Day Seven: Formal (30th of July)

Beckett Fowl was quite the captivating man, if you got to know him. He may not have been blessed with extreme intellect like his other two siblings, Myles and Artemis, but where they lacked in general motor skills he excelled at it, even managing to drop Juliet behind a rank or two. The youngest Fowl sibling was also born generous- always giving even when others begged him not to (his rather reckless history with the dung beetle-presents comes into mind). It was true, he was a general sweetheart, and everyone seemed to sway with the charm he exuded.

This was a quality Myles Fowl found most annoying, but he almost longed for that trait that evening when he saw his supposed no-show-date glide through the double doors of the ballroom, her pearly white clutch grasped firmly within her left hand.

Beckett put his arm around his brother before suddenly dropping it, grinning.  “Ah... Myles... except she is.”

Myles' knees almost buckled at the sight of her.

Emily Faucet’s casual attire was replaced by an endless flowing off white gown, a golden tiled belt looped around her waist, giving her the air of an Egyptian empress. Her hair was not in its usual ponytail; instead it cascaded down her shoulders in large chestnut curls. She barely wore any distinctive makeup, but her almond eyes were lined with kohl and her lips were a blushful pink.

Beckett blinked repeatedly, and smacked his head a couple of times before standing up straighter than he had ever had (those training sessions with Butler were extremely useful, thank you very much). Wow.. she looks so different, thought Beckett, impressed. He glanced over at his brother, who was turning a very obvious shade of red. Beckett couldn’t help but smirk at his older twin.

“Not so reserved now are you, brother” he mumbled, nodding appreciatively at Emily’s way (she was still by the gates, deep in discussion with the door man).

Myles was horrified. “Shut up, Beckett. Just shut up,” he hissed, his calm demeanor utterly fragmented. 

Beckett raised both his hands in a sign of surrender, and grabbed his brother’s arm, “Come on, let’s go talk to her.”

Myles shook his head very quickly, and Beckett noticed that his pupils were dilated, a sign of overwhelming nervousness. “Never. I’m not moving from this spot,” he said softly, eyes never straying away from Emily.

Beckett snorted. “Fine.” He began to walk over to Emily, taking long, relaxed strides. Myles snapped his gaze from Emily and looked frantically at Beckett. “Where are you going?” he asked, his words jumbled up together.

Beckett shrugged, giving his deranged brother a lazy smile. “Emily,” he said simply, dusting off non-existent lint off his suit. Myles arched both his eyebrows. “Why would you go to Emily? She’s not your date- you already have one!”

“She’s my friend, and I shall support her,” Beckett replied with a firm nod of the head. Myles spluttered when he said this, and grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “And what do you mean by support her, hmm? Are you going to dance with her? Are you going to take her to the back gardens? I know what you do in there you know!”

Beckett grinned and ignored his brother’s fingers digging into his skin. “Myles, I’m not going to steal your date-“

“She’s not my date!” Myles cried, letting go of his twin’s shoulder. “In fact, you can do whatever you want with her! I won’t even care. Not in the slightest!” he declared, his hand gestures exceedingly dramatic. Beckett sighed and bit back a laugh. “Myles, relax, I swear I was just messing around, really... Just wanted you to be motivated, that’s all.”

Myles took a deep breath, his skin returning to its usual pale self. Beckett could almost see him mentally multiplying triple digits till he got the upper advantage of his temper. “I insist, brother. This night is a night for enjoyment and useless chitter- chatter. I cannot stop you from entertaining yourself, however crudely you wish to accomplish it.” He checked his Rolex for the time, confirming his suspicions. “Father wishes I inform the head of the kitchen to fetch the first of the appetizers... if you could excuse me...” Myles gave Beckett a curt nod and took a short cut to the kitchens through a trap door disguised as a painting.

Except that trapdoor didn’t lead to the kitchens, it lead to his lab underground. An obvious lie, thought the youngest sibling. Myles was never this apparent on purpose.

Beckett winced. That wasn’t the motivation he was hoping for. He was forced to come to the conclusion that Myles was actually mad at him. Maybe he pushed it a little too far? Beckett sighed and reached for a glass of champagne. He bought it to his lips, discovering that it was already drained. He rolled his eyes and set it on a random tabletop, already halfway towards the bar.

He ordered his drink, a very dry martini (extra olives on the sides) and contemplated a way he could get Myles out of the lab and into the dance floor. It might not have been obvious, what with Myles poor coordination, but he was an excellent ballroom dancer- very light on his feet. Beckett might have been a wee tiny bit better, but really- who was counting?

