Into the Night

by RipleyReprised

Balamb Garden is closing. What's a hardened SeeD to do? Get smashed with her friends and hope tomorrow never comes. What else?

1. Part One

Disclaimers etcetera: Everything you see below and in the proceeding chapters is owned by Square Enix Holdings Co., Ltd. I was inspired to write this based on a single line of dialogue. Bonus points for guessing which one it is.

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Part one

When Quistis enters Cid's office, it is with the somber knowledge it will be for the last time. Most of the contents have already been removed. The headmaster had taken all personal items with him before he departed Garden last week, about five minutes after the last student was picked up. All that remains now are file boxes and a stack of useless SeeD manuals heaped on the desk.

The back of her throat tightens. The minimal scene before her is so final. It hits her harder than the echoing halls outside. How many times has she stood at attention in front of this desk? How many nervous cadets and sweating SeeDs have saluted in this precise spot? It feels like such a short time ago when Cid whispered his congratulations in her ear, certain she was headed for great things. She hasn't cried once since the mandate came down. She is proud of this. The tears she feels threatening to slide under her eyelids now worry her. If she lets them come, they might never leave.

"Is that it?" A quiet voice calls from behind Quistis, and she jumps, startled. Already she is losing the awareness she honed as a SeeD. She wonders what will be next.

Before facing the intruder, she closes her eyes and allows herself a moment to compose her emotions. When she feels ready, she turns halfway around and spares the man in the doorway a nod.

"Yes, I think so. Everything is packed and ready for storage," she replies. The words don't wobble. She has not lost her discipline for artifice. "Will you be here tomorrow when the crew arrives?"

Squall grunts. Whether in assent or dissent she doesn't bother to analyze.

It doesn't really matter if anyone supervises the removal of the last of Balamb Garden's equipment, she knows. They are destined for a Galbadian basement, where they will mold and whither. A brief history discarded. Forgotten. Renounced. Right along with Quistis' purpose in life.

The two former SeeDs stand in silence, looking about the empty room. Quistis wishes Squall would leave so she could mourn. It seems she is only permitted solitude when it is the last thing she desires.

It is strange to see him out of uniform, she thinks. Even during the past few weeks when it no longer became necessary, he donned the Balamb black and blue. Perhaps, like her, it had been out of habit, part of the role he needed to keep playing. Today he is in off-duty leather. Mission complete.

Their awkwardness is interrupted by the ping of the elevator outside. Relieved, she turns and moves deeper into the room, as if she has something important to double-check. She doubts her behaviour will be questioned.

"Hey, hey, hey!" She hears her friend Selphie greet Squall. "It's so freaking quiet up here. I guess there's only, like, five of us left in the whole building, huh? Super weird."

Squall clears his throat. Quistis pictures him shifting from one hip to another while she pulls a stack of papers out of an open box. Flipping through them, she feigns fascination with old mission reports. Her handwriting is on the top of almost every form. The glasses she no longer needs to wear slide down her nose.

"Oh, wow! Cid's office is all empty. Kinda creepy, don't ya think?" Selphie continues. Quistis assumes Squall shrugs in response.

Operation Winhill Monster Clean-up fifty-eight-point-two, she reads from the title of a form. Mission names had become less and less secretive over time. Back when she'd first joined Garden they were given more creative names like Operation Starfish and Campaign Roundhouse. The growing lack of subtlety should have been a tip off to the changing winds. Two SeeDs assigned, she reads further down the page, three cadets. Twenty three confirmed kills reported. The date by the signature is six months old.

"Do you need any help, Quisty?" asks the other female.

Quistis takes her time glancing up from the document in her hands. Selphie shimmies in the entranceway, Irvine's hat slanted over her reddish-brown hair. Squall stands a short distance away, one hip jutting out, just as Quistis knew it would be. He is facing toward the door so she can't gauge his expression but she suspects there is nothing to read there regardless.

