Two Character Challenge #236
Title: The Party
Author:
listyfox
Characters: Catherine Bloom; Pagan; Trowa Barton
Rating: G
Warnings: Un-beta'ed.
1131 words. Odd and pointless, but this is the scene that popped into my head when I saw the challenge.
The dress was lovely but insanely uncomfortable; Catherine shifted uneasily, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Trowa Barton was a trained spy. From the dirtiest street gang to the highest levels of society and everything in between, he could don the apparel and slip smoothly into his role, not that there was any need for spies at a society function such as this one, but this skill allowed him to walk among the diplomats and corporate tycoons and movie moguls with the ease of an equal, completely comfortable in his surroundings, something Catherine simply could not do. She could see him across the room in his tuxedo, being introduced by Quatre Winner to some man who looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.
Not that Trowa couldn’t grace a few covers himself, if he so wanted. Catherine had always found him fetching, and he was only growing more handsome as he matured. She could hear the girls in the stands squeal when he flipped into the spotlight; fellow performers often watched him with more than mere interest.
He smiled crisply and shook the man's hand, saying something that made the man laugh. At home he was so quiet and reserved, his smile restrained and his voice soft, but in these surroundings he somehow knew exactly the right amount of charm he needed to turn on. How did he do that?
Quatre laughed too. She liked him both best and least of the other pilots: he was the easiest to speak to, the one who called her “Miss Catherine” and always complimented her cooking, but she always had the feeling that Trowa had confided things to Quatre that he had not shared with her, and though she didn’t mean to, she couldn’t help but resent him for it.
Duo Maxwell was fun once she understood him; cheerful and hard to dislike. The other two were silent shadows who would come and go with no announcement, often spiriting Trowa away with them for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Chang Wufei would sometimes snark at her if she happened to butt in too forcefully for his taste; Heero Yuy, the one she had helped Trowa tend during the war, rarely appeared and when he did hardly spoke to her at all, though at the same time he was never impolite or unkind.
He was here tonight. She could see him not far from the doors, watching the crowd with intense interest. All five were in attendance, in snappy formal dress, supposedly as guests but she had no doubt they were also there as an extra measure of protection for the many important people in the room.
And there was Relena Darlian, sweeping across the room in the perfect dress for a Vice Minister who was also a vivacious young woman; if only Catherine could feel as comfortable as she looked! Why had Trowa insisted she come? Yes, it was a big event: the announcement of the next stage of the Martian project, as well as the anniversary of peace in the UESA, not to mention the holiday season. But Trowa could have gone stag, couldn’t he? She hated these things!
A waiter offered her an hor’devoure. She took the little cracker with the swirly paste from his tray with a weak smile of thanks; he slipped away as quickly as he had appeared. She sighed and popped it into her mouth.
She clapped her hand to her mouth. Oh, God, what was in that? It was horrible! There was no way she could swallow it without being sick, she was sure of it. She turned to rush towards a kitchen, bathroom, anywhere she could save face, only to crash into an old gentleman, nearly knocking him over.
“Oh, my dear!” he cried. “I’m dreadfully sorry.”
“Mmmmph!” She was gonna be sick. She just knew it.
Somehow, he knew what was wrong. He ushered her quickly into the hallway, offering her a cloth napkin from a few he was carrying. He must be one of the staff. She spat it out instantly. “Th-thank you.”
“Come to the kitchen, and have a sip of something. An acquired taste, some of these flavors.”
“I’m sorry. I must look like an idiot,” she groaned as he led her to a quiet part of the bustling kitchen and handed her a glass of soda.
He was an elderly gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a kindly expression. “Not at all. You look like a girl who needed some help.”
“What was that, anyway?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, quirking a shaggy white eyebrow at her.
“No,” she admitted. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m Catherine Bloom.”
“Oh, Mister Barton’s sister?”
“Um, yes! How did you…”
“I keep very good track of the former gundam pilots for Miss Relena. My name is Pagan, by the way.”
“You work for the Vice Minister?”
“All her life. That’s how I knew what sort of trouble you were in. The exact same thing happened to her at one of the first diplomatic functions her parents allowed her to attend.”
Catherine smiled in gratitude. “Oh, I’m glad I’m not the first then.”
He took the napkin from her. “Of course not. I don’t blame you in the least. Horrid stuff.” He winked at her.
“I just don’t fit in here at all,” she groaned.
“The secret, my dear, is that no one does. Pretty clothes and fancy words don’t make a person better than anyone else, and everyone knows it, no matter how much they pretend otherwise.”
She tilted her head a little to look at him. “I’ve often thought so,” she said. How nice that someone else did too!
The door opened a crack. “Someone said she went this way. Catherine?”
She turned to face slightly worried green eyes. “Trowa! Oh…um…”
“Miss Bloom here needed a sip of something,” said Pagan. “Frog in her throat.”
“Oh. Sorry, Catherine. You okay now?”
She smiled gratefully at Pagan, and warmly at Trowa. “Yes, fine.”
“Come on then. They’re starting the speeches soon. And Quatre wants me to introduce you to a few people.”
“Do I have to?” she groaned as she took his arm.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. I think Duo wants us all to go out and do something more casual when this is all over.”
And he’ll fit right into that, too, she reflected. Like a performer taking up a new role. But she was lucky enough to know the man behind the curtain. She was certain she did.
“Enjoy yourself, Miss Bloom,” called Pagan. “It is the holiday, after all.”
“I will! Thank you!” She smiled, and leaned on Trowa’s arm as he led her back out to the party.
