Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Dark Duke ❯ Keeping up Appearances ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: okieday17 
Bulma gets an unexpected visitor at a highly inconvenient time
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.01.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.5K | Visits: 776 | Status: Work In Progress
Bulma gets an unexpected visitor at a highly inconvenient time
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.01.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.5K | Visits: 776 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A/N: Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers! I did not know what to expect from posting this story, and you guys have really encouraged me to write more (oh no, people care, there is now pressure to write well--argh)! Special thanks to ScoobyDoobyDee for their constructive criticism on how to be a more professional writer, I appreciate the help!
One last note, pugilism is the Regency term for boxing.
Chapter One: Keeping up Appearances
Bulma Briefs, the famous twenty-two year old Capsule Corporation heiress, was currently in a situation that was sure to have the entirety of Manhattan's society matron's tongues wagging if they knew what the very eligible (and surprisingly unbetrothed) beauty was doing. She could almost hear their gossipy whispers from over a hundred miles away, shocked that she was sitting in a Capsule Corporation store that she had just broken into (with the assistance of her brother, of course), though their whispers turned into shouts of outrage when they realized she was dressed in men's clothing.
But really, what other options did she have when her and her brother had set off to town with the express purpose of using the workshop in the store, rather then the one she shared at home with her father? It would be completely unrealistic of her to come into town to work in the store dressed as the heiress usually was, especially as the goal of today was stealth, and Bulma Briefs just always seemed to attract attention no matter where she went. It was either stay at home, dressed as she was and try and be covert as she used the shared lab, or find more freedom to work at the store, dressed as a man.
So there she sat, in men's clothing, completely concentrated, with her tongue stuck out through her teeth, looking through the suspended magnifying glass as she worked on the tiny parts of her father's favorite watch, which she might have, accidentally, without meaning too (of course)... crushed underneath her horses hooves the other day when her and her brother had been racing their horses. Bulma was proud to say she had won, but less proud to say she had realized she had crushed the beloved watch under her horse, Moonshine's, hooves.
Luckily for Bulma, she had a gift with all things mechanical, inherited from her father, and knew she could fix the completely crushed pocket watch. She would be able to return it to her father later that night, probably as he lay asleep after some port, and he would never know the difference. Sometimes it paid off to have parents who were not the most observant of people, she mused.
She was just slipping a tiny gear back onto its equally tiny screw when her brother's voice rang from the front of the shop where he was keeping watch, causing her to jostle the piece. "Bulma! Hurry! We are not even supposed to be here! Church will be getting out any minute, and the shop keep will be back!"
Bulma huffed, but did not look up from the watch, instead making her voice testy as she replied, "Goku, would you shut it? I can't concentrate over all of your yammering!"
He sounded amused when he replied, but really, when was her brother not amused? "I'll stop yammering if you just hurry it up already. Mom and dad think we're at church."
Bulma remained concentrated on her task, her voice still cross, "well we would be at church if someone hadn't decided to challenge me to a horse race last night!"
"It's not my fault you forgot you had dads watch in the pocket of your gown!"
"It is your fault that you dared me to take the watch from him as he slept in the drawing room of the Bandit's house!"
Goku rolled his eyes as he let out a chuckle, "well I wouldn't have dared you if you hadn't been too busy dancing with their son Yammmmcchhhaaaa," the last word was said in a sing-song voice, meant to particularly annoy Bulma, and though she felt the urge to throw something at her brother's head, she ignored it.
Goku upon seeing no noticeable reaction from his sister, continued, "you were too busy mooning at him, batting your eyelashes, to remember that you had a brother. I had to do something to get your attention."
There was an insistent huff, but Bulma refused to look up, rather concentrating on the tiny parts in front of her as she muttered, "I was not mooning." Goku snorted, but did not say anything else as she continued to tinker with the watch. Her brother did not understand the necessity of concentration when working with small parts (as he had no mechanical aptitude), but he did know how that this watch being fixed was crucial to their parents not realizing what they had been up to.
Which had been, in a word, trouble.
But it was winter, they were stuck in their upstate New York estate rather then their glittering Manhattan residence, so trouble was to be expected from the energetic youths. Bulma had been pulled away from learning, and her brother had been pulled away from his sports--which left the two Briefs children with nothing to do but cause mischief. It was really their parent's fault. Regardless of the fact that Bulma was twenty-two, and her brother was almost twenty.
