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"Dirty Job"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Violence, angst, Lemons, Limes Pairings: 1x2x1 Summary: Duo is a masterful pickpocket and skilled but small-time con artist who always chooses to play it safe. When his best friend owes the wrong people a lot of money, Duo get pulled into a high-stakes plot to rob thirty-something billionaire Heero Yuy. The only way to succeed and save his friend is to push his own boundaries and get way too involved.
"Dirty Job" Chapter Eight The silver knife scraped the surface of the china plate as it cut into the T-bone steak with rich sauce that obscured the delicate pattern. It was the only sound in the dining room aside from his own breathing and chewing and it made Duo very uncomfortable. At times Yuy would look up at him, all the way from across the long table. The rich man was annoyed with Duo's lacking manners, he could tell as much. His disproval only made him abuse the plate with his sharp steak-knife even more and open his mouth sometimes when he worked on another bite. He knew he had to say something, so he put aside his own frustration and remarked: "The steak is delicious." "Hn." "Who's your chef?" "Sydnée used to work at 'Paul Bocuse', one of France's most exclusive restaurants, he is a very gifted chef," The man remarked in reply. "Hm, definitely," Duo agreed with his mouth full and he grinned cheekily when the host shot him a look. He had to show Yuy that he wasn't afraid of him, that he wasn't going to change his behavior because Yuy looked at him a certain way. The businessman may have thought that he enjoyed the control he had over others and that it would please him to exercise that control over Duo in a successful manner, but the con-artist knew better than that. Yuy wanted him to stand up to him, he wanted him to misbehave. The challenge he was presented with excited him. Guys like Yuy were problem-solvers, if you weren't a problem, you couldn't get their attention, because they had surrounded themselves with so many other problems that absolutely required their focus. At least, that was the guess he was currently betting on. It was all a guessing-game, even if 'the team' still didn't understand how that worked. "So why did this French chef come work for you?" "I was at the restaurant last May and I offered him more money." He made a face but hid it behind his glass of red wine. Changing the query, he wondered: "Do you ever cook your own meals?" Yuy frowned at him, like it was a stupid question. "No." Spoiled little brat, Duo thought to himself. "What about breakfast? Do you pour your own cereal?" "I don't eat cereal." "What? There is no cereal-day?" Yuy shook his head. "Really? Huh... Because, you know, I think something like a Tuesday would make a perfect cereal-day," He mocked, watching the reaction closely. Yuy was giving him very little to work with. The twitch of his eyebrow was either a warning to stop or genuine befuddlement at the ridiculous line of questioning, Duo couldn't tell and that irked him very much. He had to spend more time with the billionaire to get a baseline reading of him, only once he had documented those minute facial expressions in several circumstances could he deduce what they meant. Most people were much easier targets, humans, as social creatures, had evolved to clearly display emotional cues, most people - most of the time - couldn't help themselves. Spending a single afternoon with someone, probing them by discussing a range of topics, was usually enough for Duo to catalogue their expressions and mannerisms. Yuy was different, he was very contained and flat and he didn't even appear to be hiding things on purpose, or hiding anything at all. It seemed to be a matter of couldn't, as opposed to wouldn't. He was like a dog that couldn't wag it's tail. There was something very sad about it. So far, all he could tell for certain was that the glare where one eyebrow was lower than the other, with a crease on the inside, by his nose and one eye a little more narrowed, meant annoyance, but it didn't take a 'mind reader' to come to that conclusion. He had yet to figure out how the twitch fit into it. "No," He said mildly, "There is no cereal-day." "What did you have for breakfast this morning?" The American continued. He paused to consider the answer. "Quinoa quiche." He chuckled at the dry answer. "So Wednesdays it's quiche for breakfast and steak for dinner?" "Don't be ridiculous, I don't have a certain breakfast on any particular day." Duo rolled his eyes at him. "Right, that would be ridiculous." He shook his head. "It's no more ridiculous than steak-Wednesdays or fish-Fridays." Yuy chose to ignore him. He redirected his gaze to his plate and stared at his meal. Duo, in turn, stared at him, waiting. He smirked when he saw it, the twitch. It was confusion, he concluded with a fair amount of certainty. The rich man was confused at why he had dismissed quiche-Wednesdays when clearly logic dictates that it is indeed no stranger than fish-Fridays. Duo took a big bite and suggested: "Pancake-Sundays, pal. Trust me on that one. Just saying." "I'll take it under advisement," He retorted. Duo laughed, pretty sure comments like those revealed Yuy's dry, cynical humor. Nothing but another hunch, but that was all he had. Gerry came to clear the table and then another servant appeared with the half-empty bottle of red wine Yuy had ordered him to get from the wine cellar and open up before dinner. Duo watched the young man pour him another glass with empty eyes. When he excited the room the American waited for dessert to be served, but they were left alone. "No dessert?" He inquired boldly. "It's a weekday," The other replied, as if that answered everything. "So?" Yuy let out an exasperated sigh and made a quick, off-hand wave. Gerry promptly walked into the dining room, betraying that the older man wasn't just listening, but watching closely as well. Monotonously, Yuy said: "Gerard, our guest would like dessert. Call Matty and tell her to send a serving of the staff's dessert over." Instantly uncomfortable, Duo interjected: "No, I- Please don't go through the trouble. I don't want to be a bother." "You are not a bother, you are our guest," Gerry explained dutifully. He made a bow and then exited the room. Duo grimaced, he had completely lost his appetite for dessert. He didn't at all appreciate how Yuy had handled that, ordering the old man around and literally taking food away from his staff, without a second thought. "You disagree," Yuy observed. He looked up at him sharply. He was supposed to be reading his mind, not the other way around. It was futile to deny it, so he said coolly in response: "Yes." "Why?" Duo snorted. He really had to spell it out? "You are just going to interrupt your staff during their well-deserved break - during their dinner - and have them bring you their food?" He could not hide the contempt in his voice. Yuy smelled his wine, took a drink and didn't say anything. But there was something new in his eyes. "You aren't even going to explain yourself?" "I didn't realize you required an explanation," Yuy shot back. "Ow, let me guess, because you don't owe me anything?" Yuy's blue eyes narrowed, but he didn't appear angry. If anything, the sparkle suggested amusement, albeit of a dark, twisted kind. "I don't owe you anything, but that is not why. I assumed you didn't need me to explain because you are very quick in drawing your own conclusions. You already have your mind made up about me." Duo sat back in his seat, a little stunned at being caught red-handed. Yuy was more aware of things than he had given him credit for and he immediately realized his mistake. A cunning businessman like him would have learned a thing or two about reading people on the job, after all, you can't land crushing blows if you can't tell where people's weaknesses are hidden. He wasn't worried however, he just had to be a little more careful. "Then change my mind." "I don't need to change your mind." "Why not?" "I don't need your approval." He was