"No, thank you. I just have a few things to finish up." Pushing her glasses back into place, she forces herself to smile. "Maybe I will catch up with you later?" The question hangs.

"What do you mean 'later'?" says Selphie. Her nose wrinkles as she frowns, and she stops dancing to fist her small hands at her hips. Leaning forward, she does her best impression of a glare. "We are all going out to get smashed tonight, right? Like... As soon as possible?"

"Uh..." Quistis begins, looking to Squall for help. It is a fruitless attempt as he is busy examining the fingers of his gloves. "I don't believe I'd heard of these plans. I'm not sure I'm up for something so intense." She tries to colour her tone with regret. "Perhaps we can get together for breakfast in the morning instead?"

Selphie is not put off by the other woman's obvious, and likely anticipated, reluctance. She stamps her foot and attempts a little jig. "C'moooon. It's gonna be a blasty blast! One last blow-up. Squall is even up for it, aren't you?"

As if he feels the force of Quistis' gaze swinging in his direction, Squall looks up from the seamline along his thumb to read the unasked question in her eyes. He shrugs in apology. To Selphie, he says, "yeah, sure, whatever." He waves his hand in front of his face. "But Rin and I can't stay long. We have an early flight."

"Woo hoo!" Selphie cheers and hops in victory, one fist in the air. "See, Quisty? You HAVE to come now. The Commander says so." She wags a finger at the other female. "It's your final duty."

Considering Quistis' plans for the evening revolve around curling into a ball of self-pity in her shared room with Xu at the Balamb Hotel she is not sure club-hopping will fit into her hectic agenda. Knowing Selphie, a quick drink at the hotel lounge is not the younger woman's definition of a 'blow-up'. Her brain works to think of a viable excuse to bow out. All of her standard options of paperwork and mission preparations are no longer valid.

She is saved from answering right away by another ping of the lift. Not long after, Irvine saunters into the office with the much shorter Xu close behind. Both are in civilian clothing. There is not an epaulette or starched collar to be seen. With three people now clustered at the room entrance, Quistis feels her shoulder muscles tense beneath her stiff uniform jacket. It all feels far too much like an intervention. Her hopes for seclusion vanish. In a building this large, with so few inhabitants left, one would expect it easier than this to hide.

"So," Irvine says, lifting his hands and smiling at everyone in the room in turn. "Are we ready to make some tracks and leave this dusty ol' museum behind?" His sparkling eyes land on Quistis. At her returning glare of suspicion, his grin widens.

Quistis holds back a sigh. Is she the only one not in a hurry to leave Balamb Garden? She drops the sheath of papers she is still holding back into the file box.

"Not so fast, Kinneas," Xu replies. "I have one final mission assignment for all of you." Dark eyes gleaming, she pulls a folder out of the inside pocket of her red suede jacket. Flipping it open, she reads the title in her usual strident, professional manner. "Official Balamb Garden Mission five five four six. Operation Get Quistis Trepe Hammered."

"Yeah!" Selphie whoops, leaping into the air once more. She points a finger at Quistis who is too busy glaring at Xu to pay attention to her antics. "No getting out of it now, Quisty!" Giggling, she turns to Irvine and exchanges a high five. "Best. Mission. Ever."

"Very funny," says Quistis. "Really creative, even. But I believe we were all permanently off-duty as of sixteen hundred hours today, and it is now..." She glances at her watch and smiles. "sixteen-oh-eight." This acknowledgement of the time causes a lurch behind her ribcage. She is officially no longer a SeeD.

"Perhaps," Xu allows with a shallow incline of her dark head, cutting into Quistis' spiraling thoughts. "But technically this mission was in effect the moment Cid signed off on it. Meaning it was assigned almost a week ago, while we all had full SeeD status."

Ignoring the growing desolation in the cavern of her stomach, Quistis narrows her eyes and strides across the room. She slips the file out of Xu's hand, assuming she will find a blank piece of paper inside. Much to her amazement, the folder contains a full mission brief, complete with a list of necessary resources, map of all the bars in Balamb, and required timelines. The headmaster's familiar signature flows across the bottom corner of the last page.

