Dynamics of a Human Heart Ch. 07

They didn't...

"Your decision, doctors?"

Miranda reached out and took Sam's hand. Sam squeezed it back and nodded reassuringly. Miranda took a deep breath.

"We're not handing Grey over to them. It's not right and I won't be bullied into compromising my morals."

"Ain't she grand?" Sam added with a grin.

"You owe me twenty dollars and a full-body massage," Isabel whispered audibly to her husband, who just rolled his eyes.

"Work, work, work."

Vega cleared his throat, looked at the two girls for a moment and then nodded approvingly, "Good. I was hoping you would say that: these people are thugs in suits, I believe a humility lesson is in order."

Sam grinned fiercely, "We know someone who is VERY good at those."

"Then summon him."

"Summon him?!" Both the girls looked flabbergasted at the concept.

"Not without a copy of the Necronomicon and a human sacrifice!" Sam scoffed in disbelief.

"He's really not the...summon-able type," Miranda added less dramatically.

"Very well, invite him," Dr. Vega amended, "Do whatever you must, but get him here tomorrow morning and we will see if we can put an end to this."

Sam snapped a fairly accurate impression of a salute, "Aye, aye, mon capitan!"

"Sweetie, why are you hurling French at the nice Spaniard?"

"I beg your pardon!" The President's eyes flew open in rage and both girls made a tiny squeak of dismay at the sudden intensity of his anger.

Then he grinned beneath his beard, "I'm a Catalonian," he gestured to Isabel, "She's the Spaniard."

Isabel replied by giving a jaunty little wave and the room dissolved into laughter as the Doctor's joke helped dissolve the tension that had been accumulating all night.

"Fine, fine, bakas (jerks), Miranda muttered, "You got me."

"Well, I didn't become Dean of one of the most prestigious schools in the world solely on my good looks," Ceran assured them.

"Says you," Sam replied, flashing the older man her signature Cheshire grin.

Luke and Isabel promptly flew into fits of hysterical laughter as Miranda covered her face with her hand and hung her head, shaking it in dismay.

"We're doomed."

Everyone in the room laughed as President Vega simply shook his head good-naturedly, "We should retire for the evening; we have a lot of work ahead of us for tomorrow. We'll need as much strength as we can manage."

"Amen," Sam muttered quietly as the reality of the situation once again began to weigh on her: tomorrow morning, she would have to defend everything she held dear and her best hope, their best hope was a man that was dangerous to know and impossible to trust.

Miranda took that moment to kiss her lover's sun-kissed face, banishing the other girl's grim thoughts, "We'll be okay, sweetie."

Sam responded with a slight smile as she squeezed Miranda's hand gently and laid her cheek against it.

Isabel approached them then and abruptly scooped the dark-haired girl up in a surprisingly intense embrace.

"Thank you!" she whispered with an intensity that surprised the other girl. Miranda smelled salt and could feel moisture against her face.

Tears?

As abruptly as it had begun, Isabel released her and nearly dashed from the room, wiping her eyes as she did.

Miranda and Sam looked at each other with identical expressions of 'What the hell was that all about?'

"Guess we should go find him," Sam sighed heavily, bringing a hand to her head in anticipation of the oncoming headache this was guaranteed to be.

"Guess so," Miranda confirmed in a similar tone.

"I'll be waiting for you tomorrow morning," President Vega informed them as he reached into his desk to remove a bottle of Moscatell from his desk along with a small, crystal tumbler.

"Yes sir," Sam replied in a much more polite tone than she had started the evening with, "We'll be here with bells on."

"Interesting visual," Miranda chimed in.

"Indeed," Vega replied as his lips quirked into a smile, "Oh, and before I forget...," he poured some of the sweet-smelling liquor into the glass and raised it in salutation.

"Les fruites i els amors, els primers són els millors," A toast in Catalonian that rolled off his tongue like silk and reminded both girls why he was considered 'The most Interesting College President in the World.'

Miranda blushed and smiled broadly, "Thank you very much!"

Sam looked up at her frowning, "What?"

"Well, I don't speak very much Catalonian, but it has a great deal in common with Latin, French, and Spanish; which I do speak," she pondered for a minute, "Unless I'm mistaken: 'Les fruites i els amors, els primers són els millors' translates into 'True love never grows old.'"

"Awww," Sam beamed as she turned her attention to the president, "Thank you sir!"

The president merely smirked behind his beard and sipped his drink.

