Log: Dorothy, Milliardo
Characters: Milliardo and Dorothy
Location: Barcelona, Spain-phone call
When: 8:45 pm, 17 April 198
Rating: PG
Milliardo sat in a lush velvet chair next to a small nightstand, his bandaged ankle propped up on an ottoman. His cell phone lay in his lap, where he idly flipped it open and shut. After a quiet moment's debate, he soon found himself dialing Dorothy's number.
Dorothy read a book, trying to put her mind at ease, but it was very hard. She could hardly sit still knowing she could go into labor at any moment. She heard her phone ring, and she grabbed it before Pili or her aunt hear and thus interrupt. "Hello?"
Milliardo smiled. "Hello, Dorothy, how are you?" Damn, was she quick in answering the telephone, almost as if she were expecting a call from someone.
"Milliardo? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. I'm quite anxious about the baby, but I'm fine. How are you?" Dorothy hoped she didn't sound disappointed.
Milliardo glanced down at his ankle momentarily, then replied, "I'm doing fine as well. I'm sorry to startle you-is this a bad time?" He glanced at his watch-perhaps Dorothy should have been in bed, though it was only eight forty-five.
"Not at all. I'm just reading a book. All I can do now is wait...and wait." Dorothy closed her book and tossed it back. "I hope you got my message. If you're going to stay in Barcelona for much longer, I insist you stay at the house."
Milliardo silently cursed. If he even dared show up at her house now, who knew what would happen. Not to mention, her family and close friends had always been rather cold and distant to him. Not that he blamed them for it, of course. "I appreciate the offer, Dorothy, but I'm quite fine where I am. I'm not quite sure when I'll be able to leave for Morocco, but I promise you'll be the first to know."
Dorothy felt there was something he was keeping from her, but given how he responded the last time, she could not confront him directly about it. "Are you sure? It's no trouble at all." She moved onto her bed, getting more comfortable. "I think Pili would like it, too. She seems smitten."
Milliardo smirked. Same old Dorothy. "No, but I appreciate the offer." If he could keep his injury secret until after the birth, he'd be doing good. "I'll be here for the birth, though, so that's good. Have you spoken to any of the Gundam pilots?"
"Not recently," Dorothy admitted. "Have you gotten a hold of Relena yet?" She tried to think of another way to approach the subject when she heard scratching at the door. She walked over to her door and let Marius inside the house; he meowed in appreciation and rubbed against her legs.
Milliardo sighed, a rather sad sigh. "No, I haven't. If you speak to her before I do, please tell her hello for me." Hearing a faint sound that sounded like meowing, he added, "Is that Marius?"
"She's quite busy these days," Dorothy explained. "But if I do, I will." She stroked the cat. "Yes, he wanted inside. He says hello." She sat back onto the bed with the cat following her. "How are you liking Barcelona? Staying in the city, I hope you're seeing at least some of the of night life."
"The people here are very polite," Milliardo admitted. "Much more so than the Moroccans, who can be rather stoic. And yes, the city is quite lovely at night." He remembered he had wandered out onto the balcony to look at the street lights illuminating the skyline in the distance. And had ended up on the ground instead.
"Well, I don't know the customs of Morocco, but Spaniards don't start their evenings until after nine o'clock. I should think the streets are just now starting to get busy with people heading to dinner. I always enjoy going into the city." Dorothy smiled as she got an idea. "Assuming I don't go into labor, Pili and I could meet you for lunch tomorrow or some day this week-if you're not too busy."
Damn, he had to come up with something quick. "I would love to, Dorothy, but I'm up to my ears in unfinished reports," he replied. "I've spent almost all my waking hours in front of my laptop." He crossed his fingers and hoped she'd buy it. Though, technically he hadn't lied, he HAD been doing a lot of work on the computer.
Aunt Marla probably would never allow Dorothy to go into the city. She insisted the young woman could break at any moment so she had to be home. However, Milliardo didn't know this. "Perhaps a quick break will do you good." She hated not knowing, but she also knew she could not push it too much further.
Milliardo pictured momentarily her reaction to seeing him on crutches. Perhaps he could leave the crutches behind. But then, he hadn't been able to put much weight on the ankle, and Dorothy was very observant. She would notice a visible limp. "We can go out sometime after you and your bundle of joy get settled down and back to normal," he replied. "After all, you should take it easy. You are taking it easy, right?"
Dorothy grit her teeth a little, but Milliardo had a point and was right. "Of course I'm taking it easy. I know how to take care of myself. It's the baby you should be worrying about." She wrinkled her nose at how that sounded.