As she clicked a particularly tiny (and bothersome) gear into place, Bulma smiled, finally looking up, "got it!" She expected for Goku to say something, congratulate her, tease her, but when she heard nothing she frowned, looking to him. She felt a flicker of unease when she saw Goku standing in an attentive stance as he stared out the window, "Goku--are you okay?" When he remained silent, Bulma walked out from around the counter, reaching up to grab her much taller brother's forearm, noticing his frown. "Hey--what is it?"
Goku's frown was not a good sign--it was almost impossible to rip her brother out of a good mood. She could not remember the last time she had seen him angry...he was generally an extremely good-natured person. The only other times she had seen him this concentrated was right before he was about to start either a pugilist or a fencing match--which did not bode well.
Goku finally blinked, looking down at her as he nodded to the window, "there's someone stopping right in front of the shop. I don't recognize them though."
Bulma looked, seeing two unfamiliar horses that were stopping in front of the store. She could not place them, but as she saw their riders dismount, she immediately snapped into action, turning towards her younger brother. "Goku, go get the horses that are around back saddled, and I'll get rid of them as soon as possible. I'm so close to being done, then we can get out of here."
Goku frowned, especially as he saw a menacing looking bald ogre walk straight for their shop, "I don't know Bulma--what if they figure out you're a girl?"
Bulma huffed, "no one with horses that well bred is observant of the lower class, and you know I can imitate the men in this village pretty well." Goku still seemed hesitant to leave her, so she reminded him, "your Irish accent is horrible, almost as bad as your lying skills, and we don't want it getting back to mom and dad that we were here. You'd give the game up as soon as you opened your mouth."
Goku was apprehensive, but knew that Bulma was right, so he finally nodded. "Okay, get back behind the counter," Bulma gave him a reassuring smile, before shooing him out the back door. She apprehensively pulled her hat further down after he left, making sure her hair was completely covered by the cap, the blue hair a dead giveaway that she was the Briefs heir. She straightened the work apron that made her shapeless, and set about hunching her shoulders as men did.
The second she had Ôtransformed' herself, the door bell dinged as the door was thrown open, commanding attention, which she refused to give, instead resolutely looking back down at the watch she was almost done with. She waited a second before speaking, then reminded herself to keep her Irish brogue deep, trying to sound like a regional man as she muttered, "shops closed."
The British accent did not go unnoticed by the blue-hared genius, as the man in the shop spoke gruffly, "the Duke of Vegetasei requests your help."
Bulma ignored his commanding tone, as well as spark of interest in hearing the word ÔDuke,' concentrating solely on the task in front of her, instead. Even as the door dinged again, she refused to look up, rather speaking down to the table, trying to keep her voice even, "well then he kin find it at the church with everyone else today. Tis' the Lord's day." She let out a satisfied sigh as she slipped the last ball bearing into place, the watch clicking as she wound it, smiling as she finally finished, reaching for the back cover.
Her smile turned into a frown as two meaty palms slapped the work table she was sitting at, jostling the tiny ball she had just finished putting into place, the man's voice loud as he yelled, "you will help him now!"
Bulma flicked a glance to the back door to make sure Goku had not heard the yelling (and felt the need to rush in and defend her, giving the game away), before she finally looked up at the man who was yelling at her. He was ugly, bald, big, and looking at her with fury in his eyes. She had to keep her temper in check as she looked up, her eyes flashing defiantly at the man as she struggled to keep her Irish accent manly enough, "listen you ill-tempered oaf--"
The man snarled at her, cracking his knuckles, "how dare you disrespect me like that! I ought to teach you some manners!" He abruptly grabbed her apron, pulling her out of the seat she was in.
Bulma kept the fear off of her face (even if she was terrified of what kind of physical damage this man could do to her), and stared at him defiantly, pleased to hear his angry huff at her attitude. Right when the giant cocked his fist, ready to let it fly, a hand appeared on his forearm, holding the fist back. A voice, also British, but more polished, belying the more genteel breeding of the second man, rang out, "enough Nappa. Scaring this Irish scum won't get us the answers we need. These Americans have proven to be nothing but uncouth, uncultured, and uninspiring."