lying, Duo surmised. If he didn't care what Duo thought of him, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of inviting him last time and apologizing to him; his opinion mattered, but he was too proud to admit it. Playing dumb, he shot back: "Well, maybe that's the problem with rich guys like you," Duo sagged in his seat to get more comfortable, "You don't feel like you have to impress anybody and you don't answer to anybody. That kind of freedom turns people into assholes." Yuy raised his eyebrows and then, effortlessly, he served the ball right back. "Than what is it that made you an asshole?" Duo chuckled. He was being an asshole and the aloof way in which the billionaire pointed it out was rather amusing. "Touché." Gerry walked into the room carrying a silver tray, interrupting the moment. He placed a plate in front of their guest and announced: "Mint chocolate chip ice cream pie, with a crust of dark chocolate and rice krispies." He bowed and backed away. He couldn't deny the fact that his mouth watered at the big piece of ice cream pie before him. His appetite rushed back to him in spite of the discussion so he picked up the silver fork and took a bite. "This is great," He said, the rice krispies crunching in his mouth. "Wouldn't you like some?" "It's a weekday." Duo smirked. "If you ask me, you should give Sydnée a night off once in a while and have whoever made this cook you your meal, you could be in for a surprise." "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but Sydnée cooks for the staff. He made the pie." Duo paused. "Your French chef cooks for the staff?" "Yes, he prepares dinner for the staff who want to eat here at the end of their day-shift or before their evening-shift. In the staff kitchen. Then, when I get back, he makes my dinner." "The famed French chef that you flew in cooks dinner for the help?" He rephrased. He found it difficult to wrap his head around, he hadn't pegged Yuy to be the kind of employer to treat his staff to something like that. "I pay him well for this services." "Still though, he has to hate that, making fucking rice-krispy-ice-cream-pie, of all things, for the commoners?" "I'm sure he does. But he doesn't hate the money." Duo frowned. He didn't know what to think. Could he still be mad at Yuy for making Gerry bring him some of the dessert when the man had his expensive chef cook dinner for his entire staff? He still wanted to be angry at him, he wanted to hate the man, but his actions didn't seem nearly as unreasonable, entitled nor self-important as they had before. However, at the same time, he was uncomfortable with how smug it seemed to make the man that the chef would do his every bidding for that paycheck at the end of the month. Greed was a flaw of many people - you couldn't exactly blame people for wanting to get paid, money makes life a lot easier and who doesn't want that or deserve that? - he didn't like how that common trait gave Yuy so much power over everyone and he liked it even less than the businessman was fully aware of it and exploited it without scrupulous. The man was used to getting his way and not ashamed of it. "So, what are your plans for tonight?" The question prompted Yuy to look down at his watch. "I have a conference call with Dubai in forty minutes." "And that will last all evening?" "I expect so." He finished his wine. "Closing a deal?" "Yes." Duo chewed on the inside of his cheek. Yuy wasn't volunteering any information but it was important that he learned a thing or two about the business from Yuy, so the man would feel comfortable talking to him about these sort of things. After all, his company was the most important thing in his life, if he felt like he couldn't discuss that with Duo, he would automatically be shut out of that part of his life, not leaving him with much else. "What kind of deal?" "Do you really want to know?" "Yes." "It won't interest you." Rather than denying that statement, he replied smoothly: "It interests you." Yuy's eyebrow twitched again. He couldn't figure out if his guest was genuine or if he was being played with. "They are building a new hotel and plan to integrate some of my technology." He was out of his depth but that kind of innocence suited the situation. "Like what?" "Voice activated control over elements in the rooms like doors, windows, lights and air-conditioning and they want to outfit the suites with our interactive screens." "What does that mean?" "We have a projector-system that turns every glass-surface into a touch-sensitive, high definition screen. A series of synchronized projectors are embedded into the edges of the piece of glass to produce a crystal clear image over the entire surface, at the same time it monitors where the glass is touched and an algorithm allows it to figure out at any time which quarter of an inch of the glass surface corresponds with which button or other interactive option. This technology turns a glass coffee table into a tablet and the floor-to-ceiling windows into a television." The pitch sounded rehearsed and uninspired. "That sounds pretty cool, but in my opinion that sort of stuff always fails to live up to expectations and it never really turns out to be an improvement over the stuff we already have," Duo said, with the purpose of eliciting a defensive retort. "Unlike other companies we do not put our products on the market prematurely just to stay ahead of the curb. We are not clamoring to be innovative, we are taking our time to prefect our technology; both hardware and software. As a result, we aren't always the first to present a certain line of products to the public, but we are always the best. And then it is up to our advertisement department to convince people that it is an improvement." Duo made a mental note of the shift in his body language and added it to the register he was building of Yuy's behaviors and mannerisms. "For a tidy sum." "Yes." Duo nodded. "So the company is doing pretty well then?" "Very well." A question burned in his mouth, so he had to ask: "Why did you fire all those people last week when you promised you wouldn't?" Yuy was irked by the accusation but not surprised as far as Duo could tell. "I never promised anything." That was the end of conversation. As if on cue Gerry appeared once more and took away the empty plate in front of him. "I trust you enjoyed your dessert?" "It was great, thanks." He smiled and after exchanging a brief look with his employer he announced that he would be escorting Duo to the front door. The long-haired American panicked a little as he got up from his seat and had no choice but to follow Gerry out of the dining room before Yuy had extended a new invitation. Had he gone too far, had he been too bold? Gerry led the way to the foyer, where the envelope with his payment was waiting on the table by the orchid. "Did you enjoy your dinner?" Gerry asked while he handed over the envelope. "Oh man, that steak was epic!" He tucked the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans. "I was inquiring about the company." "He's...