yeah, hey. Tell Maurice that I'm here to pick up Vex." He adjusted his sunglasses, and leaned casually against the wall. Why was he being so negative, anyway? He'd just have to make sure that Vex couldn't possibly resist his charms.
"Oui Monsieur, I will tell him. Wait here, sil-vous plait," she hurried away.
To Be Continued...
Okay. Tidbits regarding the chapter. Le Tour D'Argent is a real French restaurant. See what it looks like at www. tourdargent .com
Also, please tell me your honest opinion of Maurice. I'm dying to know.
Shadow Fox Forever: Yes. Yes I do.
CD Anders: here's some more. Hehe. How's that for amusing?
WormmonABC: The Jabberwocky is awesome, as are BNL.
Maya Beebop: I bet you didn't guess the other plot point about Maurice! I hope you liked this chapter!
Dark fire angel: I love French.
WormmonABC: Haha not so random anymore, eh? The bedroom scene is one of my favorites. Aw, come on, I'm sure your story isn't bad.
RavensHaelo: I tried to make him a wacko, but not too Ednay.
DJ Caligula: Well, at least someone likes the romance aspect!