From Sailor Moon Flash!
| Featuring: | Li-Nian, Trintje, Lucien, Yu-Huang |
| IC Date: | February 2002 |
| Status: | Completed |
| Summary: | Li-Nian Ying, Executive Assistant for Jade Dragon Enterprises, is tasked with meeting her two new associates in town and bringing them back to the office. Lucien discovers that when he is the most sanely functional individual in a group, it's a BAD SIGN. |
Lucien sighed as he slumped into the airplane seat. Flying standby is a bitch, he thought. He had arrived at the gate early the previous evening, ticket in hand, ready to depart for Tokyo, but had been told instead by the ever-so polite Air France agent that his seat had been double-sold and would monsieur kindly consent to taking the first flight out the following morning? There had been much grumbling, of course -- only a little of it feigned -- which had ultimately been to no avail. With no money left to get a room for the night, Lucien had been forced to wander through DeGaulle International, napping a few minutes at a stretch before moving to avoid being escorted away by airport security. So, when the time finally came to board the plane and tuck in beside a grotesquely huge man in a cheap suit, smelling of even cheaper duty-free alcohol, the boy allowed himself the luxury of a discontented sleep.
Some hours later, Lucien awoke to a hand on his shoulder and a voice beside him saying, in perfect French with only a faint touch of an accent, "Excuse me. Brunch will be coming around soon if you'd like a bite to eat." Lucien turned and saw in the seat beside him, the seat that had been empty when he had fallen asleep during boarding, an Asian man with piercing jade-green eyes, dressed in slightly rumpled khakis and button-down shirt. "Excuse me," he said again, "I didn't mean to wake you. If you still need to sleep, feel free; I'm sure we can make an arrangement with the stewardess."
Lucien blinked owlishly, trying to regain his mental bearings. As the sleepiness cleared, Lucien got a closer look at his seat-neighbour. The man could have been a mature 25, or a well-preserved 65, or any point in between, and was possessed of a quiet composure that stopped just short of being unnerving. "No, that's quite alright, thank you," he replied automatically, his irritation fading somewhat with sleep and the prospect of breakfast. When, in due course, the meal was carted out, Lucien's mood took a prompt turn for the worse; facing croissants stale to the point of utter solidity, fruit which somehow managed to be simultaneously over- and under-ripe, and weak American coffee with artificial sugar and cream is not a heartening thought even at the best of times. Having gone without both lunch and dinner the day before, though, Lucien wolfed down his breakfast, scowling darkly all the while.
"Will this be your first visit to Tokyo?" the man inquired politely, as the two were finishing their coffees.
"Paris was the visit," Lucien answered, reflexively crunching the foam cup at the memory of why he had come.
"Ah, returning home, then," he continued. Lucien tensed himself for the inevitable comment that he didn't look Japanese, but none was forthcoming. "I trust your stay was pleasant."
"No." Lucien watched the man's response, expecting either pity or disinterest. When he was instead met with quiet attention, Lucien surprised even himself by recounting the entire story of his journey, beginning with his grandparents' disapproval, continuing through his father's tacit rejection, and ending with his own efforts to support himself and return to the only home he knew -- as miserable as that home was. The man listened intently to Lucien's entire account, and Lucien sensed a sympathy born of shared hardship.
"You don't have to go back, you know," the man said when Lucien had finally finished. "You've worked so hard to earn your own way back to Tokyo, and it would be a shame to see that effort wasted, but you don't have to go back to your family." He pulled a business card case from his shirt pocket, opened it, and handed a card to Lucien. "I'm always looking to bring new talent into my organization, and with your drive and resourcefulness, I believe you could be quite successful."
"You're offering me a job?" Lucien asked, almost afraid to look this most perfect of gift horses in the mouth.
"Of course. And, if you're interested, I can arrange a place for you to stay while you're finishing school."
As the businessman on Lucien's other side was distracted by the in-flight movie, Lucien and his new employer discussed the terms of his employment as messenger and general go-to guy for Jade Dragon Enterprises. It was in the anonymity of a crowded airport café in Istanbul that the more... esoteric elements of this new job were discussed. The time came for Lucien to catch his connection to Tokyo, his new employer arranged a last-minute seating upgrade to business class, and explained that, as he had further business overseas, his assistant would be meeting him at Narita Airport.
