Darker Scorpio presents:
Final Fantasy VIII – Saturday Night
Quick Disclaimer: As per the norm, I do not own any characters, places, or intellectual property of Final Fantasy VIII, or anything else belonging to Square Enix. It would be nice if I did, though... Anyway, everything else is mine.
Why… why do I let them talk me in to these things? Every weekend, they con me in to going clubbing with them, without fail. You'd think by now, I would have learned, but sadly… no. It's the same story, week after week.
My weekend is a very precious thing! Week in and week out, I slave in the classroom for five days, hoping and praying that at least one of my students is actually learning. I realized long ago that these prayers were asking too much, and simply ask now that at least one of my students pays attention. So, when I finally have a night to myself, my only night I might add, I would love to simply relax and enjoy my quiet requiem.
I'm just such a sucker for my friends. I can't help it. Hyne, I sure as hell would love to be a horrible friend to them sometimes, on those nights where I really feel like crap and don't want to be seen… but I just can't. Those two… they beg and they plead with me, feeding me the saddest, most pathetic faces and excuses they can muster. Selphie could make a career out of it. And Rinoa… well, Rinoa can guilt a beggar in to giving her money. How, then, am I supposed to turn them down?
So, once again, here I am, wading through a dense sea of undulating, faceless bodies, bouncing and wiggling to some ridiculous electronic beat blaring through the oversized subwoofers. What happened to the good days of music, when it was played on real instruments? Well, I guess people can't dance mindlessly to music they have to think about. Heaven forbid!
Yeah, sure, I could mindlessly dance with them, writhing to the pounding beat. I very easily could. But if I do that, Selphie and Rinoa win, and I just can't have that. They do make it look so easy; I can't deny that. I'm not even sure how to describe the advanced technique they employ on the dance floor. After all, the shear skill it takes to raise your hands above your head and jump in rhythm as Selphie does is staggering! Oh, and let us not forget the gyrating hips of our darling Rinoa that are practically grinding on the nearest desperate male looking for female contact.
Ugh, I'm getting so cynical and… bitchy. Maybe those two are right. Maybe I do need to relax. That does seem to be their trademark persuasion method of removing me from the evenings I always have planned for myself: a couch, sweat pants, and regularly scheduled late night programming. And, like a sucker, I fall for it every time.
Selphie will pop-up first with her usual pep talk, cheerleading me in to a night of festivities: "Oh, c'mon Quisty! Things are so much better in threes! Without you, Rinoa and I are just a boring ol' duet."
Rinoa isn't far behind, following her part to a tee, attempting a blend of humor and innuendo. "Selphie's right, Quisty. We can't have a ménage a trios without you." Naturally, she follows with a playful wink and a smirk, for the added reassurance that she's 'just kidding.'
I play my part with the rest of them, even though tonight is simply another rerun. I protest, claiming to have my night already planned, or I'm in no mood to go out, or I look hideous, or I'm tired, or any combination of the above. I like to add some variety. Keeps things fresh.
This is where the story always turns the most repetitive. This part of the play is crucial to everyone's part, so proper rehearsal is always necessary. Both girls will grab my arms, pull me up from whatever surface I'm sitting on, and plead their respective cases to me yet again. You'd think by now they'd learn new material, but then again there's no sense in changing a working system. If it ain't broke, I guess.
Rinoa, ever the free spirit, promises me a night of freedom and laughter, nothing but a relaxing atmosphere and an environment to free my mind and let everything go. "Besides, Quisty, you never know when you'll run in to your Mr. Right one of these nights. You don't want to spend every night home alone forever, do you?"
See what I mean? Guilt. It's the same every time, but it always brings a familiar sting with it. Okay, sure… Rinoa's right. I haven't had a date in… well, a long time. So what? I'm busy. I have a stable, although demanding career that requires a lot of my attention. If I had the time to go out and date, I would use it.
…wow, even I don't believe that. Fine. Rinoa one, Quistis zero.