"Come on, we should get going," Miranda said and she turned to address Dr. Vega, "Good night, sir. Thank you for everything."

"Consider it an early wedding present," he replied wryly with that same smirk as if he was in on a joke that the other two were not. It was beginning to tug at Miranda's mind uncomfortably.

Sam wheeled herself out of the President's office and back out into the hallway, Miranda following quickly.

"Well that was nice of him," Sam commented.

"Yeah...," Miranda murmured in response.

The tone in her voice caused Sam to eye her critically, "Miri, what's up?"

"There's something...oh kuso!" The girls exchanged looks of mutual horror.

"Miri," Sam croaked, having found her voice first, "exactly how did the president know we were engaged?"

Vega sipped his drink and went over to his desk phone, punching in an extension and removing the handset.

"Security? This is President Vega, to whom am I speaking to? Mr. Murphy? Yes, I'd like today's footage from the Newton conference room erased. Yes, all of it, please.

Oh, and Mr. Murphy? If I learn that anything contained within those recordings has found its way to the public in any fashion, such as the Internet; it's your ass. Are we perfectly clear? Good, I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Murphy, thank you very much. Good evening."

President Vega set the handset down and turned to face the closed door as he raised his glass in another toast, his blue eyes glittering with amusement.

"Young love. May it never be hampered by such trivial things as sanity." and with a rueful shake of his head, he finished his drink.

**********

"Who do I have to kill to get a cripple-friendly bus around here?" Sam roared to be heard over the nighttime traffic...and to drown out Miranda's ranting.

"Do you think he saw us? How could he have seen us? He couldn't have seen us. Sammy, what are we going to do if he saw us?"

"It's proven that men like seeing hot naked girls have sex, so it can only work in our favor, now shut up already! Hey!" Another bus roared past them without even slowing. "Fuck me running!" the blonde girl spat. She turned to glare at Miranda, "This is all your fault!"

"How the hell is it my fault?"

"I have no idea, but I'll think of something."

Both girls glared at each, and then promptly burst into a fit of giggles.

"That was pretty good, 'I'll think of something'," Miranda told her.

"I thought so, going to have to use it again." A bus finally slowed and stopped next to them. "Finally!" Sam grumbled as she wheeled herself to the hydraulic lift.

Miranda frowned; the interior of the bus was unusually bereft of light and appeared to be completely empty of passengers as she entered the dim confines.

"Hey Sammy? Since when do city buses drive around with their lights off?" she asked as the bus pulled away from the curb.

"Or allow smoking," Sam replied coughing, "And don't call me Sammy."

Miranda's comprehension of exactly what was happening around them was a fraction of a second too late.

"Curiouser and Curiouser."

Both girls started at the Cockney voice, even as Miranda's nose finished telling her that there was the scent of tobacco, old leather, and alcohol in the air.

Grey was sprawled at the back of the bus. He was reclining and had his arms slung over the seats on either side of him. He was dressed in his trademark tan duster, white shirt, black pants, tie and a pair of sunglasses. On one side of him was a small bowl and he held a glass filled with some beverage and a cigarette in his left hand.

Taking a long drag off his cigarette, he tossed it to the ground and began fishing around for a fresh one, "My, my, it's my least favorite pair of squirrel munchers: S&M."

"Degrading, but witty," Sam was forced to admit, "I may use it that someday."

"Consider it my wedding present to you two tits," he removed a empty pack from his coat and sighed in frustration, crumpling the purple and white carton in his hand and tossing it to the floor and instead reaching for the bowl.

Both girls began to panic just a little more.

Miranda found her voice first, swallowing her anxiety, "You're very well informed."

"Spot on," Grey replied, removing a cigarette and striking a match without breaking eye contact, "One of my little birds told me." He lit the cigarette and tossed the match away, taking a long, satisfying pull from it before exhaling a very happy-sounding cloud of smoke, "Come, come," he grinned, taking another pull from his cigarette, "Don't be afraid," he flashed his teeth in hungry amusement as smoke seeped out through them and over his lips.

"Bullshit, be afraid, be very afraid," Sam muttered.

Grey snorted in derision, "You're crippled and condemned to spend the rest of your life in that chair, you ridiculous tart. What else could I possibly do to you?"

"What do you mean 'condemned spending the rest of my life', you gave me all that information about doctors!"

"And you have yet to act on it, my prediction stands."

"Oh, what, you think I don't have the guts to make it happen?"

