Author's Note: Hey, this is the start of the One-Shot series I promised. I decided to post them within the body of Severed so I wouldn't have to make new stories every time. What a drag. lol. Anyways, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews of the Chapter before this, and I will reply to all of your reviews in the next real chapter :) For now, if you are interested, enjoy the one-shot. This story doesn't have to be read to keep up with Severed :). These are simply Dragonslayers in Palas, Astoriatales :).I hope you enjoy and please review ;).

Summary: Viole takes Miguel on a little educational field trip ;).

Severed One-Shots

#1. "The Chill Factor"

"So when's the wedding, Miguel?" Guimel brushed elbows with Miguel as he moved to mount the large sword he'd just polished. Standing back and admiring his work, Guimel asked over his shoulder, "You guys have set a date, haven't you?"

"Shut the hell up, Guimel," Miguel growled, clenching the twin daggers he held in either hand until he was sure they'd leave imprints on his palms. He'd come to the Slayer training room to work out, not be ridiculed. Since Lord Dilandau had canceled practices that day as a reward for a battle well fought, Miguel had been sure the training room would be vacant. Of all people, Miguel never would have expected to see lazy Guimel lurking about, much less doing something productive.

Miguel took a deep breath, held it, released it, and started again on the dagger routine he'd crafted for himself. Moving kept his mind off of choice events he'd rather not think about, like kissing Van and making a dummy out of himself in front of the entire country of Astoria apparently. The whispers and low-key glances in his direction whenever he walked into crowded rooms were about to drive him insane.

Shesta and Gatty were being decent to him, but something was going on there he didn't want to ask about. The blonds would do odd things like pat his hands and tell him, "Everything will be just fine. You'll see," in sugar-coated voices that made Miguel cringe. He almost preferred Guimel and Dallet's lewd comments to that.

The only people behaving in a half-way normal manner to him were Lord Dilandau and Viole. Miguel said "half-way normal," because Lord Dilandau hadn't punished him for embarrassing himself and his unit in public, and Viole was... not teasing him. Hm... and the only person who was being completely normal was Van. The boy king was avoiding him at all costs, which was fine with Miguel. He didn't know what to say to him. Miguel supposed he should apologize, but ugh...

Um...sorry I kissed you... oh yeah, and send me the bill for your tunic?

He shuddered. It was much better to avoid Van, much, much better.

Miguel hissed as he lost his concentration and one of the daggers grazed his bare, right shoulder. "Damn." He looked at the tan area, frowning at the long, red scratch.

"Careful with those things; might spring a leak."

Miguel shifted both daggers to his left hand and glared at Guimel through unruly, honey-brown bangs. "Guimel, no offense, but what the hell are you doing here? I would have thought you'd have found somewhere better to be."

Guimel snorted, wiping the black oil from his hands that he'd been using to moisten the leather grips of the blades he worked with. "What, I can't maintain my weapons in peace?"

"Not when your peace disturbs mine," Miguel said pointedly, walking across the mat; scrunching up his nose a bit at the grainy feel of the spongy material beneath his naked toes. He would have to remember to turn the mats and sweep, before he left. Miguel knelt to put his daggers away in the small, velvet-lined case he'd had made for them.

Guimel chuckled. "What's got you in such a pissy mood, Miguel? Boyfriend holding out on you or something?"

Miguel's eyes widened in outrage and slowly he rose to confront Guimel, who'd crossed the room to stand before him. "Guimel, I know you think you're being funny, but you're not! I don't appreciate your comments about me or my sexuality! Just because you like to openly advertize your sex life..."

"Sex life?" Guimel's eyes brows shot up into his bushy hair. "Now what's brought us to the topic of sex lives, Miguel? Are we experimenting, perchance?"

Miguel's entire body flushed and he shook with anger, glaring into Guimel's mocking face. He wondered if Guimel actually liked that ridiculous hair of his, because Miguel was about to relive him of it.

"Miguel, there you are!" Viole's peppy voice called and suddenly he was there, sandwiching himself between Miguel and Guimel. "I've been looking all over for you!" Viole grinned at him breathlessly. "I thought we could spend the day together."

"Only if it's ok with Sweetie Bear, huh, Miguel?" Guimel clucked, laughing at his joke and patting Viole on the shoulder. "Be careful, Vi, he's in one of his moods."

Miguel sneered at Guimel's back as he walked away, tossing the dirty towel he held in the laundry bin and leaving the room.

