MEME: AU Drabble Things

[aintnoconvict]

Speaking of AUs: I am blaming Dien and her tumblr for this.

1.) Tag in with your characters.
2.) Someone else tags you with with an alternate universe setting. Inclusion of their character(s) in the AU is totally cool.
3.) Write a three-sentence fic drabble-like thing in response.
4.) You tag others with AU prompts and get drabble-things in return.

GO GO GO!

Comments

[hasaheart]

"You know something, Ambrose?" Said one Wyatt Cain on his near weekly visit to the Royal household, wherever such may be at any given time of the annual. Mystic Man and Her Majesty, it would seem shared a fondness for changing venues, though in her defense she wasn't near as fickle as Cain's current employer. They were friends, bosom buddies, and they enjoyed each other's company to the extent the two young princesses were calling both the mystic man and himself 'uncle'.

Cain for one didn't know how to respond, so most usually he just tipped his hat or nodded and smiled politely.

But, one of the things he still didn't quite know how to deal with was Her Majesty's most trusted advisor; a dark haired, dark eyed imp who had a way of getting under Cain's skin without so much as batting his eyelashes.

"I know a great many things, Cain. How about you get more specific, and maybe you'll get a more satisfactory answer to your poorly phrased query."

Cain pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned his arms on the banister of one of the many balconies overlooking Lake country and Finaqua's grounds. Not too far away the girls were playing one of their games, and not too far from that were Her Majesty and the Mystic Man.

"Forget it," Cain replied, less inclined by the second to make nice.

"I can hardly forget something you've never said, tin man," said Ambrose, leaning backwards against the railing, looking sideways at Cain with what he read as smug superiority, but was just as likely something far less offensive. Something like pure, utter cheek.

Cain scoffed, and arched his eyebrows at the other man, wondering why he even bothered. "I was going to say it's not half bad, coming here."

That seemed to take Ambrose aback, and Cain couldn't help a pang of victory in the near vicinity of his heart. "Oh?"

He hummed confirmation, and turned his head to look at the guy, really look, at the fancy dress and owl-like face. "Yeah. Someone's got to keep your unbridled superiority complex in check, Advisor Langwe, Mister Right Hand to the Queen, Sir."

It had been a gamble, a spur of the moment thing, but he must've said something right because the strangest thing happened. Ambrose smiled.

"So that's what's with your uppity, lousy attitude. I was wondering, you know."

"Yeah, well, now you know. Awful nice of me to appease your overly inquisitive nature, isn't it."

"Big words for a tin man, Cain."

"Uhuh. I bet you say that to all the girls."

Ambrose shook his head with a grin, tilted it back and forth in a bobbing sort of way that made him look like his head was on strings. "Last time I checked you weren't a girl, Cain. Not to mention you have a family in Central City."

"What did I just do, propose?" Cain shot back, dry and brittle like a very old oak tree.

"No," Ambrose said, voice softened and enigmatic smile intact. "But you did something."

Cain nodded, and turned his eyes back on the two sisters playing tag with the squirrels in the garden below. "Yeah," said he, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

"-- It's called making conversation."