I'm so thrilled to finally be able to introduce to you Emily Croft. Mind you, this is only a smidge of her personality, but you may come to realize eventually that you actually like her!! So read on, and judge with an open mind! =D
"I don't get why we're studying US history anyway," one of the kids next to her muttered. "We live in the UK, for God's sake. Why do we have to learn all this nonsense?"
"Because it makes you a well-rounded and knowledgeable student," the teacher replied irritably. "And because it's part of the curriculum."
"It's the same boring stuff that's been beat down for the past seven years anyway," the boy continued to mutter, although this time he actually opened his book and wrote down the assignment on the board.
Emily leaned her chin into her right hand and scribbled on the blank piece of paper before her with her left. Five more minutes, and school was out for the weekend. Five more minutes until freedom. Then only three more months until the end of elementary school and the beginning of junior high. It was a scary thought, but anything was better than this. She'd spent enough time with her mother, Zip, and Alister to have much more knowledge than any of the kids in her class. In fact, she wished she'd been put in an advanced class. Instead of protesting and coming across as a nerd, though, she kept quiet and did as she was told. She would rather be the best of the worst than the worst of the best.
"…all five questions on page two-seventeen, and then the critical reading questions on page two-twenty. Everything will be due on Monday," the teacher rambled on. Emily hardly noticed it. With a bored sigh, she continued to stare down at the doodle before her. She wasn't an artist, per say, but what else was she supposed to do – pay attention? Hardly. The drawing of the Ducati Superbike was flat and animated, but it passed time regardless.
In all her disinterest and lack of attention, she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Her stomach dropped when she realized the teacher was standing just over her, probably peering down irritably at her drawing. Emily slowly looked up at the irritated face of her teacher. "What a lovely drawing, Emily," the woman said. "Although this is hardly art class."
"Sorry, ma'am," Emily muttered, her cheeks flaring with embarrassment. This wasn't the first time the teacher had called her out for her lack of attention to the classroom setting. The teacher reached forward and took the drawing into her hands, holding it up for the class to see. "It looks like we have a regular Picasso in here," she said with a cocky grin on her face.
The class laughed at her joke, although they were probably just thankful to not be the outlet of 'Miss Rat-face's' seemingly passive aggression. Miss Radford was, according to rumor, the absolute worst teacher in the entire elementary school. Not only was she old and decrepit, she was also mean, snooty, and assigned to much homework. Usually, she would merely approach Emily, close the book shut over her silly doodle, and snap at her to pay attention. This time, though, she publicly humiliated her.
Miss Rat-face dropped the paper on her desk and glared down at her. "Don't let me catch you doodling again, Miss Emily," she commanded. "We wouldn't want to have another parent-teacher conference, would we?"
Emily dropped her head, staring down at the cover of her book. "No, ma'am," she muttered.
The teacher stood over her for just enough time to assert her dominance, then turned away with her nose in the air, moving towards her desk to likely assign even more homework. Emily sighed heavily, folding the paper up and tucking it into her backpack. The whiney boy from before leaned towards her with a smirk on his face. "Good going, you prat," he whispered.
He has nothing better to do than irritate me, Emily thought to herself. She glared at him as she crammed the pencils into her backpack. "Bugger off, jerkwad," she shot back. How original.
The boy laughed. "Oh, no – the British Yank just insulted me!" he said.
Emily felt her cheeks flaring again, though not from embarrassment but from anger and irritability. She felt grateful – for the boy's sake – that the bell had just rung and he stood to leave – still laughing uncontrollably as though he'd just made the funniest joke in history. Perhaps the most annoying thing of anything that she had to endure in this hell-hole of a school was being called the 'British Yank'. Quite a few kids in her class had taken kindly to such an insult, and quite frankly, she wanted to punch them square in the face. So what if she didn't have an accent, for whatever reason? Her mom always told her that it made her unique…although her mom's rationalization for why she spoke with an American accent was quite far-off, even Emily had trouble believing it.
Emily sighed, pulled her knapsack over her head, and pulled her hair out from under the strap. She left the classroom as quickly as she could, praying she wouldn't have any further confrontation with her teacher or any other kids in the class. Maybe that was why Miss Rat-face picked on her so much – maybe it was because she was the 'British Yank'. Hardly ethical, Emily knew, but it made sense. She was a dork, to say the least, but her American accent didn't help, and neither did the fact that the other kids considered her spoiled and rich – although that was hardly the case. Her mother was the rich one, and Emily was hardly spoiled. She had just as much privilege and lack thereof as the next kid in her class did.
