Author's notes: Sorry for the delay! I can't believe it took me a whole four days to write this chapter! Shock-horror. I promise it won't happen again. -bows to reviewers- Thank you, mina!
;Standard disclaimer applies.
Chapter eight: Polishing Pendants
Vash sighed, hauling himself down the sandy street, kicking dust and stones up as he went. The midmorning sunlight beat down on him, thought he felt no warmer. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and hung his head, cussing to himself.
'Gah,' he grumbled mentally, offering a rueful stare to the ground. 'Why does it have to be this way?'
It was nice to be finally back in this quiet town, he conceded, but his home was no longer welcoming. Meryl had kept her word and alienated herself from Vash since they had returned a few days prior. She would on no accounts speak to Vash and at whatever time he entered a room she was occupying, she immediately left without another thought, leaving an awkward chill in her place. Vash found himself rather depressed by this. For the past few days, also, he had been subliminally made to sleep on the moth-eaten couch in the living room. This was because, on the first night after their return, Meryl had pretentiously sprawled herself across the length of their bed and refused to move, denoting that Vash was not welcome to share her covers with her again. She continued this façade for the following nights as well.
Vash inclined his head in one direction then another, trying to loosen the crick in his neck—The couch had been less and less therapeutic every night he slept on it. After a few twists he felt the pain begin to ebb away. He gave his neck one last gentle slant, but felt it spasm up worse than it had been. Vash cringed and growled. Failing to respite the pain in his neck, he began arching his back and lumber and throwing his shoulders. 'I think I'll sleep on the floor, tonight,' he deduced, as he turned into a spacious mews. He stood for a moment, thoroughly annoyed at the paroxysms in his upper body and simultaneously tried to stretch them all back into place. Somewhat successful, Vash put his efforts to rest and pressed forward down the street to his usual destination. He slumped melodramatically, passing by the shops and stores without glancing, not even pausing at the Bakery window for his usual ogling of the sweets and pastry within.
He paced up the footpath and pressed on the screen door of the jewelry shop. The bell above the door tinkled melodically. The woman at the glass counter was, as usual, chewing a stick of gum and reading a magazine of some description, her sparkly horn-rimmed-glasses beginning to slide slyly down her nose. For a moment she didn't look up but then it socked her that her favorite employee hadn't greeted her, let alone greeted her in the way she was accustomed to: with a wave and a cheerful donut-packed grin.
"Good morning, Vash," she said with probing cheerfulness.
"Morning, Katrina," Vash replied, sweeping past the counter and behind the burgundy drape.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" Katrina chipped.
"Eeh," Vash grumbled apathetically. Katrina detected a shrug. Vash emerged in his uniform; a trendy combination of a lilac business shirt, white slacks and white leather shoes with bulky heels, polished to the glossiness of Katrina's magazine cover. Vash leant forward onto the counter and cupped his cheeks in his palms. Katrina perused him over the top of her weekly with her brown eyes.
"What's up, Vash?" she inquired after some deliberation.
"Huh?" Vash mumbled, looking up at his employer.
"You're not your usual effervescent self," Katrina said pointedly, cornering her page and setting the magazine on the counter. "Normally you'd come in ten minutes late, grinning like a hyena with a mouth full of donuts," she added. "Problems with Mertyl?" she asked perceptively.
"Her name is Meryl," Vash sighed involuntarily.
"Meryl. Yes. Whatever. What's the problem?"
For a moment or two, Vash was silent. "She thinks I'm cheating on her. She won't talk to me. She won't even look at me!" he whined.
"Gee. Heavy," Katrina said. "Why does—could you shine up that locket over there? —why does she think that?"
Vash kept silence again, mulling over whether to accept tea and sympathy from his employer.
"Well…" he began cagily, stepping around the front of the counter. "Well, she doesn't know that I work here."
"Oh!" Katrina registered. "So she thinks you go out everyday to meet some trollop!"
"I wouldn't put it like that," Vash said tetchily, spraying Silvo on a little gold heart. "But that's probably it." Katrina nodded.
"Well if she thinks you're cheating on her, when really you're not, why not just explain it all to her and clear up all the misunderstandings?" Katrina ventured with a cow-like chew.
"I can't," Vash sighed. "Then she would know everything and I'd have nothing to surprise her with," he pointed out.
"What do you mean?" Katrina asked, brushing a few wisps of auburn hair from her face.
"You know," Vash said with the air of a ten-year-old keeping a secret. "I told you ages ago." Katrina looked intently up at the ceiling, thinking with the help of her gum.
"Oh yes!" she exclaimed as it dawned on her. "I remember now." Vash gave an uncharacteristically solemn look at the glass case in front of him.
"And, oh, that's right!" Katrina added. "You bought that lovely ring for her." Vash inclined his head.
"Did you ask her?" Katrina giggled. Vash shook his head. "Oh what a shame. So you still have it?" Vash gave another shake of his head. "What did you do with it, then?" Katrina gawped.
"It's on her finger," Vash said, placing the now dazzling heart on a small rise of velvet. Katrina smiled at the sparkle the tiny pendant gave off.
"So you did propose?" she inquired, looking back at Vash. Vash shook his head for a third time.
"Then what's the damn thing doing on her finger if you didn't propose?" asked Katrina, hotly.
"I put it on her finger while she was asleep," Vash replied. Katrina made a strangled noise somewhere between a whine and a sigh.
"Vash, Vash, Vash…" she began like a fretful mother. "If you're going to propose to her, at least do it properly! Take it from a woman who knows," she said professionally. "Women like things like that to be as romantic as possible! You can't just shove a ring on her finger—no matter how lovely it looks—and hope for the best."
