[O] Seventeen's Squad travelling alone (Day 2 and after)

[Belle Hibiki]

But despite the android's unwillingness to give in, an hour later he found himself right back where he had started; albeit slightly more inebriated thanks to the copious amounts of discarded mugs and cans that - half-full - dotted the nearby tables like forgotten pennies. He had tried wheedling. He had tried cajoling. He had tried convincing, preaching, coaxing, and even appealing to the majin's better nature - always assuming, of course, that the little beast had one - and all his hard work had done was earn him a few hard, contemptuous stares from the four-armed youngster, as well as an even more impressive collection of random grunts. Seventeen swallowed his irritation as a fresh attack was rebuked, chasing the bitter taste of failture down with a swig of what passed for beer on Dante.

It is a funny thing, but if you drop a frog into cool water and slowly bring it to a boil, the amphibian will never notice its danger until it is too late. If one drops a frog into scalding water immediately, however, the creature will waste no time in scrambling for safety. Had Seventeen found it significant to scribe this fact into his databanks - perhaps recording it under one of those literary analogies that is used too often - he might have realized which kind of water he was and understood, even if dimly, why it was that his prey continued to elude him. That is, that he had all the social nuance of a gold brick applied directly to the skull.

So it should come as no surprise that, as the leader of the Outcasts opened his mouth again - fortified for a fresh attack with the best booze Dante could muster - he felt the pressure of a certain set of familiar fingers fall onto his shoulders. Immediately he quieted, a wry smile playing across his countenance as he turned on the bench to look behind him. He caught Buu's same movement out of the corner of his eye. "Paige."

"Leader," the jade-skinned woman returned, her eyes twinkling with warmth as she reached up a hand to run her fingers through his dark hair. There were a few catcalls from the soldiers nearby, but no one at the bench cared. Well, not her or Seventeen, anyway. The ex-angel had been waiting at the back of the tent for nearly an hour, hoping that her significant other would be able to find his way on his own. But while forthrightness and persistence were favorable characteristics in a leader and part of why she loved him - one of many parts - in this particular case he was simply too blunt, too honest. She kissed the top of his head.

Let me speak to him.

Seventeen blinked at the unexpected telepathic message, his expression one of surprise. Buu, in his irritation, brushed off as mere idiocy. But I was just about to-...

No, you weren't, Paige interrupted, chiding as she rested her cheek against his mass of onyx locks. You've been trying; I've been watching. It was a noble effort, but I think this is something that would be best left to me.

Silence. You've been watching? Seventeen shifted, a bit embarrassed, not to mention tense. He relaxed, however, when he felt a soft giggle ruffling through his hair. She had always had that effect on him - soothing, even in the height of rage. But I'm the Commander, and also the leader of Civil Unrest. People depend on me to handle things like this. How can a lead a child I don't know?

Part of being a leader is also knowing when to admit your faults, Paige reminded him, adding a bit of extra pressure to her squeeze. She kneaded her fingertips into the android's shoulders comfortingly, warmth seeming to slow out from her hands and into his frame, although he was sure it had absolutely nothing to do with her technique. Let me speak to him. I promise, dear, I'll tell you everything later.

There was another short silence, although this one was not filled by the void of awkwardness from before. Seventeen looked up into the face of the woman he loved from the scant distance of a single inch that, to him just then, seemed like a very long distance. His inky black eyes were radiant, expression soft as he seemed to drink in the sight of the woman he loved, drawing strength from her perfect image. Although reluctant to do so, he resigned himself to the inevitable. He nodded and got up, taking what remained of the ale and his pride in his mug with him. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, Buu. Don't think we're done; though." He waved his tankard nonchalantly, kissed Paige on the cheek, and sauntered off. The men were screaming something about a blue-skinned frenchman outside; obviously something that needed attending to.

Paige took Seventeen's place at the bench, settling herself in in a soft rustle of clothing. She neglected to order a drink and simply waited, listening as the uproar outside of the tent slowly died away. The android apparently had gotten the situation under control. "He means well," she murmured. "He wants to be a good leader, but you're a puzzle to him. He can't not try to solve a puzzle once he finds it." She smiled at him, and was rewarded with the child's usual scowl.

It was not bad enough, Buu thought, that he had had to endure an hour of the clumsy verbal antics of a self-absorbed scarf-wearing fruitcake... Now the woman whom had said 'men built you', the words that had stirred such a strange thing inside of him, wanted to talk. Paige's smile held something alien in it, and it was not just because she was as green as a forest had leaves. No, it disturbed the child because she was smiling at him. Not at a thought. Not at the beer. Not at the fact that someone had loudly suggested pantsing Sauzaa. (He had smirked at that.)

No, she was definitely smiling at him.

"You don't need to be afraid," Paige assured the majin, raising a hand as if ready she were ready to give benediction and cleanse him of all his sins. I'm not going to hurt you.

Whisper-quiet, the telepathic thought slid into Buu's brain like the edge of a knife. He started and stared at her, brows furrowed. Rather than an answer, a single image filtered through on the surface of his thought. It was a question mark. When Paige nodded it felll away, replaced by a pervading sense of doubt and disbelief. There was no possible way, after all.

If you don't want to believe me, that's fine, Paige soothed him. You don't have to believe anything you don't want to believe. Think of it as a figment of your imagination. Maybe you've had a few too many beers with Seventeen. Or maybe you're dreaming? It can't hurt to pretend, can it?

Buu's face ticked. Try as he might, he could not escape that logic.

So, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?

The majin's thoughts were quiet, placid as the surface of a lake in the still hours of the morning. Undisturbed, even by a ripple. He continued to stare at the former whitelighter, anger and resentment twin-lighted in his blood-colored eyes for what seemed like a long time. The surface of the water tweaked, dimpled, and the image on the canvas abruptly changed. She was looking into a dirty lab, dimly lit and filled with glowing tubes. Lacking words, he had decided to show her from the very beginning...

Maybe then she would understand why he hated so very, very much.