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The sound of weapons clashing rings throughout the street. A Distortion was running loose in the Backstreets of District 16, and the LCB was called in to deal with it in any way possible. Of course, the higher-ups in the company wanted it captured alive. This was causing a number of issues for the unfortunate Sinners.
“Damnit, this bloody thing doesn't tire out! How about we just tie it up?!” Heathcliff has been getting progressively angrier as the fight dragged on.
“Faust would like to remind you that our supply of wire is currently in pieces. The longest piece would not be long enough to wrap around the Distortion's legs.” She sounds calm, but she doesn't look very pleased and shoots a glare at Ryoshu.
Ryoshu smirks before swinging her scabbard down onto one of the Distortion's many arms. “WHINY.”
“White Hair Is Nagging, Yawn..?” Sinclair translates for the others and he circles around to hit the back of their foe, as Dante instructed him.
He's exhausted by this point and notices many of his co-workers were struggling as well. It's been well over twenty minutes since they started fighting, and that doesn't include the chase beforehand.
Someone exclaims loudly behind him and he jumps to the side to get out of their way. He was too tired to pay attention and didn't hear them approach.
“What ho! Young Sinclair, thou must be more alert on the battlefield!” Don Quixote grabs his arm and pulls him into a better position to strike from.
“Wha- Hey! You don't need to drag me!” He is helpless against her strength and simply accepts that he's now teaming up with her. If there was anyone he wanted to team with, it was her. It makes him happy…
Now's not the time! Focus!
“We shall paralyse this villain by severing its spine! I require thine assistance to pierce through the hide — I beseech thee, slice the back and I shall follow up!” She explains her plan and he doesn't really have any complaints.
They've been hacking away at the Distortion without any results, so he nods and prepares to charge in, inhaling deeply before sprinting towards it.
He reaches the back and swings his halberd, striking his mark dead centre. Unfortunately, the Distortion takes notice and goes to crush Sinclair, its large hand looming over him.
A boisterous laugh booms across from him and he can hear the unpleasant squelching of a lance burying itself into the creature's spinal cord. It slumps to the ground and he barely manages to escape the falling body.
“<Phew, that was close! Always nice not having to rewind. Good job, guys.>” Dante seems pleased.
“Distortion confirmed as inactive. Calling LCA to retrieve the subject.” Faust is as calm as ever, observing the now incapacitated Distortion before walking over to Dante to discuss something.
Don Quixote runs up to Sinclair excitedly and begins chattering.
“Young Sinclair! Didst thou observe the mighty blow with which I struck down our enemy? Justice has prevailed once more!” She's beaming from ear to ear and he finds it very endearing.
She continues to converse with him as they make their way back to the bus. He's listening but it's difficult to get a word in… Not that he minds, as his thoughts have been going blank recently whenever he's around her. It's always been a persistent issue, however recently it has been worsening. So he just smiles back at her and chimes in occasionally, enjoying their talk.
The Sinners are ready to collapse the instant they reach the bus. They slowly trudge through the aisles and take their usual seats; blood and grime from the battle are smeared everywhere as they shuffle about. A collective sigh rings out and Vergilius glares at them. Charon frowns and pats the steering wheel gently.
“Charon's sad. Mephi all dirty now. Needs a bath.”
“I might need to add another rule in that case. For now, everyone clean up immediately. I don't want to see a single speck of dirt once you're finished,” Vergilius grumbles and goes back to staring out of the window.
The mood drops, and some Sinners whine at how unfair it was but no one is willing to stand up to Vergilius. They've dirtied the bus before without any complaints…
Sinclair is desperate to sit down after their hunt, but knows that antagonising Vergilius is probably the worst idea ever. He walks to the Backdoor with the others to get a fresh change of clothes. Don Quixote is still practically glued to him and rattling off a list of her favourite Fixers.
He reaches his room and goes to walk in, but Don Quixote follows. He quickly turns around and gently pushes her out.
“U-um! I'm getting changed… You can't—,” he stammers. Surely she realises that he needs his privacy, right? However, someone sees an opportunity to tease them.
“Wow, you two. I didn't think you were that close already~” Rodya smirks as she leans on the corridor wall.