-" He made a dismissive gesture. "I don't know. At least he talked today, that's something. I guess." He grimaced at his ineloquence. "But he didn't invite me back, so..." "To the best of my understanding master Yuy expects you to be here next Wednesday. He presumed that since you preferred steak for dinner that you would accompany him for Wednesday dinners, as opposed to Fridays." "Well, none of that was actually discussed. He never said he wanted me to come back every week." "I will go ask him," Gerry pivoted on his heels and was about to leave, but Duo stopped him. "No, I will talk to him myself. He has to invite me, like a decent human being, not have his butler relay some indifferent message." He walked past the butler and back to the dining room, but Yuy was no longer there. He looked around and spotted him outside on the patio, so Duo retraced his steps and went outside through the kitchen door. Yuy was standing on the deck, overlooking his finely landscaped grounds. He had his hands buried deep into the pockets of his light grey slacks. The wind had coerced a single lock of hair out of rest of his hairdo - slicked back and held together with a lot of gel - and it moved back and forth in front of his eyes and he scrunched up his face when the ends of the fine hairs tickled his nose. He looked so... human. Duo asked, out of the blue: "Do you want me to come back next week?" He didn't turn to face him. "Why do you ask?" "Gerry said you wanted me to come back, but you called me an asshole before, so... I don't know what the fuck you want from me," He shrugged his shoulders and made confused gestures with his hands but the man wasn't even looking at him. "You can come back," Was the curt reply. His ego tempted him to force Yuy to say that he wanted to see him again, but he knew he shouldn't risk it. "Fine. When?" "You like steak, right? Steaks are Wednesdays." "Great." He sighed. "I'll see you next week." Gerry appeared behind him and took him back to front door again where a guard was waiting. Duo got into the passenger seat of the golf cart and angrily counted the trees they passed as they traveled down the long driveway, hoping to distract himself. When the iron gates closed behind him he shook his head and hurried down the street to where Neil was waiting in his truck. The Russian reacted enthusiastically when he was told that the con-artist was invited back again next week and that the two of them had had an actual conversation. "You're missing my point, Neil," Duo argued, not taking his eyes off his own reflection in the side window. "What is your point?" Duo could imagine the exasperated roll of his eyes. Neil thought of him as a drama queen; a nervous little faggot. He overestimated his abilities to read people and still underestimated the challenge before them. "I'm not going to get very far with weekly dinners. I am providing the most basic kind of companionship, that of background noise. My presence doesn't mean much more to him than leaving the TV on even when you're not watching." "But you said he talked to you." "It's not good enough..." He said through gritted teeth. "It needs to go faster." "We have time," Neil assured him. "We have three more months before he makes his next withdrawal at the bank." "I need it to go faster, Neil!" Duo burst. "I can't spend the next three months with this guy!" The would-be general barked back: "Suck it up! Don't rush things because you don't like it, you'll fuck it up!" "Says the guy who asked if I knew where the safe way at the end of the first week," Duo shot back with a snort. "That was before you explained it to me. You told me you needed time! You said so yourself. You have time, so use it. You have to do a little foreplay, if you go too fast, he will lock that shit down, that's what you said." "Well... I actually didn't use sex as an analogy, but that does work..." "Right, so take your time," Neil said definitively. "This isn't about what we talked about before, right?" "What did we talk about?" "Please don't tell me you are already starting to like the guy..." "What? No! Trust me, it's not that. He's a smug prick, I haven't forgotten." "... Yet..." Mumbled Neil. Duo shot him a look to shut him up. He started to fumble with the hem of his shirt as silence consumed the space between them. "How's the foxhunt coming along?" "Good enough." "As someone trained to read between the lines, that doesn't make me feel very good..." "I sent a guy down there. A bloodhound, if you will. If the fox is still there, he'll find him." He made the final turn into Duo's street and parked the car in front of his building. When his passenger didn't move, he pointed out: "This is you." "Did you kill Seth?" Duo demanded to know, finally looking at him. "He is dead." Duo swallowed audibly. "That was not my question. I asked if you killed him." Neil looked up ahead. He deflected by asking: "Does it matter? Does it matter if it was me or if I called in a favor?" "Yes." "Alright. But do you really want me to tell you?" Duo opened the door and stepped out. He said over his shoulder: "You don't have to anymore. I already know." He slammed the door shut and headed inside. Neil had killed Seth himself. He didn't know if it was a twisted sense of honor and duty or if he secretly enjoyed the act of taking someone's life, but both options scared him equally. He worried what would happen to his own humanity if he stayed on this job too long. He had always prided himself on being as morally just as a common crook could be. He knew from watching others that doing long cons chipped away your character; it gnawed at the edges of your person in the depth of night, changing the shape of you and one morning you would just wake up and not recognize yourself and you won't even be bothered, you would just go on as this new persona, this broken being, with sharp, jagged edges. He didn't want that to happen to him, he didn't want to meet the fate A.J. had protected him from all those years. But he didn't know what else to do to pay off his debt; to save J.J., as he had promised. He had no choice but to continue, so he did. The team met up every Friday. Most nights, J.J. couldn't be bothered to be present. Angelica showed off improved times on cracking the safe every week and Neil assured all of them that his 'hound' was on the fox's trail. Duo had two more steak-nights with the secluded billionaire, but without any results to report on. The evenings were carbon copies of on another; the dinners were quiet and uneventful. Sometimes Yuy would share a mundane or technical detail about his work when prompted, but it never meant anything to Duo. It was never anything he could really work with, he hit a dead end every time. He was the most important cog in the machine but he was failing. At the end of another unsuccessful dinner, Gerry walked him to the foyer and handed him the money as per usual. The butler opened the front door but the guard had not yet arrived with his golf cart. Duo frowned but Gerry was not surprised. "I told him to wait a few minutes before driving up to the house," The older man explained. Duo quirked an eyebrow at him. "Obviously you have something to say, so go ahead." "I mean no offense, I know you are a professional," Gerry started politely, "But I've noticed that you only ever try to engage master Yuy into a conversation about his work." "His work is the most important thing to him. Most people like talking about the thing that is most important in their lives." He nodded in understanding. "Yes, but by talking about his work you are only going to get to know master Yuy as the businessman. Wouldn't you rather get to know who he really is?" If the circumstances were different he would rather not get to know the man at all. But with things as they were, he replied genuinely: "Yes, I would." "Then you are asking the wrong questions." He stepped back. He wasn't used to his methods failing, much less have a layman point out his failure to him. It was an embarrassing slight to his ego, although he could tell the butler meant no harm of any kind. "You might be right, but when I asked him about his hobbies before, he brushed me off. Work is the only thing I can actually get him to talk about." "Yes, master Yuy can be very taciturn where personal subjects are concerned. But I'm sure that if you don't give up on him, he will eventually open up to you." He was distracted by the buzzing sounds of the engine of the golf kart as it drove into the inner courtyard and circled the central fountain. The guard waited for him patiently. He chuckled sheepishly. "I must admit, I'm not used to taking advise about how to do this." "Master Yuy is a difficult man to get to know, but I like to think that I do know him pretty well and I am offering you my help." He bit his bottom lip. He felt incredibly bad. His heart clenched. The old man had no idea what he was offering; what kind mess he would willingly partake in. "You would put that kind of trust in me?" Gerry smiled kindly and warmly. "This man," He nodded at the guard who stood by the golf cart, "And his colleagues are here to be distrusting and to