The flight from Istanbul to Tokyo was astonishingly uneventful. The benefactor had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, but obviously he was a very busy man; Lucien didn't mind too terribly much, because the change from coach to business alone was worth his time. Whether or not the rest of their conversation would pan out remained to be seen.
He was almost surprised when he spotted a plaquard bearing his name in baggage claim at Narita. Almost -- but not quite. He hung back for a moment, collecting his baggage and appraising the situation before making his move. His employer had said that his assistant would meet him; Lucien wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't... that.
She was beautiful, that was the first thing he -- and everyone else -- noticed. Random passers-by would stop, taken aback for a moment, and then move on. Normal people weren't that beautiful, they just weren't, and there was something odd about it, too, the way she stood there almost angelic in the beam from the skylight with her head tilted just so. It took him a few more moments of quiet contemplation before he realized what it was: she was doing it on purpose. Interesting.
Once past that, he saw that she was young, too; couldn't be much older than he was. So. A beautiful young woman had his name, and been sent there to meet him. Obviously, the threat presented was thus minimal, and Lucien felt reasonably safe in collecting his baggage and presenting himself to the card with his name on it. "I'm Lucien Hakano."
She laughed, but the sound was trained, too, just like her posture: demure, delighted, and designed to set her companion at ease. "Well, of course you are." She answered in French, and her speech was absurdly flawless for someone who looked Asian; flawless and excruciatingly formal. "I am Li-Nian Ying, and I am quite pleased to make your acquaintance." One perfectly manicured hand offered a business card, a very fancy embossed affair with English on one side and Japanese on the other that proclaimed her the Executive Assistant for Jade Dragon Enterprises, Ltd. "Welcome back to Tokyo, Mister Hakano. We have much to discuss."
"Let's go, then," Lucien grumbled in reply as he followed her out of baggage claim and through the rest of the airport. He had been caught off-guard, something that always put him out of sorts, and he was almost certain he was being played, somehow. For starters, women like hat weren't executive /anything/s, they were cover models or idol singers or some foreign businessman's bit of skirt -- his scowl deepened -- but not businesswomen themselves. And even if this Miss Ying was who she claimed, women like that simply didn't treat guys like him with anything but contempt. Come to that, no one treated him with anything but contempt... until today. It was all too much, too good to be true. The pair collected several odd looks on their way to the parkade, and Lucien vented his frustration by glaring back at the passersby. Li-Nian, for her part, either didn't notice or did an admirable job of pretending that nothing was amiss; Lucien rather strongly suspected the latter.
After awhile, even the glaring got tiring; Lucien wasn't very fond of being stared at, but there were too many people milling through Narita and its grounds for him to make eye-contact hate with each individual. He took solace in being surly, however, and grumbled more than a little as he followed that Miss Ying's purposeful high-heeled steps through out the door and through the parkade. "So, where are we going?" Obviously, she wasn't going to offer information on her own, and the staccato clickings of her shoes were getting on his nerves.
"First, out of the airport." She gave another of those practiced laughs again, almost like the ones used as the track for bad television programs. "Traffic is always so difficult this time of day -- this is why most people take the train." She stopped at the neat curb where a white-gloved valet was waiting with dangling keys and an absurdly glossy black car. Her car, apparently, since she traded the valet a wad of bills for the keys with a smile that would have been tip enough for any man over the age of twelve. "Load Mister Hakano's bags in the back, please."
The way she spoke made it obviously not a request, but Lucien saw that she could have snapped her fingers and made this man dance if she'd wanted to. He wasn't used to being around people like that, people who could get things done. It was interesting, and he liked thinking of himself in the same position. He knew, looking at the car -- it was one of those brand-new Mercedes Benz, the kind that managed elegant and sporty for the low low price of a third-world nation -- that he would be there, too, and he'd made a wise choice.
He slid into the seat but didn't bother fastening the belt until the girl had snicked hers closed and gave him a reproachful look, the kind of waiting hesitency that he wasn't about to expect from her. She was weird, hard to read, but to keep those huge eyes from staring at him he pulled the seat belt into a locking position with a much-harried air. Instantly, the girl's demeanor changed, and she started the car. "Daddy will be so pleased to see you again, Lucien," she gushed ebulliently, easing into traffic.
With the answer to one puzzle -- nepotism made way more sense than a woman like that as somebody's secretary -- Lucien found himself with several more. Where had the practiced professionalism he'd seen in the airport gone? He stared at her, a little wild-eyed, but didn't speak. It didn't matter; Li-Nian picked up the silence without a second thought. "We need to make a stop by the train station before we go home -- another of us was chosen, and she comes in today."