"Why won't they leave me alone, Viole? He and Dallet must have death wishes!" Miguel scowled, picking up his dagger case and taking it to the locked storage closet where they kept valuable weapons. After shelving the case and locking the door again, Miguel turned to Viole, who was gathering the brown, button up shirt he'd worn in over the white undershirt he stood in now.

"They're just teasing, Miguel, like I do," Viole reasoned. "You just have to have thicker skin with them, because they're a little more brutal."

"I don't want to have thicker skin; I want them to leave me alone," Miguel grumbled. "I'm tired of having to avoid my own team, because I'm afraid someone will bring up what happened again. It was two days ago! A battle has gone on since then, a lifetime has passed.... get over it! So I kissed Van and told him...I loved him..." Miguel shook his head. "It's not like I even really remember it! And Van... That guy won't even look at me, but I don't really mind that..."

"We do still need to talk with him, though," Viole said, tossing Miguel's shirt at him. "We've got to give him some ground rules with our Lord Dilandau."

Miguel frowned at hearing that. He wanted to forget all about Van's little crush; he wanted to forget all about Van really. The boy king complicated every situation he was involved in, but he was bound and determined to follow Lord Dilandau to the ends of Gaea...

Miguel sighed loudly. "Yeah, yeah..."

Viole dimpled. "Put your shirt on Miguel; I wanna go somewhere and you're coming with."

Miguel, of course, wanted a bath after his workout. He declared it simply vile to wrap clean clothes around a dirty body, but Viole had a schedule to keep. He'd grabbed a sputtering Miguel by the shoulders and directed him out the door of the stuffy training area. "Whether you want to put your shirt on or not, doesn't matter to me, Miguel."

Viole clicked off the light and kicked the door closed, still pushing Miguel forward.

"Where are we going that's so important, Viole?" Miguel huffed indignantly. He certainly was snippy when he didn't get his way.

"It's a surprise!" Because if I told you, you would fight me tooth and nail to keep from going.

"I don't like surprises, Viole," Miguel said in a low voice. "Stop pushing me! I can walk."

Viole took his hands off Miguel's shoulders and shuffled his step a bit to walk beside him. "Could have fooled me for a moment there."

"Hn."

Viole whistled. "So... I got a note from Heather this morning. She slipped it to one of the kitchen girls when she went out to the market place for some kind of spice."

"Oh?" the dark cloud over Miguel dissipated a bit, and Viole smiled, encouraged by that. Poor Miguel. He always let such little things get to him. One of these days, he was really going to have to tell the others how sensitive their Miguel really was.

"She wants to meet again and read some poetry," Viole related, recalling Heather's large, loopy scrawl, indigenous to females. "I really want to. I mean, she's a dizzy girl, but I really like her. She's one of those people that when they tell you something, you know they really mean it."

"Like you." Miguel shook his head. "You two sound like a match made in the heavens. Are you going to write her back?"

There was his Miguel; the only person he could talk to for real about his interest. "Yeah, I'm gonna write her, but I don't know what to say. I can't really give her a day and time, you know, with the war and all. That battle yesterday was a surprise, and we don't know what could happen tomorrow...or tonight, even. I don't want to accidentally stand her up."

Miguel nodded empathetically. "Nice girls hate when you don't show up and hold it against you forever."

"When did you stand someone up, Miguel?" Viole asked curiously. This was the first he'd heard of that event in Miguel's life.

"Oh... back before I joined the team. A girl named, Ariella Magouya. She was beautiful, dark skin, dark eyes, but our parents hated each other. We made dates and snuck all over town, but one day one of my older brothers caught me leaving and threatened to tell on me, so I stayed home. Ariella never forgave me for that, even after I explained what happened. Needless to say, that was the end of us." Miguel looked distant. "I wonder whatever happened to her."

"I bet she wonders whatever happened to you," Viole offered. He nudged Miguel with his elbow and felt his friend shift closer to him. The castle corridors were alive and busy with servants running to and fro, catering to the sensitive needs of nobles and uppity officials alike and pretty much ignoring the two boys drifting through their territory.

"Hey hon." Viole blinked at the gruff male voice, purring at them... or rather at Miguel. A large kitchen hand leaned against the wall just behind them, leering at Miguel. "If that King Fanel of yours ever gets too hard to manage, know that my bed is always open for pretty, young things like you."

