[4xD One-shot ~ PG-13] Cautionary Tale

[wingzerosnuggles]

Disclaimer: GW = not mine.

Author's Note: I need more 4xD though this is a bit gen. Also, I've been watching Boardwalk Empire. It's not my usual fare but I bet Dorothy would make one hell of an awesome mobster. This story is based on one told by Arnold Rothstein in the second episode "The Ivory Tower."

Cautionary Tale
by mistress amethyst une

"When I was a child, my father would sometimes have me sit next to him at his business dinners," reminisced Dorothy.

She was seated at the head of a long table. To her right sat Quatre Raberba Winner, looking unsettled. On the other end of the table sat the object of Dorothy's attempt at intimidation: a high-ranking member of New Romafeller suspected of corporate espionage.

"Now, there was this one man," she continued, brandishing her knife and cutting into the fancy roasted pigeon on her plate. Even from where Quatre sat, he noticed the man on the other end of the table shudder. Whenever Dorothy Catalonia was in possession of a sharp object, it was never good.

"He boasted of his skill for swallowing things and regurgitating them," she continued, paying no attention to the apparent distress of her dining companions. Pausing, she bit into a forkful of meat and smirked, enjoying the visible pallor of the man in the distance. Even from where she sat, she perceived his shudder and knew she was sending unpleasant shivers down his spine.

"Not swords though," she smiled, absentmindedly using her fork to point at nothing in particular. "Nothing that fancy. No, he really didn't have anything to boast about. It was just a boorish skill that provided crass entertainment at the end of the evening meal."

A long silence followed that statement as she cut into the bird on her plate again, taking another bite before swirling the chardonnay in her wine glass. "After dessert, he would produce an apple from inside his coat. I was around eight when I first saw the trick. He made a joke, called me 'princess,' and offered me the apple before quickly pulling the fruit away so it was just out of my reach. You can imagine how that upset me. I don't enjoy being embarrassed, Mr. Triginta. I suppose you don't either."

"N- no, ma'am," answered Triginta, a slight stutter apparent as his voice echoed about the empty dining hall.

"That's good," said Dorothy as she gestured for Quatre to pour her another glass of chardonnay. He obliged despite the fact that he hated it when she drank. It made her so mean-spirited. But for this? Mean-spiritedness was a pre-requisite for this kind of business.

"I watched him perform the trick at quite a few dinners, paying special attention to how he pulled it off. I'm very good at figuring things out."

Quatre could have sword he saw Triginta gulp. Dorothy was going in for the kill.

"One night, I brought my own apple to dinner. A red Granny Smith. The usual kind he swallowed. I wagered him a pre-colony silver dollar that he couldn't swallow it. Since my father was there and, at the risk of being shamed by a little girl in front of his colleagues, he decided to humor me and went ahead with the trick."

She took a sip from her newly-full glass, licking her lips. She seemed to be suppressing a chuckle. "So he swallowed it, and he choked to death right there and then. Father never took me to any business dinners after that. Do you know why that happened, Mr. Triginta?"

Triginta was shaking now, eyes stealing glances at the door wondering if running would save him.

Dorothy answered her own question. "That happened because he thought he was smarter than me. I knew that the apples he had been using were of a certain size and diameter. All I did was pick an apple that was about a sixteenth of an inch larger than what he usually swallowed. He didn't notice the difference. So you see, Mr. Triginta, only bad things can come of thinking you're smarter than me. Do you think you're smarter than me?

Triginta shook his head, now petrified, unable to move from his seat.

"I know you've noticed the sheet of paper and the fountain pen next to your plate," she declared, standing up as Quatre followed suit. "Now, you have two options. One: you write Mr. Winner and I a signed confession stating how you sold our technologies to the competition; or two: you let us find out on our own how exactly Empyrean Dynamics got its hands on the prototype for our ZERO system based OS. If you go for the second option, I sincerely hope that you have enough luck to avert any accidents. Mr. Winner and I will leave you to enjoy the rest of the main course alone. Enjoy the pigeon. I shot it myself this morning. We will return for dessert and, hopefully, an answer that will make us all very happy."

She and Quatre made their way out and, once the dining hall door had closed behind them, he heaved a heavy sigh. "Do you think he'll crack?'

"Do you doubt me?" she chortled. "He will. Don't worry."

"I must admit that it's a pleasure to be working with you again."

"Don't lie," she scoffed. "You just appreciate seeing me play my mind games with someone other than you. New Romafeller developed that OS alongside Winner Enterprises. We're merely obligated to be in each other's presence."

"You didn't have to handle this personally."

"Neither did you."

"So where's the obligation there?"

"Quatre Raberba Winner, I strongly advise against flirting with people who once tried to kill you."

He shrugged. "It panned out for Miss Relena."

"Are you comparing me to Heero Yuy?" she snorted. "I'm insulted."

He laughed. "If it counts for anything, I don't think I'm smarter than you. That was a brilliant work of fiction you concocted for Triginta. I think he believes it."

It was Dorothy's turn to laugh. "What made you think that was fiction?"