30 Ways to Conquer Mars
#017 kHz
A.C. 197, May 3, 20:17pm 「What I Wouldn't Do」
Gundam Wing © SOTSU AGENCY - SUNRISE - ANB
This is a work of derivative Fanfiction. No claims are made towards the ownership of intellectual rights pertaining to the metaseries.
...
The average human heart runs at 1.2 hertz, which is 1.2 cycles a second, or 72 beats a minute. Noin's might very well be near 2, she was so excited.
He didn't want to ruin it by sounding defensive, which made him feel awkward, since that was pretty much how he felt. So, he sat on her bed and drank while she pulled a hairbrush through her hair and slipped into a modestly cropped summer dress under a bistre leather flight jacket that was half a size too large in the shoulders for her. The overall effect, with her pale fingers peeking from the sleeves, was distressingly cute. It was the same jacket he would have gone to Mars the first time in, half a size too small for him as it were. There had been some very stern words concerning the return of that jacket.
"Wasn't the mechanic's name Michelangelo?"
"That was Summer 191. Remember? He had that ringlet hair…"
"How I wish I didn't. Argh, Noin, the janitor's closet? It's like you wanted to get caught." The janitorial closet closest to any given party site was the Specials' customary liquor-stash for any illicit social gatherings at which attendance is expected to break single digits. Since the Specials took turns at their own cleaning duties, this always ensured that whoever was planning the parties would put themselves on janitorial duty days before, during and after. One of the favourite past-times of grounded OZ troops was sniffing out said stashes since, by traditional, anyone who finds the beer has to be invited, or allowed to rat you out.
"It was my party, Zechs," she smirked. "And you're right, it was a pretty good thrill." You could have joined in, Michelangelo wouldn't have minded, he imagined her saying, and groaned. He wasn't even drunk yet. What's wrong with him?
"Hah," she stuck her tongue out at him, misunderstanding. "You've done worse, I'm sure of it."
She was nervous, he could tell. She'd almost left in her scruffy old sneakers.
"I'm not telling you anything," he laughed, the pair of yellow slippers he had been lounging with dangling from his long, elegant, fingertips. She pulled them on quickly, braced against his lean chest for support. She had painted her nails the deep, slightly shimmery, midnight-plum colour at the edges of space.
"Have fun, Noin, don't do anything I wouldn't do."
The average door engagement sequence takes 2.5 seconds at 5 hertz, which makes 12.5 gear-rotations, to open or close a single-width doorway.
"You're dying to ask if I have a brother named Donn." She grinned, handing him her keycard. "Fall term, 193. The answer is no. Don't wait up."
The number of pictures a good camera delivers to form a live feed is 240 per second, twice the number of images actually displayed on a standard screen. The best security monitors are only rated at 180 hertz. There's still a lot that could go on, unseen.
Zechs hadn't planned on waiting. He had enough big brother issues with Relena and did not need to develop any more with Noin.
The plan was to head into Central Security and acquaint himself with the standard and available equipment. His forte had been Mobile Suits and tactical combat, not poking around security protocols and spy gadgets. Luckily, he was a quick study. Unfortunately, his mind kept drifting back to the bistre leather jacket.
Noin can pretend what she likes, that jacket belonged to him. He had left it behind the last time he saw her before Operation Meteor began, and the fact that she still had it was causing him several degrees of angst. First of all, it was his jacket.
Secondly, it had been brand new when he'd left it. He remembered the way it sat perfectly on him, and how it came almost past her hips and swallowed her arms whole in the chilly night. Her last growth spurt had surprised him.
Thirdly, there had been something quite mortifying in his pockets he had not meant for her to see. If she has had the jacket all this time and worn it, and since the pockets were empty when he'd checked three months ago, then she must have seen and kept it, or gotten rid of it. He couldn't tell which would have been worse.
His Second Thoughts questioned the slip. If he had left the jacket for her, then he must have secretly hoped that she would search its pockets and discover the token. If he was sure about what he'd meant when he'd put it in his pocket and went up to Lake Victoria to see her that afternoon, he had lost his nerve by the end of the night and had not been able to find it since.
On the other hand, it was almost three years and six weeks ago— there was really very little point in dwelling on it, especially when she was happily kissing another man in one of the eighteen real-time dramas playing out in front of him.
He had to wonder what it would be like to kiss a woman who actually knew his name. It wasn't that he hadn't tried, but apparently, claiming to be the renegade heir of an ancient, legendary, kingdom was a legitimate pick-up at most bars. He could get them to do whatever he wanted, believe any outrageous lie, except the truth.
It wasn't that he was madly and secretly pining after her either, although he had to admit to being somewhat miffed that she didn't make a habit of collecting just anyone's teeth for trying to kiss her.
He was maybe a little bit jealous that it seemed so much easier for her to discover people on the same wavelength. Not entirely, of course, that sort of perfect synchronism is only possible in fairy-tales, but just enough to make two people look good together, like her and Donn.
120 hertz is more than enough to see that.
...
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A/N:
Bear with me, this is only the 12th of 30 kisses and part 2 of ?, and I'm not done counting up to 1000 hertz yet...