Miguel snarled, going for the knife in his belt, but Viole stilled his hand, winking over at the big man. "Nice try, man, but he's with me."

Miguel's mouth dropped open as Viole dragged him away from the man still watching them appreciatively. "Viole! Now that man thinks that we're..."

"So let him," Viole shrugged it off. "It's not like he's anyone who matters. Miguel, you gotta learn to chill."

"Chill?" Miguel stared at him dubiously.

"Chill, you know, be cool, relax, let things roll off ya like rain. You'll send yourself to an early grave getting bent out of shape over every little thing."

"But he..."

"... doesn't matter. Do you know his name? Will you ever see him again? Probably not." Viole watched Miguel's stormy face, hoping to see some form of comprehension brewing in those deep, blue eyes. "Miguel, people talk shit. It's in our nature, but do we always mean the shit we say?– no. Do we always think about the shit we say?–no. Stop making everything so personal..."

"Lighten up," Miguel finished Viole's sentence with him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... Your speech about that is getting old. Viole, people pick on me a lot more than they pick on other people! I'm sick of it!"

"They only do it, because they know you'll get mad. You're fueling their fire," Viole said, then smirked, recalling something that he should have realized before. He snapped his fingers. "You're the baby of your family!"

Miguel made a face and looked at Viole in confusion. "Yeah? Why are you saying that like it's news?"

Viole giggled, wrapping an arm around Miguel and pulling him close. "That's why you're so defensive! I should have known..."

Miguel was getting frustrated, his forehead was starting to wrinkle. "Should have known what?"

"You've got the 'baby' complex!" Viole poked him.

"The what complex?"

"Baby! Come on Miguel, your brothers probably tortured the hell out of you, when you were little. I know my sisters did a number on me, but since they were girls, they only put me in dresses and make-up."

Miguel shuddered next to him, lowering his head. "My brothers were really awful, but I really think being made to play dress-up is worse than anything they ever did to me."

Viole shrugged. He didn't dare admit it to anyone, not even Miguel, but he really hadn't minded 'dress-up' as much as he wanted people to think he did. It was fun being other people, and besides, running off in his sisters' designer dresses and rolling in the mud had been the high points of his days. Mother Dear had gotten so angry...at the girls.

"You liked dress up," Miguel said suddenly, eyes glittering with humor as he correctly interpreted Viole's silence.

Viole gave him a light smile. "I did, but that's only for you to know."

"You liked the make up and frilly dresses, really?"

"Mmhmm," Viole nodded.

"You don't still like them now, do you?" Miguel pressed.

"Not on me," Viole chuckled. "You might look nice, though."

Miguel snorted, and to Viole's pleasure, he didn't bristle. Maybe Miguel wasn't hopeless after all, which was a good thing for where they were about to go.

"Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Where are we going?"

They were taking the servant's stairway down into the boiler rooms where all of Miguel's wonderful hot bath water came from. "Soldier's Get Away."

"Soldier's what?"

Viole just grinned as they reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the large wooden door. He could already hear the welcoming sounds of men's voices raised in playful banter and loud laughter. Viole held Miguel in place by keeping a firm grip on his wrist, and he knocked twice on the door with his fist; then patted it twice more with his palm.

"Who is it?" a man barked.

"Viole and guest!"

"It better not be Silver Boss. His visitation rights have been suspended until further notice, and you're lucky yours isn't too."

"Aw come on, Jon-Jon, let me in! I wanna play Spoons, and my partner ain't a cheat this time!"

Silver Boss? Miguel mouthed to him, looking thoroughly bewildered and slightly unnerved by the conversation Viole was carrying out through the door.

"Lord Dilandau," Viole explained as the door was opened and a waft of cigar smoke met them upon entrance. "Miguel... welcome to the Boiler Room. A royal 'Soldier's Get Away.'"

Miguel followed closely behind Viole, tempted to grab his shoulders so he wouldn't lose the boy in the throng of sweaty Astorian soldiers standing around chatting or sprawled in chairs around rickety square tables playing all sorts of games with cards and dice. Piles of money, jewelry, small weapons, and other riches sacred to soldier's created mounds of winnings in the centers of most of the tables.

The lighting was dim; a few bad light bulbs suspended from the low ceiling of the room swung back and forth every time a wild hand of unfortunate head would knock against one of them. Miguel fanned away the thick smoke from a pipe blown in his direction by a fat soldier sitting with his legs open in a chair, glaring hard at his hand of cards.