"You-you actually got him to sign it," she stutters, shifting her gaze to Xu's smirking face. "Unbelievable. I don't even know what to say. You are..." Her voices trails, and she shakes her head.

"A freaking genius?" Selphie fills in. She loops her arm through Quistis' and pulls her toward the elevator. "Time to party! Cid's orders!"

"Squall?" Quisits calls as Xu nabs her other arm. Her tone borders on desperate. "A little help?"

The lift doors open, and the two women escort her inside. Their grips hold firm to her upper arms. Short of martial arts, there is no chance of breaking free.

The two men follow them into the car. Squall looks at Quistis and raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Quistis. If Cid signed it, there's nothing I can do."

Is he actually smiling, Quistis wonders, stunned. She must have imagined it, she tells herself. Squall never smiles and certainly would not do so at such a ludicrous situation. Still, when she glances at him again before he turns to push the button for the main floor, she swears she spies a slight twitch in his upper lip. She lays the top of her head against the back wall of the elevator car. Fantastic.

Her arms remain in the possession of her friends all the way down the main hall, but her captors finally relent by the time they arrive at the parking garage. Quistis had hoped she would have some time alone to wander the halls, exhume old ghosts, before she left the building for good. Apparently, her friends will not be allowing her this last respite. As soon as they enter the car park, Xu scuttles Quistis over to her SUV, gives her no choice but to slide into the passenger seat, and then shuts the door in her face.

More than a little irritated, Quistis keeps her arms folded over her chest and her mouth shut during most of the drive into town where their personal items are waiting for them at the hotel. She had fought Xu earlier in the week over the sensibility of staying in Balamb for their last night when there was perfectly acceptable, and empty, space in Garden. The extra expense seemed unnecessary. Now it was becoming clear why Xu had insisted everyone leave.

"Don't pout, Quis," admonishes Xu, breaking the silence as she steers through the town gates. "You might even enjoy yourself."

Quistis sits up in her seat and straightens her shoulders. "I'm not pouting. I just don't appreciate being manhandled and ignored, like I don't have a right to boundaries or personal autonomy."

"Bullshit. You're upset because I stopped you from mooning around Garden all night feeling depressed and sorry for yourself."

Quistis knows this is true, though she isn't going to admit it out loud. In her head it sounds more like reflection than mooning. She wants to have some time alone in the space that had been her home for over a decade - time to say goodbye. It is hard for her to understand why this is wrong. She thought that this might be what she needs to move on, that letting herself brood might help her make a decision.

Everything is racing forward faster than she feels safe to drive. All of her friends and colleagues seemed to made plans for new lives without a second thought. It isn't so easy for her to move on. SeeD, and moving up the ranks in SeeD, was her sole ambition. She can't think how anything or anywhere could be a replacement for Garden.

"I'm worried about you," says Xu, pulling the oversized vehicle under the narrow car port of the hotel's entranceway. She turns off the ignition and faces her friend. "I only did it because I care."

Quistis raises her eyebrows and cocks her head. "You've assigned a mission to pour alcohol down my throat because you're concerned for my well-being?"

"Exactly!" With a grin, Xu leans forward and tugs on Quistis' uniform tie. "We need to get you out of that hideous thing and into some real clothes. It's only a short while before we'll be in Galbadian dress. Time to be a little wild while we still have our freedom."

Winking, Xu rotates toward the open driver's side door, where a valet hovers, and hops outside. Somehow, she manages the make the small jump appear athletic and efficient. After handing her car keys to the hopeful teenager, Xu waits for Quistis to join her in front of the sparkling doors of Balamb's premier hotel. The moment Quistis' boot touches the red tiles of the entranceway, Xu is off again, forging past the doorman and forcing the other woman to rush after her, notwithstanding her much longer legs. As if she can ward off any further protest with pure kinetic energy, Xu keeps her movements brisk and maintains a steady monologue as they make their way to their room on the sixth floor.

