The cars had been ordered for 1930. The Major, who was in charge of the transportation arrangements, had been very firm. The young gentlemen were to be on time. They would meet the Cousins in the drawing room and then proceed in what amounted to a well-guarded convoy down through West Vancouver, across the Lion's Gate Bridge, through the leafy wonder that was Stanley Park, directly to the restaurant. Extra cars had been laid on - three borrowed from an undertaker, two the most presentable of the clunkers that the members of the Security Force drove.
Blake Putnam Randolph had driven Mrs. Arundel, Mrs. Randolph, and Mrs. Airlie to Clarence House, the white-stuccoed Georgian classic that was the Arundels' home, where the ladies would bathe, and change into something decent. Blake was told to go home, put on some underwear, and return properly dressed.
The cadets were ready on time and gathered, as directed, in the drawing room, where the footmen passed soft drinks. Michael joined them, smiling, greeting each young man and, as Nate Schoenmann put it, schmoozing. The Major, severe in a fresh dark suit, unbent a little, and chatted amiably with Colin. Chef, as rumpled as always, scorned the soft drinks and asked for decent drink. Ray raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Chef wanted some "medicine" and that was that.
As it was to be a relaxed evening, the cadets had dressed in shorts and jeans, khaki trousers predominating, short-sleeved shirts - unfortunately garish Hawaiian shirts - and sneakers or boat shoes, worn without socks.
Shortly before 1915 the Cousins arrived. In a group, the cadets turned to greet the Chinese boys. In group they gasped and Chef, his belly rumbling with repressed laughter, raised his eyes to heaven. Cory and Nate, when they had recovered, both muttered, "Oy Vey!"
Standing in a group, the Cousins were a sight. Amah, omniscient, all-powerful Amah, had decreed that the boys would dress properly in the presence of the Serenity. The Amahs had not quite got over their shock at seeing their young charges in their revealing Speedos. Their "boys" would dress properly! There would be no exception and no argument.
The Cousins had been showered, bathed, powdered and buffed to within an inch of their lives. They were dressed for a proper dinner with the Serenity. Unfortunately, they made the young gentlemen of Aurora look like a bunch of refugees found stowed away in the lowest hold of the most disreputable freighter ever to sail to Seven Seas!
The older Cousins, Alistair, Cornelius, Michael, John and Matthew wore well-cut black silk suits, stiffly starched white shirts, school ties and highly polished black oxfords. The younger Cousins, Arden, Max, Teddy, Joey, Harry and Will, were dressed as befitted their amah's idea of what constituted proper apparel for young boys when dining with the Emperor. Each boy had been threatened into a black jacket, matching short black trousers, starched shirt, a tie, white ankle socks and polished shoes.
For a moment a stunned silence filled the drawing room. Then the Twins, self-appointed "arbiters elegantaria", and acknowledged leaders of what was proper for young gentlemen of breeding and culture to wear (although they sometimes despaired of Harry), took charge. The drawing room emptied rapidly as the Cousins were snatched away upstairs. The younger Cousins went up with Randy and Joey, Calvin and Simon. Alistair was given into the care of the Twins. The Phantom, with Colin, took charge of Cornelius while Tyler and Val, together with Mark and Tony, escorted the other older Cousins.
The bedroom floors were a maelstrom of sound and colour as the cadets ransacked their wardrobes for something the Cousins could wear. The cadets were determined that the Cousins would look more like they were going out for dinner, and not to attend a funeral.
Ties were loosened, jackets removed, white shirts tossed into a corner, all complaints ignored as the Cousins were stripped of their finery. All complaints that Amah would not understand were roundly ignored. Almost immediately from several of the open doors that led to the bedrooms there came a long, cry of "Oh, no!"
It transpired that Amah, firmly, had decreed, as numberless mothers throughout the Western world decreed every day, that the only proper undergarments for boys, without exception, were tighty whiteys!
This posed no problem to Two Strokes, who was a briefs man, or to The Phantom, who was flexible when it came to underpants. It depended on one's personal taste and on whether one wanted to swing in the wind or enjoy the imagined safety of white "bulwarks of morality". They had, after all, as The Phantom was fond of confiding from time to time, saved his upper deck fittings from the depredations of Amy Jenson. So he had no complaint. Kevin and Ray preferred boxers, as did Val. Tyler was firmly in the Jockey corner.
Alistair, when he was standing in front of the Twins, and wearing only his tight briefs, wondered what the fuss was about. He had seen two sets of Twins' eyebrows rise slightly and thought they were expressing disapproval of the bulge that pooched out the front of his whiteys. Alistair thought that the Twins were checking him out (they were) but was too polite to comment. If the two white boys wanted to admire his appendage, well, that was fine with Alistair.
"Tacky, Alistair, tacky," declared Cory.
Scratching his chin, Todd nodded his agreement. "Still, he does have the body for tighties." He winked and added, "Nice basket, too."
Alistair, who had never been so openly admired, except by Arden, who was his brother and didn't count, didn't know whether he should feel flattered, or angry. So he blushed and stammered, "Am . . . Amah says it is proper apparel for young gentlemen.
"Well, I am a proper young gentleman," responded Cory, "and tighties are alright when one is wearing sports gear, as after all, one does need the support," he opined. "However . . ." Cory broke off and began rummaging in one of the drawers of the huge clothes press that stood against the far wall of the bedroom.
Todd, who knew that his brother was putting on airs, snickered and assured Alistair, "Don't worry, you're safe as houses."
Cory turned and held out a pair of blue, white-striped, very conservative looking boxer shorts. "Here, you are too old for those diapers. Put these on while I look for something for you to wear." He saw Alistair hesitate and added, "We won't look." Then he giggled and asked, "Is Arden really as big as you are?"
As with many teenage boys, the size of Alistair's penis was of paramount importance so far as he was concerned, and it was a sore point that Arden, that short-arsed, obnoxious little brat, went around bragging that he was as big as his older brother. Completely out of character, Alistair pushed his hands into the waistband of his underpants and pushed them down, exposing what was, in Cory's biased opinion, a very well proportioned set of upper deck fittings.
"Can you see this on a little dickhead like Arden?" Alistair asked with a grin. "Gross!"
Cory started to laugh and slapped Alistair's shoulder. "Damn, Alistair, you sure got a set, in more ways than one!"
Again, Alistair blushed. "Oh, Jeez," he exclaimed as his hands sped down to cover himself. He ducked his head and said, "I don't usually . . . I mean I'm not usually so overt, but I do get tired of listening to Arden brag!"