protect master Yuy from others. I trust them, to do their job. My job is to protect master Yuy from himself, from his self-destructive predisposition to be reclusive. That means I need to take a leap of faith once in a while. I think you are a good man, mister Maxwell. I hope you will prove me right." His heart plummeted into his stomach like a brick and he felt physically ill as a result. "I'll try," He said and he flashed him a practiced grin. He patted the butler's shoulder and then stepped out of the house and took a seat next to the guard in the kart. He looked at the grey-haired man standing on the front step, looking right back at him with warm, fatherly eyes. Duo raised his hand in a meek wave and then held on as the golf cart sped out of the courtyard and onto the long gravel driveway. He looked off to the side, he didn't want to guard to see his face, he didn't trust that he could maintain his composure. He didn't want to betray Gerry's trust and he certainly didn't want to get the loyal man in trouble, but to not use his advice and his help to get through to the master would be foolish, suicidal even. He needed all the help he could get. On Sunday he spent the afternoon on the park bench by the church, to clear his thoughts and come up with a new strategy. Yuy was more difficult to get to than he had anticipated, his anti-social habits and socially-challenged demeanor obstructed the process and had led him astray. He had been so elated that he finally got the man to talk about something - work - that he had been tempted down a path that led nowhere. Gerry told him this in no uncertain terms. He had to wipe the slate clean and start anew. It all came back to art. Those paintings that decorated every available wall in the mansion was the only interest that was outwardly expressed and it could be key to his more private interests. He needed to refocus on the art, hopefully that would draw out more of Yuy's personality, allowing Duo to understand him better and to give him the references he needed to be able to read him. The damsel-in-distress approach was a safe bet with a guy like Yuy, he decided, according to Seth it has worked for Voss - mister Fox. A classic interpretation of that method was what he liked to explain as 'the Cinderella con'; rich guys loved showing poor, innocent souls their world, to broaden their horizon, educate them, help them and, ultimately, dazzle them. It gives them a sense of being charitable, influential and important, it feeds the God-complex, which could always be trusted to be hungry. He had tried it on the businessman, but he had focused too much on his work. Gerry's warning made it clear that he had to focus his efforts on a different aspect of the man's life. Art was the only other option he had. With renewed vigor he waited for the next steak-night. He stayed quiet until hallway into the entrée, when he asked dumbly: "What's your favorite painting?" Yuy looked up from his plate. His eyebrow twitched, indicating his confusion. But Duo had learned that confused was the best state he could evoke in the man so far, seeing as he was far more agreeable and forthcoming when he was confused than when he was annoyed or bored - the only other two emotional states Duo knew he could rouse. The key was that Yuy did not like being confused and in his efforts to figure things out, he betrayed things about himself. His reaction was defensive: "Why do you ask?" Perhaps a little more foreplay - as Neil would have described it - would have been better, but at least Yuy's deflection, prompted by the blunt question, confirmed just how personal art was to the billionaire. His secrets were in those paintings. "I would like to know. I think it would tell me a lot about you." Crucial to the success of a long con was to be as honest as possible, just short of giving yourself away. "You wouldn't know the work anyway." "Probably not. But I could Google it," He smirked. "Paintings can't be photographed," Yuy said, "Not in a way that truly captures their essence. A painting can't be seen on a computer screen or in a textbook, it has to be experienced." Fucking snob, Duo thought to himself. "Alright, tell me what it is and which museum it's at. I'll go experience it." "It's not in a museum." Duo nodded. "You have it. It's here." "Yes." Cheekily he requested: "Show me." "No." The accompanying glare left no room for argument. "It's not in a part of the house where you are allowed." Duo considered his answer and made mental note of it. It made sense that he kept his most valued possessions in a part of the house that was off-limits to his guests, especially his professional guests. He smiled inwardly when he realized the safe wasn't be in the office. During their earlier meetings, Duo had always been free to roam through the business-section of the house, the entire right wing; the 'waiting room', the home office, the library, the conference room and the forward sitting room. Yuy never kept a close eye on him those times, too engrossed by his work. If the safe was in any of those rooms he wouldn't have trusted to lose sight of him. It wasn't much of a breakthrough, but at least the epiphany narrowed down the number of possibilities. His sense of victory was quickly quelled as it dawned on him that the next most logical place for the safe to be hidden would be the bedroom and as The Bear had already pointed out, there was only one way to gain access to the bedroom... He hid his shudder and continued: "How did you get interested in art?" "I don't know." Duo smiled at the genuine answer and the new, soft tone of voice. "It's a pretty expensive hobby, I imagine, so it's a good thing you got rich." The expression of the man hardened and Duo knew instantly he had said something wrong. He thought it over for a second and then the con-artist pointed out: "You don't like it when I mention your wealth." "I don't." He took another bite of steak. "Why?" "Because I know it is an insult, coming from you," He answered matter-of-factly. Duo blinked at him. "Why would you say that?" "You hate me because I'm rich." That accusation wasn't entirely uncalled for. "I admit to having a bias. But I don't hate you because you're rich." "Why do you hate me?" "I don't hate you," He hurried to say, not sure if he could claim that to be true. "I hate the way you treat me." Another twitch. "I treat you like I treat any other guest." Duo chuckled and said mildly: "Then it is no wonder you don't have any friends." Yuy was hardly stung by the remark. "I invite you into my house, I serve you the very best food and wine. How could you possibly hate that kind of treatment?" The long-haired man leaned back in his seat. "You never show any interest in me. You never ask me any questions about my life or my interests. And you are condescending whenever I try to get to know you, because you think I'm just a poor slum who couldn't possibly understand your very important work or your interest in art." Before Yuy could defend himself he gestured for him to remain quiet and it was apparent that the wordless command enraged the rich man, which made Duo feel quite accomplished - another expression to add to his references; the downturned corners of his mouth and the tense jaw. "Look, it's an improvement. You treat me decent enough, as opposed to before. And you do pay me for my time, so I can't ask for any more and I won't. But since you are paying me, don't you want to get your money's worth? Is listening to me masticate this piece of cow really worth two grand? Don't you want a more interactive experience? Because for what you're paying me, I can do interactive." Yuy suddenly rose out of his seat, the legs of the chair scraped over the grey stone floor as it was pushed back by his sudden rise. He leaned on the table with clenched fists. "Get out," He seethed. Duo's eyes widened. His heart pounded frantically at the dangerous turn of events. "What? Why? What did I-?" "I do not allow lascivious proposals like that." "Lascivious?" Misinterpreting the question he explained: "It means lewd, indecent!" Duo pushed himself out