Author:
listyfox
Characters: Catherine Bloom; Pagan; Trowa Barton
Rating: G
Warnings: Un-beta'ed.
1131 words. Odd and pointless, but this is the scene that popped into my head when I saw the challenge.
The dress was lovely but insanely uncomfortable; Catherine shifted uneasily, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Trowa Barton was a trained spy. From the dirtiest street gang to the highest levels of society and everything in between, he could don the apparel and slip smoothly into his role, not that there was any need for spies at a society function such as this one, but this skill allowed him to walk among the diplomats and corporate tycoons and movie moguls with the ease of an equal, completely comfortable in his surroundings, something Catherine simply could not do. She could see him across the room in his tuxedo, being introduced by Quatre Winner to some man who looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.
Not that Trowa couldn’t grace a few covers himself, if he so wanted. Catherine had always found him fetching, and he was only growing more handsome as he matured. She could hear the girls in the stands squeal when he flipped into the spotlight; fellow performers often watched him with more than mere interest.
He smiled crisply and shook the man's hand, saying something that made the man laugh. At home he was so quiet and reserved, his smile restrained and his voice soft, but in these surroundings he somehow knew exactly the right amount of charm he needed to turn on. How did he do that?
Quatre laughed too. She liked him both best and least of the other pilots: he was the easiest to speak to, the one who called her “Miss Catherine” and always complimented her cooking, but she always had the feeling that Trowa had confided things to Quatre that he had not shared with her, and though she didn’t mean to, she couldn’t help but resent him for it.
Duo Maxwell was fun once she understood him; cheerful and hard to dislike. The other two were silent shadows who would come and go with no announcement, often spiriting Trowa away with them for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Chang Wufei would sometimes snark at her if she happened to butt in too forcefully for his taste; Heero Yuy, the one she had helped Trowa tend during the war, rarely appeared and when he did hardly spoke to her at all, though at the same time he was never impolite or unkind.
He was here tonight. She could see him not far from the doors, watching the crowd with intense interest. All five were in attendance, in snappy formal dress, supposedly as guests but she had no doubt they were also there as an extra measure of protection for the many important people in the room.
And there was Relena Darlian, sweeping across the room in the perfect dress for a Vice Minister who was also a vivacious young woman; if only Catherine could feel as comfortable as she looked! Why had Trowa insisted she come? Yes, it was a big event: the announcement of the next stage of the Martian project, as well as the anniversary of peace in the UESA, not to mention the holiday season. But Trowa could have gone stag, couldn’t he? She hated these things!
A waiter offered her an hor’devoure. She took the little cracker with the swirly paste from his tray with a weak smile of thanks; he slipped away as quickly as he had appeared. She sighed and popped it into her mouth.
She clapped her hand to her mouth. Oh, God, what was in that? It was horrible! There was no way she could swallow it without being sick, she was sure of it. She turned to rush towards a kitchen, bathroom, anywhere she could save face, only to crash into an old gentleman, nearly knocking him over.
“Oh, my dear!” he cried. “I’m dreadfully sorry.”
“Mmmmph!” She was gonna be sick. She just knew it.
Somehow, he knew what was wrong. He ushered her quickly into the hallway, offering her a cloth napkin from a few he was carrying. He must be one of the staff. She spat it out instantly. “Th-thank you.”
“Come to the kitchen, and have a sip of something. An acquired taste, some of these flavors.”
“I’m sorry. I must look like an idiot,” she groaned as he led her to a quiet part of the bustling kitchen and handed her a glass of soda.
He was an elderly gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a kindly expression. “Not at all. You look like a girl who needed some help.”
“What was that, anyway?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, quirking a shaggy white eyebrow at her.
“No,” she admitted. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m Catherine Bloom.”
“Oh, Mister Barton’s sister?”
“Um, yes! How did you…”
“I keep very good track of the former gundam pilots for Miss Relena. My name is Pagan, by the way.”
“You work for the Vice Minister?”
“All her life. That’s how I knew what sort of trouble you were in. The exact same thing happened to her at one of the first diplomatic functions her parents allowed her to attend.”
Catherine smiled in gratitude. “Oh, I’m glad I’m not the first then.”
He took the napkin from her. “Of course not. I don’t blame you in the least. Horrid stuff.” He winked at her.
“I just don’t fit in here at all,” she groaned.
“The secret, my dear, is that no one does. Pretty clothes and fancy words don’t make a person better than anyone else, and everyone knows it, no matter how much they pretend otherwise.”
She tilted her head a little to look at him. “I’ve often thought so,” she said. How nice that someone else did too!
The door opened a crack. “Someone said she went this way. Catherine?”
She turned to face slightly worried green eyes. “Trowa! Oh…um…”
“Miss Bloom here needed a sip of something,” said Pagan. “Frog in her throat.”
“Oh. Sorry, Catherine. You okay now?”
She smiled gratefully at Pagan, and warmly at Trowa. “Yes, fine.”
“Come on then. They’re starting the speeches soon. And Quatre wants me to introduce you to a few people.”
“Do I have to?” she groaned as she took his arm.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. I think Duo wants us all to go out and do something more casual when this is all over.”
And he’ll fit right into that, too, she reflected. Like a performer taking up a new role. But she was lucky enough to know the man behind the curtain. She was certain she did.
“Enjoy yourself, Miss Bloom,” called Pagan. “It is the holiday, after all.”
“I will! Thank you!” She smiled, and leaned on Trowa’s arm as he led her back out to the party.