Todd, who was laughing as hard as Cory, said, "Well, you have nothing to be ashamed of!" He regarded Alistair's pink-headed organ. "So, that's what sealing means!"
Alistair's eyes widened as he remembered seeing Peter and Jérémie Cher as they chased each other around the pool. "You are not sealed?" he asked.
"Of course we are!" exclaimed Cory. "Just about everybody is. We just don't make such a big deal about it."
"It is a very `big deal' in my family," responded Alistair. "We are sealed to the service of the Serenity, forever, and must do what he asks of us. It is a very important thing."
"Well, since we're knights, it's a very big thing in the Order," replied Todd. "But it's pretty commonplace. You must have noticed the other guys, in school, I mean."
"Yes," said Alistair. "I have noticed." Then he asked, "What is the Order."
The Twins exchanged a glance and Cory answered, "It is an order of Knights. We are knights. Peter, and Jérémie Cher are Companions and will remain so until they, um, are `sealed'. It's required, you know."
Alistair did not know. "Please, may I know about the Order?"
"Let's first find something for you to wear," interjected Todd. He was not averse to explaining the Order to Alistair, but he did feel that such an explanation should be careful, and slow. "Cory, we need a shirt, and . . . shorts?"
"Yeah, he's got a nice butt on him and his legs are really neat," enthused Cory. "If you got it, you flaunt it, Alistair." He began to push aside the clothing hanging in the press, looking for a shirt. "I have some walking shorts in my dresser, I think," Cory said. "I have no idea where the footman put them."
"Alistair's waist is thicker than yours," Todd pointed out. "The boxers are okay, but we might have to find something else for him."
"Phantom," returned Cory. "He's got tons. Go and ask him for something," instructed Cory. He found a particularly hideous short-sleeved summer shirt. "It's grim, but it will do," he said as he handed the shirt to Alistair.
Todd left the room and walked down the corridor. One of the Cousins - it was Cornelius - appeared, dressed in a striped, collarless shirt (the Major had been appealed to and donated six shirts, somewhat reluctantly for they were from Turnbull & Asser, and hideously expensive), over a pair of black walking shorts (donated by Colin). He was wearing a pair of The Phantom's extra sneakers, and red and blue striped sports socks. The change in him was evident as he sauntered confidently down the corridor toward the stairs.
The door to The Phantom's rooms was open. Todd could see his friend, Colin, and Peter Race, standing near the high windows, talking about something. Todd rapped on the doorframe. "Hey guys, I need some pants," he said cheerfully.
The Phantom turned, his eyes sad. "Ah, Todd. Come in, and shut the door please." He nodded toward Peter. "I want Todd to hear this."
While they waited for Todd to return, Cory and Alistair sat chatting. Alistair, at first, had felt a little embarrassed, sitting in just his underpants, but Cory's easygoing demeanour and humour quickly put the Chinese youth at ease. Cory did not tell him too much about the Order - that would no doubt come later, if The Phantom were correct, Alistair would be Michael Chan's heir would have to be told sooner or later.
Alistair thought carefully before he asked Cory, "Are you, um, are you homosexual?"
Cory did no hesitate in answering. He never lied, never procrastinated, and never denied who and what he was. "Yes. So is Todd. Is that a problem for you?"
Shaking his head, Alistair said, "No." He did not think it necessary to reveal that he and Arden sometimes "played", or that he and Cornelius were closer than some might think necessary. "I think Arden might be," he said quietly.
Cory cocked his head. "Arden? How would you know? He's much too young, I think." Which was strange for Cory to say, seeing as he and Todd had been sleeping together since they were seven years old.
"Well, he does enjoy the bath ritual," offered Alistair. He saw the questioning look on Cory's face and explained. "When Amah bathes the younger boys, she plays with him, rubbing his winky - sorry, his penis - until he orgasms. It is very relaxing, and supposedly guarantees a quiet night for all concerned."
"You sound as if you're speaking from experience," offered Cory dryly.
Alistair nodded self-consciously. "Well, yes, it happened to me." Realizing what he had just confessed, Alistair slapped his hands across his mouth, his eyes wide.
Laughing, Cory shook his head. "It's all right." Then he asked, "Do you, um, does she, still . . ." He jerked his hand slowly up and down.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Alistair. "Once the boy starts to grow hairs on his . . ." he paused, very embarrassed, " . . . or squirts at her, Amah stops supervising our baths."
Still laughing, Cory raised his eyes. Then he looked directly at Alistair. "On the one hand, I know at least a dozen guys who would give their eye teeth for a hand job every night before bedtime. On the other, if Arden enjoys it so much, why did he complain to Michael?"
Alistair had a ready answer. "Would you like an old woman playing with your dick?" he asked frankly.
"Um, well, no," replied Cory with a shudder.
"Well, neither does Arden, nor do any of the others. It is one thing to have your dick played with by someone you don't mind playing with, quite another when it's done as a matter of course, and designed to keep you quiet and sleepy!"
"You do have a point," agreed Cory.
"Hey guys, I have some pants for you, Alistair!" It was Todd. "Phantom says you can wear these." He held up a pair of very sharp, almost brand new, khaki trousers. "You'll look super sharp in them! A real babe magnet!"
Cory looked as if he had been hit with a brick. "A babe magnet! What the hell was Todd talking about, and what's with all the bonhomie." He looked witheringly at his brother. "Are you all right? You didn't get into the sauce, did you?" he asked, his voice dripping with suspicion.
"No. Phantom offered a beer, but I declined," returned Todd. He knew that Cory thought he was up to something and said, "Speaking of which, Phantom wants you." He handed the trousers to Alistair and jerked his head sharply toward the door. "He wants to talk to you about . . . something."
"Now?"
"Yeah, now." Todd turned to Alistair, who had put on the trousers. "Like I said, you look great."
As Cory left the room he could hear his brother asking Alistair about the Sealing Ceremony, and wondered what The Phantom was up to now.
The Imperial City Restaurant was the premier Chinese dining room in the city. It attracted not only tourists, who filled the tables at lunch and dinner, but the elite of the city, politicians, city officials, police brass, anyone who was anyone. They were never disappointed.
The main dining room was actually on two floors, reached by a broad, carpeted staircase, the second floor a balconied adjunct to the main level. Above these rooms were the banquet rooms, some large, some small. Above that was the ballroom, always booked for a wedding or a reception.