“Ahh! N-no, that's not..! We aren't..!” Sinclair panics and fails to make a coherent excuse. He gives up and opts to just slam the door shut after giving a short apology towards Don Quixote.
It wasn't just Rodya teasing him anymore. Some of the others had started to pick on him too. They'd make comments in front of Don Quixote as well, who usually didn't show any reaction. Since she regained her memories however, she's definitely picked up on the teasing and had, in fact, been the target herself a couple of times. On one hand he tells himself it takes a lot of courage to make fun of a Second Kindred and they're playing a risky game, but it's also a good thing because it shows how close together they've all grown.
He finds a clean uniform to change into and exits his room to place his dirty one in the wash. There is a commotion happening in the corner of their communal bathroom… He sees Ishmael kneeling with a towel, wiping off grime from Don Quixote's shoes.
“Fie! Rocinante does not require any bathing!” she complains, flinching whenever the wet towel moves too close to her skin.
“Look, it's better to be safe than sorry, okay? It's either this or you risk a consultation with Vergilius. I'm trying to help you here.” Ishmael grumbles, and checks the laces on the shoes before standing up. “There, finished. Let's hurry and get the bus cleaned. I already know some people aren't going to put in as much effort as they should.”
Sinclair can hear a faint shout of ‘Oi, I heard that!’ from outside the room.
Thankfully, they hadn't spread too much filth from their job today. The issue was that the front of Mephistopheles hadn't been cleaned in a couple of days. Littering the corners under the seats were sweets wrappers, bits of paper and… cigarette ash?
“How dare you two sully our vehicle and force the Executive Manager to clean up after you! If I was in charge, you'd both be on cleaning duty for the rest of the month, at least!” Outis shouts at Gregor and Ryoshu.
Poor Gregor looks mortified and apologises to Dante. Ryoshu, however…
“Hah. IDC, not my problem.”
Outis looks about ready to give her a dressing-down, but Vergilius speaks up before anything happens.
“I don't want to hear any chatter. Quiet down. You don't want me to intervene,” he growls, eyes blazing red. With that, everyone turns back to their current task.
“You could say that he'll ‘wipe the floor’ with us, eh?” In an attempt to lighten the Sinner's mood, Rodya tries to tell a joke but it falls flat. She nudges Gregor to get a reaction out of him.
“Ohh~ That reminds of this time when one of our maids was forced to clean with her—” Hong Lu is interrupted before he can finish his anecdote.
“Oooookay, let's just shut up and clean, alright? Also Rodya, that joke was awful,” Ishmael sighs, already hard at work scrubbing her seat.
Eventually, the interior of the bus looks almost brand new once more. The Sinners collapse for good this time into their seats.
Sinclair settles down and lets out a tired sigh. He was used to the usual shenanigans the LCB got up to, but that didn't make them any less tiring. It seems he wasn't the only one who felt that way, as several of his co-workers had gone limp or were complaining about being pushed around. Well, not directly to Vergilius’ face, of course.
He startles when he feels something land on his lap. Looking down, he sees Don Quixote, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, resting comfortably on her newfound pillow. She must be out of energy considering she was running about earlier and scrubbing like a madwoman. He chuckles softly and goes to run his fingers through her hair.
Wait, no!
He's in front of the whole bus. And he shouldn't touch her without her permission. He panics and gently tries to wake her up. He really wishes he could let her rest, because she must be incredibly tired — not because she's adorable and he's actually chuffed she collapsed onto him. It's only a matter of time until someone notices, and he becomes increasingly desperate to get her up. He lifts his eyes to scan the bus; hopefully no one saw…
Rodya is staring at him.
Shit!
“Well, well, well… Look at the two shorties, everyone! They're so close now, it brings a tear to my eye~” Rodya is pretending to wipe her face as if she were crying. Sinclair can feel everyone's gaze on him.
“Damn, the kids are at that stage now, eh? Knew it was gonna happen soon.” Heathcliff barks loudly, clearly enjoying the banter.
Sinclair wants to curl into a ball and die. He is shaking Don Quixote much more intensely now, but she's still showing no signs of waking up. In fact, she's now drooling all over him. He needs to find an excuse, fast.