'Us,' and 'chosen.' Lucien wasn't entirely sure he liked that idea; he'd thought that he was the important one here. His benefactor had told him that only he could fill the role that was needed; why would he have said that if there were others? The girl kept prattling on, vague discussions about the area, the train station, the person they were meeting -- it was like she was escorting some big business contact around. Well, maybe she was, at that; maybe they all had different roles. He supposed that would be all right, as long as they all admitted that his was the most important.
The car stopped in another parkade, which was assumedly the train station. He waited until the girl started to move, and it occurred to him that the way she was hovering implied that she expected him to go with her. Damn. If girls were trouble, it was obvious that pretty girls with important business cards were worse -- and his discomfort was realized as he and the girl walked together toward the escalator down. "Oh, I do hope we'll all be friends. I've been so terribly lonely," she burst out, and it looked like she was having trouble not grabbing his arm.
Yeah, she was strange, all right.
Before Lucien had a chance to properly respond to the sudden and rather unsettling outburst of his companion, the overhead intercoms laced throughout the station came to life, a sterile female voice announcing some times and platform numbers in excruciatingly polite Japanese, and then again in English.
"That must be her," Li-Nian chimed, abruptly leaving her previous statement as though it had never been spoken. "Her flight arrived in Osaka this morning." She favored Lucien with another impeccable smile as they made their way to the appropriate area.
As passengers flowed out of the cars after their long trek along the Tokaido Line, the girl again produced a neatly lettered sign which she held in front of her just so, though the name printed thereupon had so many consonants that at first glance Lucien took it to be gibberish. 'Trijntje Van Motreen', the sign said, and upon second glance Lucien recognized the name as some flavor of Dutch, or Belgian.
The unlikely pair waited for a time, watching swarms of native Japanese step out into the mammoth Tokyo station, Lucien continuing his best sulk while Li-Nian posed herself delicately, straight-backed and seemingly unfazed by the occasional passerby who did a double-take at her striking appearance.
Lucien was about to give up hope, and he said so to his companion. "Are you sure this is the right train?"
"Absolutely," Li-Nian replied, her tone suggesting that this decision was Absolutely Not Up for Debate. "Daddy would never, ever give misguiding instruction."
Lucien found himself somewhat taken aback by the sudden steeliness of her resolve, and he had to force down a small wave of resentment at the shift in attitude she'd taken. He settled for glowering at the back of her head for a moment as she adjusted the folds of her jacket.
Finally, a tallish figure emerged from the train, straggling behind the last of the elderly folk who all but shuffled past in an urgent meander. Immediately it was obvious that she carried not a single drop of native blood, her mottled, pale blond hair falling around an equally pale face and shoulders. She paused in front of the sign in Li-Nian's hands, literally, running her long, skinny fingers over the embossed lettering.
Li-Nian laughed her sparkling, well-practiced laugh, and her eyes swept over the girl -- whose threadbare cotton shirt and heavily frayed jeans put her a mere step above a complete ragamuffin -- without so much as a pause or a falter in her gracious smile. "You must be Miss Van Motreen," she said, flawlessly managing yet another foreign accent as she shifted into English.
The woman blinked, slowly, from behind her tinted sunglasses. "Praat jy Engels?" She exhaled slowly, straightening her posture somewhat as her interest in the placard faded. "Sleg nie."
Li-Nian smiled indulgently, though her brow furrowed just slightly. "I do know a bit of Belgian, I'm afraid, but--"
"S'alright, I do speak English," the girl cut in casually, though Lucien noticed that even then, some trace of her native speech colored every word so that it came out sounding like "ahnglish."
"Oh, well, of course you do!" Li-Nian said, giggling in a way that sounded like windchimes. "But, where are my manners -- my name is Li-Nian Ying, so very pleased to meet you." She extended her business card in the way of further greeting, which the girl took, turning it over slowly in her hands after the side printed in Japanese made her eyes glaze over a touch. "This is Lucien Hanako, also one of the Chosen, just arrived back in Tokyo today." Again, there was that word 'Chosen', and Lucien felt an odd twinge.
"How's it going," she said, half a nod in Lucien's direction.
"Oh, getting by," Lucien mumbled, glancing up at the significant height edge she had on him. "Ah, don't you need your bags?" he said, testing out the rudimentary English he'd picked up while he glanced all around her, seeing nothing resembling luggage for an international trip.
