Adagio
Adagio – musical marking, slow and stately (literally, "at ease")
A/N: Many of us probably have seen a waiter or waitress carrying multiple plates on their hands. Do you know that there was an extreme variation of it, in the middle of the 20th century, on the streets of Tokyo? This service was called 'demae'. Check out the black-and-white photos of the amazing acrobatic noodle delivery cyclists. Modern delivery services are not nearly as interesting!
Chapter 11: Spectacle (Sōkan 壮観)
Circus is an 'entertainment' or 'spectacle' usually comprising trained animal acts and exhibitions of human skill and daring.
Spectacle itself refers to something eye-catching or attracting attention, either in a good or bad way.
Sōkan means 'glory', 'magnificent view', 'show', 'splendor'.
Prejudice, a dirty word, and faith, a clean one, have something in common: they both begin where reason ends. ― Harper Lee
So much for being inconspicuous.
Both Relena and Heero stood from their seats. Quatre was walking towards them, smiling broadly, hands holding a tray of drinks. Relena's answering grin was more from amazement than welcome.
She didn't need an introduction to identify the tall figure next to him. The man was carrying an almost obscene amount of food on multiple trays, precariously balanced upon both hands.
She wasn't sure what reaction was appropriate. From the twinkle in Quatre's eyes, she figured rushing forward to offer a hand was not needed. Clapping, although very tempting, was not exactly pertinent either. She settled on waving, tucking back the grin into a more acceptable smile. Someone apparently knew how to make a grand entrance.
Though the circular table could accommodate up to six people, by the time the mysterious pilot set everything down, there was hardly any room left. His movement was swift and graceful, leaving just enough space for Quatre to put the four bottles of drinks in front of their respective seats. Heero lifted one of the trays and extended one hand, taking the now empty tray off Quatre's hands and sliding it at the bottom.
All of those without a single word of greeting. Okay, she thought. She needed a handbook on military courtesy. Dispensing with formalities might truly be a common practice within circles of trusted allies. She could ask Dorothy, but her friend would no doubt cackle with merriment.
The four of them were still on their feet. She discreetly stayed half a step back, giving the three a few seconds to acknowledge each other.
One visible eye sliding to Heero, Trowa said, "Been a while."
Heero simply nodded.
"It is wonderful to see you both," Quatre's smile was warm and welcoming, catching Heero's eyes before settling on hers.
Relena smiled back, figuring it was her turn to speak. "Thank you for having us."
She shifted her gaze to the taller pilot.
Quatre didn't need further prompting. "Miss Relena, allow me to introduce you to my good friend, Trowa Barton."
"Very pleased to meet you."
Trowa half expected she would shy away from physical contact and was prepared to nod or bow. Instead, she took a step and extended a hand. She shook his hand twice, her grip firm and welcoming. Keeping a direct eye contact, she offered him a serene smile.
The smile didn't quite mask her assessing glance. His slid over her much more subtly.
"Enchantée," he replied. "The pleasure is all mine."
Relena sat down first, giving the gentlemen a sweeping smile. Out of respect and good manners, Quatre remained standing a fraction longer before taking his own seat. Trowa and Heero followed suit.
Despite being originally against the idea, Trowa had found himself looking forward to the introduction. His enchantée remark was quite genuine, he would give her that.
It was interesting, finally seeing someone whom he had only heard about. Quatre's remark was spot on, those aquamarine eyes shown keen intellect. Within minutes of observation, he had noted that she was exceptionally perceptive. The way she stayed back, politely giving the pilots time to greet each other. How she chose the timing to speak.
Clearly he wasn't the only one curious. He could tell from the astute gaze she had when they shook hands. From the look she threw him from time to time as conversation flowed around the table. She could learn to hide it better.
Though he figured she was at a disadvantage. This was his turf, and he had intel. As a public figure, much of her life story was widely known. His was, to say the least, obscure. And kept closely private.
From her appearances in public, a handful of indirect observations, and testaments from his closest friends, he had thought he knew her. In person interaction had drawn quite a different picture. Not an entirely new sketch, but enough to warrant adjustments to a few broad strokes.
She looked... young.
He wasn't sure what to expect, but in his head he had built her to be rather formidable.
A media darling. A place for a hardened soldier to lean on, for a war-torn nation to lean on. Someone whose ideals shaped the fate of the world. She didn't seem like one.
She wasn't any girl either. There were discernible qualities that set her apart from others.
Despite the wide smile and plain clothes, despite the revelry of the carnival, she exuded a quiet nobility. Ability to don a flawless guise was not easy to acquire. Nameless as he once was, the feat still took time for him to master. Posture, eye contact, speech, facial expressions. They often betrayed one's origin. Not unlike Quatre, hers showed her pedigree. A gently bred lady, thorough and thorough. A diamond of the first water.
She had a polished manner befitting her station as a diplomat – reservedly amiable, well spoken, and surprisingly worldly. She made a good conversationalist. Taking the center stage without being self-absorbed, she carried the dialogue effortlessly. She switched from topic to topic, from one partner to the next, ever so pleasantly.
If nothing else, Relena Peacecraft-Darlian was engaging. Careful of striking the right balance, her questions were forward, open without overtly probing. Trowa had the distinct impression that she had made a conscious decision to be lovely – and consistently sticking to it. It was easy to be won over by someone who listened so attentively. Solicitous, with a studied air of friendly complicity.
Perhaps he was not being fair. From all appearances, she was simply trying to make friends. It was just that appearances could be deceiving.
