Faralá

“Explain yourself”, he gasped even when managed to pronounce those words which had been a while burning his tongue.

The exhausting race as well as the stumbling and outlandish pitched battle at which the meeting ended up becoming, let him breathless; it even seemed he’d just came all the way up there on foot. In contrast, Arcángel, his deify horse, looked healthy and fresh as a daisy. That bastard just felt like running, would’ve keep doing it without any problem till reaching the lair, kicking the air paying no heed to anyone or anything around, like a foe, with that unique mood that made Randy wonder how the hell could someone even ride him, who the hell tamed him, and woe betide them if were still alive! Randy hated him; sometimes Lu Han understood why, though with a laugh, he wouldn’t say it out loud convincingly. Other times, however, the monster was completely advisable.

It took a while and a familiar back-to-back for him to realise the maiden who had fallen —balcony rail down from the bedrooms to the patio—, only a moment after they threatened to reveal his identity on a dramatic and reckless way, was no other than his allied, so to speak. A quick exchange of words, almost mumbling, with a voice too sharp and rough for a lady, as hoarse as she might be, dispelled any doubt, and after the confrontation, he didn’t look much more agile since he puffed and blew in such a way that was hard to distinguish his snorts from those of the animal. He had already filled his cabrioles quota after prancing, he judged, unnecessarily dressed as the house’s young lady, though he should thank, however, the confusion he took advantage of to get rid of the dangerous grip.

“Explain myself?” he raised his thick eyebrows, bothered. Still seated on the horse wide croup, giving him a sidelong glance, he began stripping pieces of the dress, “If wasn’t for me, you’d got a rope around your neck; that’s in case you still had a neck to, with a little bad luck, my father would’ve turned you in, in pieces!” he grumbled, he was somewhat hurt by what he seemed to consider to humiliate himself; Lu Han noticed it but in contrast, everything was quite interesting and funny for him. Smirked. “Explain what?” he almost fell backwards getting off the horse, stumbling with the flounces of the skirt which he, being frank, thought looked very well on him, and stared at him acting as if, instead of that, he was wearing a perfectly ordinary trousers, in a dignified though ashamed way, yanking down the hanky that dimmed his voice and hid his goatee. He removed the sweaty hair down stuck to his forehead and his eyes; “That thanks to me you keep your head on your shoulders, mask included? ‘Cause you could’ve lost any of them. I bet you’ll understand it by yourself, you’re pretty smart, Lu Han, you proved it tonight!” he showed his attitude, dingy as he could, akimbo arms until he realised how he must look like with his fists on the both bodice sides, so he put them down, feeling awkward, just to point an accusatory finger at him. “You own me one! No, and shut up, you own me more than one! A big-time!”

The matter was as follows: el Zorro burst into the usual social gathering at Guerrero’s around eight in the evening, alone, as always, just to leave the message as clear as stupid, that “the so-called vigilante might show up anywhere”. And, pretentious as he was, dangerous as well, since it narrowed down the search range —or could’ve been so if those who investigated were just a bit clever—; that “it could be anyone, nobleman or not. You could’ve let him into your house your own, without knowing”, as if it was a mythical creature. The fact was that he made a small miscalculation, of course, and yes, there was finally someone cleverer than a character who, to be blunt, tended to get too smart. They almost seemed to be waiting for him, insomuch as it didn’t take long to corner him, despite being in a patio he could escape from, with a better strategy, climbing the rooftops like the wild animal he really was, as he used to, if he hadn’t been ambushed first in the arcades, cutting off any possible escape route.