Ah, now is the best part. Here is where the girls multitask. Having fulfilled her role, Rinoa removes herself, relocating to my closet and searching for the playfully skimpy though tastefully attractive outfit I'll be wearing tonight. As she does this, Selphie resumes where her ally left off.
"Rinoa's right. After all, that's how I met my Irvykins, and you know how happy we are together!" Ah, the Irvine defense. It's a recent tactic, but a very effective one. It was a month ago she met her urban cowboy, and Selphie uses every day, and night, to remind us all of it. How inventive, and, at the same time, a low blow. I know she never means it as such, but it almost feels like Selphie rubs her lover boy in our faces, reminding me just how lonely I am. "The same thing can happen for you, Quisty, but it won't if you just sit around here all night! Now get off that sexy ass of yours and get movin'!"
So, without fail, I cave to the guilt of their repetitive but legitimate arguments. How can I protest? Sometimes, I try, but then things get worse. It's then that the pouting eyes and pleading tones of voice surface, and I just can't take it. They'll drop to their knees, bringing themselves as close to tears as possible, using every last trick in the book. It always breaks me. It's sad. Ugh, I'm such a sucker for the puppy-dog eyes. It's all of these underhanded yet creative modes of persuasion that bring me here, without fail, every week.
A drink. That's what the evening is missing. Lucky for me, our nocturnal expeditions always bring us to a local club or bar, so alcohol is never too far away. Besides, I've got a headache tonight and what better medicine is there than a nice, hard drink. Sure, the headache is coming from the droning techno beat and haze of smoke of said bar, but life wouldn't be complete without irony.
Now, my plan is completely dependant on my ability to weave through the tangled mess of a crowd that surrounds me. It is no easy task. Every time, Selphie drags from the door her on to the dance floor, telling me not to be such a stick in the mud. She'll pull me to my feet, throw me in a giant crowd, and bounce around me and against me, cheering and giggling the whole time. And that is before she starts drinking.
I don't even know what happens to Rinoa after we make it inside the dark, smoke-filled bar. Every once in a while, I'll catch a glimpse of some flowing black hair, hanging discreetly over her face, protecting her ambiguity as she mindlessly shoves herself against an intoxicated stranger. It's like a game for her; at least that's how I see it.
But, that's not my concern at the moment. The only thing I want is to get around some overweight jackass in a muscle shirt blocking my path to the bar. I really would like to know who convinces these people that the blob staring back at them in the mirror is actually attractive to the fairer sex. A beer gut folding over skin-tight leather pants and an undersized white tank top crowned with a balding scalp of thin brown hair just isn't my type. I guess I'm too picky.
Ah, finally. The sea of hormones and self-illusions has been braved, and I have docked at the bar. Flagging down the bartender for my whiskey sour will be another story. Yeah, sure, not the most feminine drink, but I like it. I'm not going to feign a liking for some ridiculous 'appletini' so a random schmuck can peg me as a giggly lightweight to prey on. I like my whiskey. It's about the only good thing I get out of these nights.
"Hey baby… whatcha drinkin' tonight?"
Oh, Hyne, here we go. Though, I do have to say, tonight has been near record-breaking for the length of time I've gone without having some hopeless fool try to hit on me. It had to happen eventually. Meh… I guess I should humor him until one of us gets bored.
"Nothing yet. Bartender is… occupied." That was a nice way of putting it. In reality, the barkeep was doing his best to fend of a drunken whore trying to worm a free drink out of him. Poor guy. I can almost relate with my recent situation.
Casanova interpreted my nondescript reply as an invitation and moved himself next to me, leaning his back and resting his elbows on the bar. Delightful. He's a cocky bastard. This should be entertaining, or endlessly painful.
"That's a shame. It really is. Any smart man would be spending his attention on you instead of the slut he's stuck with."
Cute, Casanova. Not too bad. Things could be worse, I suppose. He's actually not too bad when compared to the status quo of this bar. Really, how many overweight and unattractive losers could populate a single place in one night? It's refreshing to look at someone and not have to resist my vomiting reflex.
