The German Shepherd II

Hilshire Strikes Back

Disclaimer

GSG is not mine.

Note

Linked to my earlier fics The German Shepherd and A Picture Is Worth Your Life.

Chapter One

The Picture

"Claes…"

"Yes, Hilshire?"

"I need your help."

"In what way?"

"About Triela–"

"I have already given you advice on that matter."

"Not advice. A prank."

That got an exquisite bluish-black eyebrow up. "Excuse me?"

"I want to play a prank on her."

"…Isn't that rather childish of you? Not to mention unlike you."

"…Will you help me?"

"Apologies, but I must refuse. Triela's my roommate and my friend."

"You missed a picture."

Claes froze. Her current paperback obsession slipped from her fingers. Her magnificently dark mane swished dangerously as she fixed a stare on Hilshire that made the man feel like he was a Padania sentry in Rico's Dragunov's sight.

"Where. Is. It?"

Henrietta was daydreaming about that Amalgam cyborg boy she met in the Mirasol when the door to her shared room swung open with a bang.

The sudden racket catapulted her off her bed. Embarrassed at her involuntary yelp, she glanced at the doorway– and went cold to the bone.

"Claes?"

The older girl looked like she had been told to burn all her precious books and break her even more precious spectacles before joining Padania. Her gleaming spectacles failed to disguise the terrible determination in her blue pupils. Her mouth was an immutably thin line of displeasure.

"Henrietta," she breathed heavily. "Give. It. To. Me."

Henrietta gulped. "Eh? What do you mean, Claes?"

"You know what I mean."

She did. Yet she tried her best to be all innocent. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, Claes…"

"Don't play games with me. I roomed with Triela for years. I know all of her antics and tricks. You're nothing compared to her."

"Huh? N-no, Claes, really, I don't understand…"

Claes just happened to glance at Henrietta's bed. At the diary everyone knew Etta hid under her head pillow. The diary Jose had given his ward before he died in a car accident.

Henrietta, following the older girl's gaze, squeaked. She snatched her precious notebook from its not-so-secret-after-all hiding place and hugged it protectively.

"I see. So that is where you keep It." The smiling Claes seemed to loom over her victim, Etta shrinking against the wall backing her bunk like a mouse cornered by a dinosaur. "Give. It. To. Me."

"No! Claes! Please! Not my precious! Don't take my precious away from me! Nooo..."

"You're a terrible girl, Claes," Hilshire muttered after the hubbub was done.

"Do you want my help or not?"

"…"

"Good."

"...So what do you suggest?"

Claes' almost-lurid smile chilled Hilshire's blood.

Busy rearranging (she'd cap the knees of anyone who suggested she was playing with them, though she would blushingly admit to actually enjoy their company) her collection of teddy bears, Triela shivered. Somehow she had the feeling that Hilshire was in over his head again.

To Be Continued