of his chair as well. "I know what it means!" He barked. "I made no 'lascivious proposal'!" Because of the loud exchange Gerry appeared in the dining room, his eyes darted back and forth like he was watching a tennis-match. "Interactive?" Yuy spat. Realizing the mistake Duo composed himself and lowered his voice. "I wasn't suggesting sex," He tried to convince him. "I just meant that it's fine if we actually got to know each other and did more than have quiet dinners together. And by 'more' I mean actually get to know each other and do stuff, like- like squash or something." Yuy snapped his mouth shut. He stared at the other for a while before turning his gaze to his butler for guidance. Gerry smiled. "I see that this is only an instance of miscommunication. I will give you your privacy." He walked out as quickly and as soundlessly as he had walked in. Yuy watched him go with slightly widened eyes, suggesting horror and desperation, but it was too soon to tell. Without making eye-contact he offered a formal apology. "That's okay. I get it." He slowly lowered himself back into his chair and Duo followed his lead. When the silence became unbearable Duo shook his head and tried: "I'm sorry, I should have been more clear. I didn't mean to offend you." "I jumped to conclusions. I overreacted." The silence returned. They both finished their steaks and Gerry entered into the dining room to clear away their plates and later served Duo his dessert; a chocolate ganache cupcake sprinkled with mini pretzels. Looking for any excuse to say something, Duo offered to share the dessert. "No." "Right. It's a weekday." He made quick work of the slice of the cupcake. "Are you working again tonight?" He asked when he was done. "Yes." Duo nodded and got up, readying himself to be led to the front door by Gerry as soon as the butler had put away the plate he had practically licked clean. "I guess I'll see you again next week?" "Do you like art?" He cocked his head at the unexpected question. "I don't know. I haven't seen enough of it." "At one of the galleries I frequent there is a mixed discipline art exposition next Friday. I wasn't going to attend, it's a little elemental, but... if you want, it could serve as a varied introduction for you." Duo smiled, it was somewhat endearing to see the eloquent man struggle with what would have been a simple invitation. "That sounds like fun." It didn't, but Yuy was falling for the Cinderella angle it appeared. He wanted to show him part of his world and that was promising. He simply nodded. He looked him up and down and Duo made a face at the disapproval he could read on the man's features. "There is a dress code," Yuy informed him. "I'll see if I can dig a suit and tie out of my back of my closet." That didn't put Yuy at ease. He got up and when he walked past him he ordered: "Stay here." He had to bite back the defiant growl that threatened to burst past his lips. He waited in the dining room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He knew better than to start wandering around the house. There were camera's everywhere and he counted on the fact that the images were constantly being monitored. It wasn't the time to be bold. When Yuy returned he was carrying a black suit cover with white lettering that read ARMANI. "Holy shit." He dumbly accepted the bag by the coat hanger that stuck out of the top. "We are about the same size. This should fit you well enough." "Uhm... okay. Awesome..." He was caught off-guard by Yuy's generosity but he reminded himself that it was merely a measure to prevent embarrassment to himself, considering they would be seen in public together. "So, uh, what time should I be here, or do you want to meet up at the gallery?" "My driver will pick you up at home at eight." "I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable giving you my address," He confessed. "Security already has your address." Right, he berated himself, the background check. Neil had warned him they would be thorough, which was partly why he got the job in the first place, because if they went digging they would find a clean record. It was, however, a little unnerving to be confronted with the fact that they did do their diligence and knew where he lived. It made him feel unsafe. "Eight it is." He held up the suit. "Thanks." He was escorted back to the front gate as always and he was picked up by Neil around the corner. "Sugar daddy giving you presents?" He taunted as he turned in his seat and watched the other carefully place the suit cover on the back seat. Duo slammed the door shut and then climbed into the passenger seat. "Don't do that." "Fine." He shifted the truck into drive and sped off. "What's the suit for?" "Some boring exposition next Friday." "Art stuff?" "Yes, art stuff." "Great!" He exclaimed. "That's a breakthrough, right?" He nodded pensively. "It's progress." Neil fished his lighter and pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. "Want a smoke?" He was already in the process of lighting one for himself. "Are you kidding me?" Duo grabbed the lit cigarette and threw it out the open window. He took his lighter and packet and safely stuffed them away. "What?" "The suit!" "Oh, right," He glanced at the rear view mirror. "Sorry, habit. We always have a smoke together while I drive you back to your place." "It's fine, it's just..." He buried his face in his hands. "Fuck! This is making me nervous as Hell." Before Neil could ask, he explained: "Look, yes, it's progress, it's a step in the right direction. But I feel like I've stepped onto thin ice, one wrong move..." "You won't make a wrong move. You are going to wow him wearing the suit he picked out for you and he is going to want to bang you in the restrooms of the gallery." "I doubt it," He mused aloud. He fingered the outline of the lighter in his pocket. He needed a smoke real bad, but he had to resist, he couldn't show up in Yuy's suit stinking of nicotine. "He's weird about sex. He mistakenly thought I suggested we should fuck and he flipped out." "Tell me, mind reader, what does that mean?" "I don't know." The Russian scoffed. "You keep saying that! You read everyone like an open book, how come this guy is a total mystery to you?" "It's like I told you, I don't know guys like him. I have nothing to compare his behavior to. All I have is my bias against rich guys like him, but I feel like... I feel like there might be more to him." Neil looked at him sideways. "Is this the part where I dutifully remind you he is a selfish asshole?" "Don't worry about it, okay. I'm sure- I'm sure I'll figure him out. It's just taking me longer than I'd like. I'm not used to not being able to tell like that," He snapped his fingers to illustrate his point. "Normally, when I've spent a couple of hours with someone, I've had enough hits and misses that I have a pretty good idea of where to probe and the percentage of hits increases, until I'm getting hits all the time. But Yuy is not giving me much of any kind of feedback, so I still don't know for sure what the right direction is; what does he like, what does he want from me? To be lost at this stage of the game, is really making me second-guess everything." "Don't tell me not to worry and then tell me shit like that! Jesus, Duo." "Sorry," The American mumbled in response. "I know you're the expert and take this as you will, but..." Duo rolled his eyes. "But-? Spit it out!" "You keep saying you can't read this guys because you don't know rich brats like him." "Right." "Maybe you should stop thinking of him as a billionaire and start thinking of him as just another person and compare him with what you know. He could turn out to be more alike a regular dude than you think. You know, a dick, but still a normal dude." Duo stared at him. In essence the advice wasn't bad, but he had a hard time believing Yuy could be 'one of the guys'. "Thanks," He quipped. "Whatever, man. Just saying." The truck stopped in front of his building and he opened the back door to get the suit. "Remember, I won't be able to go to the team-meeting next Friday." "The exposition, I