This guy though, he isn't too shabby. Though blonde, which is never a favorite of mine, his green eyes nearly made up for it. On closer inspection, they must be contacts, because no eyes are ever that brightly colored. Looking at the rest of him, and the vanity that dripped off of his figure, color contacts are not too unreasonable. His blue polo was surely too expensive for the cheap cut of cotton that it is, and his pressed khakis surely fit the same bill. I guess I'll play the game for now, and see just how bad Casanova really is.
"And I guess you're one of those smart guys, huh?"
"Of course I am. The second I saw you, I knew you were worth my time to get to know."
Oh, not a good start Casanova. Two minutes of dialogue and you've already turned me off. Oh well, no big loss. Besides, he's too tall. And he's drinking cheap light beer. I really can't respect a man who goes to a bar and orders himself a light beer. Just buy a six pack and some porn and call it a night, saving me the trouble.
"So, what do you say? Let's get out of here so you can get to know me very well. Sound good, little lady?"
Oh yeah, this guy has bombed one-hundred percent. Now, I could let him down easy, with some white lie and an offhand remark, but where's the fun in that? Casanova needs an ego-check tonight. Eh, it's not like it matters. He'll just go running off to the drunken slut on the other side of the bar anyway. Though, it will be fun…
"Actually, this 'little lady' really has no intentions of getting to know any part of you, buddy. I came to this bar for a drink, and that's really all I intend to leave it with. So, before you try and persuade me any further, I'm not interested. Save your ego and move on, thanks."
Hmm, maybe that was a bit harsh.
"Damn, bitch, I was just trying to be friendly, but fuck you. I don't have to put up with this shit. Fuckin' relax already."
And, with a quick turn and extension of his middle finger, Casanova was gone. Nope. Not too harsh at all. That was just right.
Ah, good. The bartender has finally freed himself. Maybe now I can get my drink. I sure need it after that guy. It's amazing how charming people think they are, when in reality, they're just a drunken slob with limited coordination and zero game.
As much as I don't want to admit it, maybe he was right. Maybe I do need to just relax. I complain every week when the girls bring me here. I scare off any guys that actually try to approach me. A lot of them just try to talk with me, but I don't give them a chance. But they're all so… repulsive. I can't help it. I'm not like Rinoa. I can't just grind myself all over some stranger, especially not when they have an attitude like Casanova did.
Still… I'd be lying if I told myself his words didn't hurt a little bit. It's hardly the first time some pissed off guy cursed me out after I rejected him, but I guess I was actually listening this time. Am I really such a bitch? I guess I do act a little cold to the guys here. Okay, really cold. Alright, I'm a bitchy ice queen. Wow… it hurts a lot more when I actually admit it.
Whatever. I can worry about that later. A fresh whiskey sour is finally sitting in front of me, and I can't wait for it any longer. Anything to help soothe this damn headache. I mean, seriously, who can listen to nothing but techno continuously and not hurt themselves?
"Sure enough, here she is."
Well this is a change. Rinoa searched me out. Why am I feeling this sense of doom, mixed with familiar guilt? Quickly, more whiskey to ease the oncoming pain! I'd better put up a good defense, or I'm done for.
"Yup, you found me. It must have been quite an extensive search. That must have been what you were doing with all those guys on the dance floor: interrogating them in the hopes of finding me. If that's the case, you were searching your ass off out there." Wow… okay, I didn't think before I said that one. I guess I am just a bitch tonight.
"Quistis, are you okay? You seem really… edgy tonight. You're not even trying to get out and have fun. Plus, I saw you with that tall guy earlier. You could have been a little nicer to him."
Despite her misinterpretation of Casanova's intent, Rinoa seems genuinely concerned. This isn't normal. Usually, she's too busy with herself and the music all night, only finding me and Selphie when she's finished 'getting her groove on.' Am I really in that noticeable of a bad mood tonight?
