madimpossibledreamer

        “So, uh…” I hesitate, but I’ve gotten this far and she hasn’t torn my throat out. Might as well keep going. “Why the pretty lady look?” It can’t just be vanity. For all I know, vampire standards of attractiveness—for Reds, anyway—differ pretty significantly from humans.
        Chase’s smile is amused. “Why wear ugly clothes, when you could wear pretty clothes?” That—
        I can get my head around that. So it’s not like her self-worth is tied up in looking pretty for humans. It’s just an aesthetic choice. “There’s also the truth that you humans are blind enough that some accident of birth dictates a good portion of your social structure, and I’m practical, but really. I could rule this city looking like Quasimodo if I wanted.”
        I could definitely believe that. She’s got a strong enough will that she just acts, assuming everyone’s going to fall in line, and for the most part they do, because who’s really gonna argue with a hurricane? That being said…probably me, actually, because I’m that reckless. “Not by yourself. Steel would give you a run for your money.”
        I expect her to frown, the minute I open my unthinking mouth. To hiss, or yell at me, or something. Instead, she smiles, big and wide and kind of disconcerting, like the cat that got the cream. “I’m sure he’d be positively thrilled you return at least some of his regard.”
        I…really don’t want to know what goes on in these political games of cat and mouse. I really, really am better off not knowing.

           It’s too easy to convince himself he’s just dreaming when he goes about his morning routine, making himself a cup of coffee, Galen hovering in the edge of his vision watching the whole process like he’s some kind of wildlife observer.  Gideon would be annoyed by the implications he’s a wild animal, but he’s far too used to the treatment by this point.  It’s what prompts him to brainstorm out loud about another question he could (but won’t) ask.  “What aren’t you telling me?”
           Galen shakes his head, taking the cup out of Gideon’s hands.  He takes a sip and gives another thumbs-up which Matthew is beginning to suspect just might be sarcastic.  Maybe.  “Wrong question.  Answering it would take far too long, and you don’t have the time.”  He nods at the clock, and then the alarm wakes Matthew.  He pauses briefly to wonder if Galen isn’t using some kind of spell to invade his dreams, again, before he realizes that, real or not, Dream-Galen was right.  He doesn’t have the time to be thinking about this right now.

          “What about challenges?”  He’s still glaring at me, as if merely doing so can change my mind.
          I am tempted to point out that Hendricks, at the moment, is challenging my authority by questioning me on this matter.  Perhaps Dresden is already a bad influence.  I do not give in to the temptation.  He has allowances, as my oldest friend.  He will have to accept that Mr. Dresden will be another exception.
          “Nathan.”  My voice is sharp, cutting off any further questioning.  “I have no intention of abandoning Chicago after all of my effort to take and keep her, nor do I have any desire to act on my feelings and court Mr. Dresden.”  He shifts, eyes still mutinous.  “I am not going to show the world a deadly weakness.  I haven’t lived this long to suddenly lose all common sense.  Though I would have expected you to rejoice in the knowledge I am still human despite any efforts on my part.”
          He takes a moment, then snorts.  “Knew that already.”  Doubtless he’s referring to my collections, everything from classics such as The Godfather to more contemporary works such as the fifth part of a certain manga series and even videogames.  I find it oddly relaxing, an easy source of entertainment despite not being far removed from my daily life, as well as a useful source of, shall we say, insight into possible problems that might arise.  One such practical lesson involves the reason why my accountants are cultivated to an extreme degree and paid more than the rest of my organization, excepting Hendricks and Gard.  Still, he relaxes slightly.

( deep thoughts )

          “Come on, Chika-chan, you can relax,” Yuki argues, gesturing at the dance floor.  “Even Majima-san isn’t working.”
          The frown, unfortunately, just deepens as she looks at their manager, who would be making a fool of himself if he didn’t actually look like he knows what he’s doing.
          “I’m…not sure I can,” Chika responds.  “He looks like he’s pushing himself too hard, and you’re not supposed to dance for a bunch of songs in a row.  He hasn’t stopped since we got here.”
          That was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much of one.  He had one glass too many of the draft beer and then started with the dancing.
          “…So he likes to dance,” Erranda states dismissively.
          “It looks like he’s trying to forget something,” Chika continues to disagree, and with her history it lends her words added weight.

           Apollo’s watching the blond really closely when he hands the birthday present over.  If he was someone else, or wasn’t paying so much attention, he would’ve missed it.
           “Ah, that’s…a very thoughtful gift.  Danke.”  Klavier is grateful, but Apollo’s bracelet tightens, just a little, and the blond won’t look at him, playing with his hair instead.
           “You don’t sound like you really liked it.  I could always get something else.”  His finances and wallet will cry a little, but he really wants his boyfriend to be happy.
           “Come on, play it!  I want to hear!”  Trucy’s bouncing.
           “Ahh.”  And a sheepish smile.  “It seems I can’t stop embarrassing myself around you, eh, Schatzi?”
           The thought that pops into his head is ridiculous, but he has to ask anyway.  “You…can’t read sheet music, can you, Klavier?”
           The smile doesn’t shift, but the nonchalant way he places his hands in his pockets says he’s trying to act casual.  “I don’t know why I’m acting as if it’s this big secret; I already answered that question ages ago in an interview.  Nein, I can’t.  I do everything by ear.”
           It’s all Apollo can do to keep his expression straight, but he decides to take a leaf out of Clay’s book to put Klavi at ease.  “So, I guess neither you nor Lamiroir could sight-read?”
           The magician immediately gags.  “You’re the worst, Polly!”
           “Ach, that’s terrible.”  But he’s smiling.  Trucy isn’t, though, and she tackles him off the couch.

          “I’ve been reading…”
          “Always a dangerous proposition, in your case,” Steel interjects smoothly.
          I level a glare at him, ignoring the others.  He adopts the Innocent Child expression easily.  It is entirely unfair that he can actually pull that off.

         It’s my turn to stare at him.  Boggle, really.  Most of my life comes out of left field, but this was unexpected by an entirely different factor of math.  “Harmony’s a Valkyrie?”  My voice might’ve squeaked a little on that last bit, because really, what?
         Steel just smiles warmly, raising an eyebrow.  “Yes.  Problem?”
         “Kendall went to my high school!”  And was a bully, and an airhead, and also looked like a teenager.  She definitely didn’t look like a teenager now, and she hadn’t bullied me as I stormed into Steel’s office, but she still kinda looked like an airhead.
         “Apparently part of a contract.  She told me all about you, Xander.”
         “Don’t call me that,” I respond immediately, low and threatening and trying very hard not to think about all the embarrassing things she probably shared.  “I don’t let supernatural baddies or criminal scum to call me by my first name.”
         “How very Victorian.”  The scumbag takes a sip of tea, enjoying the sight of me spluttering at him.