A stray bit of thread had unraveled from the sleeve of Quistis' costume. She hoped the hateful thing would fall apart before she finished her coffee, as being nude on such a brisk morning wouldn't be all that different from what she was already wearing, but that would likely mean that Selphie would find something worse. Tassles would likely be involved. Possibly a breastplate with nipples. Something ungodly, no doubt. She toyed with the string and sipped her coffee while Irvine glanced around the common area to be sure it was empty.

No patrons, no actors, no police. Perfect.

Coast temporarily clear, he fumbled in his rucksack and pulled out his pipe. The dew had darkened the wooden surface of the table and benches so that he felt the chill in the air more acutely than he might have if his ass and elbows had remained dry, but he had the perfect remedy for any discomfort.

That remedy cost around fifty gil a bag, but that was a small price to pay for instant relaxation.

"So we eat chickens, right?"

He held the lighter to the pipe until the contents glowed, inhaled the sweet smoke, then passed it across the table to Quistis. She repeated the process and coughed before handing it back.

"Yes."

A damp flag, torn from its brothers in one of the faire's many brawls, flapped against the trunk of an oak next to their table. Aside from the crackling of the greens in the pipe, there was no other sound to disturb the silence. That would change soon enough, but they had the grounds to themselves until Zell rolled his jingling way through the festival and summoned everyone to begin prepping for the day's visitors.

Damn, but that stuff was powerful. Irvine felt lighter already.

"And cows..."

Quistis declined when he offered again. It would be tragic indeed for the magic of the coffee to be negated by whatever blend of chocobo greens Irvine currently carried.

Or perhaps that one hit was enough to have her halfway up the mountain to High Town. She thought she might wave to a yodeling goat herder when she passed them and giggled at the thought, but Irvine was talking about cows, not goats.

"Yes, though too much red meat can be detrimental to one's health. It's thought that the grilling process creates toxic amines and aromatic hydrocarbons that contribute to..."

Aromatic. Certain woods were aromatic. Cedar, for example. It was used for grilling salmon.

Mmm. Salmon...

"And fish..."

Quistis felt her stomach start to growl. Surely one of the tents would be open. Somebody at the faire had to be selling muffins. Her eyes darted from one food tent to the next like a falcon spying the river below, but nobody was awake yet. Damn them all. She needed a muffin to go with her coffee.

Patience. Best to stick to the discussion. The longer the wait, the greater the anticipation, and the more delicious that muffin would be. That amazing, delectable muffin...

"A pescatarian diet is much healthier, and is still an excellent way for one to obtain enough protein in a mostly vegeter..."

All the talk about salmon and fat, delicious steaks was too much for Irvine. He set his pipe on the table, then rummaged in his bag again and pulled out a greasy parcel. A familiar aroma wafted from the sack. If there was a competition to determine who had the faster salivary glands, it would have been a tight race indeed. Both of their mouths were watering.

"And then there are these little guys..."

It was one of the turkey legs. Zell and Xu had already fought a fierce battle while waiting in line for their chance to consume that delicious smoked meat.

"What's that?"

Quistis craned her neck when Irvine jerked the magic turkey leg away. There would soon be violence.

It was a vision. A smoked marvel of dark meat. Irvine held it aloft and the rising sun greeted it as if it were a blade of legend. Quistis was almost certain she heard a heavenly choir.

"I'm... not certain I would call those little. That thing looks like..."

Easy, girl. If he knows how badly you want it, he will never let you have it. Outfox him.

"... some cruel device Xu would have in her little den of horrors. I bet she'd love to swing one of those monsters around and break a few mandibles."

Irvine adjusted the paper wrapping, all that protected the treasure from the ravenous jaws of the unworthy.

"A monster? But it ain't big at all!"

It was. He specifically ordered the largest they had. He watched the staff to make sure they didn't cheat him. He knew exactly how big it was.

"That's the last thing I would expect you to say right about now. I figured you'd tell me 'that's what she said' or whatever that ghastly joke is."