Someone so charmingly modest and cooperative made a natural peacekeeper, yes. But purity and docility did not a crowned queen make. Trowa couldn't shake the feeling there was something else underneath. Nevertheless, the more pertinently he observed her in each parley, the less pretentious she became. Was he mistaken after all?
Quatre, ever a good host, knew how to put out a good spread. One without white linens and five sets of forks, but a grand feast just the same. Now if only she could figure out which cuisine belonged to which course.
Looking up from surveying the food, Relena smiled. "Thank you Quatre, but I can't really eat that much."
Quatre chuckled in response. "I guess I am too used to eat with the guys."
Such was the amount of food that it could feed a small army. The Maguanacs did seem like hearty eaters.
"Is there anything you don't eat?" he asked politely.
"I don't have a dietary restriction, religious or otherwise," she replied, eyes twinkling. "But I don't think that's what you are asking."
Quatre hid a smile behind a fist. "Then I shall be frank. Do you eat street fare?"
"Of course." She laughed openly. "What do you take me for?"
"I suppose I needn't ask," he said. "My apologies, you must have had enough patronizing."
"No more than you had, for certain," she replied in good humor. "I know you did so out of concern. Montezuma's revenge?"
At two pairs of questioning blue eyes and one pair of intrigued green eyes, she elaborated. "Travelers' diarrhea. Sorry, I don't know how it is called up here. Down on Earth it is called by many names. Nile runs. Delhi belly."
Quatre shook his head. "Quite a dramatic name."
"We Earthlings, or this particular case Mexicans, are very interesting people," she said, smiling.
"Oh no doubt," he agreed amiably. "It does make for a better name than dysentery. Or food poisoning."
"Well, if I do get one, hopefully you have a doctor on speed dial," she said lightly, throwing one imperceptible glance at Heero.
"One living in the manor, in fact." Catching on, Quatre replied assuredly. "My very own sister. I'd be happy to introduce you once we return."
"Excellent," she nodded. "Indigestion does make the best first impression."
Quatre laughed. "The very best."
"Merely jesting." Sobering up, Relena promised, "I shall endeavor not to embarrass myself in front of Dr. Winner."
"Oh Iria won't mind, I'm sure." Quatre thought his sister would like her just fine, with or without a diagnosis.
She smiled, carefully arranging her expression into one of a mild interest.
"I confess I know little about these kinds of food." Relena looked around the table. "Care to share some hints? Anything I need to be wary of before biting in?"
Trowa and Quatre took turns mentioning the name of the food spread on the table. Heero chipped in with a few.
There were too many names to remember. Various sweet treats: Beaver Tails, funnel cake, waffle ice cream. A lot of items on sticks: spiral potato chip, corn dogs. One-of-a-kind snacks: blooming onion, flying fried noodles. There were very few which she actually knew. Relena had to acknowledge what a sheltered life she had led.
"I've never had most of them either," Quatre admitted. "So there is no accounting for the taste."
"We shall find out together then," she said courageously. Looking at Quatre in the eye, Relena smiled widely. "You did your research, didn't you?"
"Yes," Quatre replied, a rare boyish grin on his face. "No time like the present. We will never get to eat them otherwise."
Trowa's mouth quirked, "There are places you can order some."
"Your cook can easily make most of them as well," Heero added.
"It is not the same," Relena defended. Quatre smiled broadly, "As she said."
Their display of comradery was met with quiet amusement. The two men ceded the point.
[A/N: Here is another bit of trivia. Montezuma's revenge is a term occasionally used by travellers venturing south of the American border, especially to Mexico and Central America. The disorder is named after Montezuma, the last Aztec ruler before the empire was conquered by the Spanish. Since the gastrointestinal disorder is only experienced by tourists, the condition is seen as retribution for the slaughter and enslavement of the native people. To note, no matter the location, travelers' diarrhea is nasty. End of random trivia.]
"Time to dig in. Usually I'd say ladies first. But in this case…" Quatre trailed.
"I'll gladly take recommendations." Bowing to others' superiority on this matter, Relena smiled. "Anything good Heero? And um, Mr. Barton?"
"Just Trowa is fine. I do know a thing or two. If I may ask, lady, do you prefer savory or sweet?"
"I have a sweet tooth, but the savory ones look very appealing. So both. And no honorific please," Relena said. Looking pointedly at the blond-haired pilot, she prodded, "Any day now, Quatre."
"Beg pardon," Quatre sent her a small smile. "Simply force of habit. Changes nothing, I assure you."
"An honor," Trowa replied, "That unfortunately I can't accept right away. Not the least because we are in public."
Trowa eyed Heero, who nodded. Leveling a meaningful look at Relena and Quatre, Heero said, "Best to avoid names."
He didn't have to say whose. Relena went 'ah'. Quatre nodded.
"Can't be helped then," she smiled. "I'm afraid I don't have a pseudonym. Speaking of which, yours is… a stage name?"
"A code name," Trowa replied, casting a furtive look at Heero.
A light of recognition flashed in her eyes. "If I may be so forward… have you ever thought of changing it?"
"Not too long ago, an old friend asked me the same question." A shadow of a smile flickered through his green eyes. Quatre, who had held his breath after hearing the question, was watching him closely.
Relena noticed. Upon a split second of deliberation, she pressed. "It is a no, then."
Trowa shook his head. "Never thought I'd ever say this, but… I am rather attached to it now."