Bulma was dumped, unceremoniously back in her seat, but she huffed back at the bald giant, straightening her apron as the oaf glared at her before taking a step back, revealing the other person in the shop. She was ready to be just as huffy with them (especially after their jab at her American, and ÔIrish' heritage), but found herself catching her breath in a gasp as a short man, much smaller than the boor who had just stepped aside, came to Bulma's forefront.
He was short, yes, but everything about him exuded power and assurance, and Bulma felt an odd pull to the man as she recognized a kindred spirit who was used to getting everything they wanted. He was dressed completely in extremely expensive black, the clothes accentuating how compact, yet muscular, his body was. She took in the rugged, angular face (much too masculine to be called beautiful), the flame-shaped black hair--but it was those eyes that had stilled her breath. They were deep dark pits, and Bulma felt if she looked at them too long, she might be sucked into their obsidian depths. Something about his unblinking stare, about the satisfied way he carried himself--she instantly felt a chill, while another faction of her felt warmth at recognizing that he was completely and utterly handsome. She had always had a weak spot for good-looking men...
As she realized she had been staring with her mouth slightly open, Bulma looked back down at the almost forgotten watch, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but here. She did not often fear people seeing past her costume to realize she was a girl, but something about his gaze was so direct and assessing, she was afraid he would see her secret. Those eyes...they were just, she shuddered, one word coming up repetitively, chilling. As soon as she was looking at the watch again, away from the man's stare, she felt like she could breathe again, and took a deep gulp of air.
Vegeta was tired, sore, hungry and thirsty from the long ride he had just partaken in, though his outward countenance betrayed none of this as he examined the slip of a man in front of him, frowning as he thought he saw a wisp of blue hair underneath the cap before the man had looked down. Vegeta had only gotten a second's look at the man's delicate features before he had put his head back down, and Vegeta wanted to get a good look at the man, his senses on high around someone who refused to have their face seen. Vegeta had barely gotten a look at the shop keep, before the man had broken eye contact, going back to fiddling with the piece he had been working on before Nappa had grabbed him.
He frowned as the shop keep still refused to look up, even as the silence stretched. Vegeta finally spoke, but kept his voice soft, hoping to catch the man's attention, "I apologize for my associate's behavior."
The shop keep still refused to look up, working on what looked to be a watch as he gruffly replied, "aye, ye better keep a shorter leash on yer dog."
Nappa growled again, "you will refer to the Duke as my lord!"
The shop keep blanched, but nodded, briefly, as if realizing his mistake in etiquette. If he truly did, then Vegeta was impressed. He had never been to America before, but he had to say the reputation the colonialists had gained for lacking in complete and proper manners was completely earned in his opinion. This backwards country was not one he planned on staying in any longer than he absolutely had to.
Vegeta spoke again, "your store is owned by the Briefs family, correct?"
Something about the way the man froze at the mention of the Briefs name had Vegeta's antennae up. But it was only for a moment, before he went back to working on that infernal watch, and Vegeta put the frozen moment down to simple fear of the employer finding out how abominably the shop keep was acting. "Aye, what of them?" He paused, and then spit out a very quiet, "my lord."
Vegeta was so irritated by this man, he wanted to do nothing more than to let Nappa take him out back and teach him a lesson in manners, but they were pressed for time, and Vegeta needed to make sure that him and Nappa were on the right route. They would have been at the Briefs winter estate hours ago, but they had gotten lost halfway through their journey after misunderstanding the keeper of the inn they had stopped at for lunch direction's. Yet another reason Nappa was so aggravated, and Vegeta was so frustrated. They were so close, and Vegeta did not want to waste any more time, so he commanded, "I need directions to their estate."
The shop keep finally stopped tinkering, and peaked up from underneath his cap, Vegeta taking in the incredibly captivating eyes that stared back at him, finding himself shocked at their blueness. He had never seen eyes so...blue, for lack of a better word, before. The blue depths currently shone with a burning curiosity as the boy asked, "the Briefs estate? Whatcha looking for them for?" Another pause, "my lord."
Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the impertinence of this villager, and frowned, before he threw a sack of coins at the man, trying to speed things along, "it is of no matter what I need from them. I just need to know that we are going the right way." The coins should get him some answers--gold was one currency that the poor could never ignore.
