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The Courtship of Captain Miguel Lavariel
Severed One-Shot #4
"I don't do blind dates, Viole," Miguel said flatly. He studied the green leather boots he wore in a full length mirror, turning this way and that. "And I don't do green boots either."
Miguel turned, but didn't see Viole. Only that imp could get lost in a shoe store. He sighed and sat on a long leather bench to tug off the ugly boots that were too tight in the ankle.
"Boots not to your liking, young sir? Perhaps, another color? I have some in canary yellow that would look positively fetching with your tan complexion."
Miguel stared at the lanky store attendant, searching his horsy face for a hint of a smile. The man had to be joking. Yellow? Since when did nobles wear yellow boots– or green for that matter? Ai, this was the last shoe store Miguel went in with Viole, even though it did come highly recommended by a few palace nobles as well. Apparently, Bruce's, was the place to shop. Unfortunately, the moderately sized shoe store just outside of the market place was lacking in Miguel's opinion. He would stick to the carts and the hole in the wall place Guimel and Dallet liked to frequent. It might have looked terrible on the outside, but their shoes were of good quality and in normal colors.
"No, that's ok. Do you have anything in a light brown or navy blue that don't come up so high on the thigh and go so narrow in the ankle?" And without any sort of weird decoration? Bruce's more neutrally colored collection featured feathers, beads, fringes, and pointy toes.
"Hm... I'd have to look in the back, milord. I'll only be a second."
The man left and Miguel went back to fighting with the boots. He pulled at the right one. It didn't seem to want to come off without keeping part of his leg.
"Don't pull so hard; you'll lose a foot." Viole plopped down beside him, sticking out a leg for Miguel to admire the orange clog on his foot. "What do you think?"
"It's you," Miguel said wryly. "But where do you plan to wear them? No circuses will be in town to pick you up for months."
"Ha. Ha," Viole said. Viole kicked off the shoes and wiggled his bare toes. "So, did you find anything in here you like?"
Miguel stared at Viole.
"Me either. This is the last time I listen to Lord Crumpstead about a place. I should have known better. The guy wears leopard print, but I promised him I'd check this place out. I bet he'll ask the clerks if I came in or not."
Miguel shook his head, then cheered as one of the boots came off. His right leg and foot sang. They could breathe. Now, for the left. "You should stop being so nice to the old people."
"Aw... but they like it when I come talk to them."
"Because no one else really does," Miguel said, then sighed. It was sad, thinking about the old men and women of the Court who were ignored by the younger members. Just because they repeated themselves and forgot your name every five minutes, didn't mean they deserved to be treated with any less respect. They needed attention to. Miguel didn't want to be the one to give it, though. He hated old people. He hated the way they smelled, moved, talked, pinched, and called him by the names of their children– they scared him.
"Exactly. It's... it makes me sad. I never knew my grandparents. Mother dear didn't want anything to do with them. They were too old and forgetful to bother with. Most of them live on their own in big houses, because their spouses have died and their children have moved on. They have get togethers and drink tea, and knit, and smoke, but they seem so isolated from everyone else."
"So, you and Dilandau volunteer to be their grandchildren?" Miguel asked.
Viole grinned. "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. The cookies are great. Lady Constance even managed to find a cookie Dilandau likes. You should have seen everyone's faces when he asked for another one."
Miguel almost fell over. "Dilandau likes sweets now?"
"Well, I guess you could say that. Though, I don't consider those cookies proper sweets. They're sweetened with honey and dried berries. I say they're mounds of crunchy oatmeal, but oh well. He even dunks them in milk."
"Maybe I'll join you guys one day." So I can witness Dilandau eating cookies with milk.
The world would be ending soon, Miguel was sure of it.
"You should, and... you should go on this date. It'll be fun." Viole nudged him in the ribs. "You haven't been on a date, since– well damn, Miguel. When is the last time you went on a date?"
Miguel shrugged. "It's been a while, Viole."
"It's been since the Vione, Miguel. You would think with all the girls that throw themselves at you, you'd go out with at least one of them."
"I go out with them."
"In groups of three. Those aren't dates, that's you flattering the ladies, but not letting them close."
"So, I'm not Dallet, Guimel, or..." Miguel shook his head, "Shesta." Gods, Shesta. Shesta didn't go out anywhere near as often as Dallet or Guimel, but he did get around.
"So... let's change that. Come on, please try it. It'll make Lady Penelope so happy. She was the noble matchmaker in her day, and she retired to nurse her husband. Now that he's dead, she needs something to do again."