Silently, Trijntje held up the bag she'd had slung around her shoulder, a tiny canvas-cloth affair that looked as though it would be hard-pressed to contain more than a few folded up tissues. Lucien cleared his throat, shaking his head a bit. "Right, then, I guess not."
"Everything will be taken care of," Li-Nian said definitively, her expression glowing. "The car is this way, Miss Van Motreen."
"Trin," the blonde girl said, removing the smoke-colored sunglasses and hanging them off the neckline of her shirt to reveal red-rimmed, heavily-lidded eyes. "Just Trin is fine." She shrugged lightly, her gaze settling on Lucien as though she were sizing him up, or maybe just counting the buttons on his shirt -- it was nearly impossible to say which.
"You see? We're all getting to know one another better already," Li-Nian replied brightly, as they turned and departed from the station. If she took notice of the fact that Trin had let her fancy bilingual business card fall, forgotten, onto the floor of Tokyo Station, Lucien noted, she made no show of it, her smile firmly affixed to her beautiful visage.
As the three returned to the car -- Li-Nian babbling cheerfully all the while about how wonderful it was to finally meet the two of them in person and how she just knew they were all going to get along famously -- Trin and Lucien stared wordlessly at each other, her look of bored hostility met with one of undisguised contempt. She was going to be trouble, Lucien could tell. No doubt she could be easily enough led, else why would she be here instead of Belgium or Dutchland or wherever the hell had spawned that hideous accent. But then again, would the effort outweight the results? Again, Lucien could grant that Trin had to be good for something, else why would she be here, but he couldn't see any evidence that she had any skills that would prove even marginally useful. Still maintaining his end of the stare-down, his face contorted in thought. This would clearly be a topic for discussion when they got to this "home" Li-Nian was chirping about. Back at the car, Lucien planted himself firmly beside the front passenger's door.
"Would you mind sitting in the back, Lucien?" Li-Nian asked sweetly. "Trin will need the leg-room."
"I get motion-sick," he lied, hoping the rustiness of his English would cover the momentary hesitation. "Sorry, Trin," he added, his glare faded seamlessly into an expression of pure humble apology.
Trin shrugged. "I'll be fine," she replied, opening the rear passenger door and folding herself into the seat. Likewise, Lucien opened his door and nestled in, buckling his seat belt as he did so.
Li-Nian's gaze bounced nervously between Lucien and Trin. "This simply won't do," she said. "Perhaps if you move your seat forward?" Lucien found the release and grudgingly slid two notches forward. "A little further?" Two more notches. "Any more?"
Lucien slid the seat forward the looked up at Li-Nian, his very best sad-little-boy on. "It won't go any further. I'm sorry."
"I'll be fine," Trin said again from the back seat. Anxiety was still strong on Li-Nian's face as she walked around the car and settled herself into the driver's seat. Once they were under way, Trin slid slowly forward in her seat, her bony knees digging through into Lucien's back like dull knives.
The car started and weaved through the maze of parking at Tokyo Station, and Li-Nian started her touristry exultations again; Lucien assumed this was for Trin's benefit, since she spoke English and not French. She was stiffer than she'd been before, though, and Lucien saw that her hands were white-knuckled and shaking on the wheel. The trip was slow-going anyway with the streets jam-packed with Salarymen, but right before the on-ramp for the Metro Expressway she pulled the car off the road with a sudden squeal of expensive brakes and burst into tears.
Tears. Lucien was not expecting tears, and it was a safe bet that Miss Pointy-Knees wasn't either, considering the calculated way she was staring up from the back seat. "I was just so happy when Daddy said you were coming," Li-Nian wept into her hands. "I was so happy -- and everything's going all wrong -- and I'm sure you just hate me -- and I can't bear it." After each dramatic pause, she gave another choked sob, and Lucien thought the entire effect was like one of those bad movies they always show on cable during the afternoons for all the housewives to relate to. Well, he certainly wasn't relating, and filed away in the back of his mind the notion that pretty girls were definitely trouble.
It took him somewhat by surprise when Trin's nigh-translucent arm snaked up from the back, a bedraggled and crumpled paper tissue in one hand. "Here." Li-Nian looked a little surprised at the offer, but accepted the tissue and wiped her eyes, choking back another sob. Oddly, her makeup hadn't run at all. "There, there," Trin offered, patting the other girl's shoulder with her hand. "Don't be ... ... sad." It was weird, though; she talked like she was reciting -- poorly -- from a script, and her patting was more like the emotionless whacking of a board.
