Preston sat at the foot of Antoine's bed. "I'm not ready to sleep yet," he admitted, hands in his lap.
Antoine dug a sweatshirt out of his haphazardly packed suitcase. "Well it is still early. I think everyone's gone down to the den to watch a movie or something. You want to go for a walk?"
Preston nodded. "That could be nice."
"Here," Antoine said, tossing his sweatshirt to Preston. "That'll keep you warm."
"What about you?" Preston asked as he slipped the somewhat large sweatshirt over his head. It felt soft, and it smelled like Antoine. Preston wrapped his arms around himself.
"Don't worry. I'm naturally insulated." He gestured to the door. "Shall we?"
Preston grabbed the knob. "Sure. Why not?"
Charles Montgomery Burns stood in the back of the den at the manor, with its movie theatre. He'd suggested a film, but now in the darkness beside his beloved, he found his attention was anywhere but on the screen. "Let's take a moment to ourselves," he whispered in Smithers ear. "It's been a long time since we've enjoyed a night stroll together. Would you be so kind to accompany me this evening?"
"I'd love to, Monty," Smithers whispered back.
Unnoticed by their guests, Waylon Smithers and Monty Burns quietly stole away.
Rhonda moved stealthily along the perimeter of the manor. The veranda was in sight, the solarium, a formal garden. On her way up, she'd passed what looked like a servant's entrance and loading dock.
Rhonda paused, crouched out of the way. What were the odds, she debated, of successfully infiltrating Burns Manor? Not good, she had to conclude. The curtains were drawn in most of the upstairs rooms, but the main level windows were open, affording a good view of the manor interior. It also kept the grounds well lit. Up ahead, by the back porch, Rhonda's sharp eyes saw movement. She squinted, then pulled out the binoculars. There was still enough light to use them near the house.
Two figures, not unknown to her were slowly making their way down the back steps, into the gardens beyond.
Rhonda half-crouched, half-crawled along the edge of the lawn, watching as she went.
.
.
.
Preston wasn't sure who had taken whose hand first. All he knew is it felt right. He paused beyond the light from the manor, and gently tugged Antoine to a stop. The blue-haired man yielded, and turned to face Preston.
Preston reached up, then drew his hand away. He looked down, almost ashamed. "May I?"
Antoine tilted his head. "May you what?"
"I just want to stop here for a moment."
Antoine's forehead creased in surprise. "Of course. Why do you feel you even need to ask?"
Preston reached a hand up, placing against the center of Antoine's chest, right above the sternum. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I just…" his voice trailed off as he withdrew his hand. He'd felt Antoine's heart beating, strong and fast as his own. "You're a good friend, Antoine."
Antoine rested a hand on his hip, and regarded Preston solemnly. "I try to be."
Waylon Smithers wore a leather duster that once upon a time had belonged to his father. It was warm, he'd left it unbuttoned. Burns strolled slowly beside him, wearing a military style peacoat and a watchcap. Sometimes he felt colder than he liked to admit at night.
His hand brushed against Smithers, and their fingers interlaced. "I love you, Monty," Smithers whispered softly.
Burns ran a hand delicately along Smithers side. "I know."
With that, the two men followed a familiar gravel path past the formal gardens, and into the rambles beyond.
Rhonda watched the two men walking away from the house. They moved at a slow pace, sliding out of the light. She watched as they paused, and in the very dim light she could just make out the fact they were holding hands. No… it couldn't be. It was just how their bodies appeared to overlap in the darkness.
And wait, now they'd stopped. She pulled out the binoculars, but there was too little light for them to be effective. Annoyed, she tucked them back in her coat and squinted. It wasn't hard to make out who was who. The difference in build and height alone could give them away. She couldn't see exactly what they were doing though. Some clandestine plan? Some secret trade? Rhonda lay down on her belly and inched, command- style, ever so slightly closer.
