man, batman never has these problems.
“Anyone home?” Mickey snapped his fingers, trying to and successfully awakening his friend out of her daydream. The duchess immediately sat up straighter, almost falling backwards on the marble fountain the two mice were sitting on.
Her face turned red with embarrassment, smoothing out her dress, and keeping the newspaper on her lap steady. “Y-Yes… I’m sorry. Last night was very… tiring.”
“Didn’t get much sleep?” He hoped he wasn’t smiling as much as he thought he was. No matter what answer Minnie gave, he already knew the truth. She had been nearly robbed by some gruesome thugs, but the Scarlet had saved her, taken her home, and they had even kissed! Granted the last bit was by accident, but that was an unimportant detail. What was important was the impression that was left, and so far, it looked like a good one, if Minnie’s sudden shyness was any indication. Even now, she was fidgeting, looking around, and then leaned in close to her childhood friend.
“I know you’ll always keep secrets between us.” She whispered, perhaps oblivious to his heart stopping as they got close enough for noses to nearly touch. “And this is a big one. Promise not to tell.”
“You betcha. I’m the best secret keeper around.” After all, he was keeping the biggest one of all.
She looked left, right, and then cupped a hand to the side of her mouth, let it out. “Last night… I met the Scarlet.”
Mickey nodded… then realized this was supposed to be shocking. “Oh!” He quickly faked a gasp, slapping a hand down on the bundle of unsold newspapers at his side. “No foolin’?”
Her shoulders folded slightly into herself, suddenly diminutive. “He saved my life… and you wouldn’t believe it! He can run on rooftops, and jump up buildings!” Her voice was having trouble keeping quiet in lieu of such exciting details. “He was outnumbered, but he took them down like they were nothing! And he didn’t want any payment or anything… he’s a real hero!”
“Gee, what a guy.” He probably should have sounded more enthusiastic than that, but he was wholly distracted by the sheer delight in his crush’s expression. This was absolute gushing, and over him! Well, sort of him. Close enough. His ego began to play with dangerous lines. “Is he really as… charming… as they say?”
Minnie hesitated. “… Kind of. I mean, he had some really corny speeches, and I think he’s a bit too dramatic.” She rolled her eyes upward, trying to think of better descriptive times, ignoring Mickey’s pride being shredded to ribbons. “… But he really did seem sweet.” Her eyes came back down. “He really does care about the people. I just wish I could help him somehow.” This came with a wistful sigh, and she sat back up. The newspaper’s front page was a blurred image of the Scarlet, and she idly traced what she could make of his face. “I wonder what he’s doing right now...”
What he was doing right now was resisting the urge to yell that he was the Scarlet at the top of his lungs and kiss her to high heaven. Instead, he gave an uneasy little laugh, scooting in closer to her. “Aw, I’m sure just knowing you’re okay helps him out plenty… I mean, who knows…” He swallowed, pushing behind common sense and letting courage rise instead. “Maybe he’s… closer… than… ya think…”
Slowly, she met his gaze, curious, quiet. As for Mickey, forget Gyro and Ludwig’s warnings about revealing his identity - this was an exception! Delicately, he took one of her lacy gloved hands, and drew a breath. “Minnie… or should I say…. My most pre-”
“IT’S THE SCARLET!”
SPLASH!
So shocked by the sudden scream the newspaper boy had been, that he wound up falling right into the fountain’s water. Sputtering, he sat on his knees, looking wildly about. Who discovered his identity?! How?! When?! As Minnie tried to question if he was all right, Mickey found the screamer - screamers, apparently, as several young ladies were now snatching up his papers and squealing in high pitches. The one who had made the accusatory yell was Daisy, if Mickey was remembering her name right.
“Look, look!” Daisy continued to giggle, having already opened the paper and pointing to a particular page. “I knew it, the Scarlet does love me!”
“You lie!” another woman snapped, and the other females chatted on top of each other. “The Scarlet obviously meant this for me!” “Dream on! You never looked him in the eyes like I did!” “He was looking at everybody! He’s romantic like that!”
Mickey took off his drenched hat, and climbed out of the fountain. “What are ya talking about now?” Irritability was clear in his tone, the mood completely disrupted. But the women ignored him, making their own claims about who the hero truly loved.
Save for Daisy, who gave a snobbish snap of her beak. “Don’t you read your own paper, kid? Here.” With that, she pushed the page into his hands. Before he read it, Mickey did begin to recall that, early that morning, Ludwig said there would be an extra page he personally put in, to boost the Scarlet’s popularity. Mickey had barely paid attention, as he was still in a dreamy state of happiness over having kissed Minnie. What did Ludwig do that was causing these girls to clamor so?
There, taking up the entire page, was a declaration in red lettering, decorated lavishly with symbols of roses. In elegant cursive writing was a message, which Mickey unwisely chose to read out loud.
“To all my fair ladies of France,
Let it be known that my love for you knows no bounds, and that I fight for each one of you. I swear upon my blade that I shall never let any harm befall you, for you are my spirit, my life, my will. The color I wear is the symbol of my unending love for you, my most precious.
Signed, The Scarlet.”
With that, all of the females screamed eagerly again, save for Minnie, whose once love struck look was now covered in disdain. “Most Precious?” She repeated, slow, crossing her arms. “I see… so he treats all women of France this way.”
“No!” Mickey tried to interject, ripping the page in his hands to pieces. “No he doesn’t! Really!” How had such a beautiful morning dissolved into the worst day of his life? “This, this is a… it’s a…” he looked back and forth between the women, at a loss. How was he supposed to justify his words without proof, and thereby revealing who he was? “H-How do we even know it’s the same guy?”
“It must be!” Daisy pressed the remaining pages to her chest, one hand to her forehead. “What a wonderful man! I bet if I was alone with him, I could make him all mine!”
“Why should you get him?” “It says he loves us all!” “That’s only because he hasn’t met me yet!” “I wanna be his Most Precious!”
“Will ya knock it off?!” But Mickey’s snap of rage was doing nothing to turn off the torrent of fangirling, especially as they went into exact details of they would do to him if they were alone with him. His entire face was turning, of course, scarlet, thanks to the sheer embarrassment of hearing what all of these women wished to do to him, things that should not be listed here as to protect the sensitive eyes of the dear readers, and also due to him wanting to get his hands on Von Drake and throttle him until his fingers ached.
The duchess slid off the fountain, tossing her own edition of the paper aside. “I think I’ll go home… I don’t feel too well, of a sudden.” Nose up to the air, she began to walk away.
Mickey tried to reach out to her, but she was rather speedy in high heels. “Minnie! Most Precious! I, wait! Awwwwwwwwww!” With that last howl of frustration, he kicked the stack of newspapers left hard, sending them scattering all over the fountain, and stormed off, determined to find a certain duck and turn him into duck soup.
The remaining girls were befuddled by such a display, but easily enough lapsed back into their gossiping and giggling. Daisy gave a toss of her hair. “Jealousy is so unbecoming.”