Title: A Different Shade of Green
Author's Note: This is just a trial. If people like this, then I will consider working on more of it. If not, I probably won't. If anyone likes any ideas they see and want to use them for a story – go for it, just PM if you do- I'll want to read it.
Teddy Lupin, otherwise known as Verde in underground circles, was not happy. Frustrated- yes. Mortified –yes. Humiliated – definitely. Regretting he ever was stupid enough to make a bet against Uncle George – hell yes. And he claimed to be a genius – ha.
Well, at the moment his genius self was in a Parisian bar getting hit on by a man who had the manners of Pepe Le Pew. Along with the gregarious misunderstanding that the cartoon skunk was under.
Why? Due to the bet with his uncle he was stuck in a girl version of his normal self. Sometimes he cursed the metamorphous abilities he had inherited from his mother. Very rarely, but this was one of those times.
"Midori", as he referred to himself in this form, grit her teeth as the irritating man –oblivious to the fact that she was ignoring him – invaded more of her personal -
The fool had just made the mistake of getting handsy with her.
That resulted in him staggering a retreat because her green stiletto heel met with his family jewels.
She turned back to the counter angrily, took a swig of her blood red wine, before slamming it down, shattering the frail glass into thousands of shimmering fragments. Even in this form she retained her natural strength (which made it ten times worse for the idiot she had kicked.)
She really wished she had just stayed home tonight. However, she couldn't have without breaking her word. Part of the bet had been that she actually had to spend time outside – in "populated areas" according to her dad who had laughed at the bet's results, the traitor. So, she couldn't just hide out in her apartment or lab until her two months were up.
Glancing up at the bald bartender, who was strangely rocking a pitch black handle bar mustache, she grimaced as he glared at her.
Sighing she began pulling out her wallet when a hand slid a bundle of bills to the man behind the counter.
A smooth baritone spoke, "That should cover the lady's drink and the glass." The voice made several of the women – and a couple of the men – swoon, one drunk idiot fell off their barstool.
"Midori" rolled her dark eyes and cocked an immaculate eyebrow. That was faintly ridiculous, but she had to admit it was an envy worthy voice. With a huff, she had a single digit push up her square glasses (Dad hated round glasses after his childhood – they were entirely unflattering on most people) and looked at the man who was now sitting beside her.
Hopefully he would be more respectful of her personal space than that Pepe Le Pew. God, she hated being around men in this form – they became intolerably stupid.
"What? No thank you?" The man teasingly questioned. Turning fully to face him she restrained herself from gapping like a dumbstruck moron. But god was he handsome. His hair was jet black and curly at the top and his dangerously mischievous black pits called eyes were focused, disturbingly, solely on her. He was in a sharp black suit with a boldly yellow button down and black tie to complete the look. She was curious to see if his curly sideburns were kept in place naturally or from hair spray, but somehow managed to restrain herself. She hated other people invading her personal bubble, so she wasn't about to disturb someone else's. And her dad thought he had failed at teaching her manners.
"Thanks," she quipped, still evaluating the man. Something was off about him, but something told her she should know who he was.
She was about to turn away when:
"Wait. That's all you're going to say?" He asked, looking a little confused. As if wondering why the "woman" he was talking to didn't jump to continue the conversation.
Her right eyebrow quirked. "You wanted a statement of gratitude, right? Well, you got one."
"Your name would also be appreciated." He said with an elegant motion of the hand that had him leaning against the counter in a poster model pose. His smirk was arrogant but charming.
"Midori" hummed. This banter was much preferable. "Yes, I suppose it would be."
"Am I going to hear it?"
"It is good manners to introduce yourself before you ask for someone's name. What kind of gentleman are you?"
His eyes flashed. "Midori" was curious if she had finally ticked him off, this was almost as enjoyable as watching one of her experiments' reactions. Almost. Though human reactions were oh, so entertaining.
How would he react if he knew the "lady" he was so obviously flirting with was a man. The corner of her pouty lips quirked into a brief, unnoticeable smile.
"How remiss of me. And to have to have a lady such as yourself point it out… I apologize." Before she knew what had happened the stranger had her hand in his and placed a kiss on the back of it. "Reborn, at your service my lady."
"Midori" tilted her head unimpressed, though for some reason she felt like she had heard that name before recently, she replied, "You may call me Midori."
He smirked devilishly and charmingly. Something that really shouldn't be possible.
"Midori" vaguely thought that she needed to go back to her male body pronto, before this man made her question her sexuality. Well, whatever, it wasn't like she would see him again after tonight.
Reborn had been contracted for a hit in Paris. As per his reputation, he did it quickly and as his employer wanted. So, with being in the city of love he went out to find a companion for the night. It was France, he spoke the language of love, he was the best looking bastard he had ever laid eyes on. What problem would he have?
Too bad he had set his sights on a stunning woman who was completely uninterested in a one night stand or him in general.
She had first caught his attention when a man had acted in a most ungentlemanly way. Well, he had noticed her before – really who could miss a woman with short green hair and a tight green, nearly black dress, with a stunning figure to match.
But what he really paid attention to was her shows of strength. When she had kicked the man he had skidded back several feet before he staggered away. Next, she shattered a deceptively frail looking bar glass with one hand. Bars generally kept tougher glasses due to their tendency to have unruly customers.
All that made him notice her. The fact she was completely disinterested in him kept it up.
When she left he hadn't been able to get a night with her, a date, her number, or even her last name.
He was going to see her again, he determined as he took care of the bill. And one way or another she would be his. If only until she bored him.
AN: Please tell me what you think.