Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and am making no money off of this fic.
AN: Written for the May 8th Cocktail Party prompt found here: gwcocktailfriday . tumblr .com(/)post/617011615271993344/gastronomista-throwing-a-derby-party-this. (Without the spaces and parentheses.)
########
Hidden Depths by luvsanime02
########
There is a very simple reason why Treize prefers everything to be rose-scented, and it's not the reasons that he's heard in whispers behind his back all of his life. Roses are beautiful, yes. They represent passion, absolutely.
Treize prefers them because they are so very, very fragrant, and that their scent can be used to cover up so very many things.
The smell of blood, for one. You can run someone through with a sword and have them bleed out on your floor for a short while before being disposed of, sprinkle some rose petals around the room, and no one will smell the stench of iron.
Not that Treize would know anything about that, of course.
Roses can also be used to mask mundane smells. Staleness, maybe some spilled food, the ink from his blotter. Having some roses around in tasteful vases keeps all of those smells untraceable, because all that anyone can tell when they walk into his quarters is that he frequently keeps roses around.
Roses are harmless in people's eyes, never mind the thorns. They are the mark of someone sophisticated and cultured. Treize only has to run his fingers gently over a single rose, stroking the petals as though deep in thought, and whoever he is speaking to will fall silent, waiting for his next move. It's almost magical, the power roses hold in people's assumptions.
Right now, Treize's favorite thing about them is that their essence is so very, very good for covering up the odor of the poison that he put in the champagne.
No one had even batted an eye when Treize ordered the champagne to be strained though some rose petals, a few of them sticking inside the flutes when the drinks were poured. Really, it's almost too perfect.
The poison is actually in the glasses themselves, not the champagne, of course, so Treize knows the exact one to pick up in order to avoid his own demise.
The others are handed out summarily, and everyone's glasses are raised in a toast. Treize makes some tedious speech about the future, when he's the only one in the room who knows what the future holds - for them, at least.
It's really all that Treize can do to keep his amusement hidden, honestly. He watches them drink and waffle on about nothing of importance, and consoles himself with the knowledge that they'll all die in their beds that night.
Although, with the way that General Addison is scoffing down one flute of champagne after the next, he may very well die within the next few minutes. No matter. The commotion would certainly have all of the others leaving faster, which would spare Treize his forming headache.
The glasses will be thoroughly cleaned before tomorrow, and with the meetings earlier today and all of the previous week, it will be next to impossible for anyone to tell for sure exactly when these men were poisoned and by who. No one would ever dare suspect Treize of foul play, anyway. Not to his face, at least, and the plausible deniability is all that he needs.
While listening to loud laughter and thinking dark thoughts, Treize sprinkles some more rose petals into the champagne, swirling the liquid around slowly.
One can never have too many roses, after all.