Viole was being greeted by men on all sides, and the boy beamed and waved, exchanging friendly words with everyone who spoke to him. Miguel focused his attention on Viole instead of looking around the room in a panic for exits. If Viole was comfortable here, then it had to be safe. His friend would never lead him into a trap.

Hopefully.

"Miguel!" Viole halted suddenly in front of a long table surrounded by a few familiar faces from Allen Schezar's team and some gruff strangers. The wavy-haired boy whirled around to face him, smiling brightly. "I'm inviting you to play 'Spoons.' There are no teams; every man is in it for himself, and I think you'll have fun."

Spoons? But... Miguel ogled the table, 9 silver spoons laid side by side in the center of the it. "Um.... Viole, if I play, I make 10. There are only 9 spoons."

"Precisely," Viole grinned; he took Miguel's arm and pulled him around the table to sit at two empty chairs between Reeden– was it Reeden or Reedy?-- and Kio. "Let me make some introductions... Guys, for those of you who don't know, and if you don't– where the hell have you been?– this is my best buddy, Miguel. Miguel, these are the guys."

Miguel gazed around the table sheepishly, keeping his hands folded in his lap as burly soldiers grunted at him. Reeden slapped him the back, hard.

"Hey, loosen up soldier! We don't bite!"

That's not what I'm afraid of... Miguel fought back a shudder. He was very, very glad Viole had talked him out of taking that bath. There would have been no point in it after he returned from down here...

"Have you ever played Spoons before Miguel?" Kio asked from the other side of Viole.

Miguel shook his head, and I don't want to play spoons now.

"Well roll up those long sleeves boy; they're gonna get in your way. Now, you see what happens is, Brody down there is gonna shuffle up the cards and deal em' out. Everybody gets four cards and must have four cards in his hands at all times," Kio spoke around the toothpick dangling from his lips. "What you're trying to do is make all four of the cards in your hands match. Like if you got one 4, you want three more, see?"

Miguel nodded, glancing at Viole nervously. Viole was whispering around Kio to a blond soldier wearing an eye patch. Was he really going to make him play this game?

"Uh...gee... I hate explaining things..."

"Then you shouldn't have started, you big lug," Reeden crowed; he knocked Viole in the head with one of his bony elbows on accident, and Viole yelped. "Sorry kid. Now let me finish up: Whenever you take a card, you gotta lay one down and pass it over to the left to the next player. You can only take one card at a time, and you can't have more or less than 4 cards in your hand– got that? Cause we got people here that like to pretend they can't count."

"Some ain't pretending," a man missing his two front teeth grunted, pointing at his bald companion who glared and smacked him over the head. Everyone at the table laughed, but Miguel.

Good gods... I'll take my chances with Guimel any day.

"Pay attention, kid; honestly Viole, you couldn't have snuck Silver Boss down here? We wouldn't tell. Now that would be some high quality competition," Reeden rolled his eyes at Miguel and patted Viole's shoulder. "Now, look, when all four of the cards in your hand match, you take a spoon, but try to be sneaky about it. You don't want anybody to notice ya. You also reach out and take a spoon, if you look in the middle there and see one missing. The man left without a spoon is a loser and he's out. Then we start the game again and take one spoon off the table. The object of the game is to be the last one still in, got it?"

Miguel blinked. "I understand." He glanced around the table, thinking this could get ugly... well, uglier. "Can I watch first?"

"No!" the table barked and Miguel scowled at them all.

"Fine!"

Viole nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Come on, it's fun, but think of it this way, if it'll help. Your mission is to obtain a spoon at all cost. Do you accept?"

Miguel gave Viole a long pitying look, realizing that the boy was not going to back down or stop grinning. Fine. He sighed, "I accept."

"Hey Brody, the newbie's sworn in. You can deal!" Viole called to the red haired, older teenager at the head of the table.

Miguel spied the wicked smirks worn around the table and gulped.

Viole, you owe me.

"Blood! I'm bleeding, look! Ollie needs to be disqualified!" Omar, Ollie's twin, displayed a scraped elbow to the table. After the two large twins had dove onto the floor for a single fallen spoons and rolled over the boiler room, almost knocking over a poker game, Viole was surprised there wasn't more bloodshed.

