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| Men's Restroom; Where Weridge Keeps his Thrones! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 12 2009, 10:32 PM (618 Views) | |
| Quatre R. Winner | May 12 2009, 10:32 PM Post #1 |
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Your Master
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>> Quatre hurried into the men's restroom and dove into the sink. Luckily the faucets were motion sensitive so he didn't get blood on anything. He shoved his trembling fingers beneath the water and watched as the steaming water run coppery beneath his hands for a couple of moments before fading to clear. Hastily he soaped them up and began rubbing them together vigorously, making certain to get every crease and crevasse. His mind began to wander. First to Colonel Sanders. He remembered the grateful expression on the man's face as he watched him stifle his gunshot wound with his hands. "Young man, you would risk your health for an old man whose years have finally exceeded their limit?" "Everyone deserves to live, no matter your years on this Earth." "You are a rare breed, boy." Quatre blinked and rinsed his hands before applying more soap and repeating the intense hand-washing process. What the old man had said to him was bothering him, pestering his mind. Why wouldn't anyone else help him? Quatre assumed someone would have, he just had made it there first. Right? He narrowed his eyes at the mirror. The person staring back at him wasn't recognizable. He didn't feel like himself dressed like this. He missed his old reflection, the old Quatre that grinned happily back at him in the mirror from before. After scrubbing his hands until they were red and raw he dried them. He glanced in the mirror again and sighed. There was no fun to be had here. People were hurt. Trowa was unconscious, and Quatre figured it was time to take him home. Catherine knew an excellent hangover soup recipe that would hopefully put Trowa in better spirits in the morning. With a frown he rubbed the contacts out of his eyes, disposing of them in the trash. He was done with hiding. He didn't care if anyone at the party recognized him. In fact, the hair had to go too. Carefully he shoved his head under the faucet and let the water rinse out his temporary hair dye. Of course, through the magic of RP it returned to its natural, platinum blond luster. That was better. He studied himself in the mirror again. His hair was damp but drying. The shoulders of his suit were drenched. He disposed of the jacket, leaving himself clad in only the black vest and white tudexo shirt from before. He even went so far as to unbutton the top few buttons to free his neck. He had gotten unaccustomed to wearing dress clothes in the past couple of months while working with the circus. Khaki shorts and white t-shirts had become his everyday attire, leaving him feeling stuffy and silly in a tux. After primping he returned to the mirror and studied himself. It was him. He suddenly felt much more comfortable, as well as immeasurably confident. As he studied himself a small frown drew the corners of his lips down. This party had verified something he had been torturing himself over for the past two months. The need for weapons. If his father were here today he would have face-palmed and groaned, but it was true. Sgt. Hatred was infinitely stronger than most at the party because of his firepower. Firepower that had harmed others. And while the attack could have been avoided, not every gunshot can be stopped initially. "He got away..." Quatre murmured as he clutched the edge of the sink. The faucet sensor clicked on and off a few times, his fingertips confusing its detection. "He got away, and nobody was able to stop him." But he could have. If he had Amity he could have been able to stop him. He could have been able to trace him to his headquarters too. Instead the man floated away in a bulky, impractical hover tank as if he was leaving a shopping mall. And Treize could be dead. Quatre frowned then and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, leaning over the sink. He was beginning to feel sick. His mind was overloaded and stressed, mulling over what could have been. |