"I see," Vash said absently, avoiding Katrina's gaze. "What should I do now, though?" he asked.
"Hmm." Katrina thought about this. "Well…" she started. A customer entered the shop. "Hold that thought," she said quickly to Vash. "Hello, how may I help you?" Katrina enquired politely as a middle-aged woman approached the counter.
"Umm…well…I'm looking for a pendant for my new baby girl," she said. Vash glanced sideways at the woman. She was very unkempt but had a certain prettiness about her. She had straggly, mouse-brown hair. There were bags under eyes and she wore creased tan overalls, but something about her face made her seem very striking. Vash continued shining up lockets.
"Oh, I see. Oh, congratulations!" Katrina hailed.
"Thank you. She's three weeks old."
"Oh she must be gorgeous!" Katrina said and began chatting away about the different pendants that there were to choose from. After much deliberation the woman chose the gold heart locket with the new sheen.
"That one," she said, pointing to it. "It looks lovely."
"Good choice," said Katrina. The woman paid for it and put it neatly in her purse.
"Thank you!" she said with a wave.
"Thank you," said Katrina, waving back. "Now, where were we?" she asked, turning back to Vash. Vash shrugged. Katrina took up her magazine again.
"Hey Vash…" she said after a few minutes of silence.
"Mm?" Vash mumbled, not looking up.
"Weren't you going to get a pendant or something for your own child?" she asked. Vash paused and then nodded.
"Yeah. I am," he said.
"That's why you came to work here, right?" Katrina affirmed.
"Yeah, that's right."
Katrina gave her periodical a flick as if it were a newspaper. "Well, have you decided which one you want?" she asked. Vash's eyes circled the room, gazing at the cases of fine jewelry.
"No," he said.
"Would you like help picking one out?" she asked. Vash polished the ornament of a necklace, thinking.
"Yeah, okay," he agreed.
"Alrighty!" Katrina said happily, jumping off her stool and flitting around to the case bearing the pendants, chains and necklaces. "Okay," she began. "I'm assuming Meryl's child is a little girl?" Vash stared.
"I have no idea," he said, gawping.
"Oh. Not born yet," Katrina discerned. "Right, well we'll just have to pick two out, then, won't we?" She and Vash debated over the different curios, picking out ones they liked and slowly narrowing the choices down. In a matter of time, they were left with two different makes. Vash glanced at the prices. His heart sunk into his stomach.
"I can't afford either of these," he said. Katrina dissected Vash's woeful expression and smiled.
"Vash," she said. "I'm glad I hired you. You're a good, hard worker and you've been a real asset to me. You're also a good friend. So," she continued, "as a token of my gratitude, I will keep these behind the counter until you need whichever one. And when the time comes, you can have it for free."
Vash gawked, stunned, silently opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.
"But—" he protested. Katrina shook her hand at him.
"No, no," she said. "My mind is made up." She grinned at him. "You earned it," she added. Vash felt himself smile.
"Thanks," he said warmly.
"No problem," Katrina replied. "Now get back to work!" she shouted, producing an arbitrary whip. "AHAHA!"
-
Knives smiled jubilantly to himself, pouring over his creation in the making. He sat alone, cross-legged on the floor in the dark cellar, fiddling with the instruments before him. He experimented with the insertion of a small metal nut. It clicked neatly into place and Knives smiled again. It was progressing faster than he expected and his heart quivered with malevolent joy at the thought that it would soon be ready. It would take him another year or so—he couldn't be suspicious—but it would be worth it. He could wait. He had all the time in the world to complete his tour de force. It would not matter when he finished it. All that mattered was that it would be ready for her… Knives smirked again.
-
Vash studied the door before him. He glanced warily over his shoulder at the empty street behind him multiple times, as if he were thief about to foray a residence. Theft of his own home would be a wasted effort, however. He inhaled deeply and pressed his ear against the oak. Nothing. There was neither movement nor voices to be heard beyond the door.
'Good,' Vash though to himself. 'They've all gone to bed, obviously.' He gently slid the door open and snuck inside. He gulped, scanning the hall. Coast clear, he cloaked himself in the shadows and slithered into the kitchen where donuts waited to reward Vash for his hard day of work and skillfully avoiding the fiery eyed goblin.
"You're home late," stated a familiar voice from the dinner table. Vash froze in mid-pounce for the cupboard. He wavered on one leg, gulped and sunk to the floor.
"I am home late," Vash agreed to the invisible Meryl.
"I know," Meryl said, her tone very firm.
"You're talking to me," Vash stated timidly.
"I know," Meryl repeated. "The question is…are you going to talk to me?" she suggested.
"I dunno," Vash said, slightly confused. "We are talking, aren't we?"
"You know what I mean!" Meryl growled and Vash heard the sound of a chair shifting.
"Okay, okay!" he eased.
"Listen, Vash," Meryl began, her voice softening, "I'm sorry…I guess…For being all cold to you." Vash was surprised.
"My fault entirely," he said, eager for the barriers between himself and Meryl to crumble some more.
"At last we finally agree on something!" Meryl sighed. A smile made itself known on Vash's face. "But…" Meryl continued, a hint of sadness in her voice.
"Mm?"
"Vash, you have to tell me what you're hi—" Meryl abruptly stopped, mid-sentence. A noise that would accompany a cringe expelled from her lips.
"Meryl?" Vash swiftly made to her side. Through the darkness he could see Meryl's face contorting in pain and shock. She had tightly clasped her hands around her middle and was now hunching over.
"Ooooooh…Christ!" she groaned.
"Meryl, what's wrong?" Vash yipped helplessly.
"My waters have just broken!" Meryl shrieked.
Teatime is the British equivalent of Dinner. o-o Happy now? XD
... Oh! Right! -points down- :3