A/N: These connotations come in no particular order; Erik is very old after all and struggles with remembering things in their proper sequence.

Ode to Erik

The Rantings Continue…

"Well! Shine me up and call me King Arthur, that useless fop has actually done something today! Instead of watching those silly films, or reading those boring tomes or indeed trying to amputate me, he has actually done something!

To my complete amazement he approached me rather suspiciously this afternoon, in the manner that he usually does before setting about me. He stalked around me for a while, eyeing me up and muttering to himself beneath that mask. Here we go, I thought to myself. Then he took a step back and brandished……….a yellow duster! My head nearly fell clean off in shock! Imagine my incredulity continue when in the other hand he produced some polish! My birthdays and Christmases had all come at once!

Well, he went to work, polishing me till I shone like a new shilling! Buffed my vambraces, shone my cuirass, and even polished my greaves! Proud as punch I was! Here was my sparring partner, cleaning me up and finally looking after me as he should! I even saw him shake those dusty rugs and polish the grand piano too! I was truly shocked! I was a bit disappointed though; too lazy he was to get the vacuum cleaner out, he just swept the dust under the rug by the wall, but it's an improvement on before!

Yes, just when I began to believe he was finally taking a pride in his home, it hit me. Like a lance to the face it hit me.

He brought a girl back with him last night; god knows where he got the poor little creature from. He wasn't cleaning the Shadow Gallery because he wanted to, he didn't want his prize to think he was a scruffy git living in a dusty underground hole. Ohhhh, if I could tell her, I have a mind to, check under the rugs I'd say! God knows what she'll catch from all the muck down here!

(I was wondering why he was fumbling around with that copy of Woman & Home last night; lingering a little too long on the 'How to cook French toast' page he was, but now it makes sense.)

I should tell her, that her rescuer is little more than a man in a daft mask, who can't cook or clean and wears a ridiculous wig (that hairstyle went out of fashion when the Stuarts lost their reign by the way.) He keeps a filthy house, how can he entertain guests if he won't clean regularly? No wonder he hasn't got a girlfriend or indeed any friends for that matter! Just a little dust and a bit of polish once a week never killed any one…

Hang about…what's that…?

Oh, what is that…smell?

Aw that smells horrid!

Smells like…burning…egg…toast…

Oh dear god…"