The food was beyond excellent, for Michael employed only the most tested and experienced chefs, almost every one of them imported originally from Hong Kong where they had spent years catering to the whims of first, the British officials and Tai Pans of the Crown Colony and later, American tourists, who expected nothing less than the very best. Michael's chefs offered a mind-boggling array of dishes. His wine cellar was famous, and it was said that his bartenders could mix any drink a customer might wish, without exception. Reservations were essential.
Michael's guests did not dine in the main room. He had decreed a Chinese banquet and the guests were conducted to a large, garishly decorated room with huge round tables, usually reserved for wedding receptions and the like. There was no formal seating plan, and the guests sat where they wished, and with whom they wished. Arden managed to snag a chair between The Phantom and Harry. Alistair sat between the Twins. The other Cousins placed themselves between knights and guests. Michael's table was reserved for the Major, Chef, Pete Sheppard, Laurence, Patrick Tsang, Commander Stockman, Andy, Kyle and the ladies. With everyone seated no one seemed to notice, or care, that one chair remained empty. Doctor Bradley-Smith was late.
Outside the dining room the protection force sat at tables, giving the appearance of casual diners to any who happened to look their way. Alex Grinchsten and Ned Hadfield sat closest to the door leading to their charges and were settling in to eat. Downstairs the main entrance and the kitchen entrances were likewise under guard. Michael took no chances and even the attendant in the gents was replaced by one of the less repulsive looking Tsangs.
The guests had barely sat down when a phalanx of white-jacketed waiters emerged from the kitchens, each man bearing a laden tray. As the cadets and non-Chinese guests watched wide-eyed the waiters placed before each guest a jade and china rice bowl, and a long, flat box. At his table, traditionally sited near the serving door leading to the kitchens, Michael rose and bowed ceremonially. "Dear friends, brothers, and guests. I welcome you to my humble establishment and offer these small gifts to remind you of our evening."
His speech was more or less traditional. It was expected of every host at every formal Chinese banquet. The dinner favours were not. Mrs. Arundel gasped when she opened the box. "Michael," she said firmly, "this is much too much!"
Michael gestured airily. "The value is small compared to the friendship I enjoy. Please, accept the gift."
Mrs. Arundel studied the gift, a pair of chopsticks unlike any she had ever seen. The eating utensils were of gold - she was certain that Michael would never offer plate - with small rubies inset in the handles. She knew that while Michael pretended to eschew anything Chinese if he could, he had still conformed to tradition. Red meant luck. Diamonds, which were avoided in the main, were white, which was the colour of death. She shook her head as she then studied the rice bowl, a small masterpiece of carver's art. She wanted to refuse, for the gifts were magnificent and must have cost a small fortune. Still, she knew enough of Chinese culture that she could not refuse them. It would be an unforgivable insult, no matter how well intentioned. She did not want her host to think that his gifts were less than perfect.
She glanced at her sons, who were comparing their chopsticks with The Phantom, and nodded. "You are much too kind, Michael. Of course I shall keep them. They are very beautiful."
Michael beamed.
She had barely expressed her thanks when the waiters returned bearing huge trays laden with the first course of the banquet, ten cold dishes. Mrs. Randolph surveyed the array of food and wondered aloud, "What does one drink with such wonderful food?" she asked rhetorically. When her husband was alive he always insisted on beer. However, she did not think that beer was what Michael would approve of.
"Champagne," exclaimed Michael. This was also traditional. With massive amounts of food a good host offered massive amounts of liquor. "Now, what shall we have? Bollinger? Mumm's? Wait, I know." He turned and spoke in rapid fire Mandarin to the Head Waiter. The only words the others could understand were "Louis Roederer, Appellation Cristal, 1964."
This time it was the Major gasped. Cristal 1964 was a vintage year, and went for something like $600.00 the bottle, if it could be found.
As the waiters bustled about, placing glasses and pouring wine, The Phantom asked Alistair, "Are we supposed to eat all this?" he asked.
"Oh, no," replied Alistair. What you do is take some in your bowl, just a little of each dish. That way you gain the full benefit of the sentiments offered." He paused to flash a dirty look at Arden, who was giggling as he tried to teach Harry how to use chopsticks.
Arden was in heaven, smugly confident in his new friendship with Harry, and the Twins, and revelling in his new outfit - all borrowed for the evening: a Detroit Redwings hockey jersey (Calvin), baggy issue shorts (Joey) and low cut boat shoes, worn without socks, courtesy of Kevin (Arden had very big feet).
Harry, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, did not have the heart to tell Arden that he already knew how to manipulate the utensils, nor to point out that Arden's smugness was somewhat diminished by the ubiquitous face of Mickey Mouse that was leering from under the hem of his shorts (boxers, courtesy of Simon, who had been given them as a Christmas present and trying to get rid of them ever since).
Pointedly ignoring his brother, Alistair continued. "That is beef, that is prawns, and that . . ." he pointed to a large bowl of what was apparently a salad, " . . . is `jai'. It is traditionally served at New Year's, but I would think Mr. Michael wishes to express his true sentiments. Jai is a vegetarian dish, very traditional and very symbolic."
"How so?" asked The Phantom as he reached for a small portion of what Alistair told him was ji, which was generic Mandarin for chicken, in this case "Drunk Chicken" because it was cooked with white wine.
"Well, the ingredients each symbolize something." Alistair pointed with his chopsticks. "Lotus seed for instance to signify a wish for many male offspring." He pointed again. "Ginkgo nuts, to represent silver ingots, black moss seaweed for exceeding wealth."
"What's that?" asked The Phantom, indicating a part of the dish.
"Oh, that is dried bean curd, for the fulfilment of wealth and happiness. Bamboo shoots also . . ."
Before Alistair could continue The Phantom's education with an explanation of the significance of dried bean curd, Doctor Bradley-Smith came fluttering into the room and sat, as if it were his due, at Michael's table, offering specious and gratuitous excuses for his tardiness. As he settled into his chair he looked around and saw the cadets and other guests observing proper Chinese etiquette (coached by the Cousins), taking small pieces of this and that, sampling each dish. "Well, that's what the kids get for stuffing themselves earlier," he sniffed self-righteously."
The Phantom stiffened, which was not lost on Alistair. He wondered what was going on, but did not think it his place to comment.
"Well, I'm famished," said the doctor to no one in particular. He saw the carved rice bowl and pushed it aside and waggled a finger at a passing waiter. He asked for a plate. While he waited he saw the box containing the dinner favour, opened and exclaimed, "Oh, how positively precious!"