“N-no, it's just… She's completely out! The bus shook a bit too much and… she fell on me..? It wasn't on purpose! It… it could've happened to any of you, if you were sitting here..!” Sinclair's explanation doesn't convince the others, judging by their wry smiles. He wishes he was anywhere else right now.
“Seriously? Are relationships even allowed? I don't remember reading anything regarding that in our contract…” Ishmael is trying to recall the regulations before Faust interrupts her.
“There are no rules forbidding romantic relationships between Sinners. As long as it does not impede our performance, Faust does not see a reason to prohibit such things.”
“Uh… guys? We aren't dating…” It doesn't matter what Sinclair says, no one is listening to him.
Quixote, I am begging you. Please wake up.
Everyone is now chattering about the two of them. He wants to run away and never have to look any of them in the eye ever again, however there is nowhere to go. He is truly stuck. His face is heating up and he is uncomfortably sweaty. Don Quixote is still blissfully unaware as she snores softly, burying her face deeper into his lap.
“As shown today, their teamwork increased our success rate by 7%, a noticeable change. Therefore, their relationship is purely positive in terms of combat.” Even Meursault was chiming in with comments, to the team's surprise.
“Ooh, Meur! I knew I could count on you~” Rodya is having way too much fun with teasing Sinclair. He is helpless against the onslaught. “Come on, don't you all think they're the cutest couple you've ever seen? Greg, babe, you agree, right?”
“Ah… maybe we should go easy on them. Poor kids have had a rough time, y'know? Let's not stress them out too much.” Gregor attempts to help in his own way. “I get that you're excited, but let's drop the subject, bud. Kid looks like he's about to cry.”
Gregor..! I'll need to thank him later.
Sinclair has never been more appreciative of the bug-armed soldier than at this instant. Finally, maybe this hell will end…
“Fine, then… I can fill the silence with a story instead. Remember when we were at the casino in J corp—” Rodya starts, but is immediately cut off by Gregor.
“Aw, nah, I'm not listening to that again. I've heard it enough times for multiple lifetimes,” he complains, and lights a new cigarette.
“Well, pick your poison. It's either that or we keep questioning the kid. I'm having too much fun to stop now~”
A deep sigh cuts the silence, before Gregor exhales a large cloud of smoke.
“Welp, I'm sorry kiddo. Think my arm would go crazy if I heard anything about that poker game again.”
“You can't be serious…” Sinclair despairs. His only ally has abandoned him to the wolves.
“Heh. Betrayal… cliché, but still amusing.” Ryoshu joins in with a smirk.
For the next few minutes, a barrage of questions and speculations is thrown about. Some were innocent, noting all the times Sinclair and Don Quixote would play chess together, the way they looked at each other, and his increasingly reddening face. Others… weren't as appropriate.
“The hell? I didn't expect the rich kid to ask such a thing! Have you lost your bloody mind?” Heathcliff stares wide-eyed at Hong Lu, who cocks his head to the side curiously.
“Was something I said strange? Is it not normal for couples to…” he begins, but a booming voice interrupts him.
“I have held my tongue long enough! Interpersonal relationships between soldiers should be prohibited! It may have worked out today, but in the future our enemies could exploit this weakness. Executive Manager, I recommend nipping this in the bud immediately!” To no one's surprise, Outis is vehemently opposed.
We're not dating… Why are they all acting as if we are?
“<Ah, well… Faust said it was okay, though? I think it should be fine. Also, you aren't soldiers…>”
“My dear friends… I believe that preventing this bud from reaching its full potential would be a most unideal decision. With care, it may blossom into the most beautiful flower, bringing hope and joy to those fortunate enough to witness it.”
A stunned silence fills the bus. All gazes are redirected onto Yi Sang, who shuffles awkwardly once he realises he has become the centre of attention. He clears his throat and continues.
“Many tragedies have befallen us on this journey… Yet, despite it all, our two friends have cultivated a bond betwixt them; with time, it may become a shining beacon, a proof of the unshakeable connections that tie us all together…” Yi Sang allows a sad smile to take hold of his features, eyes downcast.
“Yeah, exactly what he said! Welcome to the team, Yi Sang~” Rodya cheers and applauds, breaking the previous quiet atmosphere that had settled in.