“Beckett.”

Beckett glanced to his right to find Emily perched on the stool, champagne glass held tastefully by her lips. She took a tentative sip, registering the taste of the drink. She grimaced and put the drink on the marble tabletop, shoving it out of her way with an elegant finger.

He grinned. “You showed up,” he said, sounding slaphappy. Emily looked down at the dress she was wearing, and nodded. “I showed up,” she said, hiding a smile. “Where is he, then?” she asked, peering at the large crowd before her. Beckett drained his martini. “Where’s who?” he asked innocently. Emily rolled her eyes. “Myles. Where-is-Myles. I’m his-“ she opened her clutch and brought out the invitation. Sliding it towards Beckett, she pointed at the word ‘guest’.

“Oh- err- Myles? He just went to check on the appetizers." He didn't know why he lied. He didn't want Emily to know about how miserable Myles was. "How about you order another drink and I’ll go get him?” Emily shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, there are guys here who openly stare at my butt. I’m not risking being alone again, Beck,” she said, disgusted. 

“That’s because you look so pretty tonight,” said Beckett as a-matter-of-factly.

Emily punched his shoulder. “How sweet,” she said sarcastically, but she smiled nonetheless. Beckett rolled his eyes, noticing that her annoying ways were resurfacing. “I don’t think he’d want you to be in the kitchen. You might ruin everyone’s dinner,” Beckett harrumphed, walking towards the painting/trapdoor.

Emily managed to get down from the stool without tripping over her dress and caught up with Beckett. “He said that? Did he actually say that?” she asked, her voice edgy.

Oh shit- good job Beck. Mission control! Mission control! Abort mission! Do you copy?

Beckett stopped, facing his temperamental friend. “No- no, he didn’t say that!” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well then what did he say?” she asked, eyes narrowed. Beckett sighed, and was about to set her straight when Angeline Fowl drew near the pair of them.

She gave them both a dazzling smile, and shot Beckett a look. She’s beautiful, dear. I can’t wait to get to meet her!

Beckett coughed, shaking his head quickly. No- mum, she isn’t my date!

But she wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was conversing with Emily, who seemed to transform before his very eyes. Just five seconds ago she was hostile, ready to explode, in fact, but now she was actually... charming?

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Angeline trilled. “And really, what a gorgeous gown. Oh how the times have changed... everyone Beckett’s age simply refuse to wear anything elegant. It’s all hot pink this and electric that. Artemis- you know Artemis don’t you, dear?- he tells me all adolescents are wild with what they put on.. He clearly hasn’t seen you yet,” she finished, twirling Emily around.

Emily smiled bashfully at his mother and thanked her for the compliment (she even blushed! Emily was capable of blushing.) and then they began discussing the flowers arranged around the room. Beckett looked strangely at Emily, who was laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Angeline smiled adoringly at Emily before asking, “I expect I’ll be seeing you at our table?”

She returned the smile. “I hope so, Mrs. Fowl.” Angeline nodded approvingly and drifted into the crowd, leaving Beckett and Emily alone once more.

Beckett turned to look at Emily, who was tapping away at her phone. “That was brilliant. You actually fooled her into liking you!”

“I didn’t fool her! I was just- I was just talking to an adult the way I usually do,” said Emily, flustered.

“My future dates need to learn a couple of things from you, that’s for sure!” exclaimed Beckett, steering Emily right towards the painting. “Hey- where are we going? Stop touching me with your Beckett hands. I have nightmares about those.”

Beckett stopped, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Beckett hands? I’ll have you know that girls dream about these very hands and-“

Emily shuddered. “Please. Just forget I mentioned it, mate.”

Beckett shook his head, clearly offended with her last remark. “That hurt, Em.”

“That’s not the only thing that’ll hurt... if you catch my drift.”

Beckett decided to drop the subject. He walked straight towards the painting, and touched the exterior with his pinky. “Security check,” he explained, swinging the painting wide open. Emily’s eyebrows knitted together. “You have a trap door... in the ballroom... in your mansion. Right. Clearly I’ve seen everything.” Emily took a careful step forward, and Beckett quietly closed the door, (preventing drunk teenagers from getting any suggestive ideas) enveloping Emily in inky darkness.

He flipped a switch by Emily’s ear, the torches nailed to the walls brightening. “Passage way.. nice,” muttered Emily, following Beckett’s lead.