Ollie gave a crooked smile, holding the bent silver spoon for all eyes to see. "I got this spoon fair and square. Stop being a bitch Omar and sit out with the girls!" Ollie gestured over his shoulder with a wide, chaffed thumb to the four people sitting on the floor behind them looking sour. Omar raised a fist to punch Ollie, but was restrained by Rex.

"Go sit out, or next time don't play!" Rex bellowed. Omar growled, spitting on the floor and stomping to the loser's circle.

Viole chuckled and looked to Miguel who sat, holding his spoon tight in one fist. He was doing exceptionally well for this to be his first time. Miguel hadn't even hesitated in grabbing Reeden's trousers and yanking him back to his seat while he went for the spoon Reeden was just about to swipe.

Reeden had cussed him something awful as he grumped over to the loser's circle, but Kio had laughed and clapped Miguel across the shoulders, telling him he was alright.

Viole smiled softly at Miguel's tiny titter. Good.

"Deal Gunthrie! We ain't got all night!" Damon growled. He was sporting a black eye from a misplaced elbow and a fat lip from a misguided fist. Brody lounged in the loser's camp, occasionally rising and walking around the table to watch the Spoon war up close. Other soldiers had wandered from their games over to Spoons or watched from their tables. Maybe Viole should have mentioned to Miguel that Spoons was probably the bloodiest card game ever played.

Nah.

Four cards fell into Viole's lap and he glanced at them cross-eyed. Impossible. All four cards in his hand were six's. He blinked, then slowly snagged a spoon from the table, dropping it into his lap and waiting for the others to notice. He passed the cards coming to him over, giggling quietly to himself.

It didn't take Miguel long to notice that Viole wasn't taking any cards and that one of the 5 spoons was missing. Narrowing his eyes, he slipped a spoon off the table but not as stealthily as Viole had for Kio noticed and gave a battle yell as he went for a spoon.

The table was overturned by heavy man bodies wrestling for the last of the spoons and Viole jumped back, laughing as Kio crawled out of the mess of wriggling arms and legs, smiling victoriously at the twisted spoon he held.

"Dammit Pritcher, you broke the damn thing in freakin' half! How are we supposed to judge who got the spoon?" Drake roared, punching Pritcher who clutched the round head of a spoon while Drake held the tail end.

"By who's got more!" Pritcher flung himself at Drake, going for the tail of the spoon.

"Damn!"

Viole looked over at Miguel who was watching in cool satisfaction, tapping his perfectly intact spoon on his wrist. "Having fun, Miguel?"

Miguel raised a brow at him. "I'm winning, aren't I?"

Viole laughed. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"Hey Pretty Boy, thought you never played this before?" Kio asked, righting the table and looking at Miguel.

"I haven't," Miguel said. "And my name's not..." He stopped talking, shooting a look at Viole and nodding to himself. "Pretty Boy's kind of a soft name. Do you think you could come up with something more masculine for me?"

"Hey, I could be callin' you, King's Bitch," Kio chuckled and Viole bit his bottom lip nervously as Miguel's shoulders tensed. Oh no... Kio, you idiot.

Miguel took a breath, held it, then let it out. "I guess Pretty Boy's a step up from that one."

Viole almost gasped as he gapped at Miguel. Who was this man and what had he done with the real Miguel? He'd been expecting a fist fight, or for Miguel to leave in a huff.

Miguel caught Viole's eyes and gave him a small smirk. "You said I needed to– chill, besides, I've gotta beat that bastard."

It was Viole's turn to gulp; Miguel had an odd gleam in his eyes. Had Viole created a monster? He'd find out.

Everyone was out. Viole was out, Pritcher was out... it all came down to him and Big Bastard. Miguel glared at Kio as he dealt the cards. He had 2 sevens and 2 fives. He had to decide as a seven came into his hand, if he wanted to collect sevens or fives. Miguel hadn't paid attention to his cards at all during the game, choosing to keep track of the number of spoons and demeanor of the players. His strategy hadn't failed once, but now, playing one on one, he had to pay attention to everything.

Sweat rolled down Kio's large face and Miguel ignored the perspiration dribbling down his own face. He couldn't move his hands away from the table for an instant. Gods, it was hot.. He had stripped to his undershirt and Kio had removed that ridiculous chest plate he was always wearing when Miguel saw him.

Miguel decided to go with the sevens. He dropped one of the fives, and of course the next card he was dealt was a five. Damn. Another five passed him by. Double damn.

And then finally a seven! Miguel took it calmly, sliding it in his hand and dropping the last five. Quick as cat, he grabbed for the single tarnished spoon on the table, but Kio caught his movement and was going for the spoon too!

