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| Emperor of Mortification; between two large potted plants | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 25 2009, 08:20 PM (887 Views) | |
| Zhang Wu Fei | Jan 25 2009, 08:20 PM Post #1 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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<< Barely ten minutes inside the palace, Wu Fei considered going home with his tail between his legs. He most definitely --and quite physically-- would have if he had been wearing his Puss outfit. Even in his costly replica of the Emperor's dragon robe, he stood out between the frilly hooped dresses and the exquisite suits like an ugly duckling. Except, he knew he was no swan. The butler who had received him had at least had the decency to not stare and whisper at the person standing next to him. It was truly humiliating. How could he have been so stupid to assume this would be the expensive equivalent of a Halloween party? Wu Fei managed to get a glass of sparkly water from a passing butler and then leaned himself against a wall, between two large potted 'Excuse me, young lady', 'Good evening, miss' -- once more and I'll run out of here screaming! He gritted his teeth. It was simply not worth it. Wu Fei had read some form of Recognition in having received the invitation to this masquerade, but was his presence not merely the result of political correctness? And what did that even mean? And to think, I myself am in the business of enforcing politeness on people. As for Maxwell -- Wu Fei did not really feel like hitting him anymore. Though, I imagine I *would* feel substantially better after laughing and pointing at Maxwell's Pussy outfit. He opened his eyes and sipped his drink. Once he felt less like a beacon, he would try and see if he could find Winner -- the only one in the bunch who ever sent him holiday cards and never missed his birthday. |
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| Quatre R. Winner | Jan 25 2009, 09:33 PM Post #2 |
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Your Master
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>> The world was starting to get blurry around the edges as he passed through the set of double doors into the gallery, his fierce blush from Heero's bow shot to the waiter's forehead still very apparent. With labored steps he ambled through the throng of gathered onlookers and searched around for a nonalcoholic beverage. He had heard once that water was a great way to help one's body flush out alcohol so he intended on drinking a gallon of it, if only he could get his hands on some... He rounded a small table of assorted nibbles and snacks. He found a cluster of full glasses on a tray nearby but to his dismay they all smelled like Trowa and Heero's breaths combined. (WHEW!) The smell of alcohol cued his stomach to do a fabulous flip. He lifted a hand to his mouth and shuffled up to the nearest potted plant, prepared to make use of it if necessary. As he approached the plant (which was trying to inch away from him) he spotted a magnificent China man standing beside it. "Oh, pardon me-" he began, hoping the man hadn't caught on that he was about to defile the beautiful ficus bush. However, he couldn't finish his formalities. He knew that angry spot between the eyebrows crease anywhere! "Wufei?" |
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| Zhang Wu Fei | Jan 25 2009, 10:25 PM Post #3 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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Mentally counting back from one hundred in Mandarin, eyes closed, Wu Fei felt his heart rate slow to an acceptable speed. Stop it already, Zhang. It's only a big reunion, only a ridiculously formal one. Reaching thirty-seven, he was startled to hear an only faintly familiar voice call his name-- "Wufei?" Opening his eyes wide, Wu Fei nearly fumbled his glass. "Wǒ hěn máng," he blurted out, not recognising the man in the peculiar blue suit, "No-- I mean, yes, I--" He bit his tongue to shut himself up. Blond, taller than him, slightly green around the jaws..? Wait--blond? Friendly voice? ...Winner? "Are you alright?" Wu Fei took a step toward him, one hand reaching out to the man for support, the other cautiously offering his half-full glass of sparkly water. "You really look sick, ..Winner?" One look into those big, greenish eyes confirmed his old comrade's identity. "Do you need to go somewhere? Outside? The restroom?" |
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RP: list || >> || costume, glasses. AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy! | |
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| Quatre R. Winner | Jan 26 2009, 07:23 AM Post #4 |
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Your Master