Bulma distastefully eyed the coins in front of her, the way this Duke threw money around striking a cord with her--she did not like him, plain and simple. It had to be because of his overall attitude, like he was better then everyone, constantly judging (and condemning) everyone around him. She wanted to do nothing more then to throw the coins back in his face, demanding he leave her store. But she had to stay in character, so she grabbed them, weighed them in her hand, considering them, and then stuffed them in her pocket.
She looked up to tell him how to find her estate, but instantly looked back down as the man's piercing black gaze threatened to overwhelm her--something about it made her shiver, feeling colder then she had before he had entered the shop. As soon as she looked down, she felt better, and she took another steadying breath.
She considered lying about how to get to her home, but she had to admit she was curious as to what this British Duke wanted from her family. So she finally answered him, "aye, ye're heading the right way. Keep north until the fork on the road, then take the left fork, and you'll be at their front door within the hour." She paused, longer then the other times waiting to see his fists clench before she muttered, "my lord."
There was a pause, and she defiantly looked up, forcing herself to meet those black eyes, to fight the chill she felt settle in her bones. As she stared at the impassive face though, she felt her heart began to thunder, and as his lower lip softened from the firm line he had held it in, she had to fight the sudden desire she had to stare at his lips.
The Duke simply nodded at her after he had stared at her sufficiently long enough, and muttered, "that is all," like he was dismissing her from his study. He turned on his heel, and just as quickly as he had come, he was gone.
Bulma stared dumbfounded at the door, before the oaf caught her attention by threateningly cracking his knuckles. He took a menacing step forward, but the Duke called his name from outside, and he only growled before he too left the store.
She stayed unmoving until she heard their hoof beats pound away, before taking a large breath, gulping air into her lungs. When she was sure they were out of sight, Bulma tore into action, jumping from her seat, locking the door, grabbing the now fixed watch, and raced outside, Goku's startled gaze meeting her own as she ran to her horse. He helped her mount as she looked at him, speaking quickly, "c'mon, we have to go--we're about to get some guests at home."
Goku only nodded once, then jumped onto his own horse in a smooth movement, the two of them taking off in a gallop in an attempt to beat the Duke in reaching their property first.
~~&~~
A/N: The first meeting! An unconventional way to have them meet (I wonder if Bulma really ever could pull of being a man), but a fun to have them meet when Vegeta is not quite sure whom he's talking to. Next chapter, answers for why Vegeta is searching for Kakarrot...
A/N: Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers! I did not know what to expect from posting this story, and you guys have really encouraged me to write more (oh no, people care, there is now pressure to write well--argh)! Special thanks to ScoobyDoobyDee for their constructive criticism on how to be a more professional writer, I appreciate the help!
One last note, pugilism is the Regency term for boxing.
Chapter One: Keeping up Appearances
Bulma Briefs, the famous twenty-two year old Capsule Corporation heiress, was currently in a situation that was sure to have the entirety of Manhattan's society matron's tongues wagging if they knew what the very eligible (and surprisingly unbetrothed) beauty was doing. She could almost hear their gossipy whispers from over a hundred miles away, shocked that she was sitting in a Capsule Corporation store that she had just broken into (with the assistance of her brother, of course), though their whispers turned into shouts of outrage when they realized she was dressed in men's clothing.
But really, what other options did she have when her and her brother had set off to town with the express purpose of using the workshop in the store, rather then the one she shared at home with her father? It would be completely unrealistic of her to come into town to work in the store dressed as the heiress usually was, especially as the goal of today was stealth, and Bulma Briefs just always seemed to attract attention no matter where she went. It was either stay at home, dressed as she was and try and be covert as she used the shared lab, or find more freedom to work at the store, dressed as a man.
So there she sat, in men's clothing, completely concentrated, with her tongue stuck out through her teeth, looking through the suspended magnifying glass as she worked on the tiny parts of her father's favorite watch, which she might have, accidentally, without meaning too (of course)... crushed underneath her horses hooves the other day when her and her brother had been racing their horses. Bulma was proud to say she had won, but less proud to say she had realized she had crushed the beloved watch under her horse, Moonshine's, hooves.
Luckily for Bulma, she had a gift with all things mechanical, inherited from her father, and knew she could fix the completely crushed pocket watch. She would be able to return it to her father later that night, probably as he lay asleep after some port, and he would never know the difference. Sometimes it paid off to have parents who were not the most observant of people, she mused.
