“What would you have done about it even if I did tell you?” Quatre said defensively. “Besides, Trowa said he might not talk anytime soon anyway...”
“Well, Trowa was wrong,” Heero said flatly, the menace in his tone hinting that he might want to let the subject rest there. Quatre hastily gathered together some tools of his trade, and the two of them walked in silence back towards Heero’s tent. Quatre’s natural ebullience couldn’t be suppressed long, though, and he was soon chattering to a largely unresponsive Heero.
“It’s nice to have a break from constantly fighting,” the young doctor was saying. “And we actually won a skirmish, for a change. There’s a real difference in mood among the soldiers, you can feel it in the camp. Everyone’s readying themselves up to fight again, with a victory on our side, but people are taking the time to catch their breaths, too. How much longer do you suppose it will last?”
“I can’t say,” Heero’s answered tersely, discouraging further questioning along that line. Even if he had been at liberty to tell his plans so casually, Heero was not quite sure himself what to do next. Having won the long-coveted defensive position at Baruji’s Ford, he was loathe to move the army until they got some more substantial information as to the movements of the Oz army. The silence from their enemies was worrisome; though Oz’s defeat had been decisive, it was by no means enough to scatter their larger forces or even set them back to this extent. Not even the death of General Khushrenada should have...
The sound of Quatre’s voice brought him out of his familiar musings; Quatre had asked some sort of question, and was waiting for a response. Heero’s first impulse was to ignore it, but he found himself thinking of how uncomfortable he had found himself over the past week, trying to make conversation with someone who would not or could not answer back. “What did you just say?” he asked absently, trying to cover for his lapse of attention.
“I said, did you ever find out his name,” Quatre repeated patiently. “The boy, that is. You said he spoke with you last night, and I assume you thought to ask what --”
“Of course I did,” Heero interrupted, and then paused. “...Duo. He said his name was Duo.”
“Duo,” Quatre repeated. “I like that name. It has a nice sound to it.”
Silently, Heero found himself agreeing. But he would never say so aloud.
Re: Spoil of War, prologue
Date: 2006-02-27 11:23 pm (UTC)“What would you have done about it even if I did tell you?” Quatre said defensively. “Besides, Trowa said he might not talk anytime soon anyway...”
“Well, Trowa was wrong,” Heero said flatly, the menace in his tone hinting that he might want to let the subject rest there. Quatre hastily gathered together some tools of his trade, and the two of them walked in silence back towards Heero’s tent. Quatre’s natural ebullience couldn’t be suppressed long, though, and he was soon chattering to a largely unresponsive Heero.
“It’s nice to have a break from constantly fighting,” the young doctor was saying. “And we actually won a skirmish, for a change. There’s a real difference in mood among the soldiers, you can feel it in the camp. Everyone’s readying themselves up to fight again, with a victory on our side, but people are taking the time to catch their breaths, too. How much longer do you suppose it will last?”
“I can’t say,” Heero’s answered tersely, discouraging further questioning along that line. Even if he had been at liberty to tell his plans so casually, Heero was not quite sure himself what to do next. Having won the long-coveted defensive position at Baruji’s Ford, he was loathe to move the army until they got some more substantial information as to the movements of the Oz army. The silence from their enemies was worrisome; though Oz’s defeat had been decisive, it was by no means enough to scatter their larger forces or even set them back to this extent. Not even the death of General Khushrenada should have...
The sound of Quatre’s voice brought him out of his familiar musings; Quatre had asked some sort of question, and was waiting for a response. Heero’s first impulse was to ignore it, but he found himself thinking of how uncomfortable he had found himself over the past week, trying to make conversation with someone who would not or could not answer back. “What did you just say?” he asked absently, trying to cover for his lapse of attention.
“I said, did you ever find out his name,” Quatre repeated patiently. “The boy, that is. You said he spoke with you last night, and I assume you thought to ask what --”
“Of course I did,” Heero interrupted, and then paused. “...Duo. He said his name was Duo.”
“Duo,” Quatre repeated. “I like that name. It has a nice sound to it.”
Silently, Heero found himself agreeing. But he would never say so aloud.