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Quatre smiled at his old friend through gritted teeth. Wufei's concern over him made him feel very guilty for acting like a pathetic 15 year old boy again, (though he just couldn't help it...) He shook his head "no" and maybe did so a little too fast. The sudden, sharp movement caused the blond's little world to tilt on its axis. Quatre steadied himself by putting his hands firmly on Wufei's shoulders. "Yes... yes, of course I'm all right. How about you? Why are you hiding in here? The rest of the group is in the ballroom, you should *hiccup* go see them..." He wobbled on his feet slightly and gave the Chinese man his best reassuring smile. "You look great, Wufei!" Totter-teeter-totter. A branch from the nearest ficus reached out to steady the obviously drunken blond. Poor Quatre. He had never consumed alcohol in his life but now here he was at his most awaited event of the year, slowly falling into "drunk skunk" mode. He scolded himself silently- or maybe it wasn't silent - since he was mumbling incoherently to himself. I must look like a complete moron, he "Really, Wufei, it is so great to see you. Finally, someone who is sane... everyone *hiccup* has gone crazy. I think it is the alcohol... Wufei-wufei, listen!" He put one hand on Wufei's cheek to make sure the Chinese man was looking at him. "Something isn't right here... I am drunk. Oh no... I'm so drunk, and I can't think. Wufei..." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, "there is something going on ... *hiccup* be-behind the scenes here, and I can't figure out ... what it is." Wobble-hic-lean "I think it has something to do with... the wait staff." |
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| Zhang Wu Fei | Jan 26 2009, 10:51 PM Post #5 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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Wu Fei hesitated; he was not sure if Winner's strange grimace was meant as a warning or as a painful smile, but then the blond shook his head, bangs swaying gently over his pale face. The moment Wu Fei lowered his arms and straightened his back, Winner startled him by putting his hands --and quite a lot of weight-- on his shoulders. Q: "Yes... yes, of course I'm all right." Wu Fei raised his eyebrows at Winner's voice, at how much deeper it had become. As for the faint hint of alcohol on his breath -- that obviously explained some things, but wasn't Winner a non-drinker? Q: "How about you? Why are you hiding in here? The rest of the group is in the ballroom, you should *hiccup* go see them..." "No, no, I'm not hiding," Wu Fei said, cranky with himself for being that bloody obvious even to a drunk non-drinker, "I was... just... thinking. Meditating. Calming down." He gritted his teeth. "Okay, I was hiding. This just is not my type of audience." He paused, lowering his eyes to the glass in his hand. "I had just decided I would try to find you in the crowd, as a matter of fact. Not sure I would have recognised you in this ..suave.. attire." In the corner of his eye, he saw the plant beside him shift. Wu Fei glanced aside and noticed a dash-i-form glimmer at the centre of the plant that reminded him of a zipper. He opened his mouth to make a comment on it, but heard the wobbly blonde before him mumble 'I must look like a complete moron'. Wu Fei glanced up without moving his head and couldn't help but snicker. Q: "Really, Wufei, it is so great to see you. Finally, someone who is sane... everyone *hiccup* has gone crazy. I think it is the alcohol... Wufei-wufei, listen!" The compliments were worthy of an awkward smile. Emperor Zhang felt many things in this place, but even the slightest hint of Sanity was not one of them. Then, the sudden loss of weight on one of his shoulders encouraged him to raise his head. When Winner placed his warm, soft hand on his cheek, Wu Fei's heart jumped. Q: "Something isn't right here... I am drunk. Oh no... I'm so drunk, and I can't think. Wufei..." Wu Fei held his breath and bit down hard on his tongue. Don't panic, Zhang, even if that's exactly what Ming Li said before shoving her tongue down your throat... Q: "there is something going on ... *hiccup* be-behind the scenes here, and I can't figure out ... what it is." He breathed out, ridiculously relieved to have made it through the moment without having to flail his arms and spill his drink. Q: "I think it has something to do with... the wait staff." Wu Fei leaned closer, face serious, taking Winner's hand from his cheek. "The waiters? Why -- what did you see? ... And why are you drunk?" |
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RP: list || >> || costume, glasses. AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy! | |
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| Quatre R. Winner | Jan 26 2009, 11:17 PM Post #6 |
