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x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com posting in

I have a picture of my avatar's bum. Maybe I should make that into Shiro's "Betsy Only" icon . . .

The first thing she did after reading Shiro's post was to curse her carelessness. She would've never made that mistake working for HIM. She would be shamed if Matsu'o would have discovered her ignorance, now. The child, Shiro was of noble blood, underestimating him would've proven fatal. She'd pinpointed his location to his room, alone. She'd realize long ago that there must be honor in killing, and self-preservation was the highest of causes. Placing a reserved look on the British woman's face, she knocked on the door. "Yoshida Shiro, are you in?"

Shiro's been in his room all day, spending his time brooding and trying to clean the blood on the carpet from the soldier he killed the previous night. He's dressed in a pair of baggy cargo pants and a hoodie sweatshirt one size too big, in order to hide as much of his discolored skin as possible. When he hears the knock, he straightens up and drops the sponge in the bucket of soapy water. "Ms. Braddock," he says, opening the door for her and stepping aside to let her in.

Betsy gives a curt nod, as she enters. She catches sight of the bloodstain on the floor and Shiro's loose fitting clothing. "It would seem we have much to talk about."

Shiro walks across the room to his window, his hood covering his face, silently wishing that she's not noticed the blackness. "I think we do. An explanation on your part would be a wise first step."

"We both don't care for dancing around the subject. You saw me with Sarah before she passed out. Though, she is unharmed. There is nothing more that needs to be explained. Only perhaps, you misunderstood the context of our meeting together."

"I saw you two engage one another in combat. I saw her charge you, and I saw you use some sort of weapon against her that knocked her unconscious. Why, exactly, were you two fighting when you had other duties?"

"I can't explain to you what I barely understand. Sarah attacked me. I did what was only necessary." Betsy spent a moment, watching the young boy, testing the torrent that lay beneath the surface. She turned to the desk and sat on it. "You know, I can still see the scarring. How bad is it? Does it cover most of your body?"

"Don't change the subject." If it were possible, Shiro would be blushing, embarrassed that his deformity has been brought up as the new topic of conversation. But since Ms. Braddock noticed it, Shiro decides he might as well take off his hood and actually look at her when he speaks with her. "If she attacked you, then why did you just leave her there? Shouldn't you have taken her to Dr. McCoy?"

"Shiro, I didn't want to leave her. There were others who were hurt and I knew Sarah would be alright. The soldiers had left and I would've returned." She rose from her seat, walking over to him, and placing her hand on his chin. "I owe you a debt of gratitude for finding her. Sarah means....a great deal to me and in turn now, so do you."

She slowly raised Shiro chin, to have him look her in the eyes. "I did what was necessary."

He wants to retort, to tell her that she was wrong, that she shouldn't be so blase about this . . . but he finds that he can't. For the first time, he's actually grateful for the discoloration, as it hides another blush. "I understand," he says, his voice faintly higher than normal. He can't tear his brown eyes away from her exotic and alluring purple ones.

At the heart of it, all men were the same. Little boys deceived by a smile, a simple touch, and there wasn't anything a woman couldn't accomplish. With the back of her hand, she caressed Shiro's blackened cheek. "Good. We shouldn't talk of this again."

She ran a light touch into his thoughts, picking up stray images. Her hand never leaving his face, her body closer than it should be, she returned his gaze, questioning. "Though, you've been approached by someone, haven't you, Shiro?"

"A-approached by someone? What do you mean?" A little voice in the back of his head tells him this is wrong, but he pays no heed to it. He feels like a powerless, defenseless little boy, and it should bother him, but he can't muster enough will to care.

Betsy pulled back from Shiro, denying him her everything about her. "Don't play games with me, Shiro. It's wasting so much time away from us, and I know you don't want that."

Betsy walked one step back, her hands draped across her breasts, bringing all his attention to her key points.

"M-Ms. Braddock, no one's approached me about anything." He turns his face away from her, looking at anything but her and her 'key points.'

Taking in his stance, she continued to play her role. "Forgive me. I hadn't realized that I was making you uncomfortable." She walked up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her silhouette mirroring his own. She leaned forward, whispering into his ear. "Perhaps, we should finish this discussion when you've rested, Shiro." All the while, knowing he would not let her leave.

"Anoo, I'm feeling fine," he manages to say despite her proximity. "We should speak now, while we're both here, instead of having to search each other out later." Shiro takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. "What should I tell Sarah? She has the right to know what happened . . . and she would understand the logic behind your actions if I explained what you told me, I'm sure."

"You are both wise and practical, Master Yoshida." Betsy leaves her post from behind him, moving around Shiro, her hand all the while, trailing down his back and finally to his chest, as she faces him. "We both know that Sarah's judgment has always been clouded by her emotions. I saved her from this disgrace, by burying her memories within her."

Betsy brought her hand from his chest, noting Shiro's shortness of breath. Keeping herself in complete contact with his body, following as each touch distracts his mind more. "When it is time to reveal the truth to her, the memories will resurface. But if we bring such things to light now, like a moth to the eternal flame, Sarah's mind will expire. And we cannot have that. Do you not agree?"

"O-of course," Shiro responds breathily, falling into Japanese involuntarily. He's silently thankful that he's wearing baggy pants today. "You're correct. She needs time to let her mind heal before we can reveal to her what she did to you. Do you think a week would be ample time?"

She pulled back her hand and smiled. Enough time to make you want to help me, I believe so. "Yes," she replied in English. "A week will be plenty of time. Though until then, this will be ours to keep, can you handle such a task?"

Shiro answers immediately, still in Japanese, with an enthusiastic nod. "Absolutely. You can trust me, Braddock-san. I am a Yoshida, and we always keep our word. But if I may ask you one more question . . . One of these days, if it's not too much trouble for you, of course, do you think that you and I could duel? Ever since I spotted you training that one morning, and especially since your spar with Logan-san, I've wanted to see how my skills match up to yours."

"It should be an honor to work with you, as your family's skill in the arts of fighting are legendary. I will be free tomorrow evening. We can meet in the far side of the grounds. And the ripe moon shall provide all the lighting we need."

Shiro doesn't even bother to hide his excitement, smiling widely at her when she agrees. "Thank you very much, Ms. Braddock. I look forward to it."

"As do I, Shiro. As do I." Holding in within a thin layer of control, Betsy returns the look of excitement. It only took a few minutes to convince him to keep his word. If only the cost was to pique his curiosity of her and all the while, keep from doing devastating damage to such a soulful face. With one last brush of his cheek, ensuring his loyalty, she headed to the door, excusing herself. Betsy walked the hallways, amused by the recent turn of events. If the pitiful X-Men hadn't realized a snake in their midst now, then they never will. And with that, Betsy laughed.