For her part, Quistis' brain captures less than a dozen words. She had stopped listening the moment her friend mentioned Galbadia Garden. The desperate anxiety of the previous ten hours now churned into something even less pleasant: guilt. She realizes that Xu believes they will be working at the military institution together. It explains a bit of why her friend has not been as bothered as she by Balamb's closure. Trying to smile when Xu chuckles beside her in the glass elevator, Quistis struggles to pay attention. When they exit the lift, she watches her progress ahead of her down the bright corridor. The forced curve in her lips falls away and she dawdles behind, pretending to re-button her jacket.

It is likely best to tell Xu as soon as possible that she has not yet accepted Galbadia's offer of an instructorship. In truth, she hasn't accepted any offers. Not only is Quistis without SeeD status, she is without a job. Xu will not be pleased.

It isn't as though she hasn't been headhunted. Soon after Garden's closure was made public, she received many generous offers, including from the President of Esthar, the Duke of Dollet, Trabia Garden, the soon-to-be-formed Balamb Academy, and even the Community Council of Winhill. The only region from which she didn't receive an offer letter was Timber. Seeing as the territory is under Galbadian martial law and has fewer resources than Centra, she doesn't expect one any time soon.

When she reaches the door of their shared suite, Xu has already blown inside. Employing one last stalling technique, Quistis adjusts the clip holding back her hair. She smooths her hands down the sides of her skirt in an effort to calm herself then enters the room, taking the time to swing the door shut behind her.

Xu is nowhere to be seen in the main area of the suite, which is really closer to an apartment with a wide living space and two bedrooms with full bathrooms. It is much plusher than any hotel room in which Quistis slept as a SeeD. She is glad Xu suggested they indulge themselves. After the grueling few months spent dismantling Garden, and their lives, luxury is welcome.

Sinking into a sofa, Quistis focuses on the view of the ocean on the other side of the glass that is the west wall of the living room. She tips her head back and closes her eyes. She isn't sure she will want to move ever again.

"How would you like to start?" Xu's sharp voice slices through her thoughts like a cleaver through a bone. Quistis opens her eyes to see several bottles thrust in her face. 'Vodka, whisky, or wine? I can also get room service to bring up some gin, if you prefer. Maybe vermouth? I can make martinis."

For the first time all day, Quistis finds herself laughing. The sight of her friend's gleeful expression and her skilful fingers dangling four large bottles of alcohol puts her at ease.

This is Xu in her most comfortable form. Other than a few intimate friends, no one at Garden would have believed Xu had a casual side, let alone that she could mix a cocktail better than any bartender Quistis had ever seen - while matching him or her pour for pour as well. The older woman's position at Garden had required extreme professionalism and strict adherence to protocol. It was but a lucky few who got to know her informal and less aggressive traits. Quistis considers herself both fortunate and unfortunate to be familiar with all of them.

"Hyne, Xu," she says, still giggling. She pushes the bottles out of her face and stands. "I thought we were going out to drink. Are you in that much of a hurry?"

"It's called pre-drinking, Trepe. Honestly. You'd think you received no education at all," scolds Xu, with a sorrowful shake of her head. She walks over to the bar at the back of the room and plunks down the bottles before swiveling back around. "So? What'll it be? If you don't tell me, you have to drink whatever I make you."

"Ugh! Fine, whatever," Quistis acquiesces. There is never a point in arguing. She resigns herself to a very exhausting night. "I don't care. Just let me shower first, please. I'm covered in dust and something that smells like dehydrated grat organs."

Quistis does her best to extend her cleansing ritual for as long as possible but less than twenty minutes later she is standing in her bedroom staring at the few clothes she'd brought with her from Garden. All of her other clothes had been Garden-issue and did not belong to her. As per the ordinance that was mandated when the shutdown was announced, all objects owned by Garden were to be destroyed by Garden. No SeeD, cadet, or staff member was permitted a single memento. Security reasons were cited, future liabilities; Balamb Garden was to cease to exist. The fact that she'd worn her uniform outside of the institution this afternoon put her in violation of the rules.