One of these days Miguel was going to introduce Viole to a thing called "tact". "Shouldn't the woman be grieving the death of her husband, instead of meddling in other people's affairs?"
"Pshaw... he's been dead for a year, and... she never liked him anyway. Her marriage was an example of a bad match, and she made it her life to create good matches. A lot of people have forgotten about her now, but she figures if she hooks up a few people around the castle, nobles will start requesting her services again. So, Dilandau and I have been signing people up. Gatty's doing it."
"Well, there you go. May Gatty find true love."
"Shesta's doing it too."
"Then what do you need me for?" Miguel asked.
"Because..." Viole slung an arm around Miguel, "when we did a poll of who the single ladies of the Court thought was the most eligible bachelor, 74 voted for you."
Miguel's eyes widened. "You did a poll?"
Viole nodded. "Yup. You're a regular Adonis, Miguel. Thirty women said they would sign up for the service, if you signed up too."
"You're... trying to use me to sell a product?" Miguel couldn't believe his ears. "Am I an object to you?" Of all the nerve, but... "Seventy-four percent, really?" Miguel couldn't help but feel flattered.
"All ready to sign on the dotted line," Viole said, squeezing Miguel's shoulder.
Miguel smiled. Ladies of good breeding had such excellent taste. "Well, I suppose, since it's for a good cause. Lady Penelope is a respectable woman, after all, and I wouldn't want to see any project of hers fail. If my participation truly can make that much of a difference to her business, it would be a crime for me to refuse."
All right. So Miguel knew he sounded like a pompous ass, but every now and again a man had to preen. Seventy-four percent, one point shy of three-fourths, of the noble women in Court thought Miguel was the most eligible bachelor around. He was more popular than Sir Allen. Hell, he was more popular than Pearce!
"So, you'll do it?"
Miguel sighed. "I guess, but do you think I could actually see the lists and who Lady Penelope might be trying to put me with? Perhaps, I could offer some suggestions."
"Miguel, you can't pick your own date. That's Lady Pee's job. The whole point is to let her do the work for you. You just show up dressed and ready to work your Miguel charm."
Miguel looked down at the green boot he still wore. "I'm still not crazy about it being a blind date, but I know everyone in Court, so it should be all right."
"Really?" Viole's face was going to split in half if he grinned any wider.
"Yes, really."
"Thanks, Miguel! I can't wait to tell her! She wants to set you up for this Thursday."
This Thursday? "So soon?"
"Yeah, we uh... kinda already assumed I'd get you to say yes, so we kinda already penciled you into the schedule."
"Do you kinda already know who I'm going out with?" a muscle near Miguel's mouth twitched.
Viole shook his head. "Lady Penelope keeps all of that top secret. Nobody knows but her. She did tell me that the young lady is nice and has been a bit lonely lately, since her royal crush has been swept off his feet by someone else."
Miguel sighed. Another girl in love with a prince betrothed to a princess. Those dates were usually disastrous pity parties and he was fresh out of handkerchiefs. "Viole..."
"Ah, ah, you already said you'd do it, Miguel. Just ah... remember to pack some hankies. You can borrow a few of mine, if you want."
Miguel glared and Viole dimpled and gave an innocent shrug. "She might be cute."
Miguel groaned. "I have a feeling you're going to owe me for this one."
Viole laughed and gestured at their setting. "That's why I brought you here. I was going to bribe you with shoes. Did you, ah, see any you liked? Those boots looked...interesting on ya. If you don't like the green, they have them in yellow."
Miguel gave Viole a look that could silence a toddler. Calmly he swung his left leg into Viole's lap. "Get this thing off me, and I won't kill you for that suggestion. If you want to bribe me, find out how to get to Guimel and Dallet's hole in the wall from here. I saw a pair of ankle boots with a matching scabbard a few weeks ago that I want."
Miguel agreed to meet his date at Le Vier's. He wanted to avoid prying eyes at or around the castle, namely, his friends. The annoying lot had all but walked him to the castle gates. Miguel figured they all had bets on how ugly Miguel's date was going to be. Miguel swallowed hard and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. He usually wore his cotton shirts unbuttoned past his collarbone, but... Miguel pictured all of the ladies he knew at Court, trying to think of the loneliest seeming one. Lady Nagle came to mind, long nose, small eyes and a beetle brow. All he needed was for her, or someone like her, to think he was trying to impress her; she'd never go away.
