smt stuff (yonawaru)

yonawaru

.

"Master Jonathan, you now have twelve messages from Master Walter asking you to meet with him."

Twelve? That is absurd.

Walter, for the past few weeks, has been asking to see Jonathan after the usual samurai work, which would have been fine by him, had it not been that it would only be the two of them, as Walter says.

Walter has asked him personally many times, whenever Isabeau was engrossed in reading her "manga" and whenever Flynn was deep in thought, or merely not paying attention to his teammates' conversations as he looked at his stock. He always asked why, but Walter simply ignored him and said something along the lines of, "well… you'll see. Are you coming?" and Jonathan would always reply with something along the lines of, "I won't come if you won't tell me what it is that we're doing," surprisingly with anger and irritation coming with the words (it was because Jonathan was tired, oh, so tired, that he wanted nothing more than to get this over with and have a well-deserved rest). Then, Walter would hesitate, and say, "maybe next time," while walking (more like dragging his feet across the floor, and back slightly hunched over) towards Isabeau to, he assumes, take a peek of the 'nicely detailed pictures' he sometimes says to her when she least expects someone to be behind her.

As much as Jonathan hated his own curiosity, he dove into it during demon battles while mindlessly looking at Walter. He wondered what exactly Walter would have in store for the both of them, and why he always looked so antsy when asking Jonathan if he could actually come. He would have already agreed had it not been for his constant sour mood, maybe he was just hesitant to be out after working hard. He always felt the need to lie down after the usual battles, after all.

Or maybe he was hesitant because it would only be the two of them, as Walter repeated each time he said it.

It would only be the two of them.

…

"Burroughs, send a message to Walter that says I will absolutely not meet with him until he tells me what is it exactly he wants to talk to me about."

"Understood, master."

Jonathan moved across the bed so that he could lie on his side again, preparing for a good night's sleep. Maybe his muscles would stop aching as the night went on. That, and maybe his mood would finally lighten up.

Which reminded him, right, it's almost midnight. What exactly is Walter doing at this hour? 

Probably something horribly ridiculous, although he surprised himself with the hostility of his own thought.

"Master Jonathan, you now have thirteen messages from master Walter asking you to meet with him."

Already?

He moved back so that he faced his gauntlet, messing up the blanket that he was already so comfortable in. "Are there any new pieces of information on the latest message, or is it the same as the others?"

"I'm afraid it is the latter, master."

Aghhhh. He's had enough of this. He's been… angry, for a while now, and he didn't need to be any further. He might as well entertain this… whatever this is.

Jonathan lazily got out of bed, the sheets becoming ruffled from his movements (he'll fix that later), and walks - marches, rather - toward his coat stand to put on a thin cardigan. It was chilly outside, after all (and also, - mostly, - because he wanted to look presentable. Not just to Walter, but to anyone he might come across. Some people just didn't follow the curfew, he knew that).

How utterly… Annoying. That was all he could think of as he tried multiple times to relight the candle on his nightstand to help him navigate the dark, lonely halls of the barracks. How absolutely annoying…! I will bombard him with my wrath once I lay my eyes on him for bothering me with these constant messages! The furious rubbing-the-matchstick-against-a-suitable-surface finally caused the dancing light to appear at the end of it. He sighed, relit the candle, and blew on it to stop its fiery rage across the stick, as it was starting to grow dangerously close to his fingers.