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Your Master
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Quatre realized that he was rambling and watched Wu Fei's eyes flit between emotions, though many of them unreadable to his slightly impaired mind. He smiled and nodded at the compliment on his attire and the Chinese man's admission on hiding. "Don't be embarrassed, Wu Fei. You look great... it is a unique costume. I guess the two of us will have to stand out together." Upon Wu Fei's inquiry of the waiter and his... unfortunate state, he only sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to slow down his brain and try to make sense of things. "Well... while in the ballroom Trowa and Heero were being waited on by a rather suspicious man. At first I thought him to be nothing more than a disgruntled worker, you know, someone who hates their job and takes it out on someone else. But something else struck me as off. *hiccup* One reason was that the man was always ready with another drink, no matter what. He seemed only focused on serving Heero and the others, and hadn't bothered to cast a glance at anyone else. There was something else, too, Wu Fei..." He opened his eyes and hoped the world had stopped spinning. It wasn't spinning, but rather tilted back and forth like a ship on a churning sea. He could deal with that. "I know this sounds dumb, but I think the man made a glass of alcohol look like water on purpose. I had accidentally taken a swig of something earlier, and I kept searching for a drink... well the man showed up with a clear glass - a water glass - though I didn't know it, I drank it all and now I feel terrible." He slid up against the wall beside Wu Fei and stared out into the crowd of people gathered in the gallery. "I never thought of it before," he murmured quietly, just loud enough for Wu Fei to hear, "but even though we are at peace, isn't there danger in this world? You and I both know that you can't just take away weapons to guarantee peace. There are still those who have anger in their hearts. We who fought, we are all here, and helpless. Weaponless. What are we without weapons?" Edited by Quatre R. Winner, Jan 26 2009, 11:37 PM.
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| Zhang Wu Fei | Jan 27 2009, 04:41 AM Post #7 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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Listening to Winner' observations, thinking processes, and hiccups, Wu Fei tilted his head to the side and for a moment let his eyes swerve over the young man's face and torso. Broad shoulders, he observed, manly jawline. I wonder if I am the only one out of 'Us Five' that has not changed all that much over the past ten years. "...and hadn't bothered to cast a glance at anyone else. There was something else, too, Wu Fei..." Discarding the thought, he returned his look to Winner's opening eyes. He nodded. "Go on." He shook his head faintly as Winner told him about how this overly attentive waiter had supposedly given him an alcoholic drink on purpose. Even if he knew Winner had ways of reading people he never quite understood, he was loath to imagine the presidential security agents would be so slack as to let sobricidal maniacs slip through their extensive screenings. ...Though, I'm not sure 'sobricidal' is even a word. Winner may just be on to something, then. "That... sounds strange, not dumb." He raised his glass again. "If you want to wash the taste of the alcohol away -- I am absolutely certain this is sparkly water." When Winner slid up against the wall beside him, Wu Fei noticed again just how much taller his old comrade had grown; Winner Shoulder Height, now he stood upright, more or less equaled Zhang Nostril Height. Intelligent, charming, warm-hearted, filthy rich -- what was the latest People's Magazine theory on 'why this Desert Prince is still single' again? He frowned. I never had a memory for unfounded gossip. Winner's soft musing on the nature of people stirred a melancholy pang in his heart. "We who fought, we are all here, and helpless. Weaponless. What are we without weapons?" If it were anyone else, in any other place, Wu Fei may have cheekily mentioned the body itself is a weapon, so is the mind, and what to think of the politician's words? -- but he full well understood Winner's point, perhaps more than most present who had played an active role in the battles they were now commemorating. He shook his head, staring at the floor before him. "That thought has occurred to me once or twice, but I suppose that comes with the job." He pulled up the hem of his robe and after some wriggling produced his Preventers badge. "Look at me, I'm not only taking my job home; sometimes it seems I need reminding of the thing not being an actual appendage." Nǎosuǐ miàntiáo, Wu Fei mentally slapped himself for sounding like he had much rather liked to be a small-town florist and smiled awkwardly as he put the badge back in his pocket. "If that waiter continues to give you trouble, just say the word." |
