She dangled a small tube of henna ink before his nose. "Can I draw a picture on you?" she asked. "I promise it won't be a penis."
It wasn't the most reassuring of things she could possibly have said to him.
"What kind of picture?" he asked warily. She considered the question a moment before turning a brilliant smile on him.
"A kitty," she announced.
"A boy kitty?" he asked skeptically.
She frowned disapprovingly at him, choosing to ignore his inquiry. "I'm not really the most accomplished of artists," she said. "Kitties are about all I can draw."
"Well, then, why don't you practice on a piece of paper first," he suggested, snatching the tube of ink away from her. "I'll ink you up first. I'm a good artist."
"Okay." Placated, she dropped down onto the bed. "Pick a spot."
He looked her over briefly. "Your back," he decided, tapping the spot. He pressed her forward, and obediently she lay down flat on her stomach. He untied the string of her bikini top so it wouldn't be in the way, then rubbed the palm of one hand over her warm skin, trying to decide what he'd put there. It would last for weeks, so he had to make it good.
Finally, he pressed a small pin into the tip of the tube, ensuring a thin, evenly flowing line of ink. Then he set to work, meticulously painting smooth, clear lines. He had been at work for several minutes when she began to grow impatient.
"Is it done yet?"
"No," he said, "and it won't be anytime soon if you don't sit still." He slung a leg over her hips in an effort to keep her from wiggling.
"You're no fun," she sighed, resting her head on her folded arms.
"Quit it. This was your idea, anyway." He delicately painted another line on her back, just between her shoulder blades.
"Ouch! Would you be careful with that?"
He rolled his eye. "It's just henna. It doesn't hurt, so don't be such a baby. And I'm almost done, now, so be careful, okay?"
"It'll be pretty, though, right?" Her feet tapped an odd rhythm against the sheets in anticipation.
"Yeah, it'll be pretty." He slowly drew another thin line. "You won't be able to see it, though. On account of it being on your back and all."
"Yuna will describe it to me. Maybe I'll even get her to take a pictosphere of it!" Again she performed an excited little wriggle. He nipped her earlobe.
"You keep doing that and she won't be able to read it," he warned.
"Read?" There was a note of confusion in her voice. "I thought it was a picture."
Oops. He hadn't meant to give that much away. "I'm drawing a picture, too. I promise." He kissed the back of her neck. He made a few more careful strokes with the paste, and then set the nearly empty tube aside.
"Is it done? Is it done?"
"Yes and no." He helped her sit up. "It's got to dry for about thirty minutes to an hour. When it's done drying it'll start to flake off. We can't touch it before then, though, or it'll smear and you'll be stuck with a big blur across your back for a couple of weeks."
She grinned, turning against him. "I know something we could do to kill time," she suggested wickedly. And this time her wiggle hit him in all the right places.
He rolled onto his back, lifting her so she straddled his hips. "Guess you get to do the work this time," he said cheekily. "Since we can't have your ink smearing."
xxxxxxx
Rikku had been twitching with excitement all day, just waiting for Yuna to arrive so she could show off Gippal's handiwork. She was dying to see what he'd drawn, and as he'd been tightlipped on the matter, she'd been forced to wait for Yuna's arrival.
But she hadn't been at all prepared for the startled laughter that Yuna had released the moment Rikku had turned her back and demanded a description of her new body art.
Even Tidus had let out an uncharacteristic cackle as he'd gotten a good look at Rikku's back. Rikku had pouted while Yuna had frantically searched for a pictosphere in her efforts to immortalize the image.
Once the pictosphere had been taken, Yuna had promptly handed it over for Rikku's viewing pleasure.
The image that popped up had Rikku torn between indignation and helpless laughter.
In his bold, arrogant script he'd written across her back:
This Rikku belongs to Gippal of the Machine Faction.
If found, please return to Djose Temple.
And underneath, as promised, he'd drawn a tiny chain of hearts.
She had almost choked on her laughter.
"Why, that sneaky bastard!"
xxxxxxx
He could tell by her expression that she'd discovered his little declaration.
"Now, Rikku," he began soothingly, "it was just a harmless little prank."
"I'm sure it was." She advanced, smiling sweetly. He took a cautious step backward.
"We don't have any more henna," he reminded her, realizing she was probably revenge-minded at the moment. She twisted the lock on the bedroom door, effectively locking him in the room with her.
"It'll only last a few weeks," he said consolingly.
"Oh, I know." She withdrew a permanent marker from the pouch at her waist, grinning mischievously. "And so will this."
"I don't suppose you had a chance to improve your drawing skills?" He asked hopefully.
"Nope," she chirped cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to know I'm not all that interested in drawing a kitty anymore." She paused briefly, then let fall the fatal blow. "But I don't think you'll be too happy to hear what I will be drawing."
He tripped over the laundry hamper, falling backwards onto the bed, arms pin-wheeling desperately. She was on him before he'd recovered, straddling his waist and popping the lid off the marker.
"Am I going to be able to show my face in public when you're done getting revenge?" he inquired.
"Probably not." She shrugged. "But don't worry – I won't let a little thing like your public humiliation stop me." She leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose.
He sighed, resigned to his fate. "I was afraid of that."