Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Period.

I. A Good Laugh

It was quiet on the ship, such silence a mystery. Anticipating things that come, words that aren't spoken or just can't be heard. Hmmmm, almost careful, planned nothingness. Awful silence was. Navy it seemed, then indigo soon it would be black as most ends turn. He gazed at a sky without stars. Gazing was mostly looking at everything or nothing, it lacked specificity. Yet nothing without everything was something, but to fuss with some fancy explanation seemed rather pointless. Things existed because they did he was a strong believer in that. By the mourning they would be in Rabanastre, all that treasure in the palace made his heart sing, the melody a familiar tune with a syncopated rhythm and a staccato violin intensified at this moment, he could almost hear a trumpet, angels maybe using their little lungs to make his song of smiles. Why did he crave it, what did he need? Sauvé he was with decent digs and some lovely treasures and sure he had the gorgeous girl but really it was the adventure he craved…and maybe…He walked away from the window. Steps light to the floor but heavy in a mute room. He felt sentimental quite captivating yet nauseating, he paused hoping he would hear steps and she would tell him not to trouble himself with such vicarious thoughts. But she did not and he could not help but be disappointed. Disappointment was for the weak and the poor and the young, none of those things he was except maybe young depending how one looked at it.

He approached the cabins through their intermittent corridors. He absent mindedly ran his index finger up and down the lobe of his ears, one could say jaundice laced his throat and stuck to its walls like glue as his feet led him to his room. It was large, at the moment unhappily and unusually large, its enormous size disturbed him. Large enough really to fit four Humes comfortably but of course she liked her privacy. The leveret she was, choosing the small storage room beside it too make her space. He now scoffed at he careful words "This will suit just, I shall not intrude on your space". He fancied that memory just a bit now seeing himself slightly younger, hair admiringly longer and skin a little too tan stand with a determined face tell her repeatedly that his room was quite empty and put on his best pout with innocent eyes claiming to be a sad and lonely boy. They could tell each other tales and night. She just walked away not paying much mind to him "Silly boy, that will not be necessary". To think when he first met her he was not a day over eighteen, how time really does fly.

He had not been in Fran's room more then a few undoubtedly short times but from what he recalled it was quite plain, almost sad. He had never walked through her door unless asked. From the beginning the two established without trust their might as well be nothing between them. His room was a little more as he would say "Bright". Many jeweled chandeliers, trinkets gold coins and mystic herbs filled the room as well as upscale clothing with silver laced chains and bronze armor littered the floor. He looked into a grand mirror its glass just polished from its old location in a Countess's bathroom from Nalbina, the broader graciously lined with opals and sapphires. He smiled at his reflection, seducing himself. "Oh Balthier you are quite the Stallion". He could see her roll her eyes in her sleep. Oh funny she was, the most remarkable creature. At first he assumed she wasn't feeling well but then maybe she was just tired. After four years with her she still left him with more questions then he had begun with. Here she slept for only a mere two hours per night and this particular eve, she wishes to sleep at half past nine, almost comically strange. He let out a small vile snort which caused him to explode with a manic guffaw and before he knew it he unintentionally spun him self in a complete web of giggles. He could hardly breathe; he clutched his side in agony as he fell to his bed his laughter filling the air ship like frantic lapping waves. Aaaaaaaahh how refreshing, what fun to crave ones sound of joy. His body rattled, it frayed at its mere edges in fiery flames. The corners at his mouth begging for forgiveness, about to rip at their seems. The beauty of good humor astounded him, he could hardly stand himself. He laughed as loud as his lungs could handle the bones in constant torment ready to break like glass and it was gleeful. He had completely forgotten what had started this escapade and wasn't surprised when he found he didn't care.

"Balthier!!!!!!!!"

With that he fell off his bed into a ghastly lamp hitting his head on the corner of a gold painted table. His mouth open wide and dumb, his head throbbing. He could feel the vein pumping loudly in his skull, the noise devilish, his head would spilt in two he was sure of it. His chest panted rapidly and his lips were quite dry, legs in a tangle and arms still regaining feeling from the unexpected fall. He felt blood trickle above his right eyelid. Slightly helpless. All very unattractive.

And there she was. Beautiful, a Giselle. Lips pursed like baby tulips and nostrils flaring. Oh what desire he had for, the weakness so overwhelming! How ridiculously mad he felt, wonder filled his eyes, the left one, had begun to swell. So she had raised her voice, actually to correctly state it she had yelled at him. Loudly, fiery, full of anger, annoyance and emotion. Oh how marvelous.

She wore nothing but a pale grey bed sheet around her russet colored torso. He had once asked if all Viera slept in the nude. She had replied she preferred it, always clever how she never really answered his questions. Her white hair flew around her crazed, it had a mind of its own, floating. Her eyes were bulging, she looked enticingly psychotic. So unlike her to raise her voice. How admiringly odd he found it. He lusted for this new found beast.

And now the two gaze, locked hard. An unbroken caged forced field. Rancorous and divinely focused.

He knew she was waiting for him to speak. Her unexpected outburst seemed to have frightened her. She was to terror stricken and confused to say a word. She wanted to scold herself but she was not sure why. For someone who usually spoke laconically with careful syllables almost vigilant phrases she had more then baffled herself with her ardor hostility. But as always with her emotions she did well to mask her perplexity.

He decided it just might be a good idea to think before he spoke. Now to remind himself how to think oh yes it was something one does before one acts. Was he procrastinating or could he really not know what to say. His head was murder but he ignored it, this was far too intense and appetizing to ignore. But he must speak for there she was playing hard to get with fire and ice. Pools swimming with something false, it turned him on, strong feelings of amatory towards her. A statue, craved of elegance beyond imagination, in nothing but an old silk sheet and him in pain on the floor.

It could be interesting…

"Ferocity is quite lovely on you"