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RP: list || >> || costume, glasses. AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy! | |
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| Quatre R. Winner | Jan 27 2009, 07:53 AM Post #8 |
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Your Master
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Quatre gratefully took the glass of sparkling water from Wu Fei's hand and as he did so his pinky finger accidentally drifted across the young Chinese man's knuckles, giving in to this player's need for more Fei discomfort and embarrassment. (Nyar har har harr...) He gave the edge of the glass a tentative sip, like a boy tasting broccoli for the first time. Once he was satisfied that the glass contained no alcohol whatsoever and that it met his approval he chugged down half of it reflexively, having needed water for some time. Halfway through his devouring the drink he realized how rude he was being and forced himself to pull the glass away from his mouth, in doing so giving Wu Fei a blurry, sheepish smile while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Thanks." Simply put, as he handed the glass back to his friend. "Thanks for the help, Fei." Was that even polite to chop up a Chinese name like that? Normally he would have never called Wu Fei "Fei" at an event as formal as this, but he couldn't help it (having called him that once or twice over communication systems during the war...) Even though he was worried about the wait staff and a possible conflict he was oddly relaxed and his inhibitions muffled. So, this is why Trowa, Duo and Heero drink so much. Drinking wasn't so bad, after all. Quatre, being a control freak and paranoid - worry wart - personality, couldn't help but have a negative feeling about drinking at first. The thought of something happening (such as with the waiter) and not being able to fully handle the situation due to physical setbacks, worried him. What if someone were to attack him just now? Would he be able to defend himself if he could barely stand? (Though if anyone were to be comforted in such a situation it SHOULD be him, after all he had an army of What did Wu Fei have? The thought made him feel very sad. He had thought these very same things during the review of mission reports a couple of years back and since then had always made sure to drop a card for the Chinese man, personally, in the mail. He made a mental note that, if he were never to see Wu Fei again after this, to double up on those cards. "Oh, by the way... sing nee-ann koo-why ler, Fei." (BTW, Happy Lunar New Year MOT! 2009.01.26 )sway-wobble-stiffens-smile Being a highly educated little twit, he knew at least how to say "Happy New Year" in Manderin Chinese, a diplomatic and useful sentiment. He had made sure to mail Wu Fei a Chinese New Year card, though he probably hadn't received it due to traveling to the party. Quatre remembered the Lunar New Year was yesterday. He was always aware of such things. He at first wished to inquire about Fei's Preventor duties but somehow he thought the topic would worsen the Edited by Quatre R. Winner, Jan 27 2009, 08:10 AM.
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| Zhang Wu Fei | Jan 28 2009, 10:04 AM Post #9 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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The light touch of Winner's finger trailing his knuckles sent a shiver up the Emperor's spine. He could not muster the decency to keep a straight face as he mentally whacked his Puppet Master soundly in the back of the head (or at least, he imagined there had to be somebody dictating this discomfiting course of events, if only because he had never really noticed having such sensitive skin before). Nay -- his shoulders tensed, his eyes widened at the marvellous sensation, and he stared open-mouthed at the Adonis-politician gulping down the water like a parched camel at an oasis during Happy Hour. What in the eighteen levels of Hell is wrong with you, he chastised himself. Get over yourself, Zhang. Shut your mouth, relax, and -- hey, take back that glass; Winner's not a sign-post! Snapping his mouth shut, Wu Fei took the glass from Winner's hand. He was a bit surprised it was not empty, since it had been only half full to begin with. "Thanks for the help, Fei." The pathetically adorable smile on the blonde's face and unexpected use of his personal name caused his skin to tingle. He pressed his lips tightly together, forcing the corners of his mouth up; a nastily warm feeling