She was just slipping a tiny gear back onto its equally tiny screw when her brother's voice rang from the front of the shop where he was keeping watch, causing her to jostle the piece. "Bulma! Hurry! We are not even supposed to be here! Church will be getting out any minute, and the shop keep will be back!"
Bulma huffed, but did not look up from the watch, instead making her voice testy as she replied, "Goku, would you shut it? I can't concentrate over all of your yammering!"
He sounded amused when he replied, but really, when was her brother not amused? "I'll stop yammering if you just hurry it up already. Mom and dad think we're at church."
Bulma remained concentrated on her task, her voice still cross, "well we would be at church if someone hadn't decided to challenge me to a horse race last night!"
"It's not my fault you forgot you had dads watch in the pocket of your gown!"
"It is your fault that you dared me to take the watch from him as he slept in the drawing room of the Bandit's house!"
Goku rolled his eyes as he let out a chuckle, "well I wouldn't have dared you if you hadn't been too busy dancing with their son Yammmmcchhhaaaa," the last word was said in a sing-song voice, meant to particularly annoy Bulma, and though she felt the urge to throw something at her brother's head, she ignored it.
Goku upon seeing no noticeable reaction from his sister, continued, "you were too busy mooning at him, batting your eyelashes, to remember that you had a brother. I had to do something to get your attention."
There was an insistent huff, but Bulma refused to look up, rather concentrating on the tiny parts in front of her as she muttered, "I was not mooning." Goku snorted, but did not say anything else as she continued to tinker with the watch. Her brother did not understand the necessity of concentration when working with small parts (as he had no mechanical aptitude), but he did know how that this watch being fixed was crucial to their parents not realizing what they had been up to.
Which had been, in a word, trouble.
But it was winter, they were stuck in their upstate New York estate rather then their glittering Manhattan residence, so trouble was to be expected from the energetic youths. Bulma had been pulled away from learning, and her brother had been pulled away from his sports--which left the two Briefs children with nothing to do but cause mischief. It was really their parent's fault. Regardless of the fact that Bulma was twenty-two, and her brother was almost twenty.
As she clicked a particularly tiny (and bothersome) gear into place, Bulma smiled, finally looking up, "got it!" She expected for Goku to say something, congratulate her, tease her, but when she heard nothing she frowned, looking to him. She felt a flicker of unease when she saw Goku standing in an attentive stance as he stared out the window, "Goku--are you okay?" When he remained silent, Bulma walked out from around the counter, reaching up to grab her much taller brother's forearm, noticing his frown. "Hey--what is it?"
Goku's frown was not a good sign--it was almost impossible to rip her brother out of a good mood. She could not remember the last time she had seen him angry...he was generally an extremely good-natured person. The only other times she had seen him this concentrated was right before he was about to start either a pugilist or a fencing match--which did not bode well.
Goku finally blinked, looking down at her as he nodded to the window, "there's someone stopping right in front of the shop. I don't recognize them though."
Bulma looked, seeing two unfamiliar horses that were stopping in front of the store. She could not place them, but as she saw their riders dismount, she immediately snapped into action, turning towards her younger brother. "Goku, go get the horses that are around back saddled, and I'll get rid of them as soon as possible. I'm so close to being done, then we can get out of here."
Goku frowned, especially as he saw a menacing looking bald ogre walk straight for their shop, "I don't know Bulma--what if they figure out you're a girl?"
Bulma huffed, "no one with horses that well bred is observant of the lower class, and you know I can imitate the men in this village pretty well." Goku still seemed hesitant to leave her, so she reminded him, "your Irish accent is horrible, almost as bad as your lying skills, and we don't want it getting back to mom and dad that we were here. You'd give the game up as soon as you opened your mouth."
Goku was apprehensive, but knew that Bulma was right, so he finally nodded. "Okay, get back behind the counter," Bulma gave him a reassuring smile, before shooing him out the back door. She apprehensively pulled her hat further down after he left, making sure her hair was completely covered by the cap, the blue hair a dead giveaway that she was the Briefs heir. She straightened the work apron that made her shapeless, and set about hunching her shoulders as men did.
The second she had Ôtransformed' herself, the door bell dinged as the door was thrown open, commanding attention, which she refused to give, instead resolutely looking back down at the watch she was almost done with. She waited a second before speaking, then reminded herself to keep her Irish brogue deep, trying to sound like a regional man as she muttered, "shops closed."
