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Anyone looking at Fifth Admiral De Loco could tell he was like a bomb about to go off. The corner of his mouth twitched as he struggled to keep it shut, he was gripping at his desk with shaking arms, and the vein on his forehead looked like it was about to pop. However, the Lord Admiral Galcian kept an expression of indifference.

“This is an important ceremony for nobility and military alike, I do count on the presence of each and every one of my highest ranking officers,” he said, clearly not taking no for an answer.

De Loco was acquiescent. He wasn’t so insane as to try to anger Lord Galcian. As soon as his superior left the room, however, he exploded, his table flipped to the floor.

“Damn these... debilitating... wastes of time!!!” he raged.

His glass dome released steam alarmingly. He was the empire’s genius, they owed him for their rapid technological advances. And yet for the good pleasure of their Empress, he’d have to doll up and put himself on display with the witless mass. These parties were for the likes of Alfonso and Vigoro’s; this was their playground. He had no idea how Galcian endured these events, degrading as they were to anyone who possessed intelligence.

He was about to make a scientific breakthrough! He had no time to waste on these simpletons’ activities. He kicked at the ground, not caring if he looked like a child throwing a tantrum. When the door to his office opened, he grabbed the nearest thing - a paper weight - and threw it in reflex. Then raised his head in alarm, hoping it wasn’t Galcian coming back.

The paper weight emitted a metallic thud as it hit his poor Vice-Captain’s helmet.

“Oh, it’s you,” De Loco said flatly as the soldier held himself against the wall, his helmet ringing around his head.

“S-Sir... Did I come at a bad time?” his aide stammered.

Vice-Captain Guillermez knew better than to aggravate his admiral’s mood further, putting up with his daily antics. He truly had a supernatural patience.

“...Might as well help me clean up...” De Loco sighed.

His tantrum had taken its toll on him, but thankfully, he was still standing. The Vice-Captain obeyed as usual. De Loco glanced at him as he was replacing the table and diligently picking up the papers he had scattered. Damn him, too. Sometimes, the Fifth Admiral wished his Vice-Captain committed insubordination, talked back to him, or did anything that would give him an actual reason to be mad at him. But his subordinate always complied no matter his orders and remained loyal despite how poorly he treated him.

That angered De Loco further for some reason. Was his vice-captain doing this on purpose to try and make him feel bad? In any case, it didn’t work! Not at all!

De Loco cursed under his breath as he picked up the papers closer to him. He just didn’t want his underling to step closer.

“Anyway... What do you want? I suppose you have a good reason for intruding,” the admiral said in an accusing tone.

His Vice-Captain recoiled a little, clearing his throat. His whole body language showed that he was nervous, as if expecting a punishment if he dared open his mouth. De Loco frowned, his hands on his hips, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Well? Out with it!”

“Yes... I... I came here to help you prepare for tonight’s reception, sir,” stuttered the man in a voice so quiet, De Loco had to strain himself to hear him.

The admiral raise an eyebrow and emitted a ‘pffft’ of disapproval.

“Help me with what? Pick up a nice, little outfit to match with the other buffoons?” De Loco said in a mocking voice.

At this point, the Vice-Captain nearly had his back against the wall, as if trying to get away from an explosive.

“Sir... You are aware that there is a dance in which the higher ranking are required to participate, right?”

Galcian rubbed at his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache as he heard the Fifth Admiral’s scream. For someone of such small stature, his voice carried quite well. The ceremony had not even begun, and the Lord Admiral already wanted it to be over.

He sighed, inwardly wishing the Vice-Captain some courage.

The Vice-Captain held the limp body of his admiral, trying to get him back on his feet.

“S-Sir... I know you can hear me, please get a hold of yourself...”

“I’m going to kill them...” De Loco muttered his empty threat as he supported himself against his aide.

He hated this. Being so dependent on his Vice-Captain, his body unable to stand as he went through his attacks.

“Can you stand?” his Vice-Captain inquired, his voice worried.

De Loco frowned, pulling away from him. He stood on swaying feet but did not fall this time. The admiral’s subordinate held his own arm nervously, allowing a brief, yet awkward silence.

“You know, sir, there’s no reason to be embarrassed. D-Dancing is a part of the cul--” he started, finally speaking his mind.

“I am NOT embarrassed!” De Loco countered.

His bright red face contradicted his statement, but the Vice-Captain knew better than insisting, instead trying to placate his superior.

“Of course, Lord De Loco, my apologizes. ...I could help you practice though,” he suggested.

The admiral tensed up, an eyebrow twitching.

“W-What?”

The Vice-Captain moved toward him.

“This is only for an evening. Please, sir, allow me to help”

He did not want to see his superior embarrass himself and risk worsening his mood further. That was the only reason. He lived to serve his admiral and this was part of his duty, he told himself as he took the shorter man’s hand and moved it toward his hip.

“W-What are you doing?” De Loco stammered, beet red.

“This is how you start the dance,” Guillermez explained as he took the other admiral’s hand and rested his own on his shoulder.

“You lead, like this.”

“...Damn right, I lead you--” De Loco cursed the rest under his breath, looking away from his Vice-Captain.

The admiral’s moves were clumsy at best and the subordinate kept silent as he stepped on his foot. Another false mood pushed the admiral against him.

“Are you alright, sir?” he asked as he caught him.

The admiral backed away, nodding, still not looking at him. Frankly, Vice-Captain Guillermez was thankful to wear his helmet, for his lord couldn’t see his flustered face... or his smile.

If the admiral asked him about the dance later this evening, he would pretend it was cancelled.