Twenty-Five -
Castlevania: Circle of the Moon: Nathan and Hugh
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"What? No!" Laughing, Nathan twisted away, planting one hand squarely in Hugh's face and shoving him away. The coils of the whip flew outwards as he spun on his heel and thumped heavily against his thigh when he stopped, and for about the hundredth time that day Nathan found his free hand straying to the unaccustomed weight of the weapon strapped to his waist.

It was all the distraction that Hugh needed. Laughing now he ducked past Nathan's outstretched hand and made another grab for the whip, his fingers grazing across Nathan's waist just a hand's width from the heavy handle. Nathan leaped back half a step and held up both hands to fend Hugh off, helpless to stop laughing. "Quit it, Hugh!" he said, whipping around so that the bulk of his body was between Hugh and the whip.

"What if I won't?" Hugh asked, grinning widely and breathing a bit hard. "Bet I can take it away from you if I try!" He lunged at Nathan, battering Nathan's hands aside easily. Their bodies collided, and only by bracing his feet and driving his shoulder into Hugh's midsection was Nathan able to stay standing. Hugh grabbed for the whip again, straight-arming Nathan across the stomach and driving the breath out of him.

"Stop," Nathan insisted breathlessly, grabbing the handle of the whip to hold it pinned to his hip. The grin was still frozen to his face, as if he'd forgotten it was there. "It's not yours."

"It is if I can take it from you," Hugh said, his voice suddenly soft and silky. His own grin had grown wider, turning into a humorless baring of fangs. "And I can." The muscles in his legs bunched and he slammed into Nathan again, driving Nathan back against the wall.

This time when he reached around Nathan to grab the whip his fingers actually touched the heavy metal handle and that was when Nathan punched him in the face, breaking his nose.

Hugh stumbled backwards, both hands clapped to his bleeding nose. Nathan still stood half-collapsed against the wall, breathing hard, his fist still raised. The grin was finally, finally gone. "It's not yours," he repeated softly.

"It should have been," Hugh said, his voice clotted and thick thanks to his broken nose, and then he spun and lurched off down the hallway, leaving a trail of coin-sized blood drops splattered on the carpet behind him.