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| Zhang Wu Fei | May 13 2009, 08:45 PM Post #2 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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<< Upon entering the Men's Room, Wu Fei barely heard that pained voice over the sound of running water-- "He got away… He got away, and nobody was able to stop him." For a moment, he thought the man with the dripping hair was addressing somebody else, but it seemed they were the only ones in the restroom. …Winner? No costume? The Arab seemed to be unaware of his presence, so he must have been talking to himself. Wu Fei's abdomen tingled unpleasantly. Is he alright? He certainly did not look it. Maybe it would be best to wait for him outside, he thought. Wu Fei hesitated to back out when he saw Winner leaning over the sink, his face pale, miserable. The tingle became more intense. Káo… He looks as awful as I feel. He approached, feet moving on their own, anxiety threatening to clench his throat shut if he would not speak now. "Winner? Just now, what I said… M—my apologies. Please accept." Slapping himself inwardly for faltering, he dug into his bag and pulled forth the tickets. "I have always greatly admired your loyalty in sending me mail over the past decade, but--" He swallowed. "Y—you need no longer concern yourself with me as an old comrade. I need to move on -- today I handed in my badge and gun. It would be wrong to accept these…" He bit his lip and held out the tickets. |
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| Quatre R. Winner | May 13 2009, 09:47 PM Post #3 |
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Your Master
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"Winner? Just now, what I said… M—my apologies. Please accept." Quatre jumped, startled at the sudden stammering voice breaking over the silence of the bathroom. He looked up at the mirror and immediately spotted Wu Fei standing not to far behind him, squirming uncomfortably while holding out the circus tickets Quatre had given him only a few hours before. "I have always greatly admired your loyalty in sending me mail over the past decade, but--" But? Quatre's lips parted in surprise, his little fangs still firmly in place. What was Wu Fei talking about? The torrential downpour of emotions battering his empathy was confusing and adding to his headache. What did he mean... but? "Y—you need no longer concern yourself with me as an old comrade. I need to move on -- today I handed in my badge and gun. It would be wrong to accept these…" Quatre's aquatic gaze shifted from an intent study of Wu Fei's face to the hand jutting the tickets at him. Carefully he reached out with his newly washed hands in a motion to grab them. Within centimeters from the tickets he stopped, frozen by a sudden private thought. He smiled, despite his sadness at the situation, and rather than take the tickets he cupped the former Shenlong pilot's hands with his own damp ones, and squeezed them. "You keep them. Give them so someone you do care about," he said quietly before dropping his hands away from Fei's. "I am sorry you don't want to talk to me anymore, and I don't blame you." Quatre straightened his posture confidently, forcing his face to look as cheerful as possible. "A lot of people have run away from me, and it is so be expected. What I have done is against the order of things, and my actions have offended ideals that run deep within those who have endured the wars of our time. I am just sorry I will have to lose a friend and former comrade..." Cutting ties with friends was a difficult thing for Quatre. Once he had a determination in his mind to befriend someone, he never let it go. A request from a friend asking him to leave his acquaintance could not be ignored, but that didn't stop it from hurting. Wu Fei would just be another person to denounce him. Another name to add to the list of people who, after his arrest and trial, had avoided him or run away. As a matter of fact, everyone had run away from him at some point. Duo had abandoned him at the hospital once to look for his son. Heero had renounced their friendship by selling off those photographs (oh, Quatre knew about that, good sir!) and all of Quatre's business partners and political "friends" had dropped ties with him. To his aching heart it felt like everyone was running away or avoiding him. Everyone except Trowa. The thought of his poor passed out cardboard boyfriend instantly summoned a lump in his throat. Trowa had never run from him. (Well, except that one time when they were boarding the same cargo ship during the war. You know, the time he told Quatre he worked alone... but that's beside the point.) When Quatre was in danger or in trouble Trowa was always there to help hold him up, or carry him across the not-so-hot pavement, or carry the groceries. Trowa was a complete and utter git sometimes, but that was what made him lovable and easy to manipulate. On to Wu Fei, again! "... handed in my badge and gun." That part had stood out in Quatre's mind. So Wu Fei had given up working with the Preventors? Maybe he was giving up everything, and not just Quatre. Something about that made the blond feel a little better. He was quick to realize that perhaps this wasn't as personal as he thought it was. Wu Fei was tormented, and even though he probably didn't want the interference by golly Quatre was going to do what any friend would! Interfere! "You quit the Preventors?" He stated the obvious before backing up and hopping to a sit on the fine marble counter beside the sink. "I thought you loved the Preventors. You seemed so devoted. What are you going to do now? |