Now the men had faced each other? Were they talking. It looked like they were. Rhonda watched, realization striking her. Was it a trick of the dim light, the way they stood? Because from her angle it looked like the they weren't talking at all.
No, she recoiled, her mind refusing to believe it. She hastily crawled closer, sliding up beside a massive oak tree. This alone would be grounds enough for termination, she thought, gritting her teeth.
From Rhonda's rather disadvantaged view, she would've sworn she was watching Antoine Radson, and her own boss Preston Tucci come together in a lover's embrace.
Rhonda could not have known, as she packed up against the tree, that she and the two men were not the only creatures awake at night. The moment her hand touched the bark with a rough scrapping sound, a loud shriek rent the air.
.
.
.
Burns pulled away from Smithers, head snapping up. "Your peacock is aroused."
Smithers snickered quietly.
Burns cuffed him lightly but affectionately on the back of the head. "Damn it man, get your mind out of the gutter. I mean your peafowl. Something's set them off! Listen!"
Across the fields of the manor came a haunting cry, one at first rising in pitch and intensity. It was joined by several others, echoing from tree to tree, each bird adding its own warning call. There was something that alarmed the flock.
Burns tilted Smithers' head to the east. "Look there, by that tree!"
"You know I can't see in this light, Monty," Smithers objected.
"Never you mind that," snapped Burns. He pulled a small silver object out his pocket and put it to his lips. He blew, then tucked the item back in his pocket. "Dog whister. For Crippler," Burns explained as he moved towards the oak tree.
"I thought you said all the hounds were locked up," Smithers whispered.
Burns smirked. "Except my beloved old Crippler. A pity I didn't bring my revolver, eh? Well, he'll just have to make do. I'm not worried about him attacking our guests. A trespasser on the other hand, well, that's another matter." Burns gestured to a shadow in the deeper shadows. "See that intruder now, do you?"
Smithers squinted. "Only barely."
"Well, at least he hasn't seen us. Look at the poor fool, facing the wrong way." Burns reached down and stroked the ancient Doberman that had finally arrived at his heel. Burns stroked the dog's grizzled muzzle fondly, then started towards the figure on the ground. Smithers dropped into step behind him, readying himself for a fight.
Antoine covered his head as the air was torn apart by loud, meowing screams. "What is that," he asked, looking about worriedly.
Preston peered into a tree, then laughed. "Peacocks! It's just peacocks. I guess we must've woken them up or something.
Antoine clutched a hand over his heart. "Well, that's enough excitement for me tonight. I'm thinking inside sounds pretty good right now."
Preston smiled and patted Antoine on the shoulder. "I've never seen you jump like that before."
"Strange, random, loud noises in the dark? Yeah, I think that would make anyone jump. Come on, Preppy. Let's see how they're doing with that movie."
Sounds blocked out by the peacock screaming above, Rhonda never heard the soft patter of paws on grass. Never saw anyone coming until a hand grabbed the collar of her shirt and flipped her backward. She stared up into the faces of Waylon Smithers and Montgomery Burns, a Doberman pinscher stood between them growling softly.
"Well well, an intruder," Burns steepled his fingers and loomed in ominously. "And on the eve of my wedding no less. We can't have that, can we Smithers?"
"Oh no, Monty, we can't have that at all."
Rhonda held up a hand. "Wait, don't hurt me. My name's Rhonda LeBlanc; Senior Vice-President of the Plateau City Nuclear Generating Station."
"Nuclear plant, eh?" Burns purred, eyes dangerous.
Rhonda nodded, pushing herself into a sitting position.
"Well, my dear woman, this changes everything if I must say so myself." Burns took a step back, tugging the ancient dog away by its collar. "Smithers, I think you know what to do with Miss LeBlanc here, don't you?"
Smithers gave Rhonda a smile, the sort that sent a chill down her spine. "Indeed I do, Monty."
The last thing she saw was Waylon Smithers bearing down on her. She didn't even have time to scream before darkness enveloped her world.