"It was nothing, Rin. He was bothering me, and I didn't feel like dealing with him. Like I tried to tell you guys earlier, I'm just tired tonight."
"But you always say that Quisty. Every time we go out, you always say 'oh, I'm so tired guys,' but we drag you out here and you still have fun with us. C'mon, tell me what's wrong, Quisty."
I don't know what to tell her. If there is something wrong with me, I sure don't know what it is. I thought I was fine tonight, but I guess that's not the case. At least that's what I'm being told. Maybe if I just shrug it off and ignore the problem it will go away. That usually works. But this is Rinoa…
"Alright, fine Quisty. If you won't come willingly, I'll just have to force you to have a good time." I don't trust that smile she's giving me.
"C'mon, sexy babe, I'll show you just how easy it is to pick up a guy and have a good time. Watch the master at work. Rather, the mistress at play." Okay, I really don't trust that wink she just gave me.
But, this should be interesting, if nothing else. I get to watch the master – excuse me, mistress – hard at work in her element. Should I be taking notes right now? After all, she is trying to teach me how to have a good time. I guess I'm just such a boring dud that I don't know how to have fun myself.
Alright, she's found her victim. Little does he know what's in store for his evening. Not a bad choice, though: a trademark tall, dark, and handsome. The long chestnut bangs draping over his face is a nice touch, and the black T-shirt has a nice contrast to that light-colored skin. Okay, Rin, good choice. Oh, of course, one more wink to me, just to make sure I'm watching. The hunt continues.
The only thing that could make this better is if I could actually hear what lines she's feeding the poor guy to get him up and dancing. Alas, the thumping trance beat prevents me from hearing any conversation that isn't a foot in front of me. It's a shame, because things are developing quite humorously.
What's this? The guy doesn't want to dance with Rinoa? He's… he's turning her down? Now I really wish I was over there, just so I could here the surprised and annoyed tone in the Princess's voice. How could anyone turn down Rinoa? She's every man's dream, or so she likes to believe. In her defense, it's not as if anyone gives her reason to believe otherwise. But this guy… from the look of it, he's challenging Rinoa's entire belief structure with nothing more than a nonchalant shrug.
There's no point in hiding the laughter now, it's just too good. Poor Rin… she's quite angry now. The dark stranger has yet to budge. So strange, I thought guys loved it when women irately demanded them to dance. I guess not. Maybe Rinoa's lesson is meant to teach me what not to do, because here patented method doesn't seem to be working.
Okay, this isn't good. She's taking it way too far now. People around her are starting to stare and laugh themselves, and the poor man looks like he's ready to blow up on her. I can't blame the guy, there's a boderline psychotic woman tugging incessantly at his arm, demanding that he leave his stool and drink to dance with her. Alright, alright… time to end this. I'd rather leave with a little dignity than get thrown out.
"Rinoa, it's okay, leave it alone. I think I've seen all I need to see." I can only hope that the hand on her shoulder and my embarrassed excuse is enough to get her to stop.
"Tch, fine. You're right Quisty: his loss. I'm going back out to the dance floor to find someone else who isn't just a big jerk." That last part seemed to be directed at the poor guy instead of me, as was her defiant turn of the heel to run off. Good job, Quistis, you saved the day. I'm a regular hero. Well, if nothing else, I and the people around me got a few good laughs from the situation.
"…thank you."
Hmm? Oh, it was the stranger. I guess Rinoa had been much more of a distress than he let on.
"Oh, yeah, sure… Rinoa, she can just be a little…"
"Yeah, I noticed that."
He's funny. I wasn't expecting that. Rinoa sure can pick a good one, even if he wants nothing to do with her. Now that I'm standing next to him, I can see just how good a pick he is. That dark hair was hiding some beautiful blue eyes, and there is no question that they are real. I'd kill to have eyes that blue. Very defined features, in his face and body. He's built like a Marine. The only flaw on his body is that massive scar running down between his eyes. Yet, even that didn't take away from his… well, beauty. It almost added character, proving that this god was indeed human. Wow…
"Well, I'll just be goin'… I'll see you around…"
Wait… what am I doing? This is just what Rinoa and Selphie are always talking about.