This was such a bad idea... for a good cause. Lady Penelope had made him a raspberry crumb cake, she was so happy.
For Lady Penelope and her raspberry crumb cakes. On ward, man.
Miguel approached the pale oak double doors of Le Vier's. The classy restaurant had no windows, so Miguel couldn't see inside, but it had a clear, flat roof with a glass ceiling beneath. Nighttime patrons gazed at the stars while they ate, daytime customers counted clouds, and, sometimes, they all watched rain dance over their heads. Miguel wondered what they did if it snowed? Did they pay someone to plow the roof as well as the sidewalk?
A nicely dressed couple, the tall man in a dress shirt with a long tailed vest and the woman in a gown that fell past her knees, walked past him. The man held the door open for the woman and Miguel. Miguel blushed and let the woman enter before him.
"Thank you."
The man nodded and stepped in after Miguel, letting the door close.
They'd entered a small lobby, a wall separating it from the rest of the restaurant. A stern looking host in a blue collared shirt buttoned up to the neck sat behind a long desk, next to a single glass door. He held a quill over an opened notebook.
The man and woman walked to the desk and gave the man their names. The host smiled and nodded to someone. Miguel almost gasped at the man who seemed to step out of the wall by the door. All the brown he wore had made him blend in with the surroundings.
Miguel shuddered. Being around so much wood made him nervous. He kept wanting to pat himself on the back for not letting Dilandau or Celena walk him here. This place wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes with those two present. Dilandau always seemed to have matches, and Celena, a flask of kerosene.
Celena and that flask. It was unbecoming of a lady to carry about metal liquor canisters, even if they didn't have liquor in them. Celena didn't care. She liked whipping the thing out at parties or dinners to see the reactions of Sir Allen's colleagues. One day, Sir Allen was going to figure out Celena wasn't going to conform to that lifestyle and stop dragging her to those places, or maybe he would keep trying until Celena killed him. Miguel had seen it in her eyes one day, a flash of murder, and for a second, he'd been scared. It was like Viole had poured snow down his throat without warning. His insides froze, his neck and spine went rigid and his fingers crept toward his sword.
That... was power, and Celena commanded it as well as Dilandau did. Miguel had been moved.
"Young sir?"
Miguel blinked. The host was calling him, looking bored. "Yes, sorry. Miguel Lavariel."
The man nodded and ran a skinny finger down the list in his notebook. He stopped a few lines down and glanced up at Miguel with an amused smile. His sleepy hazel eyes sparkled. "Ah, Captain Lavariel. Your... companion is already here. Enjoy your evening, sir."
Miguel narrowed his eyes at the man. What was so amusing? Miguel tried to read the man's notebook, wanting to see the name next to his. Damn, he knew he should have paid attention when Viole had been trying to teach him to read upside down.
"Could you tell me who my... companion for the evening is, perchance? I'm participating in a... social project, and the identity of my date is a mystery to me. Is it... Lady Nagle?" I will give this man all the gold in my pockets, if he keeps me from walking into a room with her in it.
The host smiled. "Lady Penelope would not be pleased with me, if I disclose the identity of your guest. She made it perfectly clear to me that her clients were to meet each other at the table."
Miguel made a fist and wanted to slam it down on the table. "I have gold. I will give it to you, if you can tell me it's not Lady Nagle!"
"You'll find your date at the table in the far right corner. There will be pink carnation on the table. Have a pleasant evening, Captain Lavariel."
Oh gods. It's her. I know it's her. Why else would that man be smirking like that? Unless it's someone worse.
Ai. Cold sweat broke across his forehead and he undid another button. He needed to sit down, but he didn't know if he wanted to do it inside. Maybe he should go. He could say he was ill. He certainly felt ill and probably looked it too.
The doorman was grinning at him, thin lips skinning back from his teeth like an orange being peeled. The door was held open for him and blast of cool air hit him. A soft violin/cello duet was being played. Miguel gulped and stepped into a square, cozy room full of small round tables large enough to accommodate for two. The room was lit by single candles on the tables and candelabras on walls covered with burgundy drapes. A Celena hazard indeed.
Miguel was tempted to run to every table and wall and snuff out the flames. Hm, not only would he avoid being roasted alive, but he could sneak out without Nasty Nagle seeing him.
Couples smiled at Miguel as he passed, nibbling on entrees and appetizers and sipping wine and imported water. Did everyone here know he was meeting a blind date? He'd never seen so many smiling faces.