There was a beat of silence. Quatre looked like he was about to say something, hesitated. Trowa saw how Relena took it, catching the exact moment when she threw caution to the wind.
"Even the last name?" Quatre looked at her in surprise. Heero's face was unchanged, but his eyes sharpened as well.
The question, to any other people, was neutral. To those who knew, it was biting, overstepping. Her quiet, gentle delivery lessened the effect to a degree, as with the direct, unmalicious gaze. Still, if Trowa came here predisposed on disliking her, it would have raised his ire.
Trowa's reply was equally calm, "As you with yours?"
Relena bowed her head, rebuked, but still held her gaze on him. "Forgive me, you don't have to answer that."
"Only if you extend me the same grace," Trowa said. "Truthfully, I have thought to do away with it. The surname."
Relena nodded, apologetic smile still in place. Quatre and Heero maintained impartial looks, but they would agree that the Barton name didn't come with the best association.
Now that he had a real family name… Trowa had told no one. Not even Catherine. Odd how one question went straight to the heart of things.
"Not that it really matters." Keeping his eyes on her, Trowa began, "After all, that which we call a rose…"
Recognizing the line, Relena supplied, "By any other name–"
"–would smell as sweet," Quatre finished.
While Relena exchanged a look with Quatre, Trowa did so with Heero.
A name, Trowa thought. Those who never have one.
Relena turned to Heero, who readily met her eyes. Trowa did the same, catching Quatre's gaze.
Those who are saddled with theirs.
Silver spoons and golden cages. Those with, those without. They couldn't be further apart.
Yet across the great divide, a strand of connection remained.
"Back to the more pressing issue, food." Quatre, circumspect of others' feelings, switched topic.
"I can be the vanguard," Trowa volunteered.
"Then I'll be the navigator," Quatre replied, getting into the charade. "Support and backup, Heero?"
"Hn."
Smiling at the banter, Relena said, "I await good tidings from you gentlemen."
"Not so fast, my lady." She raised both eyebrows at Trowa. "We still need a rearguard."
Taking both the honorific and the appointment gamely, she replied, "I'll do my best."
Just like that, they were a team. And there were no hard feelings.
They were discussing the performances that the circus did. Relena couldn't remember what exactly started it, but Trowa ended up doing more acrobatics on their table.
It began innocuously enough, juggling some water bottles. He started with two, then three, then four.
Clapping seemed appropriate this time, so Relena did so. "That was amazing. How many items can you juggle?"
"I can do 5 comfortably." Putting the water bottles back onto the table, Trowa added. "The jugglers in our trope usually do 7 on stage, but I've seen them juggled up to 10 balls simultaneously."
"My goodness," Relena said. "Is it hard to learn?"
"Very doable. There are tools especially made for beginners. Many people can learn to juggle with scarves in 15 minutes."
"Scarves?" That took some time to digest.
Trowa smiled, "Not real scarves. Lightweight chiffon squares. A bit bigger than a handkerchief. It floats in the air longer, making it easier to catch."
"Ah. Interesting," Relena smiled back. "I am bad at things like that, though. It took me awfully long to learn how to spin a ball. Basketball, I mean, on a finger." She made a gesture to illustrate. "I probably can't do it well anymore."
"It is all in the balance," Trowa said. Looking for an item to demonstrate, he settled on an empty tray. Holding it with one hand and shifting it, he found the center point and smoothly spun the tray. That earned him another applause.
"That took me weeks to master." Shaking her head, Relena said, "Don't tell me you can do pen tricks too. You know, the one from elementary school, spinning one using your fingers."
Trowa never went to actual school, but he knew that one too. "Like the devil sticks?"
Laughing, Relena nodded. "Similar."
And of course, the comment had to be followed through. So Trowa spun a chopstick, doing variations: infinity stick, double infinity, extended infinity, reverse infinity. He continued with more advanced techniques: cardioid, twister, flush sonic. A few more localized moves like Korean Bak and Hai Tua. He closed off with a string of flashy and complicated moves that not only involved fingers, but also the back of the hand. Relena never knew there were so many things one could do with a stick.
This time, the round of applause did not come only from their table. His performance had attracted a group of minors. He must have caught their eyes from the time he did the bottle juggling.
"Yo brother, that was awesome." "Do it again!" "Can you do it with both hands?"
Trowa humored the kids, doing another round of spinning, this time using two sticks. He proved to be as dexterous with his left hand as he was with his right.
Hiding a smile, Relena stole a glance around the table. She noted Quatre's faint nervousness, Heero's discomfort. If this continued, there might be a risk of people recognizing her. Or Trowa. As a performer, he must have gained fame in his own right.
The second round of applause was more enthusiastic than the first. Trowa ended with a graceful bow.
The adults had come to fetch their children. "Gosh, we are so sorry." "Let's go back to our own table, dear." "Don't go bothering these nice people, hm?"
The kids didn't seem to lose their interest yet. "But Mom!" "Not yet, Daddy."
Oh dear, that's not good. While thinking what to do, Relena noticed a couple kids looking at the food on the table.
Quatre had bought so much food that there were plenty of leftovers, completely untouched. One young girl in pigtails stood quietly on Relena's left, eyeing a bag of cotton candy in the same pink hue as her dress.
Taking the bag, Relena bent down. "Do you want it, sweetie?"
Eyes big with glee, the girl exclaimed, "Yes!"
Looking at the parent standing behind, Relena said. "With your dad's permission, of course."
The pigtails swung as she turned, pleading, "Can I take it, Daddy?"
