"You ever get de feeling dat Remy's brainwashin' Bel?" Fifolet asked as he, Gris-Gris and Questa sat around Gris' room after Bella Donna left. They had the door open a couple of inches, mainly because it was late at night, and they didn't think anyone else in the house was still awake. They were unaware that just down the hall, Theoren, Claude and Mercy were doing their best to comfort a very hurt and distraught Emil.
"I don' like it. First, we get yelled at by LeBeau, den Bel comes an' tells us to back off de t'ieves." Gris commented. "I don' know 'bout brainwashin', but it doesn' matter. I'm sick of dis unification. I don' t'ink we should have to change our ways jus' for de sake of de prophecies."
"What're we goin' do 'bout it?" Questa asked.
"Sleep on it. In de mornin', we'll talk to Bel an' Singer. We can come up wit' a plan from dere. It's not like we seriously hurt dem." Fifolet replied.
"De whole point to what we did was to scare 'em, make 'em realize we're still not deir friends, no matter how long de unification lasts." Questa said. "Oui, dey got roughed up a bit, but we didn' have any intention to really hurt dem."
"Speak for yourself." Gris said shortly.
"You mean you intended on hurtin' Emil?" Fifolet was aghast.
Gris looked at his two friends squarely. "Lapin is a brat who doesn' d'serve to be alive. Oui, I intended on hurtin' him more den I got a chance to."
Mercy, who had left Emil's room with the intent of going to bed, had paused unseen outside the door of Gris' room and heard the last bit of the conversation. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she realized that Emil was really very lucky. If Remy hadn't shown up when he had…Mercy didn't want to think about what might have happened. She hurried silently to her bedroom and laid awake in bed for a long time, thinking about the unification and how upset Emil was over the things that had been going on. She was starting to think bringing the two guilds together hadn't been such a good idea in the first place.
Down the hall in Emil's room, Claude gave Theoren a half-hearted smile and whispered,
"Theo."
Theoren looked at his friend and tilted his head questioningly. "What?" he whispered back. Neither one of them wanted to disturb Emil.
"I t'ink you can put him down now." Claude said.
Sure enough, when Theoren looked down at Emil, the young thief had finally fallen asleep, using Theo's chest as a pillow, his tear-stained cheeks still damp. Theoren sighed softly, and shifted to put Emil down. He didn't move off the bed, he had no intention of leaving Emil alone that night. Instead, he remained sitting there, leaning against the wall.
Claude raised an eyebrow. "You stayin'?"
Theoren nodded. "Yeah. For awhile anyway."
"Okay. Any idea what we're going to do in de mornin'?" Claude asked.
"Not yet. I do know we have to tell Remy, Genard an' Zoe…an'…"
"An' what?" Claude questioned, pausing at the door.
"Not'ing. 'Night." Theoren replied, giving his friend a smile.
"'Night."
The door shut behind Claude and Theoren was alone in the room, sitting on the bed beside Emil, who, in spite of finally being asleep, didn't look at all peaceful. Theoren looked down at his friend and sighed again.
"I won' let you down, kid. I promise." He whispered softly before leaning his head back and closing his eyes to try and get some sleep himself. The next day was going to be a hard one and he was going to need all the rest he could get.
Early the next morning, Theoren left Emil's room and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but it wasn't because of Emil. Theoren couldn't sleep because he was angry, and his anger simmered all night. He had to admit to himself as he waited for the coffee to brew that he was seriously considering killing Gris-Gris.
"I'm a t'ief, not an assassin. I don' b'lieve in killin' people. But dat man makes me so angry…I jus' hope someone stops me…" He muttered under his breath.
The kitchen door opened and closed again. Theoren automatically turned to see who was joining him and just about dropped his coffee mug. Coming towards him with a somewhat smug look on his face, was Gris.
'Heaven grant me de strength…' Theo silently prayed. He said nothing aloud. He didn't want to start any conversation with the assassin. If Gris had something to say, or if he wanted Theoren to say something, then Gris was just going to have to start the conversation himself.
"I s'pose you know 'bout what happened yesterday?" Gris questioned lightly, his tone making it obvious to Theoren that he wasn't sorry for what had happened.
Theoren glanced at Gris and raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oui."
"De kid's been askin' for it, ya know." Gris commented, still lightly. He had a feeling that Theoren was angry with him and wanted to see how far he could push him.
"Dat kid doesn' ask for anyt'ing an' if you knew him half as well as de rest of us do, you'd know dat." Theoren said, keeping his voice low.
"He's an obnoxious little brat an' I don' like him. He needed to be taught a lesson. Since you t'ieves don' seem to want to teach him dat lesson, I took it upon myself to do it for you. An' I'd do it again too, in a flash. I will do it again, if he ever says another obnoxious t'ing to me."
Theoren's memory flashed back to the night before, and he thought of the desperately unhappy and exhausted Emil, who was so close to the edge of an emotional breakdown Theoren didn't know if they'd be able to get to him in time. The anger that had been simmering under the surface all night suddenly rose to the top and Theoren gave Gris-Gris the fiercest glare he could manage, which was a pretty fierce one, considering the circumstances.
Gris backed up a step when he saw the look on Theoren's face. Gris was by no means afraid of the thief, but he was starting to think that maybe he'd made a mistake in talking to Theoren just then.
Theoren was a good five inches shorter than Gris, but he could make the most of his six-foot frame when he had to and right then, he was furious beyond anything he'd ever felt before. He decided to give the assassin a dose of his own medicine and walked over to where Gris was standing. He literally shoved Gris up against the and said in a quiet voice that could only be described as deadly,
"If you ever so much as lay one finger on dat boy again, I swear I'll kill you so fast you won' know what hit you. Consider dis your first an' last warnin'. I won' tell you again. Leave him alone."
Gris was astonished. In the first place, Gris had not figured Theoren to be as strong as it was now obvious he was. Appearances could indeed be deceiving. And in the second place, no one, especially no thief, had ever threatened Gris with quite that much authority before. He honestly didn't know what to say, although Theoren's threat really did nothing except make him angry.
Gris looked down at Theoren with hatred showing plainly in his dark eyes and face. "I'll do whatever I want to, Marceaux, an' neither you nor anyone else will stop me." he said before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.
The venom dripping from Gris' voice caused Theoren to do a double take and he stood there for a long time after Gris had left the room, his coffee forgotten, staring at the door. He sighed as he realized that things just might have gotten worse.
"God help us all…" he prayed.