This time Alistair stiffened. The Phantom looked at him and asked, "What?"
Alistair's eyes were wide, and his face was pale. "Look at the chopsticks," he whispered.
The Phantom looked. At first he saw nothing different. The same gold shaft, the same gold haft set with . . . diamonds. The Phantom gaped, and then turned to Alistair. "Diamonds," he whispered to Alistair. "White diamonds!"
"A great insult," whispered Alistair. "Bad joss, very bad." He looked evenly at The Phantom. "The Serenity has sent a message." Alistair paused. "Do you know what the message is?"
The Phantom knew. White - the colour of death.
Watching as the doctor piled his plate with too much food, The Phantom nodded. He knew, but would say nothing. He watched, as the doctor seemed to favour one particular dish, taking a second helping. "That looks interesting," he said. "We have some of it too." He reached out to take a portion of the delectable looking food. Alistair's hand on his stopped him.
"I would not, if I were you," advised Alistair seriously.
The Phantom saw Arden, who had been watching, make a horrible face. "What is it?" The Phantom asked.
"Snake!" exclaimed Arden in an exaggerated whisper. Then he pretended to gag.
Harry fixed a beady eye on the doctor who was busy stuffing his face and being pretentious. "Snake, huh?" he asked Arden, who nodded, yes. "Poisonous?" Arden shook his head, no. "Pity."
Coached by the Cousins, the young knights managed not to do anything that would embarrass their host, or themselves. Alistair explained to his tablemates that a Chinese banquet was very stylized. Only the best dishes were offered and the host, in this case Michael, was not being ostentatious in offering the special dinner favours or the vintage champagne. This was not only traditional, but also expected. A host, who offered second-rate food, or cheap liquor, would lose much face. Also traditional were Michael's apologies for the meagre and ill-prepared food. Everybody knew that the opposite was true, but a good host must never boast at the grandeur and plenty he offered.
Following the cold dishes came two soups, Shark's Fin and Bird's Nest, both very special dishes. Alistair did not care for either but as host of the table (a Cousin was at each table to act as "host" in Michael's stead) he poured the soup from the tureens offered by the waiters into the rice bowls. When he was finished serving, Alistair whispered to The Phantom that perhaps he should just take a sip. The soups were not to everyone's taste.
The Phantom took Alistair's advice. He tasted the Shark's Fin, which was gelatinous, and the clear, broth-like Bird's Nest. Harry gulped down a bowl of each soup, a gesture that would please the most demanding of Chinese hosts. Harry did opine, in a low whisper to Todd, that the Shark's Fin soup tasted like something he'd get if he boiled his Pusser gummers in motor oil.
At Michael's table Commander Stockman, Kyle, and Andy followed Michael's lead. Mrs. Arundel, who had been a guest at more than one formal Chinese dinner, coached her ladies.
Doctor Bradley-Smith marched to his own drummer, trying to impress everyone with his knowledge of Chinese culture, and failing miserably. He simpered over every dish offered, ate prodigiously and committed `lese majesty' by asking for rice, fried preferred. Michael, his face blank, directed the shocked waiter to bring a plate of rice.
The Phantom, who had overheard, asked what it was the doctor had done. Alistair played with his food and then explained. "By asking for a dish that is not provided the guest suggests that the host has not provided enough food. It is a great insult."
The doctor's unintentional insult was not lost on Mrs. Arundel. She sat, her back straight, her face calm, twirling her wedding ring around and around her finger. The gesture was not lost on her sons. Cory gently nudged Todd and nodded. Todd paled. When his mother started twirling her ring his father hurried to his study and locked the door. When his mother twirled her ring Cory had been known to hide under his bed. Todd always locked himself in the bathroom. It was a hell of a lot safer. His mother always observed the sanctity of the loo!
"She's pissed?" asked The Phantom.
"Big time," muttered Cory. He gestured with his chopsticks. "Keep eating. Maybe she won't notice us!"
The ignorance of the doctor was also not lost on the Cousins, who shook their heads. They knew that Michael would say nothing - as a good host he could not. They also knew that the insult would not be forgotten.
Alistair ate sparingly. His dark eyes seemed to grow darker every time he had occasion to glance in the doctor's direction. Somehow, for some reason, Alistair felt insulted. The other guests had been very careful to observe the traditions, asking before making a mistake. Yet this crude man, this supposedly educated westerner, was ruining everything by his stupidity and cloddish and caddish behaviour.
The Phantom, seeing Alistair's brooding face, gently placed his hand on the young Chinese's thigh and patted it gently. "This is a time to pretend to see nothing," he murmured.
"But he cares nothing for us!" stormed Alistair in a harsh whisper. "He has been welcomed into the Serenity's presence, treated as an honoured guest and he insults us! He is a fool!"
"He is worse than that," said The Phantom, never raising his voice. He watched as Arden sneaked a gulp of champers from Harry's glass, smiled, and then said carefully. "Michael knows what is going on. He is a gentleman and will say nothing. You are a gentleman and I suggest that you follow Michael's lead."
Alistair wanted to protest - loudly, but knew that what his new friend was saying was correct. He sighed. "Still, one would like to . . ."
The Phantom patted Alistair's leg again. "Always remember, revenge is a dish best served cold," he said enigmatically. "Later, we will talk."
Alistair's eyes widened slightly. "We will?"
Nodding, The Phantom smiled grimly. "We will."
A Chinese banquet is unlike anything seen in the Western world, where each course - usually one special dish - is served with a complementary wine. At a Chinese banquet, called a "chiu-hsi", or "wine spread", the host decides what alcoholic beverage will be served. Chef, together with The Phantom, the officers, and Michael, kept an eye on the younger guests, as the wine glasses were filled and refilled with champagne. The Cousins knew enough not to get into the bubbly, as did the young knights, although Arden got decidedly giggly sipping not so surreptitious drinks from Harry's glass (which Harry abetted), and fell off of his chair, twice. This earned him a sharp look from Alistair, and an even sharper warning to behave lest Arden embarrass the Serenity. Harry snickered and slipped Arden another sip.
What also differentiated a Chinese banquet from a Western banquet was that while there was a main dish offered with each course, the waiters also brought out trays and bowls and plates piled with complementary dishes. The soups of honour, so to speak, Shark's Fin and Bird's Nest, were accompanied by additional bowls of soups, which Alistair told The Phantom were called "Tang" in Mandarin. Some were simple, tomato soup with bean sprouts, Shanghai style spicy sour soup, and what looked to be a chowder of sorts. As the waiters offered this dish, the Cousins, almost unison, shook their heads, no.