The gentleman winced. Relena quickly caught his eyes, mouthing 'it is okay'.
"All right," he agreed, to his daughter's cheer. Taking the girl's hand, the man sent Relena a grateful nod. "Now come along, Mom is waiting."
Quatre being Quatre, he had noticed the other children's gaze. He shared a look with Relena, who nodded. Turning to another boy, he asked, "Would you like some too, buddy?"
One by one, Relena and Quatre addressed the kids. Alternatingly assuring the parents that it was quite all right, they ended up giving away most of their food. Especially the ones that could be eaten on the go. Corn dog, grilled mochi sticks, deep fried mushroom.
"Thanks Miss!" Laughing, Relena replied, "Not me. Thank the big brother over there."
"Thanks Big Brother!" Quatre's eyes crinkled, "You are very welcome."
When they ran out of things to give out, Relena took a plate of candy treats. "Do you know what this is?"
A hand shot up. Smiling, Relena pointed at the kid. "Mr. Spiderman. Can you tell us what it is?"
"It is a nitro candy!" he said excitedly. Looking at the other children, he explained, "You bite in, there's smoke coming out of your mouth."
He breathed 'hoooh'. Another kid said, "Like in the vid! Dragon breath time!"
A murmur of interest went through the rest.
"Sounds exciting, yes?" The kids turned back to her. Relena said, "I'm happy to give this to you. But you all will have to share. Can you do that?"
Nodding vigorously, they chorused 'of course'.
Off they all went, cheerily running to their respective parents, chattering about an amazing mister who could do tricks and a nice miss who gave them dragon breath candies.
It finally went quiet again.
"Well," Quatre grinned at Relena. "I think we are done promoting the food stalls."
Relena smiled. "Kids are so honest."
Children were indeed very impressionable, Trowa thought. Not only she sent them away so effectively, now they were less likely to remember the actual people. Only the food, the experience.
"They made a great audience," Trowa commented. "It doesn't make for great income though, being a street performer, doing live shows for kids."
"Oh my," she put a hand on her chest. "I should have gone to collect your performance fee."
Relena took off her hat, flipping it. She silently mimed a greeter, collecting earnings in a hat. Gesturing to the audience 'come and see, come and see'. Exaggerating her expressions on purpose.
The sheer ridiculousness of it drew a burst of laugh from Quatre. A light chuckle from Trowa. Even the corner of Heero's mouth twitched.
Shaking his head, Quatre said, "You can't run a business, I fear. Not one involving young children. You will give too much away."
"I'll be in the red for sure," she agreed. "But it felt decadent, all of it. I've never felt so good spending someone's else money. Spending tax dollars isn't nearly as gratifying."
Quatre laughed at her honesty. "And today is not done yet. I believe now is the time to see the main attraction."
The last pilot Relena finally had the pleasure to meet was a beautiful man. Not a boy, a man.
She surmised he was older. Not by much. A year? Two? They couldn't be that far apart in age.
Trowa Barton. So far, there were three things she knew about the man. One, he was a former gundam pilot. Two, he was a talented acrobat. Three, he was considered a true friend by both Quatre and Heero. The first two didn't tell her much. The last, however, was a clear mark in his favor.
At first sight, his address was subdued, but striking. He had this measured magnetism, of someone who was used to the stage.
His physique was lean and tall, like a swimmer. Or a dancer. He moved like one as well, loose-limbed and graceful. There was something in the way he carried himself, a self assuredness, being comfortable in his own skin.
Upon further interactions, she noticed he had a good poker face. Expressive eyes. Showy, but unflappable.
She wondered what heritage he came from. What his story was. There was her bad habit again, reading into things, asking too many questions. If he was surprised at the words she allowed to escape, he didn't show it. He had a way to avoid giving a straightforward answer, answering a question with a question. His repartee was swift and sharp, but there was no judgment in his tone. At least, none she could hear.
Overall, Trowa gave out a similar initial impression as Heero. Quiet, pragmatic, taciturn. She quickly found she had pegged him wrong. He talked a lot more than she would have thought. Well versed in a lot of things, he was able to discern her interests and engage them. He noticed how his initial acrobatics with the trays caught her eyes. The follow-up performance he did after, on their table, must be catered for her.
Plenty of street smart. It usually meant less formal education, yet he again betrayed that notion. He quoted classical literature, played the flute. An artistic person. No wonder he got along well with Quatre.
He was very well travelled too. Mostly throughout the colonies, but he had also been to a lot of places on Earth. He probably out-travelled her. His particular occupation enabled him to move from one place to the next, had the benefits of hearing people's stories firsthand. He knew all the recent news, the state of the world.
They had talked about a lot of things. She found she didn't have to carry the conversation on her own. Sticking with open, safe topics, they discussed general politics, their respective work. The men were comfortable enough to talk about the other pilots, their whereabouts and general status. Omitting the names, of course. She figured it was less about trust, more because she already knew about it. They discussed the show, how successful it was. How the collected money would be used, building orphanages, donations to kids hospitals, providing family support services. They talked about the people in the circus, what she might be interested to see, to try. Trowa shared that the ringmaster was considering an offer to set up a residence show in Dubai. That made them talk about the emirate, the capital city. Quatre knew the place well, as expected. Relena's prior visits allowed her to follow along, to chime in. The weather, the culture. Things to note, historical sites, famous landmarks.