flooded across his face. Well done, Black-Haired Demon perched on Winner's shoulder, Wu Fei heard himself think. Wait, since when did he have a female inner voice? He was obviously confused. He gave Winner a nod in acknowledgement and lowered his look, ready to be immersed in a two-and-a-half-paragraphs-long contemplative silence. It was not that he had never been called Fei before, but outside of battle people had always either called him Wu Fei, or addressed him by title and surname. Only his late wife used to call him Fei-Fei (which invariably made him blow a fuse, because doubling a personal name is childish and not usually done with masculine names). Now, there was a thought... Mei Ran --or Lan-Ran, as Fei-Fei had taken to naming her-- had been the Blue Flame to ignite his fuse and proved the catalyst for his change from a scholar to one of the major players in the wars. Blue, the Chinese symbol of Immortality; indeed, over a decade after her death not a day went by without his thoughts dwelling on how his weakness and selfishness had widowed him, at an age most people were still considered children. It seemed a lifetime ago -- and yet the details of brave Nataku dying in his arms were immortal, fresh in his mind as if he had only moments ago looked at that heart-sobbing image from Episode Zero. He was a widower, not a bachelor. Sometimes that realization hit him like a ton of bricks; it made him fundamentally different from his young and ambitious fellow agents at Preventers. They worked, trained, relaxed, and generally lived like they had nothing to lose, whereas Wu Fei had the experience to make him overly serious and the type of baggage to make him overly conscientious. Swept away by his uncontainable adolescent passions during the Gundam Wars, he had not only been a terrorist and a traitor, but also a fucktard and a disgraceful ass. After the last war, he had joined Preventers and bettered his life by being a diligent and dutiful agent. He now had a steady income, a respectable career, a spacious apartment not far from China Town, and two spoilt-rotten Siamese cats called Yǐngzi (shadow) and Yuèqiú (moon) for company; he knew better than to complain, but at times failed to block out the little voice at the back of his head telling him this was no life for a twenty-five year old. But what else could he do, really? Wu Fei shook his head, still smiling his tight-lipped smile, and met Winner's eyes. But what about him, he thought. He must have had it hard, too, the past decade. I can't imagine what it must be like to live life in the spotlight, with too many people to exchange formal pleasantries with and maybe not even a Moon or Shadow to come home to but those forty old bandits. "Oh, by the way... sing nee-ann koo-why ler, Fei." So, Winner had taken the liberty of adopting his personal name to address him; though the intimacy between them this suggested made him feel more than a little awkward, at this moment he rather appreciated being considered a friend. Wu Fei snorted softly as his forced smile relaxed into a real one. "Xīn nián kuài lè," he replied and inclined his head respectfully (as did his motley Puppet Master to the Black-Haired Demon on Winner's shoulder). "Gōng xǐ fā cái -- congratulations and prosperity,--" He paused, biting back the impulse to end the sentence with Rabeb--, Rabar--, ...Rhubarb? Ra-ber-ba. If only I could pronounce it. "--Quatre. Very attentive of you to remember." |
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| Quatre R. Winner | Jan 28 2009, 11:23 AM Post #10 |
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Your Master
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Quatre leaned harder against the wall that he and Wu Fei had found refuge against. His right shoulder felt unusually heavy, as if a chubby squirrel was perched upon it. He also kept hearing an annoying buzzing sound in his ear. He let the thought slip his mind, assuming it was a side effect of the alcohol. As far as his experience thus far with drinking went it was quite a shock at first but he was starting to feel okay now that he was leaning against something and not moving. Every time he turned his head, however, the floor seemed to wobble dangerously; or maybe that was him wobbling. Whatever. He ignored that sensation too, for he was too intrigued with Wu Fei's assorted emotions that flickered occasionally across his intense, dark eyes. Quatre always had the innate ability to sense other people's feelings, even without looking at them. He never considered it a supernatural power, rather an ability acquired from living with a harem of women who constantly fluctuated between extreme happiness and bitter anger. It was something he had to learn to survive in that kind of household. He was glad he had because it proved particularly