Ha! Oh, but he would have. Damn the woman, she was already undressing his precious turkey leg with her eyes, and now she was beating him to his jokes. Two could play that game.

"I would never joke about something like this, milady. Some things are sacred."

He would have bowed if he thought he could have done so without her snatching the leg from him, but he knew how quick she could be.

"A turkey leg is sacred?"

That's right. Diminish its value, make him think you're not interested. When his guard is down, we attack.

"Well, I don't reckon it's sacred, but that's because it's one of the lesser birds."

"Lesser birds?"

He sniffed his increasingly greasy fingers and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as pure, savage lust filled her eyes.

"Mhm."

Quistis forced herself to remember the interrogation techniques she learned as a cadet. Remaining calm was one thing when all one had to worry about was being zapped by a few volts of electricity. That was child's play.

But this?

This was agony.

"You've been to the falconry demonstrations, I gather. That madman kept trying to get me to stop petting the kestrel, but I thought that was the loveliest out of all of them. She had such a beautiful pattern on her wings."

Irvine had indeed watched the falcons and the hawks dive and zoom after bits of meat tossed into the air. They moved with such stunning swiftness that he wondered how they didn't fall apart in flight. The friction of the air alone seemed to be enough to rip them to shreds.

He had half a notion to toss the turkey into the air and see if Quistis could catch it with her teeth.

"He's right! Fine lady such as yourself needs a bird for nobility! A falcon or a merlin or a..."

Quistis shook her head. She had been daydreaming about stuffing and cranberries.

"To eat?"

It was Irvine's turn to shake his head.

"What?! Now that's just crazy!"

How much force did it take to break a man's elbow?

Quistis started doing calculations in her head while she tried to distract him.

"Well, brave ranger, what should we be eating?"

Irvine lowered his voice for dramatic effect and gestured for her to lean closer. She did, and he was rewarded with such a magnificent view of her cleavage that he almost forgot what he was going to say. Still, he soldiered on.

"...chocobos."

"What?"

She was hooked. All that was left was reeling her onto shore.

"Just imagine...all that meat, seasoned to perfection, turning on a spit, the skin starting to crackle and pop as it cooks..."

"I am, and it's disgusting."

Aaaaaaaaand, she slipped off the hook just as she was breaking the surface of the water. Damn it all.

"What? Why?!"

Because you tempt me with visions of paradise and then parade that measly burned limb in front of me like it's the end to world hunger. It's disgusting and shameful and you are a vile man for leading me astray!

No! Don't tell him that! He'll eat it in front of you!

"Because! Th-that would be like eating a horse!"

Irvine wondered what the cowboys in his favorite movies would have to say about that. Probably nothing, now that he thought about it. They'd likely just sweep up the school marm and whisk her away to some heaven in the west. Quistis didn't seem like the school marm type, even if she was a teacher. Of course, even if she did give off that vibe, she'd break his arm if he tried whisking her anywhere. She wasn't exactly the whisking type.

"Some people do eat horses!"

Was that true? Maybe if someone got hungry enough, sure, but not as a rule. There was some historical documentary that illustrated the lengths people would go to if pressed hard enough by starvation.

Wasn't there?

Right?

Inconclusive evidence. Retreat. Regroup.

"Well, yes, I suppose some do, but..." How Irvine managed to pack another bowl of greens with one hand was beyond her reckoning, but she wasn't going to question him. She hoped he would lose his death grip on that turkey leg long enough for her to grab it and run for the proverbial hills. Hopefully Selphie had thought to stock them with giants or ogres or something equally as deadly. She knew she would need backup. A few boulders tossed in his direction would mean she could have breakfast.

"I bet they're tougher to kill than cows though. They're fast. Ain't never seen a cow outrun a horse." He thought for a moment and added, "Ain't never seen a cow do much runnin' at all, come to think of it."

Unwilling to let go of his prize to light the pipe, he offered it to Quistis so she could claim the first hit. She eagerly took it from his hand and leaned back to take a couple of small, slow puffs. She considered the implications of bovine versus equine speed when pursued by voracious carnivores and determined that neither mattered.