know. Good luck." "Yeah..." He shut the door and hurried inside. He opened all the windows of his tiny apartment with the intention of airing out the smell of cigarettes that hung heavily in the space. He couldn't risk the smell permeating the suit, not even in the slightest. Neil was right about one thing, Yuy had picked the suit out for him himself, subconsciously the businessman could be looking forward to seeing him in that exact suit very much and he could not disappoint him. He hooked the coat hanger over the edge of his closet door and he unceremoniously unzipped the cover bag and pushed it aside to reveal the suit. He eyed the medium grey suit of a stretch wool and satin blend thoughtfully. He had never worn a suit, much less a suit like that. He pinched the edge of the black lapel between his thumb and forefinger and traced the seam down to the single button at the tailored waist. The accompanying satin blouse was a dark burgundy, the tie was black. He had never seen Yuy wear the suit and it smelled fresh, possibly it was brand new. He zipped the bag up and safely put it away in the closet. With his luck he would spill something on it before Friday night, he had to be careful. That Friday evening he couldn't stomach any food as the hour drew nearer to eight o'clock. Having the billionaire pick him up at his home made him feel exposed and vulnerable. For whatever reason, he didn't like the idea of Yuy seeing what kind of rundown building he lived him, he didn't need the rich man to look down on him or pity him. On top of that he had no idea how he was supposed to act at a goddamned art exposition. He didn't know what to expect. He would be more out of his element than ever and that was not ideal considering what he was tasked with. After a long shower - that failed to calm him down - he gingerly got the suit out of the closet and spread it out on his bed. He started putting the articles of clothing on, one by one. The two of them were, in fact, pretty close in size. The jacket was a bit too tight around his shoulders, but only marginally so. Holding the tie in his hand he walked into the bathroom to check his reflection. He stopped and frowned at the sight of himself. He stared at the man he saw, he didn't recognize him but he couldn't figure out if he liked that or not. He looked good and the fabric felt amazing, but he had never felt like more of a fraud and it made his skin crawl. Part of him wishes he could have been that guy, the guy in the slim-fit, expensive suits who is respected and always has someplace important to be. But he wasn't he was just a street-rat. Even from a young age he knew he would never be more than that, life didn't work that way in these neighborhoods. He leaned forward and struggled with the tie until he ended up with a knot that he deemed acceptable. Yuy hadn't borrowed him any shoes, so he had no choice but to pair the glamorous suit with his beat-up black boots, but it wasn't offensively noticeable. He stood by the window and waited. He didn't know in which vehicle he would be picked up, but he was certain that whatever car Yuy had decided on would stick out from the usual traffic; an odd mix of dull, second-hand cars and tuned-up American models with clashing paint jobs. He didn't even dare to sit down on the armrest of the couch, far too self-conscious about the suit. Duo could imagine, with horror, unknowingly sitting down in an old grease-stain and embarrassing himself at the exposition with a dark discoloration on the back of the pants. As expected he knew exactly when his ride had arrived. A dark blue Jaguar, ostentatiously polished, drove down the street and was effortlessly parked in a spot on the opposite side of the road that had seemed too small to fit the car. Duo took a deep breath and straightened the jacket one last time before stepping out of the apartment and heading downstairs. When he opened the front door of the building, a tall, slender man dressed in a black suit was waiting for him on the steps, complete with one of those ridiculous hats drivers wear. "Duo Maxwell?" He nodded. The driver appraised him and as he reached out, he asked: "Do you mind?" He didn't wait for permission and adjusted the tie. Apparently the knot Duo had managed to create wasn't acceptable enough according to master Yuy's standard. He stood stiffly as the driver fixed the tie and then followed him across the street where the man held the back door on the right side open for him. Duo slid into the beige leather interior of the luxury sedan and was more than a little peeved to discover Yuy was on the phone and didn't acknowledge him, not even when the driver shut the door and the sound caused him to briefly look up from the stack of papers in his lap. The driver got behind the wheel and steered the car back into traffic. Duo looked out the window and noticed people watching the sleek sedan glide across the cracked asphalt. He felt very uncomfortable because he knew exactly what kind of contemptuous things they were thinking - the same things Duo himself thought whenever he saw a car like this come through a poor neighborhood. These thoughts weren't very flattering. While he waited for his date - fuck was this a date? - to finish his call, he studied the inside of the car and eventually the suit Yuy had decided to wear: a cognac brown suit with a white shirt and blue tie. He couldn't help but noticed how mismatched they looked and wondered if, subconsciously, Yuy had engineered it like that. He caught himself being disappointed that Yuy hadn't even glanced at him, much less marveled at how good he looked, proving Neil's optimistic theory wrong. Finally the phone call ended and Yuy put away his phone and the papers. He turned his head to look at him and all he did was nod, as a poor excuse of a greeting. Duo sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "The suit fits well," He pointed out, fishing for a compliment. "It's a little tight around the shoulders," He observed critically. Duo cursed inwardly. He pursed his lips and looked out the window. "Calvin, what's the ETA?" The driver glanced at the GPS. "Seven minutes sir. Security is already at the gallery." "Does Borges know that I'm coming?" "We did not RSVP the invitation, sir, just like you asked." The con-artist shot him a look. "We're crashing? Isn't that considered rude?" "At events like these I prefer that the curators don't know that I will be attending. Most of them feel inclined to call the showcasing artists and then they will show up and try to sell me their work. It bores me." "It bores you?" He mirrored. He shook his head. "Aren't the artists at their own exposition anyway?" "Rarely. At a certain point they become too rich and too famous to care." That sounds familiar, Duo thought to himself. "Alright. But what's wrong with them trying to sell you their paintings? At least you get to meet them." "The work has to speak for itself. I don't want somebody breathing down my neck explaining composition and color-blocking." Almost exactly seven minutes later the car stopped in front of the gallery that Duo recognized from surveillance pictures Neil had shown him. Two big, burly men in black suits, with obvious earpieces walked up to the car. One of them held the door open for Yuy, the other walked around to open the door for Duo, but he had already opened it himself and had climbed out. It was silly to him to have someone else hold the door open for him. The other guard provided Yuy with a security update; ultimately there was nothing to report and they were led inside. The gallery was located in a converted warehouse. The building had retained it's original, industrial features, like the concrete floor, the steel support beams and exposed piping and wiring on the high ceiling. The large space was divided into sections by a maze of white walls that didn't reach all the up to the ceiling. Spotlights illuminated the countless works on display and the people that admired them. It was crowded with men in suits and women in cocktail dresses. Almost every single one of them was holding