Milliardo smirked. "Judging from the size of your belly, my dear, I assume the baby will be quite the bundle of joy. How is your family doing? I apologize for not asking about them." He leaned down to press the bag of ice against his ankle. It wasn't quite as swollen, but was still very tender.
"They're quite nosy and offering many suggestions for names. Some are just awful. You shouldn't feel bad about not asking; they weren't too friendly toward you." Dorothy looked at her rather large stomach. She really did look like she might pop at any moment.
Milliardo chuckled at the memory of the cold reception. "I know, but that doesn't mean I have to be impolite. And they're just trying to help, you know. You haven't talked to that one pilot...Quatre, was his name? The leader...the brainy one, with blonde hair."
"Quatre Raberba Winner," Dorothy supplied, amused that there was someone who didn't know who he was exactly. "I saw him a couple weeks ago. I thought I mentioned that last time, but perhaps I didn't. We had much to discuss, and it may have slipped my mind."
"No, I do think you did mention that. Quatre Raberba Winner...what an interesting name," Milliardo said thoughtfully. "I don't much keep up with the news, so if he's been in it I would be quite unaware. You know," he teasingly added, "perhaps he might be a nice gentlemanly suitor for you?"
"Oh, Milliardo, I know Romefeller never educated us too much on the colonies, but surely you've heard of the Winner family and know the young heir." Dorothy smiled. "Quatre? A suitor?" She made a face. "That'd be like dating my brother!" If she had one.
"I have heard of the Winner family, yes, but I had no idea Quatre was the heir. What rock have I been living under?" Milliardo joked. He shifted his weight and very slowly lowered his ankle, wincing slightly. "Well, Dorothy, I suppose I'll let you go now. You should get some sleep, and I'm probably going to take a shower. Talk to you later?"
"Yes, I suppose you should," Dorothy held in a sigh. "You promise to be there at the hospital?" If she got enough people to promise, she might be able to have a good hospital stay.
"Yes, I promise," Milliardo replied. Silently he added, without those damn crutches, too.
"I'll see you then at the lastest, then," Dorothy said. "Have a good day until then."
"And you as well, take care," Milliardo replied, before flipping his phone shut.
Dorothy hung up her phone as well, looking at it for awhile, wishing she could see him again; she groaned as she heard her aunt coming her way.
Milliardo placed his phone gingerly on the nightstand, straightening himself into a standing position with his crutches. Slowly, he hobbled into the tiny bathroom-a nice shower would soothe him and leave him ready for bed.
Location: Barcelona, Spain-phone call
When: 8:45 pm, 17 April 198
Rating: PG
Milliardo sat in a lush velvet chair next to a small nightstand, his bandaged ankle propped up on an ottoman. His cell phone lay in his lap, where he idly flipped it open and shut. After a quiet moment's debate, he soon found himself dialing Dorothy's number.
Dorothy read a book, trying to put her mind at ease, but it was very hard. She could hardly sit still knowing she could go into labor at any moment. She heard her phone ring, and she grabbed it before Pili or her aunt hear and thus interrupt. "Hello?"
Milliardo smiled. "Hello, Dorothy, how are you?" Damn, was she quick in answering the telephone, almost as if she were expecting a call from someone.
"Milliardo? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. I'm quite anxious about the baby, but I'm fine. How are you?" Dorothy hoped she didn't sound disappointed.
Milliardo glanced down at his ankle momentarily, then replied, "I'm doing fine as well. I'm sorry to startle you-is this a bad time?" He glanced at his watch-perhaps Dorothy should have been in bed, though it was only eight forty-five.
"Not at all. I'm just reading a book. All I can do now is wait...and wait." Dorothy closed her book and tossed it back. "I hope you got my message. If you're going to stay in Barcelona for much longer, I insist you stay at the house."
Milliardo silently cursed. If he even dared show up at her house now, who knew what would happen. Not to mention, her family and close friends had always been rather cold and distant to him. Not that he blamed them for it, of course. "I appreciate the offer, Dorothy, but I'm quite fine where I am. I'm not quite sure when I'll be able to leave for Morocco, but I promise you'll be the first to know."
Dorothy felt there was something he was keeping from her, but given how he responded the last time, she could not confront him directly about it. "Are you sure? It's no trouble at all." She moved onto her bed, getting more comfortable. "I think Pili would like it, too. She seems smitten."
Milliardo smirked. Same old Dorothy. "No, but I appreciate the offer." If he could keep his injury secret until after the birth, he'd be doing good. "I'll be here for the birth, though, so that's good. Have you spoken to any of the Gundam pilots?"
"Not recently," Dorothy admitted. "Have you gotten a hold of Relena yet?" She tried to think of another way to approach the subject when she heard scratching at the door. She walked over to her door and let Marius inside the house; he meowed in appreciation and rubbed against her legs.