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| Zhang Wu Fei | May 14 2009, 12:11 AM Post #4 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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To Wu Fei's surprise, the young Arab did not accept the tickets back. He must have looked like an oaf, staring at his hands as they were enclosed by Winner's. "You keep them. Give them so someone you do care about." Who would that be? Wu Fei kept his eyes fixed on his hands, still holding the tickets when Winner released him. His damp hands had left a chill he could feel crawling up his arms and down his spine. "I do not date, if that is what you are referring to," he said under his breath. "I am sorry you don't want to talk to me anymore, and I don't blame you. A lot of people have run away from me, and it is so be expected. What I have done is against the order of things, and my actions have offended ideals that run deep within those who have endured the wars of our time. I am just sorry I will have to lose a friend and former comrade..." Wu Fei raised his head and studied Winner as he talked to him, wondered at the smile on his face. Those jade marbles shimmered gently as he spoke, almost soothingly. Winner did not fight back. Six seconds ended my career. How many just ended my ties to the former Sandrock pilot? Twenty-six? He clutched the tickets to his gut to try and dull a pang of pain. Bet Sal will take forty-six, and Khushrenada a whopping sixty-six. It dizzied him. At this rate all his ties would be severed in a gross of seconds -- One second for every má jiàng tile, he thought. Like New Year's at boarding school, minus the plum wine. "You quit the Preventors?" Winner hopped up on the counter beside the sink. "I thought you loved the Preventors. You seemed so devoted. What are you going to do now?" "What I am going to do?" Wu Fei laughed bitterly, the sound bouncing off the walls and whacking him in the back of the head. Really, Winner? He did not want much -- only the things he could not have. I want my old life back -- to lose myself in books, be the arrogant and ignorant little twat that does not need anyone, away from people that confront me daily with my inadequacy to establish any type of wholesome relationship. His eyes stung painfully. I want to stop feeling this pain, stop waking up filled with dread of facing the screw-up in the mirror. Even if he would dare pouring his heart out to Winner in this restroom, his reasons hardly seemed relevant -- they were not friends. "Disappear." He snorted and turned his head, afraid Winner would discern the moist that had gathered over his eyes. Edited by Zhang Wu Fei, May 14 2009, 03:27 AM.
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| Quatre R. Winner | May 14 2009, 11:43 AM Post #5 |
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Your Master
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"Disappear." Quatre stared at him, bewildered. He wasn't sure what brought on his surprise. After all, Wu Fei was always wandering off into oblivion. During the war they hardly saw one another, and Quatre assumed that Wu Fei avoided everyone else in that way too. In some respects Quatre had vanished off of the face of the planet, too. During the two months following his conviction he had kept hidden within the Big Top, pretending that life was simple and that nothing had ever happened. It was a good way of coping, but not a permanent solution to the problems that he was facing. With Treize out for the count or possibly dead, there was a blatant issue at hand. The future of the world. They would need a president who could take on the imminent surge of violence that was sure to come. The assassination/attempt was just the beginning. Horrible people like Sgt. Hatred still existed. And now the Preventors had lost one of the few agents who had experienced first-hand the horrors of war. If Wu Fei was dropping out of the race for peace, then Quatre could only assume agents like him were doing the same. Why doesn't anyone CARE anymore? "Why?!" He didn't mean to blurt, or even yell- but his thoughts had given power to his voice. "Why run away. Aren't you tired of avoiding your problems, Wu Fei? Don't you care about the path humanity had stumbled down?" Quatre hopped off of the counter and tore off the vest over his shirt, so now he looked like that super kyoot and homo looking avatar of his. He was angry. Perhaps not at Wu Fei for his decisions, but more so at his own cowardice and lack of trying. "You may not think that the fate of man is your responsibility, Wu