"That's one of the boys that won the war for us."
"Isn't he a friend of Sir Allen's young siblings?"
Miguel blushed, hurrying to the corner the host said his... please don't be Nagle... date would be in. Miguel liked attention, but he didn't like crowds of people staring at him. It reminded him too much of Cape J'ecare, home. People who stared were usually plotting to kill you in your sleep, putting themselves one step closer to being heir of the family fortune.
A pink carnation at the edge of a table. Miguel blinked at it and then dragged his eyes to the person already seated.
Furry.
Furry and twelve!
Miguel gapped at his date. Ooh, Viole was going to pay and pay dearly for this, as were Dilandau and Lady Penelope. Miguel was going to kill them.
"Isn't it past your bedtime?"
Miguel scowled at Van's little cat girl–what was her name?– Merry? Marilyn?
"No, Lord Van lets me stay up past ten," the girl said with a smile that showed sharp canines. "You're Avenger, right?"
"Avenger?" Miguel blinked.
"No, that's just a nickname. Um, Michael?"
"Miguel," he ground out. What an annoying child. How dare she not know his name. But then again, he didn't know hers either. "And your name is...?"
"Merle."
Miguel sighed, fingering the carnation, its petals were a bit damp. Merle had brushed her hair off her forehead and pinned it back with white, rose-shaped clips. She wore a matching white dress that covered her toes and probably touched the ground when she stood. The neckline was high and the bodice fit tight to show off the girl's slender build rather than bring attention to her small bosom.
Miguel didn't know the cat girl had anything beside those indecently short dresses she wore around the palace. It was a change, a nice change. He decided to sit down.
"Well, you look very nice," he said. A waiter came and poured fresh water into one of the empty wine glasses by his hand.
"What will you be drinking sir?"
"Any sweet white wine with a strawberry please. I trust your selection and your taste."
The waiter nodded at him with a pleased smile and left.
"I hate wine," Merle said. "I stick to water and juice at the castle banquets I'm allowed to go to."
Miguel raised a brow. "So does your King. I wonder when he'll grow out of it."
Merle narrowed her eyes. "We weren't raised to drink it like some of you. When you're all bald, fat alcoholics, Lord Van and I will be the ones poking fun."
Miguel nearly choked on his water. "Bald and fat? I'll have you to know..."
"That something makes you special from other drunks and you'll never get bald or fat?"
"I'm not a drunkard. A few glasses of wine with a meal doesn't make someone an alcoholic."
"But I don't see how it makes them high and mighty either," Merle said. "You drink wine because you like the taste. If I don't like the taste, why should I drink it if it doesn't make me high and mighty?"
Miguel hummed. She had a point. "I think you haven't had the right wine."
"I think it all tastes like rotten grapes."
Miguel shrugged. "Some red wines do, especially the cheap ones. Van should take you along when he and Lord Dilandau go wine tasting next month."
Merle made a face. "I don't like to interrupt their dates. They forget I'm there, but then again, that's nothing new. Lord Van's always forgetting I'm there, now that he's got that pretty silver doll to play with."
Pretty silver doll? Miguel sputtered. "Merle, don't..."
"What? He's pretty with dolly eyelashes and hair that flips up under the bottom. I keep expecting to push his tummy and hear him squeak. Real people aren't supposed to look like that, but then again, there's Sir Allen, and that nasty Celena, and Princess Millerna, and you. You look like a prince doll complete with accessories. I bet you've got a handkerchief in one of your pockets."
Miguel's hand almost went to his back, right pocket. "So?"
The waiter returned before Merle could respond, with a tray. He set down a tall glass of bubbly white wine with slices of strawberry resting at the top of the stem. A basket of bread and a plate with a dollop of shell-shaped butter were placed in the middle of the table.
Merle unrolled a burgundy napkin from her silverware and pulled out a long butter knife. "So, you fit the stereotype of a snotty noble-boy."
"Noble-boy? Snotty?"
"Mmhmm." Merle spread butter on a slice of hot white bread. "I saw your face as you came to the table. You were afraid you'd been set up with someone beneath you, and... you think you were. That's snotty."
"That's not snotty! I was afraid of spending my evening with a cow. Anybody would be afraid of that, and as for finding you beneath me, well... All right, you're how old, twelve?"
"Thirteen."
"Thirteen. I am..."
"Two years older than me. There's not an ocean of difference between our ages. In fact, considering that girls mature faster than boys, my thirteen is your fifteen."