And of course, there was that always-gnawing-at-the-back-of-her-mind truth that she didn't have a father. The kids in her class seemed to find that quite hilarious as well, though why it was funny, Emily would never understand. You'd think kids would be more merciful about such touchy situations these days, she thought with a sigh. Apparently not. If junior high – hell, even high school – was anything like elementary school was, she'd rather have home tutors. She was sure her overprotective mother would comply with such a request…
Emily pulled the straps of her knapsack taught against her shoulders, then trudged down the street as the overhead clouds warned of rain. Just great, she thought. All she needed now was rain to walk home in. It never seemed to stop raining in London. She pulled the hood of her thin sweater over her head, then tucked her arms against her body. She stopped at the edge of the street, knowing that home lay just down the left path, but the tea shop lay just down the right path. She wasn't exactly ready to go home yet – so why not stop for a cup of tea?
Emily turned to step down the curb and into the crosswalk when she immediately jumped back, nearly impaled by the careless motorbike driver as he sped down the road. If he weren't on a motorbike, she thought irritably, I'd be extremely pissed off. She let it slide though – what was one more tab to her bill? Just another number.
She removed some of the bills from her knapsack as she continued down the street, counting to make sure she had enough pounds to buy herself a cup of tea. As she began to pocket the money, she felt someone shove her hard against the wall. She looked up quickly to find herself face-to-face with Josh Calloway, one of Henry Calloway's mischievous sons. The fact that he was in high school only made him more intimidating, and this time, two of his friends were with him. "Hey, kid," Josh said. "Where's the money you owe me?"
"What money?" Emily asked dryly.
Josh plucked the bills from her hand with a cocky grin. "This money," he said. "Next time you think about skippin' out on me – don't."
Emily tried to think of a quick escape route, but nothing came to mind. All she could do was run. As Josh began counting through the bills in his hand, Emily drew in a deep breath, then shoved her way past him and down the street. She heard him call her name, but she didn't stop. Instead, she ran all the way towards the tea house.
Earlier in the day
Garin remained seated at his table the following morning, back at home in Amiens. He calmly sipped the coffee from his cup, reading over the paper laid out before him. It was a Sunday morning, thankfully – tomorrow he would have to return to work, unfortunately. He wasn't ready to go back. He wanted a break from it all.
The pumps rattled, indicating the shower was being turned off. Kurtis had crashed almost instantly after arriving in Amiens. He'd slept for a full twelve hours, and just barely risen to take a shower. Garin was reluctant to ask anything about Lemuria – it had obviously had a profound impact on him, and not in a good way. He hadn't spoken one word of the damned place, so Garin wouldn't pry. He hadn't spoken of Lara yet, either, much to Garin's surprise, though he knew that was the one thing on his mind.
Garin folded the paper up as Kurtis descended down the stairs with a bag in his hands, running his fingers through his hair to dry it out. He may have grown twelve years older, but he still looked for the same, for the most part – except that this Kurtis had a tinge of sadness and loneliness in his eyes, like the things he'd seen in Lemuria had been enough to kill his spirit completely. Lara can bring that back, Garin thought wishfully.
Kurtis seated himself across from Garin at the table, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Did you sleep well?" Garin asked.
"Like an angel," he said.
"Good," Garin said, grinning. "So what's on your agenda? You're welcome to stay here as long as necessary."
Kurtis stared ahead, as if contemplating something. "I'm thinking I'll head out," he said. "I was going to visit a friend in London…"
"A friend?" Garin asked curiously.
"Lara," he said, though he knew that Garin knew damn well that she was whom he was referring to. "She's all I've thought about in the past six – I mean, twelve – years that I've been stuck in hell."
"I figured as much," Garin said calmly.
"Have you kept in contact with her much?" he asked.
"No. She took your disappearance pretty hard, so it was natural for her to want to stay away from whatever reminded her of you," he admitted. "I have maintained contact with Alister and Zip, though."
"Do you…do you know if she's…you know…married, or anything?" Kurtis asked slowly.
Garin chuckled. "Not that I know of," he said.
"That's promising," Kurtis muttered, sipping his coffee. "I guess I'll…have to find out myself."
You do have a daughter, though, Garin wanted to say. Kurtis needed to learn it on his own, though. If he knew he had a child, it might compel him to stay as far away from England as possible. Thinking this, Garin kept his mouth shut.
"I guess so," Garin said coolly, lifting the paper before him. "Well, if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask. I'm glad to help."
