A fantastical note from the author: I've tried to more or less keep the characters in character, so to speak, but don't hold me to that. I happen to like Fayt more as a happy-go-lucky simpleton more, so there you go. If it's terrible, I can shield myself with the premise that it's supposed to be funny.
I don't fully comprehend the notion of a disclaimer. If it wasn't all right for us to do this, it seems as if would have received a tasty cease and desist letter. Which they have in the past. Oh well. In any case, I'm being rebellious and stopping now before my verbose ramblings have more content than the story itself.
-----Chapter I, One, or 1: When Dubiously Discoursing
Fayt was, in all ostensible respects, chilling. His left arm was draped behind him, he was slouching heavily, and there was a half eaten bag of some sort of crispy goodness on the desk that stood before him. His other hand fluctuated between idly drumming aforementioned desk and making some deft keystrokes. Before long, the translucent screen beamed back the visage of a grinning Jack. Fayt grinned back.
A knock on the door didn't interrupt this quiet satisfaction. Nor did the subsequent bangings. Fayt distantly heard a muffled female voice threatening. "Fayt, godammit, you had better not be playing Freecell again."
At this, Fayt powered down the monitor, swiveled in his chair, and ambled over to the door. On the other side stood a rather distressed but still very fetching young woman named Maria. Upon seeing our protagonist, she put her hand on her hip and mustered a stern look. "Fayt, what time is it?"
Fayt smiled. "Oh, I've got all the time in the world for yo-"
"Fayt, no." Maria interrupted. "Number one, you're late and I'm angry, number two, we're past that, number three, you aren't even saying it properly."
Fayt was unfazed. "Late for what?"
"We're having a meeting. In the conference room. You know, the one up the stairs and down the hall."
"The one we never use?" Fayt queried.
"Just shut up and come with me," Maria said with a hint of exasperation.
The pair made their way down the hall and up the stairs to the main floor of the flagship formerly known as Diplo. Cliff had wanted to rechristen it the Smashing Palm, but the idea had been vetoed.
As the two prepared to enter the conference room, Fayt took a sidelong glance at Maria and asked "Hey, are you tired?"
A preoccupied Maria replied "No, why?"
"Well," Fayt chuckled, "You've been running through my min-"
A swift elbow to the stomach rendered Fayt incapable of completing his sentence and he begrudingly entered and took a seat among his compatriots.