They went down the spiral stony steps, and once they reached the bottom, Beckett brought his index finger to his lips. Emily was about to argue but Beckett motioned her to move towards the shadows, the low lights playing tricks on his face. “Stay here,” he mumbled, before opening a second door, leaving it ajar and wide open. Emily squinted through the darkness, trying to make sense of what she was looking at.

The room was lit with fluorescent lights, filled with table after table of tubes, flasks, and the occasional odd gadgetry. One complete wall was occupied with screens, displaying tables and countless graphs, charts and complex diagrams of miscellaneous mammals. Emily tiltd her head to the side, thinking. Wait a second, this isn’t a kitchen... it’s a lab. “There’s a lab... in a secret passage... inside a trapdoor... in a ballroom... in a mansion... now I’ve seen everything,” she breathed, taking in the detail. And right in the middle of the whole ensemble was Myles (sporting a crisp lab coat) who was followed tersely by Beckett.

“Come on, Myles, she’s waiting for you upstairs! Stop being a bloody coward and woo her,” said Beckett, winking at his brother.

Woo me? Emily felt herself grow pink.

Myles whipped his head around and flashed an angry glare at his brother. “Woo her? This isn’t some kind of 1950s movie, Beckett! Honestly... you’re completely delusional.”

Beckett groaned. “Fine. Wooing her might be too extreme for you, but this doesn’t mean you could sulk in here. She’s your guest. Entertain her!”

Myles, ignoring his brother’s last comment, walked towards one of the many screens, making observations on each experiment displayed before him (at least that was what Emily assumed he was doing). Beckett grabbed a pencil from a nearby table and threw it at Myles' lower back, which made him shriek in surprise- Emily willed herself not to laugh.

“Stop throwing my pencils! Did you hear that, Beckett? My pencils. As in belonging to me. Just like Emily. She was my guest, but you had to ruin everything!” Myles said, his voice heightening to a shout. Beckett dropped his head in what Emily assumed was shame. He then lifted it, and looked pleadingly at his brother. “Myles- I’m sorry, really. You know I’d never do that to you, right? You’re my brother- and brothers don’t steal each other’s dates.” Beckett sighed, walked over to his brother and hugged him. Myles groaned audibly, but Emily could see that he returned the hug.

“Get off me,” said Myles irritably, trying to shake Beckett off. “No,” replied Beckett, his face blissful. Myles sighed, and tried again, to which Beckett responded with an even tighter embrace. After a few minutes of struggling, Emily could see that Myles thought he had no choice but to give in. “Fine,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “Fine what?” asked his brother, embrace loosening a bit. “Fine I’ll come up. Your body odor is far too insufferable, I couldn’t even breathe the last few minutes,” said Myles wryly, escaping his brother’s clutches. Beckett raised his fist, triumphant. “Huzzuh! My body has never failed me! Now get the coat off- I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Beckett walked quickly out of the room, and closed the door behind him. He grabbed Emily’s hand and scaled the stairs, Emily following closely behind. Beckett switched the lights off, and opened the door, Emily and him slipping smoothly back into the festivities.

***

“Come on, our table is this way,” said Beckett cheerfully, guiding his friend towards the table at the front. Emily noticed that the table was far smaller than the rest of the tables, but size certainly wasn’t a matter of importance when it came to style. Their table was adorned with a hand woven powder blue table sheet, while the rest were covered in standard white sheets. In the middle of the table rested a large crystal bowl brimful of exotic bright fruits, mini crystal bowls of melted chocolates, dark-milk-white-pistachio-orange-caramel-nugget, surrounded the bowl decoratively. Gleaming silverware were placed neatly beside the expensive china, and were wrapped elegantly in white silk.

Beckett sat down by his mother, and motioned her to sit by him. She was about to oblige when she felt a small touch at her back. She turned around and found Myles, who greeted her with a slight nod of the head (Emily was too stunned at his boldness to respond to anything at that point). Angeline smiled at them both before addressing Myles, her eyes twinkling. “Myles, darling, have you met Emily, Beckett’s guest for the evening?”

Myles turned a very subtle shade of pink (really, it was barely noticeable, Myles would reason later), and Beckett inwardly groaned, mentally kicking himself in the arse. Really, mum? It took me days to persuade Myles to ask her and this is what you have to say?