"Chocobos are faster than both."

"A chocobo is just a giant turkey, Milady of a Thousand Contradictions."

Why was she staring at him like that? Why was the grease from the leg starting to dribble down his arm? Why didn't he pack some sort of detergent that would remove the inevitable stains?

"They are not giant turkeys, Irvine."

"They have feathers."

They did have those.

"Yes, but..."

"And beaks."

They had those as well.

"A few shared features does not mean that they..."

Okay, so maybe he had a point. Then again, the wonder of divergent evolution was that...

"And they gobble."

Quistis choked as soon as she inhaled. Coughing so hard for a moment that she almost, but not quite to the point of retching, sputtered, "What? When has a chocobo ever gobbled at you?"

"Today!"

She was glad that nobody was awake. She knew her eyes would be red as the flames of the blacksmith's forge.

"A chocobo. Gobbled. At you."

Of course it did. Irvine was almost convinced that the chocobo was hitting on him. He knew a thing or two about flirting, and some things were the same no matter the species. He blamed the feather in his hat. Not only did it attract the most voluptuous human specimens, but it also made him irresistible to the fair-feathered species with the literally killer legs.

"Wanna bet me that I can lure one over here?"

Quistis rubbed her eyes. Thank Hyne she hadn't worn mascara. It would have marred the red-eyed demonic look she was so obviously seeking that fine morning.

"I have placed too many bets the past couple of days to even consider..."

Irvine suddenly stood up and knocked his bench backwards. He stepped over it and began flapping his arms and...well, she would later describe it to Xu as a flamingo having a seizure, but he did make a noise that was very convincing.

Convincing of what, she wasn't certain, but she was convinced nonetheless.

"That was gobbling?"

Irvine collapsed on the bench next to her, breathless and smelling very much like roasted poultry. It was difficult to imitate the intricacies of chocobo seduction while maintaining one's hold on a leftover bit of cold turkey, but he thought he nailed it.

"Yep. But that was the ye olde dialect. I ain't about to have my little fairy of death wave her wand of blood and glitter on my head for gettin' out of character."

"There is no possible way that chocobos..." A rustle, a heavy thump, and she felt hot, jealous breath behind her neck. She would have turned, but she had no desire to have her eyes pecked out by a seven foot ostrich with an interspecies fetish. "...oh my god."

Kweh.

Irvine winked and stroked the feathers of his, uh, fine feathered friend. She nipped at Quistis in a playful, 'I could eat your heart without ruffling a single quill, but I'll allow you to survive because I can sense your fear.' way.

"It's all in the accent, milady."

Damn bird. Who did she think she was?

You're Quistis Trepe! You've accomplished so much! You've saved the world, for crying out loud! What has this bird ever done? Laid a few eggs?

"Hmph. Did you tell her your plans for her people?"

Irvine nearly dropped the turkey leg.

"Shh! You see the claws on her?"

Oh, but this was fun now! The ice cold terror in his eyes? Seeing that horrible feather in his cap quake and tremble? Seeing his fingers slip on the cold grease on that ever-so-tempting morsel in his hand?

"Come now, brave archer! Surely a well-placed barb would fell this beast so that her limbs can be roasted upon yon bonfire?"

The chocobo leaned her head into Irvine's chest and began cooing in pleasure. As she nuzzled him, he shoved the turkey leg into Quistis' hands so that he could gently, oh, so very gently, push her head away from his vital organs.

"Well, now that I've got one rubbin' on me like a cat in heat , I'm beginnin' to rethink my position."

Quistis sank her teeth into the cold flesh of her conquest. If her emotions could have been expressed in fireworks, entire nations would have gone up in flames. She felt like singing some sort of anthem. She should have had a snare drum and a fife.

A magnanimous person would have split the prize, but she had been torn from sleep just to keep him company, so she didn't feel like sharing.

"Going to stick to one of the lesser birds after all?"

Irvine had one leg tangled between the neck of the chocobo and her wing, and he was quickly losing balance.

"If you get this damn bird off me, I'll eat crow if you ask me to. Just do something!"