a glass of champagne and just as Duo noticed that a waiter approached him carrying a full tray of champagne glasses and offered him one. He hadn't eaten a single thing since breakfast, so he declined. He never appreciated the taste of champagne anyway. Within seconds a slim man, dressed in a bright red suit walked up to Yuy with an odd, bouncy gait. Duo hated stereotypes - even though they were important in his line of work - but he knew right away the man was gay. Sometimes it was just that obvious. A guy like that wouldn't be insulted, however. He wanted people to know he was gay, as if his sexuality provided him with some kind of clout in this business based on the stereotype that gay men had an excellent appreciation for art and fashion. He was a peacock showing his feathers. "Heero Yuy!" The man exclaimed and he opened his arms as if he was about to hug the man but he stayed well outside of his personal space, clearly that was a lesson he had once learned the hard way. "If only I had known you were coming!" "Borges," Yuy greeted him with the same polite nod that he had given Duo earlier. Nervously, Borges, the curator, explained: "I'm surprised you're here. This isn't really your type of event, I'm afraid. For this exposition we have focused on portraits; photography to the left and mostly Cartographic and Art Brut to the right." His eyes darted to the tall long-haired man standing next to his favorite customer. "And you've brought a guest..." He stated dumbly. "It's his first art exposition." The expressive man clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! I feel honored." He stared at their empty hands and started snapping his fingers. "Why don't you have any champagne? Have you been offered champagne yet? Waiter! Waiter!" Yuy accepted a glass wordless when a waiter scrambled over to offer him one, even though he had declined only moments before, just like Duo had. Duo declined again, but Borges pressed on, so he begrudgingly took a glass off the tray to silence the overzealous curator. "Would you like me to give you a tour?" "No, thank you." Following the dismissal he bowed and backed away. He actually bowed! Either the billionaire naturally had that effect on people or Borges had been instructed to bow, much like Yuy's staff. Unsure of what to do Duo took a sip of the champagne and made a face. "So, uh, where should we start?" "I just made eye-contact with one of my lawyers, so I should probably start with letting him kiss my ass for a moment, or he'll just interrupt us later." Duo let out a hearty laugh at the dry remark. He frowned when Yuy took his glass of champagne out of his hand and handed both their glasses over to one of the body guards that appeared on cue. Duo watched as the big man walked over to the bar and put away the glasses, effectively saving Duo from either having to drink that cat piss or walk around with a full glass the entire evening. "What should I do?" He didn't like asking Yuy for instructions, but he was playing 'Cinderella' and for the role to be effective he had to let Yuy guide him. "Look around," He said and then he stalked over to his lawyer and a woman who appeared to be his wife. "Alright..." He looked around himself and took a moment to decide which section he should go to first. The paintings on the right side of the room looked like the kind of pictures a violent patient in a mental hospital would draw, the faces were disturbing and plain creepy. So he easily settled on going left, to the photography area of the exposition. The works were organized by artist, sectioned off by the placement of the walls. With his hands behind his back he slowly walked past the framed images, taking his time to scrutinize every one of them. Based on Borges' comment and the fact that he hadn't seen any artistic photography at the Corbeau estate, it was apparent Yuy wasn't a fan of photography and Duo could only wonder why. He quickly discovered that he vastly preferred it to the modern, abstract paintings that Yuy's collection consisted of. To him, pictures were more honest, grounded and gritty and because of that they appealed more to him. He quickly became aware of someone keeping a close eye on him and casually following him. The heavily built man stood out because he was unaccompanied by anyone and he meandered through the sections aimlessly and he only ever looked at the framed pictures when Duo looked at him over his shoulder, to avoid eye-contact. The suit was too big on him and showed signs of wear under the arms and by the pockets, but the man himself was clearly not used to wearing a suit, indicating it was a rental. This wasn't the kind of event to attract people who didn't own their own suits, Duo knew. When the man was pretending to be interested in the picture of a homeless man, Duo slipped out of his line of sight unnoticed and hurried around the wall to round the corner on the other side. He saw the man looking around, searching for him and he snuck up behind him. Feigning innocence, he commented: "I overheard someone saying these pics sell for like twenty thousand dollars." The chubby man turned to face him with confused eyes. "For that kind of money, you better hope it comes with the frame." He forced a chuckle. He leaned in and whispered: "Did Neil send you?" "I was sent by nobody," He lied. "I'm here for the... art." "Bullshit. You're here to spy on me." "What makes you think that?" "Because that's what you've been doing for the past five minutes, you scumbag." "Look man, get off my back. I'm just doing my job." "Spying on me?" He rolled his eyes. "Neil hired me to keep an eye on Richie Rich. He didn't tell me about you, so I was only trying to figure out who the fuck you were. I didn't know Neil also had someone undercover." Duo realized the guy had no idea of the larger scheme Neil had set up, probably to keep the price of his services low. "Tell your boss to come see me tomorrow, at my place," He hissed. "And get the fuck out of here." "You can't just dismiss me. I don't take orders from you." "You stand out like sore thumb in your rental suit that stinks of dry-cleaning chemicals. Get out before security gets wind of you." He glared at the pudgy man until he backed away and eventually walked out of the gallery. What was Neil thinking, hiring a buffoon like that to trail Yuy? Especially on a night when he knew Duo would be with the target. He suspected the Russian was checking up on him and perhaps he had no right to blame him, he hadn't exactly been an image of confidence in Neil's presence, with regards to the mission, but you couldn't send in two guys undercover and not tell either of them. It could have gone horribly wrong. He checked his reflection in the glass pane covering the photograph and then continued his rounds. The American lingered in the section in the back, taken by the black and white portraits made by the featured artist. The three feet tall images were larger than life and therefore all the more imposing. The works had simple, arguably clichéd titles like 'Love', 'Happiness' and 'Despair'. Their subject matter was equally simple; close-up shots of different people, with little regard for composition or lighting. They were honest, raw and exposing. He gravitated towards the photo at the center of the particular section, it had a wall all to itself. It was the image of an older man, his face weathered and riddled with wrinkles and scars - it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. His gaze pierced the lens. The eyes were filled with insufferable pain, guilt and regret. His big, coarse hand partly obscured his features. It would have been a deeply saddening image if not for the fair-skinned face of a young woman, in profile, leaning into the frame. Only her nose, mouth and chin were visible, in a way that would make a critical eye blame the artist for poorly cropping the image, but the feather light kiss she placed on the old man's temple made everything alright. The photograph was titled 'Forgiveness'. "Do you like it?" Duo jumped at the sudden, deep voice behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder, confirming