Fortunately for the twins, Emily wasn’t useless in awkward pauses. She took hold of Myles hand (his heart skipped a thousand beats that second) and said smoothly, “We’ve met, Mrs. Fowl, in an art show two weeks ago. Beckett-“

“I’m not her date!” Beckett blurted out, praying Myles was stable at the moment. Whenever he was around Emily he seemed to go hay-wire. Beckett then noticed their hand holding, and grinned, giving Myles the thumbs up.

Emily gave Myles a little nudge, and he finally tore his gaze away from her long perfectly manicured fingers. He coughed, hoping this was sufficient enough to move the limelight away from him.

He pulled Emily’s chair, and she sat down gracefully. Myles sat down himself and immediately plucked a grape from the bowl, stuffing it in his mouth.

***

“Myles, darling, have you met Emily, Beckett’s guest for the evening?”

Myles wanted to drop his hand and punch his brother. Why on earth did his mother assume that Emily was his brother’s date- err- guest? Fortunately for him, Emily corrected his mother tactfully and took hold of her hand.

She’s holding my hand. Emily is holding my hand. We are touching hands. Our hands are touching. They're so soft. They're like my pillows imported from Japan. Soft...  Myles mentally slapped himself, and was snapped back to reality when Emily nudged him. Pull the chair open, stupid.

Oh. Right. Myles quickly acted and ignored his brothers’ smirks. Really, he was expecting this from Beckett but Artemis? Myles chided himself for acting so poorly around his family. He straightened his back, reassuring himself that tonight would most definitely not end up disastrous. He was Myles Fowl for heaven’s sake! He wasn’t going to allow some pretty girl the courtesy of humiliating him in front of his entire family. Myles refused to think about how extraordinary Emily looked that evening. He refused to think about how her eyes sparkled with quick wittedness and intelligence and he most certainly was not going to think about her lips. Nope. He had it all under control.

“Myles! Aren’t you going to introduce Emily to your family?” exclaimed Angeline, tutting at her son as if he were caught eating dessert before his lunch.

Beckett sniggered, and Artemis visibly bit back a small smile.

Twenty eight times eighty four is two thousand and three hundred and fifty two... ninety one times fifty six is five thousand and ninety six... two times two is four.

“Of course, mother,” he replied steadily, turning to Emily, who blinked at him with her large olive eyes. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to ignore his maniac hormones. She seemed to be smirking at him, the nerve of her.

Very well. If she were to play the innocent eyed, non-acidic tongued girl, then he would do the same.

He took hold of her hand, and ignored his fluttering heart. “Emily, I’m sure you’ve met my beautiful mother?” (Angeline shook her head modestly, earning a peck on the check from Artemis Senior). “I have, Myles, and beautiful doesn’t even do her justice,” she simpered.

Beckett and Artemis simultaneously raised a single eyebrow. “And this is my father, Artemis Senior, the man of the hour,” he continued, glancing at his father, who smiled proudly at his son. “And this man opposite you is my older brother, Artemis.” Artemis gave her a nod of welcome. “He has been organizing this event for the past nineteen years, but I relieved him off his duty, he has... other responsibilities as of now,” he finished, eyeing his brother with defiance. Try to embarrass me, I dare you.

“How tiresome is my brother becoming, Emily? I notice you rolling your eyes every so often,” said Artemis, folding his hands neatly on the table. Emily gave him a smile. Myles scowled.

Beckett grinned. “Hey Artemis, where’s Lily? I didn’t see her all night.”

Artemis flicked his unperturbed gaze from Emily to his youngest brother. “She’s visiting her family in Millbury, and so she wasn’t able to attend.”

“Lily is Artemis’ wife- they got married last year,” explained Beckett, popping a cherry in his mouth. 

Artemis sent his brother a questioning expression. Why are you changing the subject?

Becket replied with a jerk of his towards Myles, who frowned like there was no tomorrow. Because I don’t want him crying tonight.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. We might as well make him squirm, brother.

Becket grinned. Let’s.

“So, Emily,” began Artemis, seizing the opportunity. “You’ve met my frenzied brother in an art show?”

Myles didn’t like where this was going. He shot a look towards Beckett, who seemed to be smiling gleefully.

Emily nodded, thanking the waiter serving the first appetizer. “I had an internship in London’s Modern Art Gallery, your brother crashed into a painting, and demanded that they dry clean his suit.”

Myles sank into his chair. This wasn’t how he pictured this evening would go.

“Pardon?” said Angeline, looking over at Myles, who was barely visible.