He continued smiling when they apprehend him, obviously, but they weren’t that smart, when it comes to situations like that, they never are when the one in trouble is the goodie of the tale, and while he wriggle like a lizard, it never occurred to anyone to take off his mask and put an end to one of the greatest mysteries about the bandit; his damn identity. “It’s just a costume”, Lu Han was thinking to mock when discovered; “nothing but a prank”, a sick one, before taking advantage of their confusion to squirm out and escape. The one and only problem, or just the one he cared about a little, in that regard, would’ve been the impossibility to return home, since people are not that stupid and would’ve known where to find him; the best possible scenario could be they only keeping an eye on him, but if someone would’ve delved a little deeper, more than one would drop hints about his illicit activities. Just cause no matter how much he trusted and felt safe with some persons, disgruntled good people can turn into traitor good people, easy to buy with promises made by awful people who feed on the despair of the ones they think are beneath them. Not to mention how hard it would be to enter any minimally guarded place as the owned it, just by playing the “son-of” card. The verdict was clear before a judgement.

The most unexpected came sudden as a blast, for another character who surely didn’t want to get caught consorting with a criminal and whose situation, at that point, would be hard to explain. The dusky, slipped goodness-know-how away from a control established “to keep the guests safe from disturbance”, maybe because the servants use to be on the right side, had broken into the lady of the house’s bedroom to steal a flamboyant red dress, just because suited him better than the blue one, not forgetting the accessories, and meddle into the fight saved from being recognized. Indeed, it was almost insultingly the ease with which, not denying his own confusion, he got rid of the guards taking advantage of the mysterious and oddly familiar figure who jumped on a heap of them. The whole thing was that, despite being helping someone who broke the law, it was a maiden, so not knowing exactly who neither they could attack her at risk of sparking conflicts with some powerful character; then they could take advantage.

“Prissies”, Lu Han murmured, as always, recovered from any plot twist.

Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Yes, it was an unnecessary risked feat but, not being the first nor the last time he would be caught, good pointed, between a rock and a hard place, he wasn’t about to make a fuss over it now. Although, on the contrary, since seeing the Zorro chased and even trapped was an everyday occurrence, watching one of the lordest lord’s son dressed up like a highborn lady, quite charming —by the way—, was not at all. And while he turned his back to him, trying to get rid of all those paraphernalia just right there, laming a bit, he got off the horse too considering them safe and sound at last, protected by the abandoned hermitage —replaced by that high-flown one built in the plaza—, just traditional for their clandestine meetings.

“So you thought the most comfortable was… putting on a corset?” Smirk. How much he’d give to wipe that smirk.

He stood up, nailed a heel on the floor; he even cared of that detail. He turned on his heels to tell off back at him.

“Once you said I needed a good disguise.”

That was actually right, he said so, it was a critical issue having in mind they were public figures —in more than a sense, the best considered and the worst—, and were supposed to keep one identity far from the other. But even if it was true, he didn’t clarify all the details, he didn’t mean a faralae dress, but something like his “uniform”, much more discreet and recognizable. It was nonetheless undeniable no one could ever recognize him in this guise, unless he used —in some unknown-for-him circles— to assume female characters, in which case it would also require an explanation.

Smirk. Snide. Randy, unable to wait, continued taking everything of even in the middle of something akin to argument; he opened the corset, or he tried, and Lu Han couldn’t help but to slip a hand on his back, under the cord. The fact is that he was having troubles holding himself.

“Stop, stop, man”, that smirk. “Are you wearing a change of clothes under that cancan or something? What’re you panning to wear once you take this off here? Or do you have a secret stash somewhere you didn’t tell me about? Let’s go to the lair, I’ll lend you some clothes… if it fit you”, he felt the muscles of his back, “you’re wider than me…” his hand falling on his hips. “Here too”, he laughed. “If not, you’ll have to stay this way till tomorrow, when someone sneak into your room and bring you some clothes.”

“C’mon, no kidding! Till tomorrow?” he could’ve thought of carrying his stuff with him, it wasn’t that bad idea to hold them underneath the skirt, where the hell did he leave them? And fuck! HE can’t deny that cold hand —because he always had his hands freezing— was making him hot as well. “I’d rather go butt-naked!”

That wouldn’t hurt either. Smile, but not that smirk. But not there, of course.

“No, no butt-naked”.

To be continue...