Miguel closed a fist over the head of the spoon and Kio gripped the tail. Shit, another Pritcher and Drake scene was about to play out, because there was no way in hell Miguel was letting go of this spoon!

He pulled with all his might, putting his foot on the edge of the table to give himself more leverage. Kio was big man and trying to win by strength alone was folly. Miguel was flying over the table before he knew what was going on.

Pap! Into Kio's chest, snuggled between his man boobs. Miguel turned his face away from Kio's strong manly scent accented by his sweat dampened white shirt, not losing his grip on the spoon. His hand was getting sore where the silver head of the spoon dug into his palm. Big Bastard was turning the spoon purposefully to make Miguel let go. Miguel shook his head, growling as he plotted his next move. What would Lord Dilandau do?

Hell, what would Viole do?

Kio was practically holding Miguel's weight; the boy's feet were scarcely touching the ground as Kio stood at his full height trying to shake Miguel off. Miguel used that to his advantage. Placing his other hand over the one clutching the spoon, Miguel brought one knee up into Kio's soft groin.

Big Bastard gave a funny groan and paled, knees going weak, but he still held the spoon!

Miguel shook his head. What was it going to take to make this man let go? He walked up Kio's body, stopping when his legs were level with his arms.

"Miguel, what the hell...

He pushed off, flipping himself over backward and pulling as hard as he could. His feet hit the ground with a loud clump and he bent forward, using his momentum and the shift in Big Bastard's center of gravity to throw him. Kio let out a cry as he went hurtling over Miguel, and Miguel let out a whoop as he realized Kio had let go of the spoon. The metal utensil fell to the floor with a loud clatter and Miguel dove for it, covering it with his body for a moment before standing with it in his hand, waving it for all eyes to see.

He was the King of Spoons!

The entire room erupted into cheers and Miguel felt himself being lifted off the ground and boosted onto a tall man's shoulders.

Miguel was laughing. Gods, he felt good! So good! He saw Viole, cheering and laughing with the other soldiers. His friend looked at him, grinning and pointing a single finger at him.

So this was why Viole liked coming down here and being... childish. Miguel seriously thought about what he'd done for the past hour. He'd rolled over furniture and dirty floors, fighting grown men for useless silverware, and dammit, he'd enjoyed himself!

"Nobody's ever beat Kio! You're the champ, Pretty Boy!" Damon was laughing. Damon, that's who held him up.

He was swung back onto the floor in front of a staggering, slightly bloodied Kio. Miguel looked at him as Kio glared. The big man spat to the side and stuck out a hand for Miguel to shake.

"You play a good game, Pretty Boy."

"Same to you, Big Bastard," Miguel said, shaking Kio's hand.

Kio's eyes widened in pleasant surprise and he grinned, baring a mouth full of teeth. "Hey, how about a rematch?"

Miguel stared at the trashed table, scattered spoons, and rag time team of soldiers itching to draw blood and shrugged. "Yeah, sure why not?"

Viole had to drag Miguel from the Boiler Room after midnight. The boy was still laughing and waving the souvenir spoon he'd been given for being the King of Spoons. He'd won every game they'd started. Viole shook his head as he took in the sight of Miguel in his ripped shirt and pants torn at the knees. He was a mess...

And he didn't care!

Viole chuckled, hugging Miguel and Miguel patted his back.

"Did you have fun?"

"Of course, I did," Miguel said, ruffling his disheveled hair and laughing. "That was... was incredible Viole! I was there and they were there, and I just...played, and people laughed with me, not at me! Gods, Viole... They like me. I could come down here without you!"

Viole grinned. "Yeah, you could, King of Spoons, but don't plan on it. You are now my new official Game Partner."

"Game Partner?" Miguel questioned, studying his dirty spoon trophy with a triumphant smile.

"Yeah, you know, I need someone in my corner to play poker, pool and twoi."

"Twoi?"

"Oh yeah, I gotta show you twoi! You'll be my best partner since Lord Dilandau almost got us barred," Viole giggled as he and Miguel made their way up the servant's stairs.

"Hey, I want to ask about that. Silver Boss? You guys must have come down here a lot, and what the hell did he do to get those guys worked up enough to suspend him?"

"Eh..." Viole looked away for a moment, then back. "Remember when Folken wouldn't let him do much of anything and had us watching him?"