Yuy was there. "I think I do." "Why?" Duo could tell he wasn't judging him, he really wanted to understand what it was about the image that appealed to him. An honest question warranted an honest answer. "I- I like what it means. What it implies." "And what is that?" "That anybody can be loved, no matter what they have done," Or plan to do, he thought to himself, "Somebody will love them, if they let them." He shook his head at himself. "I don't know what I'm saying. But I guess you could say I'm 'experiencing' it, so I'm starting to get what you meant." "Hn." Yuy stared at the photograph over Duo's shoulder. "Do you want it?" Duo spun around. "What? No! Just because I like something doesn't mean I have to have it." That was probably a novel concept for the man who could buy anything and everything he desired. "I don't think a fu- a photograph is worth that kind of money anyway." "Nobody is here to buy a photograph, or painting. They buy the experience. If the experience is good enough, it is worth any kind of money," Yuy coolly informed him. "Look, I like the picture and I like the experience, I guess. But the real experiences - the ones that would actually be worth a fortune - are for free. Like the experience of this man," He nodded at the portrait. "The good experience is getting a kiss, is being forgiven. You can't buy that and... more importantly, you shouldn't want to." He smiled sadly as he recognized the puzzlement on the rich man's face. "The best things are for free." Having had no real money his entire life, those were words to live by. "Hn." He nodded, although he didn't seem to fully understand. They stayed at the gallery for about an hour. Yuy was approached a number of times but he blew everyone off in favor of studying the portraits in quiet next to Duo. The American wasn't certain if he should be flattered or if he was merely an excuse for Yuy to be anti-social to everyone else. Yuy didn't buy anything that evening. As Borges has said, the art didn't match his preferences. They got back into the Jaguar and Calvin drove by Duo's building. Duo fidgeted as the car idled in his street. Yuy had pulled those goddamn papers into his lap again and hadn't been paying him any attention since they left the gallery. "Uhm, I guess this is it for tonight?" "Calvin will escort you to your door. He has your money." Duo made a face, he hadn't been fishing for a payment. Those two-thousand dollars per evening weren't doing him much good anyway. "Okay cool." After a moment of contemplation, he wondered: "Do you mind if we switch our dinner date to another evening? I'm getting kind of tired of steak." "Do you like sushi?" "Yeah, I love sushi." He didn't, not really, but he had only ever had that cheap super-market sushi and he knew he shouldn't dismiss the possibility that he might actually like it if it was good quality. "Good. I'll see you Sunday." "Sunday?" "Yes, Sunday night is Sushi-night." Duo smirked. Being invited back for the third time in a single week was definitely a good sign. "Great. I'll be there at seven." "Eight," Yuy corrected. "In the weekends dinner is as eight." "Alright. Eight it is." At Yuy's nod Calvin got out of the car but before he could get to Duo's door Duo already popped it open and climbed out, meeting the tall man with a grin. He leaned forward to look back into the vehicle and wondered: "Do you want me to have the suit dry-cleaned for you?" "Keep it," He said. "What?" Taken aback he pointed out: "But you said it was too tight around the shoulders." The billionaire finally looked up from his work again and his eyes glanced up and down Duo's body nearly imperceptibly. "Keep it. It looks good on you." "Thanks." He couldn't help his silly grin. "I'll see you Sunday." He shut the door and let Calvin walk him to the front steps of his building. Once he had unlocked the door Calvin produced a white envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over discretely. He wished him a good night and tipped his hat and then walked back to the car. Duo watched him go and only then noticed the black SUV with Yuy's security that must have been following them all along. He swallowed loudly and stepped inside. He called to have a big pizza delivered and washed it down with a six-pack of beer. He had been starving all once the nervous butterflies vacated his stomach. The next day he woke up at noon, finding himself on his back on the couch, the pizza box on top of his abdomen, rising and falling with his every breath. The TV was still on; the weather channel. But it wasn't tomorrow's forecast that had woken him up. The intercom buzzed again and he knew it was Neil. Duo jumped up from the couch and nearly slipped on a discarded bottle of beer on the carpet. He answered the intercom saying: "Come on up." And he held down the button that remotely opened the front door of the building. The con-man used the brief moment he had to tidy up the apartment and straighten his clothes. He didn't want Neil to get the wrong impression; that he had been drowning his sorrows. The evening at the exposition had actually been quite promising and he needed to assure him of that. It had been wrong of him to vent to Neil earlier about his troubles with the target, it caused Neil to get more involved than was safe for any of them. Wondering what took the man so long to come up the stairs he opened the door and looked down the hallway. He frowned when a delivery guy rounded the corner that very moment, hassling with a large package. With awkward steps the young man made his way down the hallway to Duo's front door and he didn't even notice the tall man until he reached up to knock on a door that was already open. "Sir! He- Hello, sir." At the stare he explained shyly: "You said I could come up? You buzzed me in." Duo nodded at the package - a large, flat rectangular shape, wrapped in brown paper, a sticker on the front read 'Handle with care'. "That's for me?" "Yes, sir." He carefully propped it against the wall. He produced an Electronic Signature Capture device from the back pocket of his baggy pants and held it out to him. "I just need you to sign here, sir." He accepted the electronic pen and jotted down his name. He didn't even have a signature, for crying out loud! He watched the delivery man walk away and then turned his attention to the package. It didn't take a mind reader to figure out what it was but he was still apprehensive as he maneuvered the cumbersome package into his living room. He started ripping away the brown paper and then the layer of bubble wrap and even though he had long guessed what it was, his heart still skipped a beat when the layer of protection was cleared away and the photograph of the pained man was revealed. "Holy shit," He muttered to himself, knowing the artwork cost tens of thousands of dollars. Befuddled he started looking for a note, assuming there would be one. He found it as he took a closer look at the brown paper he had torn away. A small, white note, the size of a post-it, simply stated: 'The best things are for free.' He smiled. The gift clearly meant that Yuy had misunderstood what he had been trying to say, but in an odd, unexpected way the gift and the message were endearing. "Who the fuck is that?" He turned and spotted Neil standing in his doorway. "Nobody. It's art." "It's ugly. Who wants a big-ass picture of an ugly guy in his house?" "It's not about the picture, it's about the experience," He argued and then he laughed at himself. "Whatever the fuck that means..." The Russian muttered. "You summoned me? For the record, I don't appreciate that." "And I don't appreciate you having some goon spy on me!" "He was there for Yuy." "Bullshit. He was there to keep an eye on me, or you would have called him off. I'm the one who keeps an eye on Yuy, after all." Neil rolled his eyes at him. "Fine. Guilty as charged. You had me worried!" "Well," Duo paused and looked back at the photograph. A sly smile appeared on his face. "...You don't have to worry anymore..."
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