'Jeez, Quistis, what are you always waiting for? You never approach any guys, and when they finally come to you, you send them off in search of their dignity, or worse. You keep this up, and your elusive Mr. Right will either sit waiting forever, or run off scared.'
'Rinny is right. You need to go wild, take some chances, and just plain go nuts! Woo! I mean, if nothing else, talk to someone and give them a chance. You never know, you could land you a winner like I did with Irvy…'
I guess they're right. If I just sit around all night like I always do, I'll end up with a light buzz and a pile of excuses. Maybe I should… take a chance. I don't know about going nuts quite yet, but maybe…
"Actually, would you mind if I, um, joined you? I promise I'm nothing like my friend. I'm fully aware that no means no."
Oh, Hyne, I'm such a dork. What was I even saying? Wow, way to make a great impression on the guy. I'm sure by now he's wondering what this blonde nerd is doing still talking to him. This was stupid. I should just go back to-
"Yeah, have a seat. Some normal company may be nice."
…oh. Well, alright then. I guess I'm not as socially awkward as I thought I was. He actually invited me to sit down with him. Maybe I'm not so bad at this. Yeah, this isn't so bad. But… now what do I do? It's been so long since I haven't turned a guy down, let alone approached one.
"I'm Squall, and I'm drinking a Guinness Extra Stout."
Well, that certainly is a simple way of handling an introduction. I like it. It's to the point, and explains a lot in only a few words. Someone's drink can tell you a lot about them, and Squall's drink of choice was a good one. Nothing fancy, but still high quality. I wonder what he'll think of my choice…
"I'm Quistis, and I'm drinking a whiskey sour," I say, lifting up my glass as if to prove it.
Unexpectedly, Squall clinks his bottle with my glass in a silent "cheers." Oh, this guy is good. I know nothing about him except his name and his vice of choice, yet he's got my full attention. I guess he's just my type. Wait, I have a type now? Huh… I guess so.
"What are you doing here, Quistis?"
"Oh, same old thing every week. My friends bring me out here every Saturday night, draggin' me out here while they go off and dance their hearts out."
"You always end up rescuing your friend's train wrecks?"
"Hah, not always, no. You just seemed like you needed my help tonight. Rinoa can be very… well, you saw."
"So you came over to save me, huh? A regular knight in shining armor?"
Oh Hyne, I have never seen a smile that enticing before! That look in his eyes, and that tiny but devilish grin, it's like he's going to devour me right here. Though, from the looks of things, I wouldn't complain if he did. Wow, either that whiskey is starting to kick on, or Squall is just that good.
"Yes, sir. I'm a regular hero in disguise, protecting the world from the tipsy pursuits of Rinoa the Ruthless."
I'm flirting with him. I'm honestly, truly flirting with Squall, a man I've known for less than ten minutes. Was this Rinoa's plan all along? Was entire scheme just to get me talking to the handsome stranger at the bar? I'll have to ask her later. Right now, I think I'll pay more attention to the fingers that are trailing along my hand. Wow, it got really warm in this bar…
"Well, on those slow nights where the world needs not your rescuing, where do you find yourself?
"I guess you'll find me at home, either settling in for a relaxing night with regularly scheduled programming, or reviewing the latest batch of assignments my children handed me. I teach at Balamb High, so I'm not usually left with much time to myself."
Is this how it works? I meet someone in a bar, share a couple laughs, and divulge all of my personal information to him. Meanwhile, his hand is dancing over mine and sending little shocks through my arm and I can't stop looking at his eyes. Whatever we're doing, I like it. Maybe a hand on his arm and a seductive smile will keep his attention.
"But what about you, my rescued damsel… what does a man like you do when he's not acting as bait to my attention-hungry friends?"