"Transportation to London?" he asked.
Garin cleared his throat, picking up the phone on the table and dialing a number. "Wade, it's Garin. Could you arrange a private flight from here to London for a good friend of mine?" Garin remained on the line with this Wade fellow for another few moments, then hung up. "There will be a flight arriving here for you in just twenty minutes," he said. "I assumed you'd like to leave immediately?" he asked.
"Of course," Kurtis said. "But I really do appreciate everything you've done, Garin."
"Say no more. We're brothers. It's what we do."
"I'll keep in touch," Kurtis said.
"Good," he replied. "You'd be the only one, besides Aiden, to do so."
Kurtis chuckled rising from the table and picking up his bag to exit the building. He bid a quick goodbye to his Lux Veritatis brother, knowing he would likely see him again, and headed outside towards the Cessna 172, nerves running through his entire being as he thought of the true fact that he would be seeing the woman he loved in just two short hours.
The small aircraft had dropped Kurtis off in the outskirts of London, right next to a beautiful bike shop. He had been entirely grateful to Garin for acquainting him with transportation out of France and money to get around. He'd given him several pounds to spend in London, should he need it, and it was already playing a key role in his survival in this country. Kurtis handed several pounds over to the bike shop owner, and picked out a Honda Shadow Spirit from the line up, letting it idle, as well as letting his nerves idle.
Kurtis drew in a deep breath, then pulled onto the main road, heading in the direction of the Croft Manor. Somehow, he'd managed to remember the street names since he'd last been here twelve years ago. As he inched closer to the home of the woman who had his heart, panic began to settle over him. Did she still love him? Did she want to be with him? How would she react? What if she'd moved? What if she'd forgotten him completely?
I can't do this yet, Kurtis sighed in his mind. He turned down a narrow road to the right. The Croft Manor was just up ahead, but he couldn't go there yet. He was too nerve-racked. I'll settle for a tea shop up the street, he thought, even though he hated tea. He continued driving down the street, barely noticing the fact that he'd nearly run down a young girl as she prepared to step into the cobblestone. She'll be fine, he thought passively. The fact of the matter was that he had in fact missed her.
Kurtis parked the bike behind the shop, trudging inside to a back corner. There was no one behind the counter, and no one in sight at all. The entire place seemed empty. There was a newspaper already on the table, left from the previous occupants. Kurtis picked it up, scanning over the words, but not really reading it. He just needed to look occupied so he could convince himself that he had a reason not to go see Lara.
He had been so confident, so sure of himself that he would just get up and go to London, walk right into Lara's home, and they would pick up where they'd left off. Unlikely. What if Lara was married? What would Kurtis do then? What if she had a handful of children? What if she was mad at him, worst of all? It wasn't like he could've helped it, but still, what if?
Kurtis rubbed his temple, startling as a customer walked through the door and the ding echoed throughout the shop. A young girl with brown hair loosely pulled over her shoulder entered the shop, a saddlebag over one of her arms. She looked to be in a rush, and almost…scared. Kurtis eyed her suspiciously. Then, it hit him. She was the girl he'd nearly run over earlier. Fate is not on my side, he thought irritably. He stretched out the paper and held it before his face so she wouldn't recognize him.
The girl quickly leaned over the counter, searching back and forth as if expecting someone. "Brennan?" she called into the short hallway behind the bar. She gained no response. She groaned in frustration, glancing about the room frantically. What was she doing?
Kurtis continued to passively watch her, and he watched her expression change from spastic to fearful as the door indicated more customers. Three older boys entered, glaring evilly at the girl as they stepped closer to her.
"Do me a favor and go away," she said quickly.
The boy pulled the door shut. "Whoa, take it easy, kid," he said in a heavy Cockney accent. "Just checking what's up."
"Yeah, sure," she said. "Like the last time?"
"Emma, we're in high school," he pointed out. "You've got to learn that you can't get away with taking money from us."
"I didn't take any money from you," she argued, although she sounded unsure of herself. She sighed deeply. "I have to go." She moved to leave, but Josh quickly blocked her way again. She stared up at him evilly. "Get out of my way," she demanded.
"You missed a few pounds," he said, gripping her arm as he indicated that she'd short-paid him.
"And you're going to stay a couple pounds short," she said firmly.
