Interlude II - That was an outrageous display, Miss Kaioh! I will have you know that you'll receive no payment whatsoever for this performance and consider yourself luckyif we don't sue you and your despicable partner! A loud, heated voice echoing between the walls as heavy feet drum over the floor, trying to catch up with an elegant pair of high heels. - Oh, that's perfectly alright, Reynolds-sensei. Fortunately, I didn't come here for the money; the payment was quite insignificant as it was. A white silk dress shining in the artificial yellow light of the hallway as the sharp turn of the bearer makes her aquamarine hair bounce around her face. A softness in expression and voice that does not conceal the sarcasm of the reply. - I'll press charges! A threatening, self-justified murmur as a fat finger jabs angrily at the woman's shoulder, unsuccessfully trying to make her lose her poise. - But we didn't do anything illegal, now, did we? A truly concerned question asked in great earnestness, dark blue eyes shining with the flame of victory, not dimmed by any kind of intimidation. - You must understand that the moral codex of America and Japan respectively are vastly different... An excuse; half regretting, half accusing but bitter all the same. - Maybe it's not the Japanese one that is wrong? The sound of heels against the floor; a slow pace at first as a thoughtful glance is aimed at the enormous silhouette visible over one slender, bare shoulder followed by a smile bordering on friendly; coloured serene by an inborn compassion. - Michiru, there's a Brad Summers who wants to meet you and properly congratulate you on the "awesome show" as he called it. Dark grey eyes intentionally ignoring the bulky shadow of the man left a couple of steps behind as long legs clad in light silk trousers come to a halt next to the shorter woman. Attention fixed on her partner, the owner of the somewhat hoarse voice smirks around the American words of her message. - Can you follow him to my dressing room in ten minutes time? Ara, and please bring these flowers as well, would you? A couple of beautiful bouquets change hands, the warmth of the answering enquiry reflected in a caring gaze passing between the blonde, tomboyish woman and the smiling, aqua-haired violinist. A frail melody not unlike "Shojo no Koi" is traceable in the air between them, audible to those who listen carefully. - Hai. You... don't need help with anything? A suspicious, teal gaze moves to the still present form of the offending organizer further down the corridor. - Daijoobu-yo. I can take care of this myself. A teasing joke, softened by impeccably manicured fingers brushing short locks of dark blonde hair out of the way before her partner disappears around the nearest corner. - Freaks! That's what you are... FREAKS! A livid whisper, the last word screamed in a furious manner, emphasized by a vein bulging underneath the flushed skin stretching out over the white-haired man's temple. - Maybe we are, but then again... normality is such a vague concept, ne? A look of silk-wrapped steel flashes in eyes with the strength of the ocean, a smiling mouth delivering the final hit to the wall of intolerance between them, leaving Luke Reynolds to gape at Kaioh Michiru, dumbfounded A polite farewell slices the quiet open like a sword... - For this opportunity to participate in your concert, domo arigato gozaimasu. And now I bid you goodnight, Reynolds-sensei. In front of a small dressing room, the Senshi of the Sea stops, bowing respectfully. Without her waiting for a response, the door is closed softly in a sweaty face, red from seething anger. Epilogue Once safely inside, Michiru leans her head back against the doorframe and laughs, one bent finger pressed to her lips; unregretful and unapologetic. -finis-
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