Fei but when you first climbed into the cockpit of a Gundam the fate of humanity rested in your hands. Maybe we were too young for the responsibility at the time. Maybe we were the wrong people to take on the task of guiding the world. Relena, too. Maybe she wasn't meant to be the Mistress of Peace... but we were. You can't change history, and you can't change who you are. We were all given machines that changed history, Fei. We each saw firsthand what horrors man is capable of. Isn't it our responsibility to guard what we had worked so hard to maintain? Are we not the only ones who completely understand?" He balled his fists and bit his lower lip, trying to steady his voice. "That is what Treize Kushrenada wants. I know that now. When I hear him speak, I know he tells the truth. I know he wants what I want- a world of peace and justice. If anyone is fit to rule this planet and the colonies, it is him. He had been where we have. He knows. All personality fault aside, he is the man for the job. Just as we Gundam pilots are fated to continue protecting and maintaining world order." What the hell set him off on this rant, he wasn't sure. It had been a long day, and the threat of Treize being dead ... again ... stirred something in the poor little blond. "I don't know what you think about my building the Gundam, Fei. I don't even want to know- just understand that I did it for everyone. I made it as a precaution. A single man can't fight a war, but a single man's intentions can stop one and change the fate of the world." His cheeks grew flush as a sudden thought pierced his mind. He would have to fight the system, something he hadn't even considered before. Especially now that the system may not include Treize, the only person Quatre deemed capable of making sane and right decisions. It was ironic how much faith he had learned to put into the Kushrenadas. Ten years had enlightened him to many things. "You can do what you want, but don't judge me harshly for what I have to do. I hope you understand." |
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| Zhang Wu Fei | May 14 2009, 04:36 PM Post #6 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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"Why?! Why run away. Aren't you tired of avoiding your problems, Wu Fei? Don't you care about the path humanity had stumbled down?" Winner's sudden outburst reverberated through the marble room, startling Wu Fei, making him turn his head to face the Arab again with an expression of surprise. When Winner jumped back to the floor, taking off his vest, it was an angry gesture, which strengthened what he had just said-- …What? Winner seemed to think he was avoiding his problems -- how little could a supposed empath understand? Wu Fei, like he had told Une at the office earlier, had not taken his decision to leave Preventers lightly. He had searched his wounded soul, relived the wars, put his past decade working as an Agent under serious scrutiny. What had he accomplished besides dulling his spirit with paperwork and making his partner hate him? His life had become a chain of obligations, responsibilities, working overtime, being an exemplary automaton of the World Peace bureaucracy. Now, what path was Winner talking about? Had he any idea at all? "You may not think that the fate of man is your responsibility, Wu Fei, but when you first climbed into the cockpit of a Gundam the fate of humanity rested in your hands. Maybe we were too young for the responsibility at the time. Maybe we were the wrong people to take on the task of guiding the world. Relena, too. Maybe she wasn't meant to be the Mistress of Peace... but we were. You can't change history, and you can't change who you are. We were all given machines that changed history, Fei. We each saw firsthand what horrors man is capable of. Isn't it our responsibility to guard what we had worked so hard to maintain? Are we not the only ones who completely understand?" Ah, he indeed hadn't the faintest. Not being able to change history was one thing, but Wu Fei had to hold on to the spark of hope that he could change what he had become. Besides, he had served and protected, he had instructed new Agents that could take his place. His Task had to be over now, before said Task would cause the complete annihilation of his wellbeing. The past five years he had lived through many stages of discomfort and unhappiness, given stupid forms and mind-numbing meetings priority over his own needs. Wu Fei bit his tongue. Winner had no idea to what extent he had already burnt himself up for that precious World Peace -- and the way he saw it, things were going as smoothly as could be expected in an overly bureaucratic world. There would always be struggles, but Preventers should be able to handle them. That is, if nobody would start