“And how did he manage to crash into a painting, I dare ask?” asked Artemis Senior, sipping his glass of white wine.

Emily glanced at Myles, who looked at her pleadingly. Please don’t please don’t please don’t.

She smiled smugly. “He tripped over a tray of champagne.”

Beckett peered over at Myles, laughing. “You never told me that!”

“And it was going to stay that way,” he mumbled, glaring at Artemis, who smirked.

“Oh Myles- you haven’t made a big fuss now have you?” asked Angeline, looking at her son with a concerned expression.

Emily brought the spoonful of mushroom cream soup to her lips. She swallowed it and put it back on her bowl. “Well-“

“I simply asked an intern, which happened to be Emily, about who was in charge of the whole show, so I could speak to them... privately.”

Now Artemis and Beckett were the only ones aware of what ‘privately’ meant in this situation. Privately meant no witnesses. Privately meant suing the pants off the poor unfortunate soul who caused any kind of mishaps that deterred any of the Fowl siblings from their work. Beckett snorted, laughing into his napkin. Artemis merely smiled and looked at Emily, telling her to go on. “I kept informing him about how the director was incredibly busy, but he wouldn’t really listen and-“

“And Miss Emily Faucet here told me to leave the Gallery immediately or else she was going to call security-“

“-But he wouldn’t listen to me. So I had to set him straight and because of that he got me fired.”

The table went silent, save Beckett’s occasional muffled laughter every now and then.

Artemis nodded, spraying a dash of pepper on his soup. “Ah. Thank you, Emily,” he said smugly, turning his full attention to the soup in front of him.

Myles groaned.

Artemis Senior stared at his son. “Is this true, son? Were you the cause of dear Emily’s disemployment?”

Angeline cleared her throat into her napkin. “Myles, we would like to speak to you after the banquet,” she said quietly (Myles looked wide eyed at her, but didn’t say anything in fear of angering his mother furthermore). “Now,” she said, clapping her hands together, “Let’s enjoy the rest of our dinner. Please, Emily, help yourself.”

Emily thanked Mrs. Fowl and began eating, Myles keeping an excruciating close eye on his troublesome brothers for the rest of night. 

***

The Fowls had a wonderful time with Emily at dinner, and Artemis was reminded of Holly whenever Emily outwitted Myles in one of their many banters. Every morsel was eaten, and even Beckett, Beckett who could eat anything and everything any time any place, was forced to stop, lest his stomach explodes.

The group separated, Beckett and Emily leaving for the bathrooms, Myles and Artemis pulling at each other’s hair (metaphorically, of course) and Mrs. And Mr. Fowl dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

“My parents are in love with you,” remarked Beckett, watching his friend wash her hands.

She shrugged. “What can I say? People love me.”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “Please, I don’t think you want to see my dinner splattered all over the floor.” 

Emily smiled and wiped her hands, pushing the door to exist the bathroom. Unfortunately, Myles pushed the doors and entered the bathroom, hitting Emily square on the chin. She cursed, and staggered a bit, clutching at her chin. There was blood.

Myles stared at her, horrified. This was not happening.

Beckett pushed past him and studied her chin. He looked worriedly at Myles, and motioned him to come. This was not happening. This was not happening. She was going to kill him in this very bathroom. He was dead.

His legs felt like lead, and he moved them with difficulty. Right and left-right and left.

“Let me see that,” he murmured, attempting to take her hand away from her face. She snarled at him and he jumped back with a squeak. “For god’s sake, Em. Let him look at it,” interjected Beckett, biting back a grin. Myles composed himself. “I’m a doctor. Let me see it.”

“You’re a doctor?” she asked incredulously, grabbing a handful of tissues and dabbing them with water. He nodded, ignoring her disbelieving tone. “Yes, I got my Phd when I was eleven years old.”

She laughed. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? Could you just get away from me before I punch you in the groins?”

Myles paled and stepped away, hands drifting slowly downstairs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She swabbed the blood away from her chin (there was no mark, thankfully) and then cracked her knuckles. “Run.”

Myles left the room quickly. 

- left-foot-fowl

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This one took ages to write- and I couldn't exactly stop as well. It's almost three thousand words. This has been swimming in my head for ages, and I needed to get it out. It's still not quite finished (half way through the piece, actually), but I didn't want to bore you anymore. Please tell me what you think! I might actually post this as Fowl fanfiction.. Don't strangle me, please.