Trowa's voice was as beautiful as his countenance. She recalled she had heard his voice before. Long time ago, on the way to Antarctica. It was mesmerizing to listen to, with enchanting low tones that were at once authoritative and lilting.
As attractive as his person was, Trowa played it very low key. He was a hard person to read, seemingly avoid leaving an individual impression on purpose. The occasional flair was impersonal, theatrical. Was that due to his job as an entertainer?
Don't judge a book by its cover. She couldn't even begin to discern what kind of book he was. The cover was carefully blank, and the contents were changing.
When they shook hands and exchanged measuring looks, for an odd second it felt like seeing herself. She no doubt had a lot more things in common with Quatre, but not in this one aspect. Upon meeting someone new, manners and lifelong habit dictated her to put her best foot forward. She was liable to do so by observing people, waiting for them to make the first move. Trowa did exactly the same. It was like putting two mirrors to face each other. It was a dizzying sensation. Unsettling.
If he didn't choose a life on the stage, he would make a good politician. Or an undercover agent.
Really, all she had were conjectures. With little to go with, she was only piecing together her personal impressions, bits of it. She might be totally off the mark, and had no way to actually tell.
She might not know Trowa well, but she was fairly sure he wouldn't be very forthcoming about who he was. Not anytime soon, at least. From how Quatre and Heero reacted, the small bit he shared earlier was rather out of character.
That was perfectly fine. Going into their acquaintance, she had planned to put her faith in him. What she perceived didn't affect that decision. The tokens of trust from two of her closest confidantes were more than enough. It never really bothered her anyway, being friends with people who kept secrets. Objectively, she was used to it. Personally, it actually made things more interesting.
They made a deal before even heading into the circus tent.
No fire. No rope walking. No acrobatics. Nothing overly dangerous.
Relena half-heartedly joked that it would exclude almost everything. But Heero didn't back down.
"That's quite all right, Miss Relena. I'm sure we will find something." Quatre, ever optimistic, encouraged her.
"All right," she conceded. "I always want to learn how to juggle."
In the end, she did more than just learning how to juggle.
Heero recalled how he wished Relena could be more selfish. He regretted that wish. He should have said no when Quatre made the offer to visit the circus.
"I'll have to shoot the lion if it attacks you."
"Heero!" Relena exclaimed, aghast.
"There will be no need," came Trowa's calm voice. "The lion has an electric collar."
Relena shot a shocked look at Trowa. Her blue eyes went steely with censure. She was against abuse. Of any kind.
"For security, my lady," was his answer. "We never use it once."
Her smile was tight, but she nodded understandingly.
"I can't see why she has to go by herself," Heero said exasperatedly.
Trowa also had a ready answer to that. "More people will agitate the lion. It increases the possibility of it turning violent."
He saw how Heero reacted to his reply.
"The trainer will be there. I will be there." Trowa left the rest unsaid. I'll kill the lion myself if it really comes to it.
A brief touch of a hand broke the heated glare from those dark blue eyes.
"If you really think I shouldn't, then I won't," Relena said, voice soft.
Heero relented.
The dark look he sent Trowa transmitted a message. If something were to happen, it wouldn't be just the lion getting shot.
They went to feed the lion.
Trowa brought with him a bucketful of assorted meats, raw chicken legs and beef ribs. They used a pair of long tongs to slip the chunks through the bar cages. He demonstrated how to do the feeding. Once, twice.
The third time, he held a fist in front of the bar. Expanding it into an open palm, he commanded, "Say hello." The lion raised a paw.
That delighted her. She looked at the lion straight into its golden eyes. "I don't think you are a Simba. You are more a Mufasa, aren't you?"
Trowa handed her the tongs, letting her take a turn. She did exactly the same thing he did. The lion snatched the meat off the tongs. Relena didn't flinch when the lion made growling noises, when it opened its big toothy mouth.
"Tasty? Do you like it? More?" She turned to both him and the trainer. "How many can I feed him?"
Cam Rohan, an animal tamer and a half-gypsy, was no stranger to eccentric people. Humoring a young, noble lady who enjoyed feeding lions was not above him. "Not too much, my lady, if you still would like to see some performance."
Grinning, she nodded. "That sounds lovely."
A while later, Cam took them to the bigger ring, one used for training. Snapping his hand to make the lion follow him, he opened the cage door.
Relena eyed Trowa, quietly asked, "Do I need to stand outside of the ring?"
"No, here is all right." Looking very composed, she didn't seem to ask out of fear. A warning wouldn't hurt. "Keep your distance. Don't make any sudden motion."
She nodded.
Cam set up the stools, a circular hoop. He smoothly commanded the lion through a short routine.
Whether or not she took the warning to heart, Relena's excitement was quite reserved. No loud clapping, no high-pitched squeals, no boisterous shouting. Her eyes were glued to the action in the ring. She voiced encouragement, words of praise, clearly and distinctly, towards both the tamer and the lion. She kept her distance without needing to be reminded to. Even when the lion prowled close by, she maintained her calm. Her eyes lit up, but she did not reach out, did not try to pet it.
"That was amazing!" Elation transformed her entire visage. "The lion was just walking, but he was so swift. The jump was powerful. Cam, you made lion taming looks so easy. Both lions and lion trainers are amazing."
Performers lived for commendations, and hers was especially sunny. Cam laughed. "Did you hear that, Christian? You have been praised."
Exchanging a look with Trowa, Cam ventured, "Would you like to try it, my lady? Just a little."
"Me?" Relena looked a little taken aback, but enthusiasm won. "Yes, please."