rebuilding Gundams. He balled his fists at his sides, seeing the man before him do the same. "That is what Treize Kushrenada wants. I know that now. When I hear him speak, I know he tells the truth. I know he wants what I want- a world of peace and justice. If anyone is fit to rule this planet and the colonies, it is him. He had been where we have. He knows. All personality fault aside, he is the man for the job. Just as we Gundam pilots are fated to continue protecting and maintaining world order." At the mention of His Excellency's name, Wu Fei stumbled backward, mouth open. And -- Personality fault? The man is insane! He fancies himself the grand conductor of the Earth Sphere Orchestra! He snorted in disbelief. Now, who was taking the 'easy way out', running from whatever problems there supposedly were? Wu Fei had not been surprised to see the man running his elaborate campaign for presidency; it only seemed the logical result of his state of aliveness. Ten long years of being a Preventers Agent, carrying out the Law, had extinguished enough of his dragon's fire to keep him from going out to kill the bastard -- thus rendering his wife's death unavenged. His adopted ideals of Justice For All no longer felt snug; like an adolescent outfit on an adult body, it had become uncomfortably tight, restricting, inappropriate, torn at the seams. The time had come to face the fact Wu Fei would have to deal with the world and his failure in his own way, at his own discretion, and his bleeding conscience would never be at ease with his continued Agent status. ( Maybe, in time, the spirits of his late wife and the elders would grant him absolution for finding another way to earn his existence and their respect. He would devote his life to knowledge, starting out with a job at a small bookstore to finance a Library Science course. With his intelligence and ability to learn he felt certain he could make it to Master Librarian in less than ten years, meanwhile studying for a doctorate in Chinese Literature.) Now, hearing Winner rave about Truth and Fate -- it shocked Wu Fei to hear how much the man's beliefs had changed, offended him on a deep level. The Arab seemed to have joined all the other ignorant little birds in singing Khushrenada's propaganda, in a carefully composed suite. Of course, Wu Fei had heard Winner was no longer the CEO of his father's business and had been relieved from his political duties, but he had not for a moment thought the Arab capable of such corruption. It was an insult of unimaginable proportions to all they had fought for, all they had lost, to call Treize Khushrenada the Solomon of their era. Hot, angry tears formed at the corners of his eyes as he clenched his teeth together. This not-friend's words were not supposed to ache -- the whole point of driving people away was to stop the hurting. "I don't know what you think about my building the Gundam, Fei. I don't even want to know- just understand that I did it for everyone. I made it as a precaution. A single man can't fight a war, but a single man's intentions can stop one and change the fate of the world." At this point, Wu Fei did not know what to make of Winner's War-tool Workshop either. If he had known of the Arab's secret enterprise when he was still an Agent, what would he have done? If they had really been friends, like Winner made them out to have been, could they not just have talked about this war-threat Winner kept mentioning? Why had he not confided in Wu Fei, then? And being called 'Fei' now did not have the endearing ring to it that it had before -- it came across disdainful. "You can do what you want, but don't judge me harshly for what I have to do. I hope you understand." "Understand?!" Wu Fei took a shaky breath as the tears streamed down his face. "You are the one that seems to not understand, Winner. First of all, you have no idea what I have given up for what you call World Order -- but you wouldn't, because our supposed friendship obviously never surpassed that sentimental notion you have about once-shared camaraderie. Which is fine; I am not cut out to have personal relationships at any rate." He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve in a jerky motion of his arm. "Secondly, what is this idiocy about Khushrenada? The man is every bit as insane as he was when we were fighting him! Whatever hold he has on you now, you cannot have forgotten his résumé. It would not surprise me if he kept a special addendum for everything he has taken from me and will continue to until there is nothing left. I can no longer wear the Uniform, Winner. There is no Justice." He bit his trembling lip and wiped his face again, humiliated to be crying in front of an audience, to have his shame written in red smears over his jaws. Edited by Zhang Wu Fei, May 15 2009, 01:24 AM.