“Lad, you serious? I know you're poetic and all that shite, but I didn't take you to join in on this.”
“Heath, just ‘cause you have no experience with romance doesn't mean you need to sit out! Join us… Look, the kid's gone bright red!” Rodya prods Heathcliff, who suddenly looks… downtrodden?
“Damnit, I know about love and stuff! It's just… agh, nevermind…” He sounds incredibly depressed. Sinclair isn't sure if he should say something. He'd probably make things worse if he did, so he keeps his mouth shut. Better not to draw more attention to himself, anyway.
“<Okay, um! Anyway! Let's move on, guys…!>” Dante is panicking for some reason. It's a bit odd but no one calls them out.
“Sorry, I didn't wanna bring the mood down. I'm happy for you, kiddo. You got this, yeah?” Heathcliff walks over to Sinclair and ruffles his hair.
“Ah! Don't..! Also, how many times do I need to tell you that we aren't dating..!”
Sinclair's protesting must've been enough to wake up Don Quixote, who yawns and stretches before looking up at him. They make brief eye contact before she jolts upright and apologises profusely.
“Young Sinclair! My deepest apologies! A great sense of fatigue overtook mine body; it was not my intention to impose myself upon thee,” she explains, a slight blush coming to colour her cheeks.
She's cute…
“Perfect timing~! Since she's awake, you can confess now, right?” Hong Lu is smiling, without a hint of malice present in his tone.
Sinclair chokes on his own spit. There was no way in any reality he would dare to confess, especially in front of everyone. His co-worker’s comment confuses Don Quixote, who stares expectantly at him.
“Young Sinclair? Is there aught thou wishes to confess?”
“NO! They're… they're making fun of us! You know… since you fell asleep on me..!” He buries his face in his hands. The end of the workday could not arrive soon enough.
“Sooooo… Chiquita, your boyfriend wouldn't tell us anything! I hope you'll be more fun~” Rodya redirects her teasing towards Don Quixote. “Don't think we don't notice the looks you two exchange… and I've caught you two ‘accidentally’ holding hands more times than I can count! When can we hold a party for you two finally getting together?”
Sinclair is painfully aware of his crush on Don Quixote, and he has been trying his absolute best to suppress it since it is unrequited. He values his friendship with her more than anything; he even tries to be more like her, to become stronger.
Since everything that happened at La Manchaland, he has felt his feelings for her increase exponentially, but it wouldn't be right to say anything to her. After all, she must still be reeling from losing her family, and he knows exactly how that feels. He has been trying to relieve her grief by being there for her to talk to, playing games or just spending time with her in silence. As long as she is happy, he is too. Not once has she ever shown that she was interested in him romantically.
That's why he can feel his heart stop when Rodya implies that Don Quixote has feelings for him. It just wasn't possible… Why would someone like her fall for his pathetic self?
“Lady Rodya..! We are… merely friends. I assure you, there is nothing more between us. Please lay this topic to rest.” Don Quixote replies in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
“As our dear Donqui would say: the lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Rodya laughs.
“CUTE.”
Couple unaware tenderness evident?!
“Ryoshu! That's… we aren't…” Sinclair tries to explain but fails miserably.
“Both of their heart rates have visibly increased; their breathing is in shorter intervals and increased blood flow is evident around the facial area. This suggests embarrassment once context is taken into account. It is possible that they have romantic feelings for each other, however this cannot be proven with complete certainty.” Meursault examines their reactions in detail.
“So, uh… if you were to put a percentage on them liking each other, bud?” Gregor asks, curiously.
“Provisional answer: 85%. I have not taken into account Don Quixote's bloodfiend nature, as there is not enough information on them.”
This draws a myriad of exclamations from the Sinners. Meursault had just made everything so much worse, intentionally or not. The noise inside the bus reaches the highest it has been in a while.
“Oh wow. Looks like it's actually true, then?”
“Faust is not surprised at this turn of events. Faust knows all.”
“Executive Manager! I am still of the opinion that this should not be tolerated!”
“Ah, such discordant cacophony strikes my ears… I am afraid that I may lose my sense of hearing.”
“Back then, my family used to punish anyone who had an unapproved relationship~”
It's too much. Sinclair feels faint and doubles over. He can see Don Quixote flail her hands about in denial in the corner of his vision. What a mess they've gotten themselves into.