"Girls mature faster than boys? Are you sure? Explain Celena Schezar." Miguel had her there.
"Freak of nature. Lord Dilandau will attest to that. He doesn't claim her half the time."
Hm. She had him. "All right. I'll give you that."
Miguel took some bread, wincing at how warm it was. He broke it in half, watching the steam rise and sniffed it. It was nutty.
"It's good," Merle said, "and the butter is sweet."
Miguel tried the butter. It was sweet. He washed it down with a sip of strawberry wine. "I think I could eat bread and butter and refill my wine glass all night."
"And then you'll end up a fat, bald drunkard," Merle said, taking another piece of bread and batting her eyes at Miguel's scowl innocently.
The waiter came back. "Are we ready to order?"
"Yes, the gentleman will have more bread and wine," Merle said sweetly.
"And the lady will have juice and butter."
They traded glares and the waiter frowned.
"Give us a few more minutes please."
Miguel took Merle to the sweet shop Viole liked to frequent, buying her taffy and licorice, and tucking a green apple lollipop in his pocket.
Merle chewed on a red licorice rope and walked with a bounce in her step a few paces in front of Miguel. Miguel watched the large bow on the back of the girl's dress, sway to and fro as her white dress swished, low heeled dress shoes clicked against the ground. Cute. Millerna must have dressed her.
All in all, the evening had been surprisingly... cute.
Merle was no Lady Millicent or Lady Ashleigh who could go on about military science and philosophers, but her conversation wasn't dull either.
"Hey Miguel, you're walking too slow!"
Miguel lengthened his strides and fell into step with Merle.
"This is fun," Merle said.
Miguel nodded. "Yeah, it is." Not what I expected, but better than I dreaded, and fun.
"I haven't had much fun lately. No one has time for me, really. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Hitomi. At least she talked to me."
Miguel frowned. Hitomi and Merle were friends? "I didn't know you two..."
"Oh, don't get me wrong. She and I got on each other's nerves. I couldn't wait for her to go home and leave me alone with Van, but... there's no alone with Van anymore, and now I'm just alone."
"Have you told him how you feel?"
"When do I ever get a chance to? He's either off on business or off with his boyfriend. He runs himself ragged trying to make time for Silver Doll, but not for me."
Miguel scratched his neck. He didn't know what to say to that. Van and Dilandau were busy guys trying to make a new relationship work. Miguel knew that if he didn't work with Dilandau, he might not see him all that much either. "But after all of the war affairs are settled and Van goes back to Fanelia..."
"Then he'll be busy playing king and as soon as that calms down, Silver Doll, Lord Folken and the rest of you will come."
That was true. Fanelia needed work, lots of it, and since Lord Folken and the Dragonslayers were partially responsible for its downfall, it was their duty to help fix it. Where did a little girl fit into all that work?
"I'll talk to him."
"Huh?" Half a licorice whip hung from Merle's lips.
"I see Van everyday. I'll speak to him on your behalf. He shouldn't ignore his friends. Friends are everything. In fact, I'll do you an even better service. I'll talk to Lord Dilandau on your behalf and let him tear into Van about friendship."
Merle's eyes were wide. "You can't... don't do that. I don't want Lord Van to get mad at me for complaining and getting him yelled at by his boyfriend."
"Give us some credit, Kitty-Kat." Miguel reached to pet her head and jerked his hand back when she snapped at him. "Lord Dilandau won't tell Van you tattled on him. He'll act like he noticed you're not around."
"I don't know if I'd feel good about Lord Van only paying attention to me because Lord Dilandau said something to him," Merle said, looking pouty.
Miguel groaned. Argh, women. "He won't only be paying attention to you because he got fussed at. He likes you right? He's your friend?"
Merle nodded.
"Then he's going to pay attention because he'll know he's been a horrible friend and he wants to make it up to you. That's how Van is. He's got tunnel vision when it comes to Lord Dilandau. He needs to learn how and when to turn it off. Trust me, he'll appreciate being reminded that he has a friend not touched by all of our...Slayer-weirdness."
Merle giggled. "Slayer-weirdness?"
Miguel shrugged. "The only way to describe it. You have to be a Slayer to get it. We're a one of a kind custom set of... nuts."
Merle laughed. "Did you just call yourself a weird nut?"
Miguel thought about it and chuckled. "Yes, I did, and if you repeat that, I'll kill you along with Viole, Lord Dilandau and Lady Penelope for setting us up on this date."
Merle frowned, looking hurt. "I thought you were having fun?"