"Hold on to this stick and just point it to where you want the lion to go." Cam handed him the long pole. "Don't be scared. Trowa and I are with you."
She slowly stepped onto the center of the stage. Cam had his whip in his hands. Trowa put his hand on one pocket, thumbing the electric collar button.
Both men thought she would wave the stick around. Maybe did the sit/stand command. They were ready to take over when she faltered.
There was no such thing. Relena did the entire routine.
All traces of giggles and girlishness disappeared. It was like a switch flipped on. Like she was on the podium, about to give a live broadcast speech. The slate was hit and the camera was rolling.
She used her orator voice, deeper, louder. Her presence felt several times bigger, commanding attention. Her calm voice carried through the space, filling in the arena. She issued order with authority, as if she had every expectation it would be followed.
Granted, she was no animal whisperer. She simply mimicked the instructions Cam had just showed her.
Come. Go up. Jump. Sit. Stay.
Calling the lion's name. Christian. Good boy.
Her hands were as steady as her voice, as her gaze. Notably, she didn't look back at them once. There was no sign of beginner's nervousness. The all too common urge to check with the more experienced people, if one was doing things right. She exerted dominance, confident enough not to ask for help or assistance.
And from the beginning to the end, the lion followed.
Cam's exuberant claps made Trowa clap as well. That was certainly something.
"Do you have experience dealing with wild animals, my lady?" Cam's question was not mere pleasantry, he was sorely curious. Not that Trowa couldn't relate.
After handing the pole back, Relena had reverted to her usual self.
"No," she mildly answered. "I just figure I should follow the same methods you and Trowa are using. It is a bit like training a dog, isn't it?"
Cam's pearly white teeth were visible against his tanned skin. "Exactly. Firm hands. Treats. Lots of praise."
Relena smiled. Trowa watched the exchange quietly. For all the efforts she spent to look unassuming, she was doing a rather poor job of it. If Cam knew that the eccentric young lady wasn't just some rich noble, he would have a heart attack.
Going to the lion, Cam said, "Let's go, Christian."
The lion lifted his giant head, slowly getting onto its feet.
"Bye Christian." It picked up Relena's voice, turned, sat back down. Did it confuse whose order to follow?
Relena was surprised too. She looked at Cam, then at the lion. She made a small gesture with one hand as if saying 'go on'. Unlike dogs, lions didn't understand that command. The lion just stared at her, golden eyes unmoving.
"Christian," Cam called. The lion's ears perked, turning his head to its trainer. But it made no movement to follow.
"Boy, he usually doesn't act like this." The last person whom the lion took on as quickly was Trowa.
"Um, maybe it is more comfortable to be in the arena? The cage is rather small." Cam didn't have the heart to refute her. "Can we let him stay for a few more minutes? Say five?"
It was hard to reject a sincere request from a pretty lady. Cam agreed, provided she promised to remain a safe distance away. The lion laid down when being told to, appearing content to stay and look at her.
Her concerns of animal abuse put to rest, Relena watched the lion fondly. "He looks very well taken care of."
Shifting those clear blue eyes to Cam, she continued earnestly, "You are a wonderful trainer. Thank you for the experience."
"My lady," Cam bowed with a flourish.
When it was time to go, she got permission to step a little closer, still accompanied by both the tamer and Trowa. She bent down and showered the lion with words of compliment, which were answered by an almost affectionate sounding growl. She left him some meat as a reward before stepping back carefully. The lion stood up to follow her.
It only stopped when Cam commanded so. The lion watched her until she was several feet away, before going back to eat the meat.
"My lady, if you ever tire of politics, you can consider becoming a tamer." She won over not only the lion but the trainer too, apparently.
"No, no," Relena laughed. "You and Cam were there and showed me the tricks. Christian trusts both of you. He wouldn't follow me if I were by myself."
Maybe, Trowa thought. Maybe not.
She picked up his lingering deliberation.
"I must admit I cheated. I lived in South Africa for a couple years when I was a child," she disclosed, her tone lightly conspiratorial. "Whenever we went on safari, my most favorite place was the Veterinary Care Center. There was never a grown lion there though, only a cub."
Ah, there was that then. Still, safari or no safari, he didn't think a normal girl could get a lion to follow her commands like that.
Heero didn't appear to be surprised when Trowa went to tell him the story.
He confirmed what Relena said. She was used to animals. She did horse riding at school, and fairly well at that. She used to have a large, well-trained pet dog.
He confirmed the more unusual bits of information as well. Yes she did live in South Africa when she was younger. She said at one point she had wanted to be a veterinarian.
He eyed Trowa warily. Yes, he wasn't surprised a lion listened to her.
Trowa didn't bother to hide his amusement at that.
They had to pass trying out the unicycle.
Not only because of Heero's adamant objection, but they also considered Relena's attire. She was wearing a dress. That limited the things they could actually try.
Passing by the knife throwing board, her eyes lit up. Relena had looked particularly animated when Trowa told her about his performances with Catherine.
One hand pointing to the board, Relena didn't even get to open her mouth to speak. Three dissonant voices had resounded instantly. The mental image of her, tied to the board, rained on by knives, was apparently too disturbing to confront.
Heero's alarmed, "No."
Quatre's concerned, "I don't think that's a good idea."
Catherine's astonished, "Oh no you don't."
"Quatre, I thought you were on my side!" Relena exclaimed, sending him a betrayed look.