The British accent did not go unnoticed by the blue-hared genius, as the man in the shop spoke gruffly, "the Duke of Vegetasei requests your help."
Bulma ignored his commanding tone, as well as spark of interest in hearing the word ÔDuke,' concentrating solely on the task in front of her, instead. Even as the door dinged again, she refused to look up, rather speaking down to the table, trying to keep her voice even, "well then he kin find it at the church with everyone else today. Tis' the Lord's day." She let out a satisfied sigh as she slipped the last ball bearing into place, the watch clicking as she wound it, smiling as she finally finished, reaching for the back cover.
Her smile turned into a frown as two meaty palms slapped the work table she was sitting at, jostling the tiny ball she had just finished putting into place, the man's voice loud as he yelled, "you will help him now!"
Bulma flicked a glance to the back door to make sure Goku had not heard the yelling (and felt the need to rush in and defend her, giving the game away), before she finally looked up at the man who was yelling at her. He was ugly, bald, big, and looking at her with fury in his eyes. She had to keep her temper in check as she looked up, her eyes flashing defiantly at the man as she struggled to keep her Irish accent manly enough, "listen you ill-tempered oaf--"
The man snarled at her, cracking his knuckles, "how dare you disrespect me like that! I ought to teach you some manners!" He abruptly grabbed her apron, pulling her out of the seat she was in.
Bulma kept the fear off of her face (even if she was terrified of what kind of physical damage this man could do to her), and stared at him defiantly, pleased to hear his angry huff at her attitude. Right when the giant cocked his fist, ready to let it fly, a hand appeared on his forearm, holding the fist back. A voice, also British, but more polished, belying the more genteel breeding of the second man, rang out, "enough Nappa. Scaring this Irish scum won't get us the answers we need. These Americans have proven to be nothing but uncouth, uncultured, and uninspiring."
Bulma was dumped, unceremoniously back in her seat, but she huffed back at the bald giant, straightening her apron as the oaf glared at her before taking a step back, revealing the other person in the shop. She was ready to be just as huffy with them (especially after their jab at her American, and ÔIrish' heritage), but found herself catching her breath in a gasp as a short man, much smaller than the boor who had just stepped aside, came to Bulma's forefront.
He was short, yes, but everything about him exuded power and assurance, and Bulma felt an odd pull to the man as she recognized a kindred spirit who was used to getting everything they wanted. He was dressed completely in extremely expensive black, the clothes accentuating how compact, yet muscular, his body was. She took in the rugged, angular face (much too masculine to be called beautiful), the flame-shaped black hair--but it was those eyes that had stilled her breath. They were deep dark pits, and Bulma felt if she looked at them too long, she might be sucked into their obsidian depths. Something about his unblinking stare, about the satisfied way he carried himself--she instantly felt a chill, while another faction of her felt warmth at recognizing that he was completely and utterly handsome. She had always had a weak spot for good-looking men...
As she realized she had been staring with her mouth slightly open, Bulma looked back down at the almost forgotten watch, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but here. She did not often fear people seeing past her costume to realize she was a girl, but something about his gaze was so direct and assessing, she was afraid he would see her secret. Those eyes...they were just, she shuddered, one word coming up repetitively, chilling. As soon as she was looking at the watch again, away from the man's stare, she felt like she could breathe again, and took a deep gulp of air.
Vegeta was tired, sore, hungry and thirsty from the long ride he had just partaken in, though his outward countenance betrayed none of this as he examined the slip of a man in front of him, frowning as he thought he saw a wisp of blue hair underneath the cap before the man had looked down. Vegeta had only gotten a second's look at the man's delicate features before he had put his head back down, and Vegeta wanted to get a good look at the man, his senses on high around someone who refused to have their face seen. Vegeta had barely gotten a look at the shop keep, before the man had broken eye contact, going back to fiddling with the piece he had been working on before Nappa had grabbed him.
He frowned as the shop keep still refused to look up, even as the silence stretched. Vegeta finally spoke, but kept his voice soft, hoping to catch the man's attention, "I apologize for my associate's behavior."
The shop keep still refused to look up, working on what looked to be a watch as he gruffly replied, "aye, ye better keep a shorter leash on yer dog."
Nappa growled again, "you will refer to the Duke as my lord!"