"I am, but it's the principle of the thing. They knew what I would think when I saw you. They wanted a good laugh, and you... you wanted..."
"A good laugh too. The look on your face was pretty funny when you came in," Merle said lightly. "And what did you want, Miguel?"
Miguel looked up at the dark sky. "Nothing really, just a nice night, a cute girl, a walk."
"Well?"
Miguel nodded. "Yes, I got what I wanted too. Now, let's head back to the castle, before your bedtime, Kitty-Kat."
Merle nipped his hand and Miguel yelped.
"Drop the nickname, Avenger."
"Avenger? Who came up with that?" Miguel demanded and Merle began to hum, ignoring him.
"Merle, who came up with that name? Merle?"
Miguel escorted Merle to the stairway that led to her hall, their arms linked at the elbow.
"Thank you for a delightful evening," Miguel said with a deep bow.
Merle rolled her eyes. "Thank you for a laugh." She curtsied with skill. She'd done this before.
"Miguel?"
"Yes?"
Merle was halfway up the stairs. She paused, holding the rail. "Are we friends now?"
Miguel blinked. Well, he'd had a good time. She was like the little sister he never wanted. Maybe. Miguel wasn't one to just give out the title of friend to anyone. "Maybe after a few more outings."
Merle stared at him a moment, before she beamed. She ran down the stairs, and threw her arms around him, making him back up a few steps. She gazed up at him. "You're like the big brother I never wanted, you know?"
Miguel snorted. "To unwanted siblings."
"I wish we had wine, so we could toast."
"I thought you didn't like wine. It makes you bald and fat, remember?"
"Then we'll toast juice."
"I'd rather be fat," Miguel said with a scowl.
"Suit yourself, but nobody's afraid of a pudgy Avenger." Merle released him and pranced back up the stairs, holding her skirts.
Miguel gaped. "Who came up with that name?"
He only got giggles as a reply. He rolled his eyes with a half smile on his lips. "Goodnight, Kitty Kat."
Miguel turned on his heel to head down the hall to his own staircase, and was met halfway by, "Celena?"
The blond girl arched a brow at him as Miguel ogled her. She... she smelled good, like watermelon, and for gods' sake she'd combed her hair. It was half up, and half down. Her lips sparkled with a bit of pink gloss and her eyes were accented with dark pencil. She still wore boy's clothing, but it was clean boy's clothing and well-fitted to her lean body.
"You through staring, Miguel?"
"Huh? Oh, I... sorry. You're wearing makeup." Miguel had to look down at his boots to keep himself from staring at her again.
"Princess Eries and Millerna cornered me. We made a deal. If I wore a little of this gunk, I didn't have to wear a skirt and hose."
"Hm." Miguel nodded, sounded about right. "Well, you look... nice."
Celena was quiet, and Miguel glanced up at her again. A little smile graced her lips. "Yeah?"
Miguel nodded. "Yes."
Celena pulled at the few tendrils falling over her forehead as bangs. "I get a lot of catcalls from bums; those guys whistle at anything. I don't think I'm ugly, but I'm no Millerna or Eries. So, when you say stuff like that, it makes me feel good."
Miguel cocked his head slightly, studying the girl. Was she blushing? There was a faint hint of pink in her cheeks that usually wasn't there. Miguel brushed his fingers against her face, checking for heat and the pink deepened.
Miguel let his hand fall to his pocket. He felt the hard curve of a green apple lollipop. He pulled the candy out and held it out to Celena. "I got this for you."
"Allen hates when I eat these. They turn my mouth green and I look like I've eaten tree moss."
Miguel nodded. He knew. He'd seen and agreed with Sir Allen, it was unattractive.
"Thanks!" Celena punched him in the shoulder, hard, and he winced.
But it was Celena.
"Want to take a walk? There are still a few places open by the pier. I'll buy you a drink," Miguel said.
Celena tucked the lollipop in her mouth, letting the stick rest on her lower lip like a cigarette. "You're buying? Is this a date?"
Miguel shrugged. Why not? He was supposed to go on a date today, and instead he'd ended up with a babysitting job that paid in hugs and licorice. Merle was a nice kid. He'd see her again, but Lady Penelope had fixed him up with the wrong person.
"Yeah, it's date."
The End
Author's Note: Well... (sweat drop) how'd I do? I know you'll let me know...cough... Macky...cough... ;) and anyone else still here to read this lol. Epilogue next... (sniff sniff). Please review.