The boy shoved her backwards, and she moved quickly, reaching for her pocket. If I could just reach my lighter, she thought. Then, she panicked, realizing she'd left it at home. She did what came to mind first – she reached an elbow up and struck Josh in the head. He stumbled backwards, and she prepared to bolt, but she was stopped by his friends. One of them lurched a fist forward, striking her in the eye. She staggered backwards into the wall, the breath leaving her chest.
Josh leaned forward to take the next hit at her, but as Emily reached a hand up to cover her face, she saw him being pulled backwards and shoved away fiercely. A man stood before her – whoever he was – and glared evilly into the boy's eyes. Emily had passively noticed his presence in the back corner once she'd entered the tea shop, but only now did she realize he was carrying a gun – perhaps he was a cop.
"Get the hell out of here," he said in a cold voice. The last thing Kurtis was in the mood for was a group of irritating high school boys who wanted to pick on some random girl. Of course, it wasn't his situation to be involved in, but he very well couldn't sit back and watch.
"Or what?" Josh asked, folding his arms over his chest in a challenging manner.
"Or I'll handle you myself," Kurtis warned as he rested his hand on the grip of his gun.
The boys' eyes widened, and the next thing Emily knew, they scattered out the door and out of sight. She stared up at the man before her, as confused as she was shocked. He turned towards her, offering her a hand. "Need some help?"
She stared at his hand for a moment, more afraid of the guy than thankful that he'd caused the real enemies to scatter. Then, she handed him her own hand slowly. He pulled her to her feet, helping her retrieve her saddlebag. "Thanks," she muttered. "You do this often?" she asked. "Save distressed teenage girls and what not?"
The man grinned. "Only on Fridays," he said. "You alright? It looks like you're getting a black eye."
"I'll be okay," she muttered. She looked up into his eyes for the first time. Kurtis noted that they were a vivid blue, and complemented her light skin complexion and long brown hair. She almost looks like Lara, but with blue eyes…Kurtis thought passively.
"Well, thank you," she said calmly. She glanced down at the ground where several of her papers were still scattered. She sighed, bending down, and scooped them up with shaken hands. She groaned in frustration, leaning backwards. "You alright?" the man asked.
"Fan-bloody-tastic," she muttered.
The man folded his arms over his chest slowly, then drew in a silent breath. "I'm not good with kids," he admitted, "but you look like you could use a break. Do you want to relax and…have some tea or something? My treat…?"
She slowly looked up at him, nodding. "Yeah, that'd be good. Thanks."
She pulled the bag taught over her shoulder, then moved back towards the direction of the table that he had been at as he followed behind her. Emily wasn't sure who he was, or why he was being so nice, but it wasn't like she had much in the way of friends anyway, and she certainly couldn't return home right away and explain to her mother why she had a black eye. Sitting things out for a bit would do her good.
Emily covered her face as she seated herself at the back corner table, embarrassed by the little tiff she'd been involved in. Safer if I just chill here for a bit, she thought. The man sat himself across the table, handing her a small cup of tea. She smiled weakly in gratitude and took a sip of the beverage. Then, she set it back down on the table, folding her hands in her lap. "So…you have a name?" she asked.
"Kurtis," he said.
"Nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand to shake his. "My name is Emily." She pulled the cup to her mouth, then eyed the gun holstered in his shoulder holster. "Are you…a cop or something?" she asked timidly.
Kurtis glanced down at his gun, then chuckled a bit as he looked up at her. "Something like that."
She took a sip from her tea, not prodding any further. "So what are you doing here in London? You're not from around here…?"
"No, I'm not," he said. I don't even know where I'm from, he thought. "I'm looking for a friend."
"Did you lose him?"
Kurtis chuckled softly. "No, I just haven't seen her in a long time."
"Oh, a woman!" she said, grinning playfully. "Do you like her?"
"You ask too many questions for someone your age," Kurtis said. "What are you, eight years old?"
"I'm twelve, actually," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Sorry. I'm just trying to make conversation."
"Yeah," he said. "So what about you? You from around here?"
"Yeah," she responded. "I live just up the street. My mom usually has me on lockdown though, so I get out of the house when I can."
"But…you don't have an accent…?"
The girl sighed, taking a sip of the tea. "I was born and raised here in the UK, but for some reason, I've always had an American accent. My mom thinks it's ironic because my father was American. She believes it's some kind of 'deeper predisposition of connection to my father whom I've never met' that kept me from having a British accent, but then again, my mom is a kook, so I don't know what else to believe."
Kurtis chuckled. "Is that her talking or you?"
"Her, of course," Emily said, grinning.
"Of course."
"Yeah, my mom is a real ball-buster."