The soup looked delicious, and the doctor seemed quite taken with it, filling his bowl twice. The Phantom watched the man greedily slurping his soup and asked, "What is it?"
This time Alistair gagged. "Swamp eel chowder!"
The Phantom politely declined the offered soup.
After the soup the waiters offered a richly decorated beef course, called "Niu" in Mandarin, in this case a baron of beef. Then came the fish, "Hai Xian", the main dish being lobster, accompanied by baked prawns, shrimps with ham and bamboo shoots, oysters in a special sauce and what looked like a length of garden hose. This, as it turned out, was a steamed whole eel in Black Bean Sauce, which did not prove popular with the diners, except for Doctor Bradley-Smith, who pronounced it exceptional. This time Michael stifled a gag.
Following the fish the waiters appeared carrying trays of sweet cakes, rich with cream and sugar, and Chef raised his eyes to Heaven, despairing to Commander Stockman that they would never get the lads to bed tonight! They'd all be on a sugar high and God help us all!
The next course was a variety of pork dishes, "Zhu", then more fish in the form of scallops, and then, to signal that the banquet was half done, Peking duck with scallion brushes, hoi sin sauce and thin pancakes.
Each course was service with a variety of vegetable dishes, called, "Shu Chai", beans, mushrooms, and baby ears of corn for the most part, but also fried white fungus in a sour sauce, cabbage, bean curd, and potato patties.
Next came "Ji", a variety of chicken dishes, more sweets, and then "Dan", egg dishes, the main dish being pigeon eggs with black pepper and fresh mushrooms. Following the egg dishes came the traditional dish to signify that the banquet was coming to an end: a whole stuffed fish - carp - decorated with gold leaf symbols for luck and wealth. The fish was placed on the tables with the head pointing toward the table host and none of the Cousins seemed at all surprised when the fish was pointed toward Alistair.
The waiters then passed around something that was relatively unknown outside of the Chinese community: Dim Sum, a Guangdong stuffed, steamed dumpling served from round, bamboo baskets. These proved to be very popular and Harry asked for a doggy bag of them, a faux pas in Western eyes but a great compliment to the host, and to the chef.
"Will it never end?" asked The Phantom.
Fred, who was sitting opposite, shook his head. "It's almost done." He saw the quizzical look on The Phantom's face and explained that when he had been allowed to accompany his parents, before his unfortunate public school incident, and banishment, he had attended a dinner at the Taiwanese legation in London. Michael did it better, according to Fred.
As if the guests needed more sugar, dessert, "Tian Pin", was served, a variety of small plates piled with custard cups, tangerine duff, peaches in a sweet glaze, almond cookies stuffed apples and creamy cakes.
When the table was finally cleared of sweets, the waiters brought out large platters piled high with "Fan", plain white rice, which the Cousins cautioned the others not to eat, to just pick away, because to eat one's rice might hint that the host - Michael - had not provided enough food. Doctor Bradley-Smith, who seemed to possess a hollow leg, consumed two bowls. It helped with the digestion, he said.
With the banquet over the guests almost en masse, retired to the nearest heads. The Phantom used the pee break to ask Tyler to come alongside when they returned to the mansion. He had something very important he needed to talk with the Master-at-Arms about.
Tyler looked at his drink, looked at Val, and then asked, "How can we be sure?"
Shrugging, The Phantom replied, "We can't. If what Peter overheard is true, Pete Sheppard is going to somehow arrange to get Doctor Bradley-Smith into the sack." He shuddered. The thought of having to "sleep" with the doctor was almost as repulsive of having to bed Little Big Man.
"In order to tell him something that cannot be told any other way?" asked Val. "Surely . . ."
Colin leaned forward in his chair. "Guys, neither Phantom nor I are privy to what is going on down below. Something is up! You can feel it. Look at all the guards, and the `protection officers'. Did you know that every one of our minders is armed?" He glanced at The Phantom. "Alex Grinchsten has asked me to come down to the armoury to be outfitted. He wants me to carry a gun!"
"I know," replied The Phantom wearily. "I don't like it, but it's necessary."
"Why," Colin asked. "I'd probably shoot my dick off as I was pulling the damned pistol from its holster!"
The Phantom did not see the humour in Colin's remark. He scowled, muttered something about Colin not daring to shoot his dick off, and regarded the others. "Look, we know that Michael Chan is involved in other things, things that don't bear looking at too closely."
"He's a gangster," said Val bluntly. "A very gentlemanly gangster, true, but a gangster nevertheless."
Finally, the other side of Michael Chan was out in the open. The Phantom felt the need, however, to defend Michael. "I don't know what he's into, and I don't care. I do know that he's not into drugs, or prostitution. According to The Gunner, and Chef, Michael's business empire was formed years ago. He's just carrying on with his business."
"He's an honourable gangster," said Tyler dryly.
"He is also the Grand Master of the Order," Colin pointed out.
"Yes, and if he were not we would not be here," seconded The Phantom. He looked reflective and then said, "Whatever is going on is two-fold. One, it has something to do with what he calls his `business'. Second, whether we like it or not, Doctor Bradley-Smith is a Knight of the Order."
"A knight who is, allegedly, involved with the one," opined Val. "And because of his involvement is prepared, allegedly, to betray the second!"
"You sound like a lawyer," sniped Tyler.
"Maybe so, but I agree with Phantom. I think that someone, one of Michael's enemies, is going to put the blocks to him. Michael hasn't quite gone to the mattresses, yet," said Val. "But he's close."
"What . . . `gone to the mattresses' . . . what the hell is that supposed to mean?" demanded Tyler.
Grinning, Val reached out and gave Tyler's arm a squeeze. "Hey, you never saw `The Godfather'?" he asked.
Testily pushing Val's hand away, Tyler snapped, "Give me a break, Michael's `The Godfather'?"
"In the Chinese underworld, he is the Serenity," responded The Phantom. "It amounts to the same thing."
"Are you saying we're in the middle of some gang war?" Colin gasped, his voice squeaky. "Jesus, man, we can't . . ."
"Not quite," said The Phantom quietly. "Michael would never have brought us here if he had known what was coming down. I also think that whoever is making a move, won't do it while we're here."
"So now you're an expert on the Mob?" asked Colin with a sniff.
"It's not the Family," said Val almost defiantly. "They're not that big out here, and any Family involvement would have to come from down south. Has there been any hint of that?" he asked The Phantom directly.