The shop keep blanched, but nodded, briefly, as if realizing his mistake in etiquette. If he truly did, then Vegeta was impressed. He had never been to America before, but he had to say the reputation the colonialists had gained for lacking in complete and proper manners was completely earned in his opinion. This backwards country was not one he planned on staying in any longer than he absolutely had to.
Vegeta spoke again, "your store is owned by the Briefs family, correct?"
Something about the way the man froze at the mention of the Briefs name had Vegeta's antennae up. But it was only for a moment, before he went back to working on that infernal watch, and Vegeta put the frozen moment down to simple fear of the employer finding out how abominably the shop keep was acting. "Aye, what of them?" He paused, and then spit out a very quiet, "my lord."
Vegeta was so irritated by this man, he wanted to do nothing more than to let Nappa take him out back and teach him a lesson in manners, but they were pressed for time, and Vegeta needed to make sure that him and Nappa were on the right route. They would have been at the Briefs winter estate hours ago, but they had gotten lost halfway through their journey after misunderstanding the keeper of the inn they had stopped at for lunch direction's. Yet another reason Nappa was so aggravated, and Vegeta was so frustrated. They were so close, and Vegeta did not want to waste any more time, so he commanded, "I need directions to their estate."
The shop keep finally stopped tinkering, and peaked up from underneath his cap, Vegeta taking in the incredibly captivating eyes that stared back at him, finding himself shocked at their blueness. He had never seen eyes so...blue, for lack of a better word, before. The blue depths currently shone with a burning curiosity as the boy asked, "the Briefs estate? Whatcha looking for them for?" Another pause, "my lord."
Vegeta raised an eyebrow at the impertinence of this villager, and frowned, before he threw a sack of coins at the man, trying to speed things along, "it is of no matter what I need from them. I just need to know that we are going the right way." The coins should get him some answers--gold was one currency that the poor could never ignore.
Bulma distastefully eyed the coins in front of her, the way this Duke threw money around striking a cord with her--she did not like him, plain and simple. It had to be because of his overall attitude, like he was better then everyone, constantly judging (and condemning) everyone around him. She wanted to do nothing more then to throw the coins back in his face, demanding he leave her store. But she had to stay in character, so she grabbed them, weighed them in her hand, considering them, and then stuffed them in her pocket.
She looked up to tell him how to find her estate, but instantly looked back down as the man's piercing black gaze threatened to overwhelm her--something about it made her shiver, feeling colder then she had before he had entered the shop. As soon as she looked down, she felt better, and she took another steadying breath.
She considered lying about how to get to her home, but she had to admit she was curious as to what this British Duke wanted from her family. So she finally answered him, "aye, ye're heading the right way. Keep north until the fork on the road, then take the left fork, and you'll be at their front door within the hour." She paused, longer then the other times waiting to see his fists clench before she muttered, "my lord."
There was a pause, and she defiantly looked up, forcing herself to meet those black eyes, to fight the chill she felt settle in her bones. As she stared at the impassive face though, she felt her heart began to thunder, and as his lower lip softened from the firm line he had held it in, she had to fight the sudden desire she had to stare at his lips.
The Duke simply nodded at her after he had stared at her sufficiently long enough, and muttered, "that is all," like he was dismissing her from his study. He turned on his heel, and just as quickly as he had come, he was gone.
Bulma stared dumbfounded at the door, before the oaf caught her attention by threateningly cracking his knuckles. He took a menacing step forward, but the Duke called his name from outside, and he only growled before he too left the store.
She stayed unmoving until she heard their hoof beats pound away, before taking a large breath, gulping air into her lungs. When she was sure they were out of sight, Bulma tore into action, jumping from her seat, locking the door, grabbing the now fixed watch, and raced outside, Goku's startled gaze meeting her own as she ran to her horse. He helped her mount as she looked at him, speaking quickly, "c'mon, we have to go--we're about to get some guests at home."
Goku only nodded once, then jumped onto his own horse in a smooth movement, the two of them taking off in a gallop in an attempt to beat the Duke in reaching their property first.
~~&~~
A/N: The first meeting! An unconventional way to have them meet (I wonder if Bulma really ever could pull of being a man), but a fun to have them meet when Vegeta is not quite sure whom he's talking to. Next chapter, answers for why Vegeta is searching for Kakarrot...