"A-A what?" Kurtis stammered, not expecting such a 'young lady' to talk like that.
"A ball-buster," she repeated simply. "You know…she keeps everyone in check."
Kurtis chuckled. "Yeah, if that's what they would call it…"
Emily took another sip of her drink. "My mom is really overprotective of me, what with losing my dad and all. She said he disappeared before I was even born."
"I'm sorry," was all Kurtis knew how to say.
"What about you?" she asked. "Do you have any kids, or a wife, or anything?"
"No," Kurtis replied hollowly.
"But you're old!" she said. "You're like…eighty! Shouldn't you already be settled down?"
Kurtis narrowed his eyes at her. "You really just say whatever comes to mind, don't you?"
She nodded. "I guess it's my weakness. That's what Mom says…"
"I'm not that old," Kurtis responded. "And just because you're an adult, doesn't mean you have to settle down."
"Fine then," she said simply. "So what do you do for work?"
"Is this an interview for a job, or a casual conversation?" he said, more amused than annoyed.
She giggled, embarrassed. "Sorry," she said. She sighed, tipping the cup upside-down to reveal it as empty. "I should probably get home," she said. "Mom will have kittens if I'm gone too long." She stood up, pulling her saddlebag over her head, and extending a hand in Kurtis's direction. "Well, thanks for saving my life…and buying me tea. I appreciate it."
Kurtis grinned, shaking her hand. "My pleasure."
She turned away to leave, but stopped, groaning in frustration. "I forgot…" she said. "Would it…would it be alright if I perhaps, possibly, maybe…could get a ride from you? I just live up the street…?"
Kurtis sighed. He technically had nowhere to be, except the Croft Manor, and he wasn't exactly up for going there yet. "Why not?" he reasoned, standing. He removed his keys from his pocket and led the young bubbly girl outside.
"So where's your car?" she asked, looking around.
"My bike," he said, pointing the motorbike outside the building.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed. She approached it, bending down to examine its parts. "A 2005 Honda Shadow Spirit, V2-4-stroke engine with a five-speed gearbox and a liquid cooling system! This is amazing!" She looked like a kid in a candy shop, and when she looked up at Kurtis, he was almost shocked. "What's its transmission type? Is it a shaft drive?"
He stared at her in confusion for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah, it is. How do you know all that?"
She shrugged, standing. "My mom owns a bunch of motorbikes, and she's taught me upkeep. When I turn sixteen, I'm going to get my automobile and my motorbike licenses so I can drive all of my mom's cars and bikes!"
"Sounds like a plan…" he said slowly. "Let's get moving." He was still in shock over the girl's quickly-summoned motorbike lingo. Too few smart kids out there these days, he reasoned with himself. She briskly hopped on the back of the bike and held onto him. "No helmet?" she asked nervously.
He revved the engine. "No need," he replied. She giggled as he pulled the bike onto the street, followed by her direction of where to go. He pulled through back alleys, down streets, and nimbly around double-decker buses and black taxi cabs. Finally, he pulled up to a steel-grated fence, and his stomach dropped. He froze in place as the young girl climbed off the back of the bike. She drew in a nervous breath. "Well, this is it."
"This…this is your home?" he asked.
She glanced at him. "Yeah," she said simply.
"What's it called?"
"The Croft Manor," she said. "I know it looks big and glitzy, but it's so cool on the inside. My mom has an assault course, a quad track, and a huge pool inside!"
"That's, uh…" he said slowly. "That's amazing."
She looked down at the ground, kicking at the gravel. "I know it'd be a little weird if I asked you for another favor," she said, staring down, "but would it be alright if you…you know…come up with me to the front door? My mom is more likely to believe anything that anyone else says, and when she sees my black eye, she's going to kick my butt."
"I don't know about that…" he said nervously.
"I promise it's the last thing I'll ask of you," she begged, clasping her hands together and looking up at him pleadingly. "Please, please, please?"
That was the last thing Kurtis wanted to do, especially in this context – go up to the door of the Croft Manor, likely be greeted by Winston, and be standing there with Lara's teenage daughter?
Wait a minute – Lara had a daughter. It was barely hitting him. She was the mother of a twelve-year-old girl. Twelve, he thought. He glanced up at the girl, again noticing the vivid coloring of her blue eyes. This feels strange…he thought hesitantly.
"So would it be alright?" she asked again. "My mom will be cool about it. At least to you…"
Kurtis was ready to throttle the hell out of here and go back to France. You knew she had a daughter, didn't you? he wanted to scream at Garin. But wait – the kid had said she didn't have a father…that doesn't mean Lara is not married, or dating someone, he thought.
