<i>"Why is it that when men fight it's always over a beautiful girl?"</i><br/><br/><i>An Bo walked up and grabbed Wuqin's hand, and gently placed a kiss on it. Looking upon the beautiful girl, he couldn't help but admire her simple beauty, the brown of her eyes, the softness of her skin. Even though she was confined to the chair, and half her body was out of her control, she was so much more than just a beautiful girl.</i><br/><br/><i>"I fight not for beauty little sparrow, but the love of a beautiful soul."</i><br/><br/><i>Kneeling, he dropped to his knee, and leaned forward, kissing the frowning lips. It didn't take long before she returned the kiss, and when they finally stopped, she wasn't frowning anymore.</i><br/><br/>Milo had to grab his head out of pain, again. He hid it with a cough, but whatever that was, it was absolutely terrifying. Maybe he'd slept through a show, and his brain was struggling to remember it. But it didn't seem like a memory. The tone Wuqin had, it was too familiar. The brush of her lips, he could almost feel it himself. It stung his mind to think of her, but he felt like he needed to.<i>No, </i>he told himself,<i>I'm doing something right now. </i>An Bo was definitely someone he'd be looking up though.<br/><br/>As Yi Long walked up, Milo felt his stomach flip. Watching the young man walk up gave him the same feeling as driving past a car-wreck. He couldn't helped but feel appalled and intrigued at the same time. He recoiled a little, but grabbed the man's hand, giving it firm shake, probably squeezing a little more than he should have.<br/><br/>"You know, she's been quite a dove actually. It's nice to see that at least one head around here works. So Yi Long, I've been discussing a bit with Ms. Li here, and I must say, it seems that your head is awfully confused. Misfiled paperwork, missing artifacts, and leaving the smiling face of Xiao Yu out here."<br/><br/>Scanning the man, Milo couldn't help but feel like he also recognized this man. Not in the, looked at his profile, kind of recognize. The feeling in his gut was not unlike the feeling he got around murder victims. Shaking the man's hand, he gave it a small test, attempting a smile, only managing a smirk. His hands were cold, and felt... Old.<br/><br/>"She's also informed me that she doesn't feel like a piece of property, and that women aren't objects to which men should fight over. Actually, that was me. I don't know how she feels about being objectified."<i>The hell? I'm being rude. </i>"So, head of the dig, when is this place going to pull it's foot out of your mouth?"