Vetinari chooses one of his least scruffy robes, though it is still a bit old and worn. He had already sent someone to secure tickets for himself and his guest, but he checks on them anyway. Yes, they did get the tickets, good. He gathers his cane and awaits his guest's arrival.

((On my way to work, and I'm spending the night at a friend's, but I'll reply off and on. *Grins*))

His Lordship slips through the secret passages of the palace, more silent than a ghost. The hem of his robe picks up a few hints of dust before he lifts it out of the way. After a long, twisting journey, he stops before a segment of wall that looks the same as any other along the path, and places a hand upon it, careful to avoid the hidden triggers. After a moment, his forehead rests against the stone as well. There is some perverse comfort in knowing that, at that moment, a certain man is merely a wall's thickness away.

Another day, another page...

Vimes has no idea how lenient I am with him, does he? No other patrician would tolerate his insolence. Snapcase would have had his head off three times today, at the very least. The man needs to stay out of my affairs.

And speaking of those affairs... I believe I may have ruined everything with Rufus. And, perhaps, Alison. Why can't I, as good with words as I am, say the right thing?

Vetinari rushes into the antichamber, limping slightly as he left his cane in the office. "Rufus, wait."

A new paragraph is added to the page, the writing even more agitated, if possible.

I kissed Alison. On the cheek, yes, but... And then she kissed me. I don't know what to think. About her. About Rufus. About anything. And I do not like this... uncertainty in my life. What has come over me?

Agitated writing covers the page.

Alison wants to know what her children should call me. This means I will be expected to spend time with them, correct? What do I know of children? What if I did something wrong? I can just see Alison laughing at me in that infuriating yet adorable way of hers when I make a mistake. I do not enjoy situations I cannot control.

His Lordship stares down at his paperwork, his eyes unseeing. By this time of morning, he would have usually summoned Drumknott to organize his efforts for the day. And yet, he hesitates. He is confused; he dislikes the experience immensely. He rarely had doubts about what he was doing. But Rufus... what kind of game was the man playing? He smiles slightly. I'll let him play his game, he decides silently. This has the potential to be... interesting. A worthy opponent, for once.

Words spread across the page in an agitated hand.

I kissed him. Rufus. Gods, why? Why did I do that? Have I gone mad? I must have. But... it was wonderful. More exquisite than I could have dreamed. Perhaps worth it. And it must be admitted that he kissed me back. And then left me with a mirthful glint in his eye. Could he possibly have been teasing me?

((This takes place shortly after the events seen here and here. Curse my work schedule, etc, for us not actually finishing the latter. But it cannot just disappear. *Grins*))

His Lordship awakes, his head throbbing. He winces slightly. What was I doing last night? Slowly, things drift into the forefront of his hazy memory. He winces again. He is never going to allow young Havelock to do that to him again. How smug the young pup must feel, now the tables have turned. He sighs softly, then summons a servant to request a pain-killing draught.

His Lordship picks the sprig of lilac up from where it had been resting in wait for him on his desk. After a few moments of looking at it, remembering in silence, he pins it to his robes. His eyes travel to the window, and then he walks to get a better view. And he stands there, watching, thinking, remembering that fateful day, all those years ago.

Guile: Insidious, deceitful intelligence. Need I say more?
Gentility: One must always have style.
Garroting: Slightly less refined, but can still be done with a hint of elegance.
Grace: A necessity.
Gravitas: Dignity. Something else it is established that I value highly.
Graciousness: A useful tool.
Glacial: Cold as humanly possible.
Granite: Hard as the same.
Grey: Not quite black, not quite white. That nice middle ground. Also a good color for concealment.
Gullibility: Refreshing. A useful thing for others to possess.

This one involves words, so it is closer to my line of interests.

Comment on this entry and I will give you a letter. Write ten words beginning with that letter in your journal, including an explanation what the word means to you and why, and then pass out letters to those who want to play along.

Following in Alison's footsteps, of course...

If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?
Reply here, then post the above line in your own journal.

Go to images.google.com and type in a word or something that reminds you of me. Choose a picture and post it here in my journal. You can either tell me what the word was, or not.

Inked letters flow across the page.

Alison is... kittenish tonight. Complete with ears, tail, and paws. Do not ask me how. I am sure it is some sort of magic. She pounced on me, at any rate, which, I am sorry to say, awakened some of the twinges in that damned wound again. Not badly, of course, but enough to be irritating. I believe I managed to hide as much from her, at least.

1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

Reply to this post, and I'll tell you one and/or a lot of reason[s] why I like/love/adore you. Then put this in your own journal, and spread the love.

A pen is poised over the paper for a brief moment.

I have not heard from Havelock in a long while. I must conclude that he has gotten over the grief his young lady caused him.

He dips the pen in the ink and begins a new paragraph.

Alison has coerced a promise from me to hug her more often. That isn't, actually, a hardship, but I must pretend as if it is. Dignity is everything, is it not. She is a remarkable young woman. What on the disc she sees in me to make her my friend is, as ever, a mystery.

Margolotta has vanished back to Uberwald. Not surprising, as she is as busy as I am. It is a wonder she was around as long as she was, actually. I must say, I believe I miss her. But not, I must add, her pointed comments about Rufus.

Ah, Rufus. An admirable man, a wonder of a clerk. I do not know what I would do without him. But... I do not understand all that I feel about him. Perhaps I am developing a bond of friendship. Perhaps... no. I shall not think of this.

Vetinari stares down at his journal for a long moment before picking up his pen.

I am still worried about Alison, though she has promised to be careful. She seems to be upset at Vimes for some reason, as well. That, of course, is understandable. The man could upset a statue given enough time. Perhaps another diplomatic mission is in order? I do so love the reactions of my allies...