Title: Playing Cards
Summary: Migel likes to play cards, but Dilandau's a sore loser. (We need a 'fluff' category on this site…)
Chapter: Two
Warnings: Dilandau still curses.
"Dammit! Where is Gatti? He's late!" Folken sighed, shaking his head. It was true- the blond-haired Slayer was two minutes late, but Folken didn't feel Dilandau had any room to talk- or, rather, shout. After all, Dilandau's meeting with Folken had been scheduled for two hours previous, and the albino soldier had strutted in just under five minutes ago.
"Dilandau, you would say the same thing if he'd gotten here before you," the Strategos pointed out calmly. The red-eyed boy whipped around to fix him with a glare.
"No; then he'd have been early which is almost as bad as being late!" The logical part of the 'logic' escaping him, Folken just shook his head, content, for now, to let the wild card rant and rave.
"Dammit!" Dilandau shouted again. "Dammit! I hate waiting!"
"Dilandau, is there anything you don't hate?" Folken asked, chin resting in his hand.
"Yes," the other leered. "I don't hate it when my damn Dragon Slayers bother to keep up with their own damn schedules!" He's lucky you don't get court martialed for excessive use of explicatives, Folken mused.
"If they're that terrible, maybe you should replace them." Dilandau actually looked surprised at the suggestion.
"Ha! They'd rather die than displease me."
"You must have many suicidal men on your hands, then."
"What?" Folken smirked.
"You're impossible to please." Dilandau rolled his eyes, sneering at the older man.
"Look here, Stratego," Folken shook his head at the nickname, but sat up straighter and gave the boy his full attention. Dilandau had the innate ability to sense when someone was paying mind to what he said, and if you weren't listening he'd raise hell. "If they can't make the impossible possible, then they don't belong in my Dragon Slayers."
"Do you ever praise them for a job well-done?" The ex-Fanelian prince asked, eyebrow raised.
"Have we caught the Dragon yet?" Dilandau demanded. Folken shook his head wordlessly, already knowing where this was going. "Then, no!"
"Sorry I'm late, Dilandau-sa-" Without missing a beat, Dilandau swung around and punched his messenger to the floor.
"It's about time! You're late, Gatti!"
