Day Two: Accusation (26th of July)

The night was painted a startling black, with only a handful of stars to decorate it. Each twinkled brilliantly, as if wanting to capture your attention, waiting to be gazed at with awe and wonder. Everyone in the ballroom abandoned the string quartet playing beautifully inside and clutched at their dates, escorting them outside to see the magnificence that is the sky...

... Everyone- that is to say- everyone except one miserable Myles Fowl.

It started out perfectly. Everything was in place- as was planned, of course. Myles effortlessly dodged elementary blunders (including the blunder with his mother who seemed to badger him to absolute no end about his ‘special guest’), made sure of the banquet once, twice, three times, and has secured every seat on every table for the night.

His father was to be impressed (as was his older brother, Artemis), and really, nothing could go wrong. 

Absolutely nothing.

And then he met Emily Leila Faucet, and that was the end of all things simple.

***

-one day earlier-

“You’re kidding, Beck. Really funny. You should be a comedian, you know that? Really- this is hilarious.”

Beckett sighed and looked warily at Emily, who was shaking her head whilst reorganizing the science fiction section in her family’s bookstore.

He took a deep breath, and promised himself he wouldn’t shriek like a misunderstood teenage girl. He smiled painfully before saying, “No, Emily, I’m not bloody joking. Would you just think about it?” he forced her chin up so they were eye to eye, “Please?”

Emily smacked his hand away before looking squarely at the ground. “But Myles...” she said, trailing off.

“But Myles my bloody arse,” Beckett winced at the picture, “He is one helluva guy and you should give him his bloody chance. Be his date. Just give this to him... Please?”

Emily gave him a small smile. “You keep saying bloody,” she pointed out, playing with her fingers.

Beckett groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Stop changing the subject! It’s only a matter of time before he comes around and asks you himself, and really if one thing goes wrong -look at me, Emily, Jesus you’re annoying- if one thing goes wrong, my brother will put on the crazy white jacket himself and ask me to drive him to the mental institute.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “That’s a bit too dramatic, don’t you think?”

Beckett was going to strangle her. “You’re- just-” he let out a noise of frustration, “I mean- why would 

he even want to ask you? You’re so bloody irritating!”

Emily narrowed her eyes, and Beckett might have even heard her growl.

He gulped.

“I didn’t mean that, my eccentric friend, really, but-”

Emily put down a copy of Ender’s Game and waved her hand to silence the deranged boy in front of her. “Listen, Beckett, Myles might not be the complete arse I thought he was. At times- at times he could even be tolerable,” she said finally, shrugging.

“But when he isn’t tolerable- I just- I just go completely mental. I can’t control myself around him and I don’t want to mess up anyone’s night tomorrow. We’re just- I just can’t see myself doing this for him.”

Beckett dropped his copy of The Order Of The Phoenix, ignored Emily’s startled yelp, and stomped off till he reached the front door. He looked at her with disappointed eyes.

“You can’t just accuse him of being an ass. You don’t even know the guy, let alone call him names.” He sighed the third time that afternoon. "Thank you for your time," he muttered, before slipping past the door and out of Faucet’s Bookstore.

Emily didn’t say anything, but straightened the large crease on the dropped book.

She managed to organize the section she’d been working on and then completely reorganize the autobiography rack, noticing that the books weren’t assembled in alphabetical order.

She didn’t, however, notice the flash of navy silk quickly departing the store, invitation falling silently on the ground.

***

Beckett couldn’t help  readjust his tie for the umpteenth time that night. He didn’t like suits. He didn’t feel comfortable in suits.

He hated suits.

How in the world did Myles and Artemis manage to put up with the damn monkey suit every day, he did not know.

Beckett finally managed to spot Myles in the sea of endless faces. Instead of sporting the usual navy pinstriped Armani suit, his brother was dressed in a traditional black and white tux, bowtie replacing his standard maroon tie. Beckett raced towards his brother, an old habit of his, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Myles gave him a dry smile, dainty champagne glass in hand. “Hello, Beckett, what brings you here?”

Beckett smiled. “I haven’t lost you all night. I am an amazing body guard, if I do say so myself.”

Myles shrugged and took a sip off his glass, but then twisted his face and forced down the drink (the alternative being much messier).

Beckett laughed, rubbing his twin's back. “Really, Myles, if you don’t like it then don’t drink the damned drink.”

Myles sighed, exasperated, before pulling a face. “Don’t drink the damned drink,” he mimicked, which was very un-Myles like. Beckett raised a singular blonde eyebrow. “Someone’s a bit cranky.”

Myles faced the floor. “I'm sorry, Beck. This evening isn’t going exactly as I have planned,” he mumbled before placing the full glass of champagne on a passing tray. He adjusted his bowtie and peered through the crowd (a habit Myles developed that night) before slumping once again in dissatisfaction (another very un-Myles trait).

He gave a low chuckle, sounding suspiciously rueful. "I know she isn't planning on coming, but I can't help but look for her... she'll never be here."

Beckett put his arm around his brother before suddenly dropping it, grinning.

“Ah... Myles... except she is.”

- left-foot-fowl

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So.. how'd you like it, sweetums? Tell me if Myles is too ooc. I hate it when I do that. And did the conversation flow or seem natural? Myles is seriously hard to write, one of the many reasons I love him. 

RAINBOWS RULE. 

LOL, 

That girl who is strange and falls for fictional characters way too often.