Milliardo sighed, a rather sad sigh. "No, I haven't. If you speak to her before I do, please tell her hello for me." Hearing a faint sound that sounded like meowing, he added, "Is that Marius?"
"She's quite busy these days," Dorothy explained. "But if I do, I will." She stroked the cat. "Yes, he wanted inside. He says hello." She sat back onto the bed with the cat following her. "How are you liking Barcelona? Staying in the city, I hope you're seeing at least some of the of night life."
"The people here are very polite," Milliardo admitted. "Much more so than the Moroccans, who can be rather stoic. And yes, the city is quite lovely at night." He remembered he had wandered out onto the balcony to look at the street lights illuminating the skyline in the distance. And had ended up on the ground instead.
"Well, I don't know the customs of Morocco, but Spaniards don't start their evenings until after nine o'clock. I should think the streets are just now starting to get busy with people heading to dinner. I always enjoy going into the city." Dorothy smiled as she got an idea. "Assuming I don't go into labor, Pili and I could meet you for lunch tomorrow or some day this week-if you're not too busy."
Damn, he had to come up with something quick. "I would love to, Dorothy, but I'm up to my ears in unfinished reports," he replied. "I've spent almost all my waking hours in front of my laptop." He crossed his fingers and hoped she'd buy it. Though, technically he hadn't lied, he HAD been doing a lot of work on the computer.
Aunt Marla probably would never allow Dorothy to go into the city. She insisted the young woman could break at any moment so she had to be home. However, Milliardo didn't know this. "Perhaps a quick break will do you good." She hated not knowing, but she also knew she could not push it too much further.
Milliardo pictured momentarily her reaction to seeing him on crutches. Perhaps he could leave the crutches behind. But then, he hadn't been able to put much weight on the ankle, and Dorothy was very observant. She would notice a visible limp. "We can go out sometime after you and your bundle of joy get settled down and back to normal," he replied. "After all, you should take it easy. You are taking it easy, right?"
Dorothy grit her teeth a little, but Milliardo had a point and was right. "Of course I'm taking it easy. I know how to take care of myself. It's the baby you should be worrying about." She wrinkled her nose at how that sounded.
Milliardo smirked. "Judging from the size of your belly, my dear, I assume the baby will be quite the bundle of joy. How is your family doing? I apologize for not asking about them." He leaned down to press the bag of ice against his ankle. It wasn't quite as swollen, but was still very tender.
"They're quite nosy and offering many suggestions for names. Some are just awful. You shouldn't feel bad about not asking; they weren't too friendly toward you." Dorothy looked at her rather large stomach. She really did look like she might pop at any moment.
Milliardo chuckled at the memory of the cold reception. "I know, but that doesn't mean I have to be impolite. And they're just trying to help, you know. You haven't talked to that one pilot...Quatre, was his name? The leader...the brainy one, with blonde hair."
"Quatre Raberba Winner," Dorothy supplied, amused that there was someone who didn't know who he was exactly. "I saw him a couple weeks ago. I thought I mentioned that last time, but perhaps I didn't. We had much to discuss, and it may have slipped my mind."
"No, I do think you did mention that. Quatre Raberba Winner...what an interesting name," Milliardo said thoughtfully. "I don't much keep up with the news, so if he's been in it I would be quite unaware. You know," he teasingly added, "perhaps he might be a nice gentlemanly suitor for you?"
"Oh, Milliardo, I know Romefeller never educated us too much on the colonies, but surely you've heard of the Winner family and know the young heir." Dorothy smiled. "Quatre? A suitor?" She made a face. "That'd be like dating my brother!" If she had one.
"I have heard of the Winner family, yes, but I had no idea Quatre was the heir. What rock have I been living under?" Milliardo joked. He shifted his weight and very slowly lowered his ankle, wincing slightly. "Well, Dorothy, I suppose I'll let you go now. You should get some sleep, and I'm probably going to take a shower. Talk to you later?"
"Yes, I suppose you should," Dorothy held in a sigh. "You promise to be there at the hospital?" If she got enough people to promise, she might be able to have a good hospital stay.
"Yes, I promise," Milliardo replied. Silently he added, without those damn crutches, too.
"I'll see you then at the lastest, then," Dorothy said. "Have a good day until then."
"And you as well, take care," Milliardo replied, before flipping his phone shut.
Dorothy hung up her phone as well, looking at it for awhile, wishing she could see him again; she groaned as she heard her aunt coming her way.
Milliardo placed his phone gingerly on the nightstand, straightening himself into a standing position with his crutches. Slowly, he hobbled into the tiny bathroom-a nice shower would soothe him and leave him ready for bed.