"Well, color me right and properly gobsmacked, I guess you really aren't as daft as you look," he raised a glass and toasted, "Cheers."

Sam opened her mouth in outrage and attempted to hurl a half-dozen insults at the man simultaneously, but could only manage an infuriated sputter.

"Wow," she exclaimed, attempting to regain her self-control, as she saw the man remove a pair of chopsticks from the bowl and begin to eat.

"What?" he demanded.

"I've just never seen you eat before," Sam smiled cautiously; "I figured you lived on cigarettes and booze."

"Stick around, you can watch me drink water and breathe air.

Sam threw her arms up in the air, "And there we have it, you managed 37 seconds before turning into a complete ass-hat."

"Best hurry and get the Guinness people on your mobile then."

"And the ass-hatery continues."

"What are you eating?" Miranda interjected, attempting to head off the impending argument.

"Rice."

"Oh," she began to flounder already and she cast about her environment for another topic, "You're using chopsticks."

Grey looked at her then as if she were slightly mad. Both girls noticed then that the sunglasses he was currently wearing were not mirrored. They could see his eyes underneath. They did not look amused.

"Keen eyes there, Doctor."

Miranda swallowed her indignity; being talked down to for the first time in her life (by someone that wasn't her mother) was still very hard for to deal with.

"Well," she added, "You're good at it. I've seen a lot of people make a real mess of it."

"Yes, I appear to possess the same rudimentary motor skills as your average chimpanzee."

"I'm sorry, but did you just compare Miri to a fucking chimp?!" Sam spat.

"'Chimp', 'chump' either or, take your pick. Either way, I'm sure the two of you will make an absolutely darling couple," he smirked around his cigarette, took another breath, exhaled more smoke, "Now that that's settled...," he gave Miranda a level look, "...rumor has it, you're in a bit of a bind."

"The next words out of your mouth will be civil ones or so help me God; I will choke you with them."

For a long moment, the only sound to be heard was the roar of the bus's engine and the traffic outside as Samantha and Grey both regarded Miranda in shock.

"Miri?" Sam squeaked out.

Miranda smiled and gazed deeply into Sam's blue eyes: the amount of love they held was incalculable.

She turned to face Grey and her expression became hard, "No one talks to my fiancée like that," she reached down and took Sam's hand in her own, "Are we clear?"

There was another long, pregnant pause, filled with the possibility of disaster. The girls could see the grin he'd been giving them turning into a grimace. Then he lifted his glass,

"Wicked," he proclaimed, with only a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

The girls exhaled as the situation slowly calmed.

"Come, sit at my table..." he looked at the rows of empty bus seats, "...so to speak. Share in my bounty and partake of my libations," he gestured to the empty seats across from him, "and we can proceed to have ourselves that 'civil' conversation you made mention of."

"No thank you, I'm not thir--,"

"Sit down and have a drink."

With a quiet sigh, Miranda took a seat across from the other man, just out of his reach. Sam flanked the girl.

"What are we having?" Sam asked.

"Spiced rice," he answered, "whipped it all up a few weeks back. It manages to keep its flavor pretty well."

"Give it here," Sam demanded. Wordlessly, Grey passed the bowl to her along with the chopsticks. She didn't bother attempting to use them properly; Miranda had tried to teach her how to use them for months to no avail, instead she simply shoveled it into her mouth.

"Holy Hell!" she turned to look up at the other girl, "This is really fucking good!"

An expression of 'not quite amusement' twisted Grey's scarred mouth, "So pleased you approve."

"No, I'm not kidding," she handed the bowl to Miranda, "Here, you need to try this."

Miranda peered at it; it was short-grained rice, prepared as 'sticky rice' and she could smell the familiar scents of rice vinegar, salt, and sugar. She looked up the pair and shrugged, "It's uruchi mai, 'sushi rice', so what?"

"Just try it."

The other girl rolled her violet eyes, but complied, deftly picking up the chopsticks and manipulating a generous portion into her mouth. Her eyes widened.

"Kuso!" she murmured, "that is good. It's actually a little sweeter than I'm used to."

"Wait for it," Grey said in a bemused tone that helped warm the conversation.

"Wait for—" and then Miranda's tongue split at the seam, spewing molten lava into her undefended mouth.

"Oh dear God!" The girl felt like she had just gargled acid as she began to pant, fanning her open mouth frantically with her hands, "What the hell did you put in this?"

"Some of this, some of that."

"Some of what?!"

