A/N:
Eh, only an ickle ficlet. Really, just an ickle ficlet. So ickle, I don't even know how to introduce it.
Just read it, damnit. Kekeke. ;D Reviews, as always, are loved and om nommed.
Scones & Quiche.
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"And what is this?"
Fran had rose from her pallet early this morning. Granted, she and Balthier had a late night sorting out the location of their latest treasure to pillage, but she was never one to sleep for long. She always figured long hours of slumber was a hume thing. Apparently, her new partner seemed to defy this law - both of them turned in for the night at the same time, yet Balthier woke up even earlier than her. She estimated that he got only about an hour of sleep, but that was a good thing - as long as he didn't fall prey to the chains of fatigue. It only meant more time for pirating.
Upon hearing Fran's voice ring in the galley, Balthier smoothly pivoted on the ball of his heel to face her. The stove he was slaving over left his face in flush of red, but he managed to look dashing in his broad, pleased smile nonetheless. "Ah, good morning, my dear!"
There was a table for two besides one of the few windows on the airship; Fran made her way over and sat down with her typical viera delicacy. She looked outside the window, slightly disinterested in what Balthier was doing.
A long ear twitched. "Do not call me dear."
"Come now Fran, don't be a grouch." He piled a generous helping of quiche on a plate and brought it over to his brand new partner, placing it down in front of her. "Eat. I've some scones in the oven." He pulled an extravagantly filigreed fork out of his front pocket and handed it over with the handle pointing to her. "Here. You can thank me later, because I'm quite certain you'll be speechless once you taste my cooking."
Fran simply looked at the fork, then let her eyes travel up the brocaded arm. She scanned up the fine veins she saw in his neck, the freshly shaved chin, the sleek angle of his jaw. He wasn't a bad specimen of hume. Her gaze finally landed on his eyes, and she became a tad amused when she could smell how nervous he was becoming. He was good at hiding it, she'd give him that much. She knew that he still wasn't sure how to react to her, and it was obvious that he was too proud to acknowledge any type of unsure behavior.
A bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her gaze, Balthier broke the eye contact and nonchalantly glanced back at the oven. He looked back at her and placed the fork on the table with a shrug. "Suit yourself." He turned and went back to check on his scones, all too aware of the viera's eyes burning through the back of his vestment.
"Do you always have to do that?" he asked with his back still turned to her. He slipped a mitt over his hand in preparation to take his grand work out of the oven.
"I am not doing anything."
Balthier opened up the oven, swatting back some of the steam that arose. "Fran. You're staring a hole into me."
"I am merely looking at you."
"Why?" He pulled out the scones and tested them by pushing down on one with his free hand. Satisfied, he placed the pan on the counter. "Am I that stunning that you can't take me eyes off me?" he teased.
"No."
The woman was by far the hardest thing he ever attempted to decipher. She surpassed every codestone, manuscript, and hieroglyphic he had ever come into contact with. The more time he spent with her, the more he began to entertain the thought that maybe she was so taken with him, she didn't know how to act. Wishful thinking? There was only one way to find out.
"So," he introduced in a singsong voice, "you don't find me the least bit attractive?" He turned the pan upside down above the counter; soft patters fell on the ears when the scones fell on the surface.
"No."
Balthier quickly snatched up two scones and walked over to the table, tossing one up in the air and catching it deftly. He settled into the chair opposite Fran and handed her a scone, smiling the whole of his mischief. "Was that a 'no' to further confirm not finding me the least bit attractive, or was that a 'no' to disagree with not finding me the least bit attractive?" He took a bite out of his own scone and put it down, trying to contain the grin threatening to take over.
Fran begrudgingly took her scone with two long fingers, looking mildly cross the entire time. "You baited that question."
Balthier kicked back in his chair while folding his hands behind his head, and a smug smirk pulled at the tangents of his lips. "Tell me something I don't know."