Miguel nodded.

"Well, I started bringing him down there. We were the notorious Poker Duo, and we won so much junk it's not funny."

"Lord Dilandau plays poker?"

"Oh yeah," Viole grinned. "He's great. He's good at twoi and pool too. He couldn't play Spoons for obvious reasons. So anyways, our main game was poker. I mean, people didn't wanna play us we were that good. We were like A List, and you had to reserve a table with us!"

"And what happened?"

"Well... it was discovered," Viole began, looking a trifle guilty and lowering his head, "that Lord Dilandau is a card counter."

"He's a what?" Miguel frowned.

"Gambling games like poker and pitty-pat, and other things we played and got lots of money for, rely on the unpredictable nature of the cards dealt. I mean, who can tell what card's going to be pulled or what's in another player's hand? But Lord Dilandau kind of could..."

"Because he tallies up what's dealt and can keep track of the cards played and... Oh Viole, you knew he couldn't help but do that! You are a rotten cheat!" Miguel scolded Viole playfully, pushing him and snickering. "You two willingly duped people out of their money?"

Viole grinned sheepishly. "We always gave the money back; the only things we kept were the fruit and candy. Schezar's men were always good for fruit and the other soldiers were never short on candy."

Miguel was shaking his head. "How did you get found out?"

Viole looked heavenward. "It was something really stupid. You know that inventory thing Lord Dryden does every once in a while? Well, remember that new shipment of swords and shields and crap?"

"Yeah."

"Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken, Allen, Gaddes, Van, and I went down there with Lord Dryden to look it over, you know? To make sure the stuff was good quality. Well this one big crate was supposed to house 30 swords and another 30 shields. Lord Dilandau glanced at them and immediately said, 'We're short 7 swords and there are 3 extra shields. How much did you pay for this Lord Dryden?'"

Miguel chuckled. "In front of Gaddes?"

"In front of Gaddes," Viole shook his head. "He got this weird look on his face, but didn't say anything until we left. The minute we got away from Allen and Lord Dryden, he grabbed us. 'You're a card counter!' Lord Dilandau tried to play dumb, but we were found out. Gaddes ratted us out that very night, and Lord Dilandau has been temporarily banned. They only let me in, because it's been proven that I have no card counting abilities. But geez, did I ever have to take a lot of flack for that."

"As you should have, you cheater!" Miguel said. "I can't believe you used Lord Dilandau to cheat."

"Hey, he agreed to it!" Viole objected.

Miguel had to laugh at that. "He's really, really lightened up."

"And so have you. All you needed was some careful prodding and a trip to the underworld," Viole said gently. "Lord Dilandau's not the only one changing for the better, Miguel."

Viole waited patiently, maybe even a little anxiously for Miguel's reaction to what he'd said. Would he get angry? Would he revert?

Miguel's shoulders slumped and he frowned, halting them both and staring at Viole. "I've been a real drag, haven't I?"

Viole shrugged. No argument there.

"Why do you even try with me?"

Viole squeezed Miguel's shoulder. "Lets not go through this again, Miguel. You're my best friend, and best friend's 'try,' and now here you are: King of Spoons."

"I am King of Spoons," Miguel agreed. Viole released Miguel and they began to walk again. It didn't take long for them to reach their corridor. Dallet and Guimel were leaving as they were entering, dressed for a night on the town.

"Going out? Now?" Viole asked the two.

Guimel smirked devilishly. "You're not the only one who can stay out all night Viole, besides, it's not like we're going to get smashed and hop off bridges, are we Dallet?"

"No, and Guimel," Dallet said, taking Guimel's hands in his, eyes full of false sorrow, "I don't love you."

They cackled, grinning at Miguel and waiting.

Viole looked to Miguel. Well...?

"Hm, that's a good thing Dallet, because I love you," Miguel said after a beat, beaming and surprising everyone by walking past Dallet and clapping him on the behind. "Call me sometime, stud."

Guimel stared, Dallet choked, and Viole grinned until he thought his cheeks would fall off. My little Miguel all grown up and shocking the hell out of people.

"Wha..." Guimel was stuttering.

"Who...?" Dallet was recovering.

And Viole put himself in the middle of the stammering two, draping his arms over their shoulders. "My friends," they all watched Miguel disappear through the door of his room, "our Miguel has finally learned the chill factor."

The End

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know. Please review :).

One-Shot #2: The Bigger the Feet...