Sometimes, things just don't turn out the way you plan.
When I decided to sneak down to the guest quarters last night - and I did sneak, pointless though that might be now. My friends would never tell, nor would Rashid or the Maganacs, but there are still a few servants in this place I don't know by name, and there's always the chance...
I can't help it. Since before I could walk, Father trained us in how to keep up appearances, how even the hint of scandal could bring everything down in a heartbeat. We learned to be careful. One of my sisters had a picture taken while entertaining her boyfriend, but the articles that were written had more to do with cheap, racy pulp fiction than reality. Even so, the matter ruined her relationship, and nearly her as well.
I did get there, and found Trowa reading poetry, of all things. I suppose that's when my plans fell through. I'd come here thinking I wanted sex, but a few stanzas later I knew I'd come here because I wanted him - to be with him, spend time together, be intimate, but not necessarily the sweaty, grimy type.
And that's how it went... Him and I, on his bed, him reading poems of lost loves and sweet nothings that might have had deeper meanings had I managed to summon up the brainpower to do more than take soothe in Trowa's voice, his arm around me, his heartbeat to my ear. I must have fallen asleep somewhere between Keats and Byron, but it was a good night indeed.
During our outing yesterday, Heero said something that got to me. Where do we go from here? Long-distance dating? That will be difficult, and it would take a great deal of discretion to pull off. Letters can be intercepted, calls can be tapped, and... yes, I'm being paranoid, I know.
As much as I'd like to, I can't give up the company. Trowa knows that. There are simply too many people that depend on me being here. That said, I'll look more closely into those delegation of responsibilities ideas my sisters and Rashid have put up from time to time.
Trowa has the circus, and for all intents and purposes, they're his family. I can't ask him to leave them behind just for me, as tempting as it can be. I'm always in need of good men, and I'd gladly make Trowa my personal assistant, or secretary, or bodyguard - oh, scratch that last one, wouldn't want him to get hurt. I'd offer him any job, anything for an excuse to keep him close to me, keep him with me all the time. Even if he'd been willing to leave the circus, I'd be afraid to ask. He would be too proud to take an offer like that, and I can't quite think of him as a 'kept man'.
Not that I'll let him get away easily, now that he's made me fall for him.
Duo finally came clean, and shed some light on why he's been avoiding me - perhaps also why he chose to expose Trowa and me yesterday. He needs money. That's the heavily abridged version. When he told me, over the course of a very intricate conversation involving anything but the loan, and how he didn't want to ask, but really needed help - this I deduced, he didn't use anything remotely as clear - all the pieces fell into place.
It's not a bad idea, what he and Hilde are proposing. It's an interesting prospect. I had to be really careful not to let him know that Winner Enterprises has also considered going into L3 for a while now. I'll have to remember to scrap those plans when I'm back at the office.
In the end, I agreed to give Duo a loan. To ease his concerns, I put in a 'no interference' clause - the money is theirs to use and misuse, at least until they have to pay them back, with interest. I sensed his pride would prevent me from giving him too good a deal, but the interest rate is still better than what he'd have gotten in a bank - if the bank would have dared loan him the money, that is. Also, since this startup operation is in a different league than their current salvage operation on L2, I snuck in a clause that the interest and payments would not start until their branch on L3 is active. I'm sure he'll notice that when I come visiting him and Hilde next month to sign the papers, though - but then, Hilde should talk his pride away from the cliff, and avoid the fall.
A few more days, and they'll all be gone. As will I. What will come next?
I need to talk to Trowa about this, pride be damned. Maybe I'll simplify it - just ask him to stay, period.
I can hope he'll say 'yes', right?
As I've mentioned before, I'm not a particularly religious man - call it a consequence of being conceived in a test tube - but there are some words and phrases from those tomes and ideologies that stick with you, no matter what.