The change in Li-Nian was abrupt and shocking. She turned to beam at Trin with a thousand-watt beauty-queen smile, showing a row of perfectly even, very white teeth. "Oh, you are having a good time! Oh, I'm so glad, now we're like sisters!" She started the car and drove off, and it was like her weeping and sobbing had never been.
It was then that Lucien was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was surrounded by freaks.
The expressway made the rest of the trip blessedly short, though Li-Nian kept up her bubbly tour guide prattle the entire way. Finally, they pulled up short at a beautiful glass-and-chrome work of architectural art just a crosswalk away from Hibiya Park, and there was another of those uniformed and white-gloved valets waiting. "Welcome home, Madams, Master," he chimed as they piled out of the car.
Trin glanced warily at the immaculate valet, her eyes staying on him even as she stretched, languidly, and all but fell forward into a toe-touch to ease her stiff joints. In doing so, however, the sunglasses she had hung from her shirt slipped onto the pavement with a clatter. Li-Nian paused and spun briskly around, kneeling ever so carefully to pick them up before their owner had so much as reached for them. With the same dazzling smile she'd been swinging to and from all day, she gently brushed the grit from the lenses with a monogrammed handkerchief from her pocket, and handed them back, every motion dripping with barely contained adoration.
"Right this way, please," she said, tucking the cloth back in its proper spot. "I am certain you're both quite tired from your long trips, but Daddy would like to speak with you both before you retire for today." She began to lead them onto the property, and Lucien was certain it was only her ladylike demeanor that kept her from skipping.
"So," came a murmur from next to Lucien, and it wasn't until he turned to look that he realized it was Trin, she had spoken so few memorable words outside of Li-Nian's episode, "your name, it is quite unusual for Japanese... Lucien." She was watching him out of the corner of her eye as they walked a few steps behind their host. "You are originally from France?"
Lucien looked ahead at Li-Nian, who was all but prancing her way into the house. Keeping his voice low -- no need sending the girl into another crying fit -- he answered Trin's question in Japanese. "No, I was born here in Tokyo. My namesake lives in Paris." It was good to use his native language again, though he noted that his accent had drifted a bit. It was also good to see the look of confusion on Trin's face. He switched back to English. "You're certainly a long way from home. What brings you all the way out here from... Belgium, is it? Dutchland?"
Trin's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked ahead, though it seemed it wasn't possible for Lucien to evoke an outright look of clear emotion. "South-Africa," she said flatly, and began to speak further on the matter, but seemed to think better of it, shaking her head. "And I am here for the same reason as you, I should think..." she raked her hands through her color-streaked hair, and it seemed as though her disinterested, strung-out gaze sharpened just a little, making her appear more attractive in the sense that she looked more human. "...A soft-spoken business-type man, was he not?" She slid her gaze over to him again. "Or perhaps you do not like the notion that we are here for similar purposes...?" The way she asked the question was soft, with neither malice nor the desperate neediness of Li-Nian's queries about the comfort of her guests.
Before Lucien had a chance to address the girl's clear attempts to grate on his nerves, Li-Nian turned to smile at them both with almost fanatical pride. She had lead them through the lavish surroundings of their mysterious benefactor's home, and into an office which could only be described, even at a glance, as exceedingly posh. "If you both could wait here just a moment, Daddy will see you now."
There was the sound of a door opening, and then he was there; it seemed that the presence appeared before he did. He looked just like Lucien remembered him: tall, dignified, making khaki slacks and a loose oxford look more regal than the fanciest coat and tails. Li-Nian, oddly, was staring intently at that fancy watch of hers, and stayed tense as a coiled spring until the man finally spoke. "How wonderful it is to see you again," he began, with what was probably carefully calculated warmth. He spoke English, assumedly because it was the only tongue all three of them had in common, though there was a strange undercurrent to his words; it was almost as though Lucien could hear it in Japanese and French, too. Well. That was certainly an interesting trick.
The sound of an imperious finger-snapping brought Lucien back to the present, and for one agonizing moment he was almost afraid he'd been called out for letting his attention drift. Luckily, it appeared that his faux pas had gone unnoticed; instead, the snapping had caused the appearance of a be-doilied silver tray, upon which rested two keys and two neat little cards that matched the one Li-Nian had used to introduce herself, except one bore his name and the other Trin's. "You each have a flat on the floor below," the man -- Tatsuji-san? Was that what he'd wanted to be called? -- continued. "Dwell there, or not, as you wish. This week you'll spend getting acquainted with your home and my business. There is much that needs accomplished, and we depend on you to achieve our goals."
