August 15, 2010

Tea

It was awkward to start. Zechs, not knowing what to say to his little sister he hadn't had the courage or will to speak to in fifteen years, said nothing. Relena, not knowing what to ask of an older brother she hadn't known she had and wasn't sure she wanted, also said nothing. The little round table with its little round saucers and little round cups now found itself the focus of attention.

Relena couldn't help but notice how natural Zechs looked balancing the cup in his hand; his thumb through the tiny golden handle and the base cradled in his aristocratic hands. It looked like it could find a permanent home there. Heero always holds his teacup by the tiny gold handle. To Relena he always seemed something like cat holding a mouse and more than one servant on more than on occasion seemed to suffer from sudden compulsions to rescue the little cup from its immediate and mortal peril. Relena's own teacup suspended from four of her fingers, hovering midway between the little table and her chin. Through the chestnut coloured drink she could see its pearly bottom. She was seated across a man who was arguably one of the most dangerous individuals in the earthsphere, with the image of the man who was arguably the other most dangerous individual in the earthsphere, and she was contemplating teacups. She chuckled.

Relena was looking into her teacup, so Zechs distracted himself by looking out the window. Should he say something? Watching Relena take a sip he realized that this was the first time he had ever had tea with his sister. They has sat at tables before. They used china cups with saucers made for tiny hands, but they never had tea. She had never liked it the odd time she took a sip from her mother's cup. She would always make a face. He called it her tea face. He wasn't looking out the window. In his peripheral vision he watched her serene and schooled features as she sipped her tea. He wondered if, underneath her calm expression, part of her was still put off by the taste, and wouldn't have preffered something else. The image of four-year-old Relena's face rumpled in distaste flashed across his mind. He snapped his eyes shut and he chuckled.

Relena was startled by Zech's voice, and he was startled by hers. "Pardon me," collided with "sorry" at the same time as "what is it?" and "what's so funny?" Zechs looked cautiously at Relena and Relena looked curiously at him. She smiled.

"You first."