"And Miss Catherine, no?" she asked, disappointment plain in her voice.
"I am very flattered, my lady." Trying to frame the rejection as nicely as she could, Catherine said, "But I really don't want to explain how a scratch made its way to your beautiful skin."
Relena turned all her attention to Catherine.
"But there won't be any scratch." Her voice was reasonable, confident. Eyes sincere in her plea. "I know you don't make mistakes."
"Well…" Bemused, Catherine eyed her brother for help, "Be as it may..."
Trowa, thoroughly entertained by the entire conversation, sensed that his headstrong sister was about to capitulate to Relena's demand.
He threw her a lifeboat. "How about we show you the experience on the other end instead? Cathy can teach you to how to throw knives."
"There's a good idea," Catherine jumped on it right away.
"That sounds wonderful too," Relena agreed.
With two votes in her pocket, she turned to Quatre. The blond pilot gave her a deer-like expression, caught in the headlights. The answering look in her eyes was one of tender expectation. Trusting. Surely her dear friend wouldn't desert her this time.
A tight smile on his lips, Quatre foresaw a shorter battle if he was to surrender. It didn't make him feel better about the casualty. Sorry, Heero.
Relena nodded, taking her third vote. Now that she got the approval of the majority, technically she could override the conventional power of veto. But she would prefer to get a full vote.
She turned to face Heero. Not smiling, not frowning, not saying anything. They stood like that for several seconds, engaged in a silent battle of wills.
Heero broke the gaze first, closing his eyes in displeasure. The rest of them knew that Relena had won.
"It is perfectly safe, Heero," Quatre consoled him. "The training knives are much duller than the real ones. They have gloves, protective shoes, and everything."
Hiding his own smirk, Trowa added, "I'll go with them as well."
"That was a spectacular performance, my lady."
Relena looked up at the taller pilot innocently. "What do you mean?"
Trowa could almost buy it. Almost. "The one just now, with Heero. You really don't want to experience being the target, do you?"
She hid a smile behind a delicate fist, eyes sparkling mischievously. "I kind of do. But yes, I actually aimed for the pass to do the throwing."
That made Trowa laugh out loud.
Catherine looked at the two of them in shock. "My lady!"
"That was a negotiation tactic, Miss Catherine. I am sorry for putting you on the spot." Relena looked at her, contrite. Her blue eyes were soft, unlike how intense they were just a few minutes ago. "Though I truly do believe I am in safe hands. You are not one to make a mistake."
It was Catherine's turn to chuckle.
"And please, both of you, just call me Relena."
She ended up missing all the targets except for one, but it was a very fun experience regardless.
"I like her."
Trowa wasn't surprised at that comment. "You and eight billions other people, sister."
"I must admit I was prejudiced against her." Catherine shook her head. "But now, I think I understand why she is so beloved. She has the brain, the guts, and that interesting combination of childish guilelessness and mature earnestness."
Not just those, Trowa thought. "Don't forget the canny sense of humor. And the silver tongue."
"Right." It wasn't hard to agree. "Even in my eyes as a woman, she is very charming."
"Moreso in the eyes of a male," Trowa remarked. "Including lions."
Catherine raised an eyebrow at that.
"Actually, I wasn't even talking about her physical appearance." With a faraway look, she prophesied, "In a few years' time, she is going to become seriously beautiful."
"Heero is going to have to beat suitors off with a stick," Trowa acquiesced. Death glares won't be enough, my friend.
"I really don't get why she is with that guy," Catherine shook her head in bafflement. She still saw Heero as a bad influence on her only brother. "She can have anyone in the world."
Truly, Trowa mused.
He, an accomplished liar, nearly got tricked. By an upright person.
Despite the immediate qualities that made her distinct from a regular person, he was somewhat disappointed with what he had found. He had thought she was a little too sheltered, a little too bland. A little too straightforward. An artless, innocent princess.
Deceptive, that was what she truly was. The way she interacted with others was the most telling. If they only had a brief, short introduction, he would never see it at all.
Oh, there was no elaborate ruse or acting. Relena drove a hard bargain, had her way with words. But she was not one to wear masks.
If one were to dwell on technicalities, it was not outright falsity. Deception didn't always mean manipulating the truth. There was also lying by omission.
The portrait he had taken of her earlier was accurate. But it did not show the entirety of her being. Those with expertise in paltering knew that the most convincing lie was one that had an element of truth in it. If that was true, it would make her the most sincere swindler he ever knew.
There was a term for it. A multi-faceted person. Like the play of light on the diamond's surface.
All the facets on that bright surface were truly hers. He was able to see this aspect after watching her interacting with others, with a wide range of audience. A younger person, an older one, a peer. A stranger, a confidante. Her closest partner.
There were characteristics that remained constant throughout. The quick thinking, the easy charm, the inherent kindness. It showed in different ways depending on the situation, whom she was addressing.
A gem shined differently depending on the cut. Most people, sadly, had negative capability. They would only see the dazzle, not the cut that created the brilliance. More observant people, like his sister, would pay attention to the side angles, the layers. Some would see more, some would see less.
A regular person, armed with the right tools, could easily differentiate a glass and a gem. A jeweller would be able to distinguish the more expensive diamond from a lesser one, say, a white sapphire.
A master jeweller wouldn't mistake a diamond. And she was a diamond all right. Looked like one, made like one, shined like one. Not even a synthetic one. All stones, formed naturally, had inclusions. Hers were negligible enough not to be visible to naked eyes, more a birthmark than a flaw. The rough edges, the imperfections, only added uniqueness to the crystalline.