"No. And how would you know, anyway?" returned The Phantom.
Shrugging, Val replied, "My father has friends. If you're Sicilian, you have friends, if you know what I mean. I know what the Family is like back home and if what Peter told you is the truth, then it would never be Family."
"Again, why?" asked Tyler, amazed at this hidden side of his lover.
"Well, the Family is very straight-laced, very prudish, really." He looked directly at The Phantom. "Peter overheard Pete telling Patrick Tsang that the doctor was in a brothel, getting his ass pounded?"
The Phantom nodded. "Words to that effect, yes."
"Well, there's one piece of the puzzle in place," replied Val with a knowing look. "The Family might run whorehouses but never male whorehouses. Such a thing is an infamnia, and any member of the Family would be shunned and despised by his fellows. Trust me on this, guys. Whatever outfit is gunning for Michael, whatever piece of shit the doctor is reporting to, he ain't Family."
Tyler's eyes were wide as he regarded Val. "And here I thought that you were just a sweet, innocent little Sea Cadet!"
"Humph," snorted Val disdainfully. "I ain't little. Need I remind you that I am the owner of the biggest circumcised Sicilian dick - there are only three, you know - in Saskatoon?"
"No," exclaimed Tyler. "Let's not go there."
The Phantom could not help laughing. Then he sobered, remembering the nights when he had visited Val. Val was right, he was not little!
Colin, who had seen Val in a Speedo, smiled his agreement wondered idly who owned the other two.
Deliberately pouring himself an overlarge drink, The Phantom took a deep breath and turned to look at Colin, and Tyler, and Val. "It is not important to us which outfit is behind whatever it is that is going on. What is important is that the doctor, a Knight, has, for whatever reason - money, sexual favours, drugs - betrayed his oath, and his brothers." He looked sternly at the others. "And that involves us."
Colin groaned softly. "Phantom," he began carefully, "I know your feelings about the Order - I share them - but damn it, Phantom, we're already involved in trying to figure out this paedophile ring. That's why we're here, remember?"
"I remember," replied The Phantom coldly. "And I am not asking that we become involved here, not at all."
"Then what are you asking?" demanded Tyler. "If Pete is working on something for Michael we should just mind our own business."
Val shook his head in agreement. "Michael wouldn't want us sticking our noses into something that is none of our business."
"We are not," said The Phantom firmly. "We are going to help Pete do whatever it is he must do."
"Come on, Phantom," returned Val. "We're not going to tuck him up in bed with the skank!"
"No, but we are going to be there when he's finished. He'll need us . . ." The Phantom looked directly at Val and Tyler. "As well you know."
Both senior cadets shot nervous glances at Colin. "Um, yeah, we know," responded Tyler, embarrassed. He knew what The Phantom had done, and had a feeling that Colin knew nothing about it.
Colin looked carefully at The Phantom, and then at the two visibly embarrassed, nervous cadets. "Okay, what's going on?"
The Phantom had dreaded the coming of this moment. He had hoped to keep Colin unaware of what he had done, but then he realized that his relationship with the young officer demanded total truth. Taking a deep breath The Phantom spoke slowly, his voice low. "I did something that needed to be done. I took no pleasure in it, and after I had done it I lost my mind. Afterward, the Twins, and Val, and Tyler, were there for me."
"Which was?" asked Colin, his voice cold. Then he added before The Phantom could reply, "Was whatever you did that bad, that you are ashamed of having done it?"
"In so many ways, yes," replied The Phantom. He gave Colin a piercing look. "We had to silence a lying, backstabbing, dangerous little bastard who didn't care how many lives his lies ruined! His goal was to destroy our credibility, destroy our good names, destroy, destroy, destroy!"
Seeing the look on Colin's face, The Phantom continued, his demeanour calmer. "If there could have been another way, I would have taken that course. In many ways I am ashamed of what I had to do, but in many other ways I know in my heart it was the right thing to do." His green eyes grew dark as he looked at Colin. "Pete is doing what he thinks is right, doing something he feels only he can do, in the only way he can do it. If he is like me he will have nightmares, and nights of self-recrimination over it. But it had to be done then, and it has to be done now!"
His voice calm, his eyes never leaving The Phantom, Colin asked, "What did you do?"
"There was a cadet. We called him `Little Big Man'. He's the one who started this whole crazy thing we're on. He was sent out to Aurora to spy on the cadets, and to recruit for his neo-Nazi father. Apparently there is a dark underworld in the Armed Forces composed of men who believe in a white, Anglo-Saxon world only, without Jews, or Blacks, or gays in that world."
"His name is Paul Greene," supplied Tyler with a sad expression. "He played drums in the Band. He also wrote letters home accusing the cadets of horrible things." He looked at Colin. "Paul wrote that Val and I were sneaking into the barracks at night and molesting the Sea Puppies. He accused his own brother, Matt, of having a sexual arrangement with The Gunner."
"His father wrote to SIU, demanding an investigation. We found out about it by accident and we tried to keep an eye on the little bastard," continued The Phantom. "We also found out that Special Branch was investigating the organization that sent Paul out in the first place. It's called the Aryan Brotherhood."
Colin gestured for another drink, which Tyler poured for him. "I think I need this," Colin said quietly. He looked at The Phantom. "Go on, please."
"Paul was determined to bring us all down. He wrote terrible things in his letters, none of it true, but we could not take that chance that his letters would be sent home. We also could not take the chance that when he got home he would shoot his mouth off. Too many innocent people were involved."
"All right, I understand your concern," said Colin, his voice heavy. "But were things so bad that . . ."
"Colin, you know what it's like in the Navy. One word, a hint, and your career is down the tubes! As far as SIU is concerned it's `march the guilty bastard in!' and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. You have to prove your innocence and even if you do there will always be that little black cloud of doubt following you around. If Paul had shot his mouth off there would have been an investigation and Tyler could have kissed his appointment to Royal Roads goodbye. The Twins would have been turfed and their father embarrassed. The Gunner, who had done nothing wrong, never slept with anyone but me would have lost the very thing he holds dear. He would have be thrown out of the Navy, or kept in rank and passed over until he got the hint: get out. You of all people must know how it works."
Colin nodded. "I do. I wish I didn't, but I do." He regarded The Phantom a moment. "Okay, what did you do? Sleep with him?"
The sharp intakes of breath on the parts of Tyler and Val told Colin that was exactly what The Phantom had done! "You did, didn't you," he managed to gasp in clearly apparent shock.