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| Quatre R. Winner | May 15 2009, 04:34 PM Post #7 |
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Your Master
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"Understand?! You are the one that seems to not understand, Winner. First of all, you have no idea what I have given up for what you call World Order -- but you wouldn't, because our supposed friendship obviously never surpassed that sentimental notion you have about once-shared camaraderie. Which is fine; I am not cut out to have personal relationships at any rate." Quatre's eyes widened, vast blue depths glistening with confusion. Wu Fei may have been right, he probably had no idea what he was saying. His rant was more so a reflection of his own feelings on the current events, more applicable to himself than to the now crying Chinese man who stood before him. He was mystified, unsure of how to respond. The 'supposed friendship' comment had hurt him. He had always felt that Wu Fei was his friend, but perhaps it came from that pesky empathy of his. It was a curse being empathic entailed. Quatre felt close to everyone, but never once considered the idea that the other pilots may not share the same connection that he did. "Secondly, what is this idiocy about Khushrenada? The man is every bit as insane as he was when we were fighting him! Whatever hold he has on you now, you cannot have forgotten his résumé. It would not surprise me if he kept a special addendum for everything he has taken from me and will continue to until there is nothing left. I can no longer wear the Uniform, Winner. There is no Justice." Quatre stiffened at the comment about Treize. How could Wu Fei write off Treize as insane? Hadn't they all made mistakes? As far as Quatre knew all of Treize's actions were for a purpose. They, as pilots, had very little to go on as far as how to act. They fought OZ but only because they seemed to be the "obvious" enemy. At fifteen, with a mobile suit and seemingly infinite power, they all had ran around like Mike the Headless Chicken trying to fight the "bad guy". But anyway, enough about internal monologue. "I apologize for the outburst-" Quatre said in his steadiest, most diplomatic voice. "Things are just complicated. I wish you luck on all of your endeavors, Wu Fei." So they weren't going to be friends. That was a shame. Quatre wanted to grab Waffle by the shoulders and shake him and tell him to stop being emo and mean, but there was nothing he could do. The Chinese man seemed disgusted at the sight of him, and his previous snippy comment towards him as well as the tears only confirmed what Quatre had been suspecting. Wu Fei didn't want to have anything to do with him. Quatre would have been more persistent about Wu Fei's intentions towards him and his life, but he was growing weary of this party. It was dangerous here, Trowa was passed out and the jovial feeling from before had long been snuffed out. "I'll see you around," Quatre concluded, grabbed a hand towel from the counter and ducked out of the bathroom. >> |
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| Zhang Wu Fei | May 20 2009, 04:57 PM Post #8 |
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Nefarious Nerd
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"I apologize for the outburst. Things are just complicated. I wish you luck on all of your endeavors, Wu Fei. I'll see you around." Grabbing a towel, Winner left. Again. Wu Fei did not have the energy to give himself a mental kicking for his own outburst. Things indeed were complicated. With his emotions uncovered, he could understand why Winner ended the conversation so abruptly and with such a cold voice -- whatever respect he may have earned before was irrevocably gone now. Sobbing, he removed his glasses and put them before on the counter, along with the now crumpled circus tickets. A look in the mirror increased his feeling of misery -- Such display of weakness. He needed to wash his face, stop this crying like a ninny, and leave the place with something like dignity. Or at least retreat wearing a straight face. He could always send Khushrenada the gift, and Sal was likely to not even miss that stoopid little picture of nineteen-year-old Zhang anyway. It took Wu Fei some time to figure out how the motion sensor-driven faucets were operated -- which he would later, upon pondering his short visit to the Weridge's estate, blame on his state of affect. The feel of cool water on his hot face did him good, though; he came to the conclusion it would indeed be best to leave. And find some other place to dispose of those tickets, he thought between thoughts, shoving the manhandled wads of paper into his bag. He even discerned the bloody smear on his sleeve that Winner had left, and carefully considered that something bad may have happened. No, he decided. I would surely have noticed. People tend to be more stupid and more primal in their reactions when in a large group. If something bad had happened, there would have been a panic. He produced a piece of cloth from his bag with which to clean his tear-stained glasses. Besides, if that were the case, Winner would certainly have told me in his little speech of how we are supposed to be the ones to protect the world. Placing the spectacles back on his nose, he took a deep breath, not bothering to give himself another pep talk. He would just leave the mansion, get into his manly vehicle, and drive straight to the hotel to get out of his wet, blood-stained clothes. And then, I will see if the lounge is still open, get myself a nightcap. Tonight was supposed to be his Bai Bai Badge party, after all. [ leap to the next day ] >> Edited by Zhang Wu Fei, May 21 2009, 10:54 PM.
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