It was not the imperfections that drew his eyes, that brought about the deception accusation. It was her unorthodox, spitfire charisma.
In a stable environment, she was so docile, colorless in appearance. Put her under pressure, under a different light, and she would emerge as a color changing diamond.
If he was to use color as an analogy, she would be an Alexandrite. Not a color shifting stone, with a mild change in hue. She would be an heirloom quality gem, with a distinct, dramatic color change. Emerald by day, ruby by night.
He was only beginning to get the sense that she was more rebellious, opinionated, reckless than most people think. How many souls, he wondered, saw behind that single colored persona? Beyond the soft-spoken, well-mannered lady aspect. Beyond even the multi-faceted surface. Quatre did. Heero did. His own sister didn't.
He felt like getting admitted into an exclusive group. She could have turned down the light, preserve the calm surface, evade questions. Just like he did to her. But she didn't. The privilege was likely a sign of trust. A rather big return present for the tiniest modicum of honesty he had shown her at lunch. Unlike him, she was quick to place faith in people. That was true to form too, except that he now knew the idealism was not solely driven by naivety.
Her unconventionality had drawn him to her as a character. It wasn't just the shine, the color-changing trait. There was the rectitude, the resistance to stain. The story about her Romefeller coronation was much more believable now. How many people could take on life altering forces, without losing who they were inside? When called for it, she had shown no cleavage, no tendency to break when struck. The axe had been the one shattering. Ten out of ten, that would be the strength of a diamond.
If it was to be compared to gundanium… No, that was a foolish comparison. She was not a soldier. A fighter, nonetheless. The way she handled Heero, interestingly, was an answer enough.
Relena Peacecraft-Darlian was a literal crown jewel. A rare gem, which, if his sister prediction came through, would shine even brighter. With her choosing to fulfill her calling as a peacemaker, there would be no hiding the light.
All those people who saw the beauty, but not understanding it? They could still covet it. Among those, there were bound to be some who got consumed with envy, with the yearning to possess. Power and beauty made a dangerously attractive combination.
Quatre thought that Relena was the one who had a hard time dealing with Heero. Acknowledging both as friends, he hovered by, with every intention to help.
After today, Trowa thought it was rather the opposite. But he too, would be there to offer his aid, when needed.
They were in a car, heading back to the Winner family mansion, where they would stay overnight.
"Were you very mad at me?" Relena asked plaintively, referring to the lion and the knife throwing.
Heero cast her a look before staring back at the road. "No."
He must have sounded unconvincing. "Trying things out was the point of this visit, wasn't it?"
She was being reasonable, but it didn't give him the peace of mind it usually did.
Responding to his silence with an apology, she said, "I'm sorry if I made you upset."
"I was not upset," he said. "Concerned."
She smiled. "Sorry that I worried you, then."
His 'no' came out rather weak. He was rather mad at himself. He couldn't seem to say no to her these days.
He really didn't want her to know that.
Instead he said, "I should be the one to say that. You couldn't watch the actual show."
Relena shook her head. "That would be pushing it."
Most of the trope members didn't know her identity – only the ringmaster and Catherine did – but they liked her enough to invite her to stay.
Staying for the show was not on the itinerary. The intent was to explore the backstage, to meet the performers. Heero had considered changing the plan, but it was too fraught with holes. The circus tent only had one entrance, which would make a quick escape difficult. The audience was not screened.
Trowa would be performing, so that meant less coverage. Quatre would be there, but he was scheduled to watch the show with people from his company. They were the sponsor, and it was the last weekend of the show. Relena couldn't sit with Quatre, in the seats of honor, and remain incognito.
They could sit separately. But it meant getting stuck in an enclosed area for several hours. With no allies, no easy way out, in poor lighting. There were too many people. Noises from the crowd would make it hard to quickly identify threats. It was too risky.
Relena's excuse was that she was feeling jetlagged and would like to retire early. There were disappointed looks, but they were understanding.
"And they gave me an impromptu private show instead." Relena smiled, leaning back in her seat. "That was actually more special."
It was rather short, but apparently it made her happy. Between her and Quatre, they had donated a generous sum. Heero had not bothered to look up the exact amount. Somehow he figured the warm reception was less monetarily incentivized, more personally motivated.
And the circle of people she was on first name basis had expanded once again. In the span of half an hour, they went from 'my lady and Miss Catherine' to 'Relena and Cathy'. Trowa had taken to call her by first name as well, at her insistence. One of these days, she claimed, she would get Quatre to call her without honorifics. Quatre simply smiled.
Wearing an open smile, she had said her thanks. "Thank you for today, Trowa. I had so much fun."
"Ever happy to be of assistance to you, my lady," Trowa had replied, bowing over her hand. At her raised eyebrows, he gave her a wink. "Relena. Call on us anytime."
Heero thought the wink was completely unnecessary. But it did make her laugh.
She waved everyone goodbye, wishing them the best of luck for the show. And had not stopped smiling since.
He should thank Trowa. And Quatre.
Relena apparently thought the same. Already planning to send them thank you notes, she went to rattle off Trowa's sister name, the lion tamer, the Circus master and half a dozen other names. As always, she was really good at remembering names and faces.
All right, Heero thought. They could thank them together then.
It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious. ― Oscar Wilde
A/N: Phew, that was a long chapter. But Trowa and Quatre were such fun to write… unlike some other silent heroes. *side look*