Lucien decided that this was as good an opportunity as any to interject. "What are our goals, exactly?" The man had been purposefully ... vague ... when they'd met. Power was mentioned, and wresting it from the hands of the unworthy, but little specific. He heard Li-Nian's quiet, crystalline laughter behind him, and resisted the urge to throw something at her. It wouldn't do any good; she'd just cry again and give him a look. Not worth the effort. At least, that's what he told himself.
The man inclined his head once, gravely, and snapped his fingers a second time. At the sound, a section of the mahogany paneling slid back, revealing a screen affixed to the wall, and on this screen flashed a repeating sequence of four images: faceless monochromatic diagrams of one man and three women, in gold, silver, red, and blue. "These are the auras of the unworthy," He began. "What faces they wear you must discover for Us, and the powers they are unfit to wield shall come to you -- and through you, to Us. With this, We shall remake the world in Our image." For one brief shining moment, Lucien pictured the world as he would like it, and then, dejectedly, realized that the pronouns used were the royal plural. What a damned shame. Then, he continued: "We shall provide Our Chosen with whatever they desire to ensure that tasks are completed as required, and We expect to reward you for your loyal service." When he finished speaking, Li-Nian looked positively rapt, while Trin had perfected an expression of emotionless boredom. "Are there any other questions of immediate urgency for Us?"
The washed-out girl that had until now remained motionless and saturated with palpable ennui spoke up, with an abrupt clarity that was almost frightening considering her behavior throughout the day. "Will we see you again." It was not loud, nor did it contain any particular hopefulness, but nonetheless it was stunning, so much so that Li-Nian's demure expression was momentarily interrupted by wide-eyed wonder.
The regal businessman smiled with a natural graciousness. "We shall oftentimes be here, to see to Our affairs and to offer up guidance to you, the Chosen."
Whether or not this reply pleased Trijntje -- more of a husk than a fleshed out girl, Lucien had noted early on -- nobody could say. She wordlessly took the key bearing her name from the silver tray. Lucien followed suit, taking his key with an air of self-assured entitlement. Of course he wasn't taking a handout; that would be gauche. This was merely an acceptance of payment for services to be rendered. Yes.
"With that in order, then, I have other business to attend to." Their employer and benefactor stood gracefully to his feet, and with a simple but no less authoritative gesture, indicated the door they had entered through. "Li-Nian, if you would see our guests to their flats?" The girl beamed with pride, and once again Lucien was convinced that she would be skipping as she led the way from the office back to the elevators, if not for the watchful eye of her father.
The elevator doors slid smoothly open as they approached, and upon entering Li-Nian slipped one of her keys into an unmarked box on the control panel. "You'll need to use your own keys to set the locks," she said with that same delighted airiness, "But mine will do for now. I hold a set of masters for the building, as Daddy's personal assistant, so if you ever get locked out just call me." Lucien thought for a moment that he saw her almost wriggle with delight, whether over the success of the meeting or just being useful.
He saw the lights for the seven floors directly below the penthouse light up as she used her key, and she pressed two of them, the fifty-second and forty-ninth. "You should find everything you need in your flats. There's a closed-circuit intercom and camera system for communication, so you don't have to run around every time you need something. If there's anything not to your liking, call me and I can make arrangements for decorators." Her eyes fairly gleamed with the prospect, and at that moment Lucien decided he would live with fake silk flowers forever if he had to just to spite her.
The door slid open for floor fifty-two with a quiet chime of a computerized bell, and Lucien was surprised to see his name in a plaque set into a side wall. These guys were quick, he'd grant them that. The elevator opened onto a kind of hallway lounge containing the luggage he'd left with the valet downstairs, and there were doors everywhere. This was more space in one apartment than his grandparents' house, or his father's. Oh yeah, they knew how to treat a guy -- he'd grant them that without trouble.
Li-Nian waved cheerfully when he looked back at her; he didn't even bother looking at Trin, he knew she'd just have another of those bored, expressionless stares. He took a deep breath, surprised a a bit that he needed to do so, and stepped out of the elevator. The doors closed smoothly behind him, and without looking back he took the first steps into his new life.