He was ready to continue protesting, but this young girl looked so desperate, he almost couldn't say no. He sighed, stepping off his bike and pulling out the kickstand. His insides felt like jelly. "Alright," he sighed.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"
She pushed open the heavy gate and bounded happily towards the front door. Each step under Kurtis's feet weighed heavily as he inched closer to the door. If he would've just come here in the first place, things might've been different. Then again, Lara's daughter might've been hurt worse by those awful teenage boys…
He didn't want to think about their true intentions. Instead, he focused on the tremendous task of walking forward. The girl approached the door and tried the handle, but groaned when she found it locked. She rang the doorbell several times, facing Kurtis. "They usually leave it unlocked…" she muttered to him.
The shadow of a figure appeared in the window. "Uh, oh," Emily muttered. The front door unlocked, and Kurtis took a subtle step backwards. Then, the front door opened, and a beautiful brunette woman stood on the front step, anger in her eyes as she stared down at the young girl, who immediately lowered her head. "School got out half-an-hour ago," she declared firmly. "Where the hell have you been?" She folded her arms over her chest.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she muttered.
"I specifically told you to…" Then she stopped, taking the girl's hands into her face, gasping. "Emma, what happened?" she breathed.
"Nothing," she said, looking in every direction but her mother's eyes. "I, uh…I tripped."
The woman glared at her. "Did Josh Calloway and his friends do this to you?" she asked slowly.
"No…"
"Don't lie to me, young lady…" she warned.
Emily sighed. "Yes," she muttered. "But I can explain everything! You see, I was at the tea shop, and they came in, and then I tried to leave, but they followed me, so this guy –" She pointed back at Kurtis, stepping in his direction. " – came and told them to bugger off, and I was scared you'd be mad, so I stayed a bit longer and…and…" She looked up at her mother strangely, who seemed to be turning ashen as she rose to a standing position, making eye contact with the man behind her daughter. "Uh…this is Kurtis…he helped me get away…" she continued slowly. Emily glanced confusedly from Kurtis to her mother, then back again. "Um…" she said slowly. "And…"
She looked up at Kurtis as a soft grin crossed his face. "Hey, Lara…" he said slowly.
Before Lara could say anything, her gaze distanced beyond where he stood, and she fell straight to floor, fainting. Emily danced around nervously, screams erupting from her throat. "What the heck happened?" she shouted fearfully. She bolted down the hallway, towards where the tech room had been – still was? – while Kurtis bent down next to Lara, feeling her pulse as he pulled her into his arms to cradle her. "Alister, Zip, come quick! Mom's dead!" he heard Emily shouting from the other room.
Kurtis shook his head with a sigh, slightly amused by Emily's overactive behavior. Then, he turned his attention back to the woman he loved, who rested in his arms. This was the last thing he'd expected to be doing when he reunited with Lara.
A rather ridiculous way for them to reunite, but I couldn't help but throw in something especially cheesy XD And how's that for a kicker?! Kurtis was sitting there chatting it up with his daughter without even realizing it...what a fool.
OveractiveImaginer: Totally couldn't bring myself to make him look like a caveman! Haha. Okay...a part of me feels like I've already said that before. Hm...
SGRaider: Welcome to the series, my friend! Don't worry, this is not just a domestic little fiction. There will be a revelation of villian(s) eventually...we just have to let it all sink in.
inmate1099: You know what...I have no idea how old she was. I don't remember what her 'biography' says she is, officially speaking, but let's just say she was...late twenties...and she still looks better than ever!! XD
trfanfrombeg: YOU GUYS ARE NEVER GOING TO DROP THE PAINT ISSUE ARE YOU?!!?!?!? Haha. It WAS funny to say the least, but now it'll be forever embedded in our minds. I should name a chapter 'Paint of the heart' just for the sake of that one mistake. Haha, yeah, but instead of ice cream, I'd find a god card and wave it in his face and say...I'm tormenting you!!! Betcha don't know where that's from, huh? HUH?! XD And hey!! At one point I wanted to be a lawyer!! Haha. By the way, I appreciate the extremly lengthy review. That just totally makes my day!! =D
Alright kids. There ya have it. I'll catch you on Wednesday, alright?! Stay tuned, and write me some freakishly long reviews, okay?? =D
*Yugi: I'm tormenting you!!!*
*Joey: I never knew you could be such an asshole!"