useful in his line of work. He could tell when a business partner was acting shady, despite their confident and reassuring smiles. He knew who his friends were, and who is enemies were merely by exchanging a few words. In this way he had avoided many potentially harmful situations (financially, emotionally and physically) He had used this ability on all of the other pilots at least once. The first was Trowa, upon their first encounter when they fought each other with their Gundams. Despite everyone's insistence that Trowa was deadpan and emotionless Quatre had immediately seen Trowa's pure intentions. Heero was a little difficult because he had no true intent, but rather fluctuated with emotion in a confusing and patternless rage. Duo was Quatre's favorite read, for he could see with great certainty Duo's pain and history through his mask of happiness and good cheer. Now he stood beside his old comrade, former Pilot 05, and used this ability for the very first time on him. He studied the Chinese man's face intently, hoping that he didn't make it too obvious he was staring. He spotted Wu Fei's discomfort and even detected a slight hint of anxiety beneath the forced little smirk he was giving him. Then a sad flicker crossed his eyes - barely visible. This was harder than Quatre thought it would be. Thoughtfulness, reflection and then consideration and true pleasure finally topped off Wufei's tsunami of feelings. "--Quatre. Very attentive of you to remember." Was that the first time Wufei had ever called him "Quatre" and not "Winner"? He blinked at the sound of Wu Fei's voice speaking his name. To be honest, until he had come to this party he had not been addressed as "Quatre" very often. It was always "Mister Winner" or "Master Quatre" or "little brother". Even the tabloids that had been reviewing his life nearly daily called him "The Winner Heir" or "Quatre Raberba Winner" or "The Prince of Pacifism" (which he found all too ironic). He leaned harder into the wall and felt another deep blush crawling across his pale cheeks. What was he doing? Why, all of a sudden was he starting to feel so awkward, and in front of Wu Fei of all people. An uncomfortable tingle began to run up his back and his breaths came in short, shallow little puffs. That infernal buzzing sound in his ear seemed to be growing louder and was starting to give him a headache. He was beginning, very suddenly, that his feeling was awfully familiar; a sensation he had felt once long ago for another one of their pilot comrades. A feeling that he never officially acted on, nor did he altogether forget. Now here he was, face to face with a man he respected and always admired as a pilot, blushing and acting a fool like some sort of helpless, bubble laced sugary uke. It's the alcohol and only the alcohol, he thought frantically to himself as he squirmed against the wall, and it is just Wu Fei. You like him. You've always liked him, he was a great pilot and a respectable man. That is all you are feeling is camaraderie. Somehow he wasn't able to hear his internal monologue due to the now roaring buzz in his ear. What the hell did that man put in that glass? (Little does he know the drink was the equivalent of 5-6 shots of Grey Goose vodka) As the buzzing sound grew louder, nearly deafening, he began to feel somewhat faint. He hadn't had these feelings for another guy in a long time. Sure, he was an open person, and willing to have a relationship with anyone - however, to the tabloid's dismay - he had kept his life free of any other person for the past ten years in attempt to protect that potential love interest from the spotlight he had been trapped in for so long. No, he couldn't even bring himself to think that he could possibly like someone. It would hurt too much to have to deny those feelings. With his glasses off he realized that his identity had been revealed. He recognized quite a few of the people at this party, and even more of the certified press agents that had been invited to report the party. No, he couldn't start a rumor about Wu Fei. The Chinese man was a secretive, personal and closed person. If he even showed a hint of interest in him it would be printed everywhere: "Winner Heir in Homosexual Relationship with Asian Preventor Agent and Former Turncoat" "Wu... Fei..." his eyes were screwed up and beginning to start blurring as if he were about to cry, "you should go visit the others, they would love to see you. Especially Trowa, you were all he could talk about. He is right through there, in the ballroom..." He realized in the back of his mind that his hiccups were gone, and he had not even noticed it. Funny how hiccups were. Once you stopped caring about them, they would leave. He hoped the same method would work for Wu Fei. |
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