“Well, I told ya they were the biggest lovebirds on the bus! My intuition is spot on for this kinda thing, trust me,” Rodya proudly exclaims. At least someone is having fun right now.
“Not possible for anyone to love anything more than Charon loves Mephi.” Even Charon joins in on the ribbing. “Mephi says so too.”
Suddenly, an oppressive aura overtakes the bus as Vergilius stands up and groans.
“Charon, you don't need to bother listening to their inane chatter. This is perhaps the most ridiculous thing I've had the displeasure of hearing. All of you, shut it.”
And with that, the torture finally ends. Sinclair has never been more grateful for Vergilius — the Wuthering Heights basement is now solidly in second place on his list of ‘Best Vergilius Moments’. Don Quixote is still fidgeting nervously next to him, her hands adjusting the various Fixer badges attached to her clothes.
He wants to apologise to her for… something. He's not sure what , but it's partly his fault that she was under scrutiny from this bizarre interrogation squad led by Rodya. Once the other Sinners have resumed their usual everyday discussions, Sinclair gathers the courage to explain himself to his friend.
“Don Quixote… I'm really sorry. I tried to wake you up but you were out cold. And now, because of that…” He bows his head and his shoes have suddenly become very interesting. He can't bring himself to look her in the eye.
“Nay! ‘Tis alright, Young Sinclair. No harm hath been done. Our companions are simply searching for something to amuse themselves with. If not us, it would've been another.” She beams at him, as if nothing had just happened moments ago.
He wishes he was also able to brush it all under the table. He returns her smile with a small one of his own, and it's a little awkward between them. It would probably be for the best to never bring up his feelings… but Meursault just said that she felt the same way, didn't he? He's rarely wrong. No… there was still a chance she didn't like him in that way. He's certain that a rejection would shatter him into a thousand pieces. The taste of leather brings him back and he realises he's been biting down on his thumb, hard. Thankfully his glove has prevented any injury.
He sees Don Quixote watching him with a worried expression. She's rubbing her hand in circles on his back in a soothing manner. How many times can he fumble socially in a single day? He is screaming internally at himself.
“Art thou… doing well, my friend?” she inquires quietly. It's probably the quietest he's ever heard her talk.
“Uh. Y-yeah. Just tired, that's all…” he replies. Of course he wasn't going to admit that he was thinking about them. Together. How he wished it would come true…
“Oho! I am glad to hear so! For tonight, I had planned to lend thee a book from my magnificent collection! Thou hath mentioned afore that the tale was unfamiliar.”
Just like that, she's back to her usual noisy self. It's as if nothing had changed, which he is happy about, but at the same time it was a bit disappointing. He couldn't decide what he really wanted to happen. His internal monologue overlaps with her voice. It would be rude to ignore her, so he chases away his negative thoughts for the time being.
“Although I hath read these books many times over, I believe ‘tis only fair that another may experience such wondrous tales!” Don Quixote finishes her explanation. He caught somewhere along her speech that her plan was to lend him books. He appreciates the idea but…
“Oh! That sounds fun… But I do have a large backlog of books to read through right now…” Sinclair sighs.
Reading keeps his mind from wandering during the night. It has definitely prevented his anxiety from spiralling out of control, hence the large piles of books he keeps for emergency situations.
He hears a sniffle and turns to Don Quixote. She has the saddest puppy dog eyes he's ever seen.
That's a dirty trick..!
He can't say no to her.
“A-actually, you said you've been re-reading books, right? I can lend you some of mine that I've finished. So, it'll kinda be like we're trading… If you'd like to?”
“What an excellent plan, Young Sinclair! Thy wisdom surpasses mine own.” She hums before seemingly arriving at some sort of conclusion. “Aha! I know just the right story to begin with! Insooth, it is the first in a long series…”
They spend the rest of the workday conversing together about various subjects. He can see the looks they're receiving from the rest of the bus, but the fear of a ‘consultation’ session from their guide forces them to keep quiet. Once they have time off however, he knows he'll have to go through another round of interrogation.
For now, he finds peace in enjoying Don Quixote's company. He allows himself a genuine smile.