"Yes. The details are unimportant," replied The Phantom sadly. "I went into his barracks, I forced him to have sex with me, and then . . ."
"Phantom lost his mind!" growled Tyler. He looked directly at Colin. "You weren't there! You didn't know the fear! We did! You didn't see him . . . afterwards. We did!"
Much to everyone's surprise, Val burst into tears. Colin's tone suggested . . . disapproval of what The Phantom had done, and Val would not allow that! He rose from his chair and encompassed The Phantom in his arms. "He did it for us!" he said through his weeping. "He did it for his brothers, to protect them, to save them!" Val buried his face in The Phantom's neck, his shoulders heaving as he continued. "There was no other way! No other way!"
The Phantom gently stroked Val's back. "It's over and done with, Val. Let it go."
Val drew back and then turned on Colin "You weren't there!" he growled, his voice low, his face wet with tears. "You can't ever know what it did to him!" He took a step toward the startled young officer. "Don't you dare judge Phantom! Don't you dare, sir! You don't have the right!"
Carefully, Colin reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing Val's shoulders. "I am not judging him, Val." Colin saw The Phantom about to speak and held up his hand. "Just as I would never judge you, or Tyler, or any of the Boys of Aurora." Before Val could protest Colin enfolded the young Italian in his arms. "I am not judging, but I am wondering, amazed, at the depth of feeling you have for him, for all of the other cadets. And you are right, I cannot judge, or comment, because I was not there, and I am still not one of you."
Val pulled away. "Why would you say that? You're . . . sir you are one of us. You're a part of the Tapestry, as Phantom says." Val noisily wiped his nose. "Damn it, sir, you have to be one of us. If you weren't, why then Phantom wouldn't love you!"
Colin shook his head. "Val, I know that he loves me, just as he loves you and Tyler, and yes, the Twins, and Harry, all the cadets and young men from Aurora. I also suspect he just added the Cousins to his list.
The Phantom squirmed self-consciously. "Well, yes, maybe."
Chuckling, Colin shook his head slowly. There was no maybe about it. Then he said, "But I was never a part of what happened in Aurora," he said calmly. "I never shared in your experiences, in your lives. I wish I had. I can only tell you that I envy you, Val, you Tyler, all of you. You have something so special, a bond that can never be broken." He smiled crookedly. "Chef, for his own reasons, chose me to be the Guardian of the Prince', which meant more than just being Phantom's friend and yes, his lover. With it came certain responsibilities, which while they seem to pile on more and more, I don't mind. I said yes', and I'm still here."
Colin returned to his chair, sat down, and gathered his thoughts. "I think that at first Chef meant that I was supposed to keep a certain `Prince' out of trouble," he said presently. "But now, I think the job entails much more and I want you all to know that when I take on a job, I do it properly. I don't judge, but I don't back down, either, if I think something is wrong." Fearing a storm of protest, Colin held up his had and pointed his finger toward the ceiling. "Now, before you all reach for the pitchforks and torches, hear me out!"
Val blew his nose in the handkerchief The Phantom had handed to him. "Why would we do that?" he asked. "And I'm sorry, sometimes I get emotional."
Grinning, Tyler added, "Does he ever!" Then he looked evenly at Colin. "We're listening."
Squaring his shoulders, Colin said, "First, I see that you all have an iron-bound loyalty to each other. As Guardian I hope I am a part of that loyalty."
"You are," murmured The Phantom.
"Good. I also wish to promise, on my honour, that I share that loyalty and I will never betray any of the knights. I might not approve, or be sceptical about what you clowns get up to, but I won't judge and when push comes to shove - if it ever does - I'll be there, for Phantom, for you Val, and for Tyler, for all of the Boys of Aurora."
"And we'll be there for you," Val countered. "You never had to doubt that!"
"I know," agreed Colin. He cleared his throat. "Now, to my point. As Guardian I feel that I have the right to be consulted about what Phantom, and his associates, are up to. I believe I have the right to encourage him in what he is up to, because most of the time he's right. But, more importantly, I think I have the right to warn him when I think he's about to make a bonehead play."
"Are you saying that what Phantom wants to do is a `bonehead' play?" asked Tyler, bristling.
"Not at all," replied Colin easily. "Having seen how whatever it was that Phantom did back in Aurora affected you guys - and still affects you - I understand why he thinks that Pete Sheppard will need support when he is finished with the doctor." Colin frowned. "Let's face it, having to bed Doctor Bradley-Smith, particularly if Pete is not gay, or even if he is, would be a traumatic experience."
"But Pete thinks, as I did, that he as no option," said The Phantom quietly. "For whatever his reasons, and I suspect that one of them is that Michael wants Pete to pass on some disinformation, something so important to Michael's plans, that Pete can only do it by subterfuge and guile, because he has to make the disinformation believable." The Phantom's green eyes flared slightly. "And knowing Michael I also think that other methods were suggested, and rejected. He does not trust the doctor, not a whit, and neither do I!"
"Nor do I," said Colin, "and it is not our place to interfere." Once again he held up hand to forestall comment. "But I do think that yes, we should be there for Pete when all is said and done."
"Meaning?" asked The Phantom, wondering what Colin was suggesting.
"We can't let the doctor know. That's the easy part because nobody wants to have anything to do with him." Colin smiled grimly. "We cannot even hint, not even a look, that we are now a part of Pete's conspiracy."
"As if we would," sniffed Val angrily. "Pete's a good guy. I think he's doing something necessary, and honourable."
"I agree," returned Colin. "So we help him, but only afterward."
"How?" The Phantom asked.
"We have to make ourselves scarce when Pete makes his move," Colin said. "We have to make the doctor think that we're just going about our business, Pete as well. We must all act as normally, or as abnormally, as possible."
Scratching his chin, The Phantom asked, "What else."
"We have to decide who to bring into this little conspiracy," replied Colin. "The younger lads should not be a part of it. They can't know what is going on because being young, and inexperienced, they might let something slip."
"I agree," said Tyler. He nodded at The Phantom and Val. "Colin's right. We can't take the chance."
Both The Phantom and Val returned Tyler's nod. "With luck, most of them will be too tired to notice anything," offered Val.
Colin smiled. "With luck, but don't bank on it." He cocked his ear, listening to the music that filled the garden outside the bedroom windows, and continued, "From the sound of it they're having a hell of a good time."
"I think I can help there," said Tyler. "We can give them something to chatter and gossip about by telling them that Ned Hadfield wants to put us all through some obstacle course that's built out in the woods."