He laughed. That's a good sign. I'm keeping him interested.
"Nothing fancy. I'm stuck in some single-windowed office as a public relations representative for Garden Industries. Pays well, but filing claims reports and conversing with irate customers all afternoon is hardly so glamorous."
"I suppose it's no wonder how you handled my friend so well now. You do it every day."
"Tell me about it. I come here to forget about those people, but they seem to seek me out."
We're both laughing now. Wait, how long have I been squeezing his bicep, and when did his palm move to my knee? No point in complaining, though. His arm is near rock solid and that hand on my leg… well, I'm certainly in no mood to complain about that any more.
Wait… what happens now? Do we just keep flirting until we get tired and move on, or what? Am I supposed to be giving him my number? Do I invite him to my place for 'coffee' and ultimately an invitation to my bedroom? Is that what I want from this? I don't know. How long have I been mentally panicking without outwardly saying anything? Too long. Oh, this is bad. He looks confused.
"Sorry… just lost in thought. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I haven't talked to a guy like this in… well, a very long time. I don't really know how to go about all of this."
"Okay, we can keep things simple. In short, I've enjoyed your company, and wouldn't mind more of it in the future. Would you say the same for me?"
Hell yes! I haven't had a conversation this interesting or exciting since… well, too long! This has been one of the greatest nights in my life in years, and I'd love for it to never end. But, maybe such a large does of honesty would scare Squall away. I'll stick with a simple nod.
"Glad to hear it. Once we finish our banter, we'll no doubt leave this place. I know I personally can't stand all this ridiculous music."
Thank Hyne! Someone else agrees with me.
"Now, two things will happen at this point. Either we will go our separate ways, having names and contact information, or one of us will follow the other one home, continuing the festivities for however long we desire. So, once you reach your decision, let me know. In the mean time, I'll get us each another drink."
It's as if he knew exactly what to say to put me at ease, or as much as anyone could. It's hard to play a game you don't know all the rules to, and Squall very precisely explained everything I needed to know. Sure, I feel better about the situation now, but what do I do?
So, as I sit here, sipping on my freshened drink and staring at the Adonis next to me, I can't help but wonder what to do. I mean, I'm certainly not the type of woman to meet a guy and go home with him the first night… but looking at Squall, I want to be. He's so… real. He's not an ego-driven moron, searching for a quick fuck. No, he's certainly not a moron. He's funny, and witty, all the while mysterious and seductive. I can't turn that down. Hyne, no woman with half a sex drive could!
Nothing says I have to actually sleep with him anyway. He doesn't seem like he's expecting it from me. I'm sure that Squall has no intentions of rushing any decision. He seemed legitimately interested with our conversation, and not just a prospect of tearing my clothes off. He's realistic, yet another quality about him that pulls me closer. Speaking of which, I am sitting really close to him. When did I slide up along side him? Wow, no wonder he extended an invitation to his place.
Still, I can't help but feel anxious about this. I've just met this man. How can I immediately run home with him? Maybe this is why Rinoa and Selphie love doing this, meeting strangers and dancing around each others' wordplay. I know I'm just about tripping over my own adrenaline. It's a rush, and I'd be lying to say I'm not enjoying it. Besides, what do I have to lose? Yeah, sure, a lot. So what? I think I can trust this guy. He's given me no reason to think otherwise.
Who am I kidding? I knew my decision a long time ago, and I'm ready to go. But, since I'm already pressed up against his side, let's make things interesting.
"…you're place or mine?" I whisper to him, making sure to let my lips brush his ear as I do so.
Author's Notes: Hey. How's it goin'? So, yeah, this was just something quick thing I sat down and wrote last night. I have my best ideas after two in the morning. Long story short, I really don't have any plans for... well, anything else. If I get some good feedback, I'll do a follow-up or something. We can see what happens once they leave the bar, or something. Whatever. Hope you like it.
Courtesy your Darker neighborhood Scorpio