"A base of Sriracha sauce, blended with Shichimi, Thai Chilies, and Red Chili Paste mixed with extract of Jalapeño and a handful of Red Chinese Chili seeds, finely ground."

"Are you completely deranged?! That's...that's..."

"Actually kinda tasty," Sam put in as she took the bowl from the quivering girl who was only upright on account of being braced against the seat in front of her, "It has a good flavor," she cheerfully shoveled another mouthful into her mouth.

"How can you stand that?" Miranda asked, aghast.

"Oh sweetie, I'm from Tennessee," she explained as she helped herself to a third mouthful, "Between barbeque and Cajun food I—"she stopped then and looked very confused, "Uh-oh."

"What's wrong?"

Sam looked up at Miranda with tears in her eyes for the third time tonight.

"I was wrong!" she managed to croak out, her face went bright red under her tan and she began to pant, "Holy fuck on a pogo stick!"

"It can sneak up on you, if you're not careful," Grey informed them, looking more than a little amused. Both girls were in quite a state at this point.

"Oh God, I can't feel my legs," Sam whined.

"An unusual complaint from a bird in a bath chair,"

"Fu---fu—fuc," And that was as far as Sam got before she had to put her head down and quietly beg for death.

He smiled thinly, "It's an old recipe I learned a ways back. Always like to keep some on hand for special occasions."

"Like what? Trying to kill us, you sadist?" Miranda gurgled.

"Well said," Transferring his drink from one had to another, Grey removed a flask from his jacket and toasted the pair, "Wet your whistle?"

"Give me that!" Sam shrieked and dove for the flask, almost falling out of her wheelchair.

"No don't!" Miranda cried out to warn her friend of further treachery.

Sam took it and went to take a long pull when Grey's hand clamped down on her wrist like an iron vice.

"Sam? Small sips. Understood?" Sam looked him in the eye over the rim of his sunglasses and could see that the joke was over and he was not kidding one bit.

"Understood."

Slowly, Grey released her wrist and fighting mightily against the need to quell the hellish conflagration in her mouth, took a small sip.

"One more and that's all."

Sam nodded and took one more sip before handing it to Miranda.

"What is it?" she gasped.

"It's sweet and it makes the pain stop, that's all you need to know."

"Small sips Miranda, are we clear?" Grey repeated.

The other girl just nodded and took a pair of carefully measured sips before handing the flask back to Grey. The girls looked at each other in wonder as the horror that had filled their mouths not five seconds ago was replaced by a soothing sweet coolness that was sheer bliss.

"It's gone!" Miranda exclaimed.

"Remind me of that, when that damn rice makes its' way through my digestive system," Sam lamented. She faced Grey, "What is it?"

"It's a recipe that was passed along to me in India, based on a local delicacy of theirs: kulfi, it's their take on frozen custard. A crème base of Advocaat: a custard flavored liquor from the Netherlands which is then mixed with Galliano Vanilla, an herbal liquor also Dutch," he shrugged, "Garnish with a conservative helping of apple brandy and serve."

"Bullshit," Sam replied, "Even if there wasn't any citric acid to be found in that herbal concoction, the brandy would curdle the crème in record time."

"You know your drinks, Doctor Adler."

"I take my drinking very seriously," she was eager to finally catch Grey in a lie or a mistake.

Instead, Grey sighed and turned his gaze to Miranda, "Doctor Inoue, would you please see to Doctor Adler, she seems to be falling behind in the class."

Miranda shook her head disapprovingly but began to explain, "Well, apple brandy doesn't have any citric acid in it."

"Being made of apples and not citrus, yes Doctor, we've got that."

The other girl gritted her teeth but soldiered on as she turned to face Grey.

"Did you brew the components as well as the cocktail?"

Grey's lips turned up in a small expression of approval, "Very good. The answer to your question is 'partially', whilst I did not actually distill any of it myself, I may have made some modifications."

"Did you use heavy cream or light?"

"Which would you use?"

"Heavy cream," she replied unhesitatingly.

"And why would you do that?"

"Because a high concentration of fat globules will protect proteins, in this case, casein which is found in milk from things like heat and acid and prevent the formation of casein curds," she looked at Sam with a self-satisfied smile, "Chemistry 101: fats serve as a barrier between the catalyst and the proteins that would curdle otherwise."

"I'll take your word on it," Sam grumbled, seeing her attack on Grey's credibility begin to fall apart at the hands of her lover of all people.

"Is that all, Doctor?" Grey asked politely.