"He even offered to let us fire some of the Security Force's new toys," interjected Val, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Val loved firearms of all calibres and makes.
The Phantom thought a moment. "Sort of a war game?"
"He didn't go quite that far," responded Tyler. He shrugged. "Not all of the guys have fatigues, you know. And not all of the guys have ever played in the woods." He grinned. "But it sounds like a good idea!"
The Phantom agreed. "I am sure that we can draw some kit from the Security Force. They have men wandering around the woods all the time and they must have camouflage uniforms. I'll ask Alex." He saw the questioning looks on the faces of the others and continued, "Alex is my minder. He won't leave me to play silly buggers, so we have to tell him what we're up to."
"Might I also suggest that we tell Andy and Kyle?" said Colin. "It might be a that Pete will want to have someone closer to his own age around when he returns from . . . well, you know what I mean."
The Phantom could see the logic in that. "Yes, you're right. And Andy is a Marine, and he's been in combat, so he can understand Pete's reasoning." He laughed quietly. "And he might be useful if we're going to be playing Teddy Bears Picnic."
Colin answered, "And if we do it right, the Security Force is sure to get a surprise!"
Tyler sniggered. He got the inside joke and would explain it to Val, later. "We'll need to bring in the Twins, if only to ensure that their curiosity doesn't upset our apple cart. And Harry. He's still pissed off that we didn't ask him when, um, well, when Phantom was in Pete's position." He seemed to think a moment. "We have another problem as well," though," he said.
"We do?" asked Val.
"Yes. The Cousins. What do we do with them? They're already talking about asking `The Serenity' to let them stay the night. We just can't run off in full battle gear, y'know."
"And I doubt that any of them have any sort of woods experience," offered The Phantom reflectively. "But I agree, they are a problem, especially the younger ones."
"Arden you mean," offered Val with a slight raise of one eyebrow. "He's got an almighty crush on Harry."
"Harry knows, and Harry will handle it." The Phantom paced a bit and then turned. "We can bring them in. It will take some doing, but I think Michael will approve." He saw scepticism on three faces and continued. "Look, they don't have anyone other than their amahs, and each other. My guess is that they do everything as a group, and are never allowed to do anything that would bring them into contact with the outside world. They've been cosseted, and protected, and spoiled all their lives. Perhaps it's time to show them how to be men."
"A big order," grumbled Colin. "And how do you plan on doing that?" he asked The Phantom. "Going to wave your magic wand?"
The Phantom thought of saying something along the lines of not waving his wand, which wasn't magic, at anyone, except Colin, but then decided now was not the time for dirty remarks. "Oh, ye of little faith!" he exclaimed. "I've been camping and hiking and wandering around Vancouver Island since I was six! I had two of the best teachers - Big Sam, who is a Homalco, is a trapper and a hunter and hell and sheeit!" The Phantom's eyes sparkled with remembrance of days spent in the woods around Mount Washington with Big Sam and his son. "We even explored the Comox Glacier," continued The Phantom enthusiastically, "and when it comes to surviving in the woods, Big Sam was the best teacher that you will ever find. I know what to do."
"You do?" asked Val, surprise written on his face. "You really do?"
"Hell and sheeit!" exploded The Phantom. "I do and I'll prove it." He unconsciously puffed out his chest. "I'll take the Cousins and show them what's what!"
Tyler glanced at Val and muttered, "You know, I actually believe him."
Smiling evilly, Tyler then said, "I think we can give a good account of ourselves. All of the senior hands have done QUEST, and if he can con Andy into it, he's been in Vietnam, so yes, let's play silly buggers with the Security Force."
Colin coughed delicately. "As much as I like the idea, I have the definite impression that the Security Force might not be too keen on the idea."
Val was about to ask why when The Phantom quickly interjected, "We'll talk to Ned Hadfield. He doesn't think much of us, I think, and it might be a good chance to prove to him, and the others in the Security Force, that were not a bunch of school kids on a lark!"
Colin nodded sagely. "Yes, bring him in by all means. Ned will have to arrange most of this `war game' in any event. He can also make sure that the mobile patrols are well away from whatever designated area he thinks it best to play in."
"Oh, we won't be playing," responded The Phantom. "We can show Ned, and the doubters, that we actually know what we're doing. There won't be any guns involved, so no one is going to get shot." He smiled warmly. "Besides, I think that Ned would like us to be friends."
"So do I," agreed Tyler. "Ned seems to be okay, once you get to know him. He played poker with us and told us some ripping stories."
"And some of the dirtiest jokes I ever heard," added Val.
"And let you win at poker," muttered Colin, not quite under his breath. He looked up to see Tyler give Val an "oh he did, did he?" look. "Uh, guys . . ."
Tyler looked at The Phantom. "He let us win?" he asked quietly.
The Phantom turned a quiet shade of red. He had hoped that none of the players would learn of Ned's generous errors. "Um, why, so I understand."
"He seemed to lose so . . . easily," offered Val. He turned to Tyler. "We'll return his money, of course." He looked directly at Tyler, his eyes saying, "And then some!"
Tyler nodded. "That would be the honourable thing to do," he replied diffidently. "Yes, we will return his money." His eyes said, "And more!"
The looks exchanged between the Master-at-Arms and the Cadet Chief Gunnery Instructor were not lost on Colin. He had no idea what revenge they would wreak on the poor, unfortunate Ned, and he didn't want to know. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll just sit back and keep score,"
All three of the boys jumped on Colin. "Oh no you won't!" exclaimed The Phantom when Colin had managed to push the lads away. "You're in this with us, hook, line and sinker!" Then he smiled winningly. "You're the Defender if the Prince! Where I go, you go!"
As he rearranged his clothes Colin growled, "And don't you forget it!"
Tyler nodded knowingly at Val. "Now that's love, peasant!" he said with a grin.
Val pretended to be insulted. He clasped his hands over his chest. "Perfidious Albion! You took my gift of gold!" he complained.
Ordinarily Tyler was in complete control of his emotions, and even though he knew that Val was joking, he had to respond. "You have given me oh, so much more, that that," he murmured sincerely.
Val began to blush furiously and he ducked his head, not knowing how to respond.
The Phantom's green eyes sparkled, as he stage-whispered to Colin, "Now that's love, my lord Defender of Princes!"
"Betcha Ass!" replied Colin with a huge grin, his blue eyes bright with the love he felt for The Phantom. "Betcha Ass!"