Quistis decides she doesn't give a damn.

The paltry selection laying on the king-size hotel bed is the only clothing that remains in her possession: a skirt, a pair of dark jeans, a pair of black slacks, a red dress Rinoa gave her for her birthday that is far too short at both ends, a handful of tops, and a hooded sweatshirt. She figures none of these items will impress Xu, unless one includes the dress, which she does not.

She settles on the jeans and a loose, short-sleeved blouse. Paired with a leather jacket, she hopes the outfit is suitable for the Balamb bar scene. Besides, this permits her to wear her favourite pair of boots. Unadorned, low-heeled, and customised at a specialty shop in Dollet, Quistis wears the tall dragon leather boots as often as possible. So much so that this is actually her third pair. With her long legs, it was always difficult to find a pair that hit just the right height below her knee. The Dolletian cobbler provided her with the perfect fit she's never found anywhere else. They are practical and comfortable, she reasons, and suit any SeeD activity, worth the high price tag. She doesn't care what snarky comment Xu might make.

When she looks in the mirror after sliding them on over her jeans, she almost feels like herself. The boots give her hope and renew her confidence. Perhaps there is a chance that there are parts of her not hinging on being a SeeD.

Xu hands her a martini glass filled with a brilliant blue liquid when she emerges from the bedroom. If the other woman doesn't agree with her sartorial selections, she doesn't say anything. She gives Quistis a smile and offers a toast with her highball glass. "To the first day of the rest of our lives." The amber liquid stirs as she plinks the rims of the glasses together.

Quistis nods and takes a sip, something sweet and sour fills her mouth. "I'll drink to that."

It's another drink and another hour before they prepare to meet the rest of the group. Clad in all black with a pair of heels that make Quistis' calves tingle, Xu scrutinizes her friend's appearance. The outfit can't be helped, she determines, but she chastises Quistis for not doing something better with her hair.

"Let it down for once, will you? It makes you look like a nervous cadet when you wear it like that with civilian clothes. And ditch the glasses. You know you don't need them."

"I do need them," Quistis defends. "I use them to read."

"What kind of reading are you expecting to do tonight?" asks an exasperated Xu. She shakes her head, her cropped hair brushing along sharp cheekbones. "Never mind. Don't answer that. You are the one person I could see pulling out a textbook in the middle of a dance floor."

"Give me some credit," replies Quistis, unfastening the clip from her hair with reluctance. She shakes out the thick blond tresses and makes a face at herself in the mirror. "I would never read a textbook on the dance floor. That environment is more suited to modern novel, don't you think?"

Xu's laughter is a burst of pure mirth. She throws her arm around her friend's shoulder and grins at their reflections. "We are going to have the best time tonight." She kisses Quistis on the cheek with a smack then releases her to stride toward the door. "Let the games begin!"

As it is early summer, the tapering streets of Balamb are filled with tourists stopping to take photographs and peruse menus posted outside seaside cafes and bistros. In spite of her footwear, Xu has no trouble navigating the eager and unobservant crowds and leads the way to the agreed upon restaurant. The group had figured they'd start at a new hotspot then move on as the night guided them.

It isn't difficult to locate the right place. The moment she spots them strolling toward the sandstone building, Rinoa lets out a joyful shriek and beckons with a vigorous wave as she and Squall walk toward the iron doors from the opposite direction. The woman's dark hair reflects the glowing light of the setting sun behind her. Squall ambles at her side, hands shoved in the pockets of his black leather coat. He looks weary, but that is nothing new.

"Bloody hell," mutters Xu to Quistis as they make their way over. "We did not pre-drink enough for this."

Qustis chuckles in agreement, glad she is not alone in her discomfort. Yet, the quip helps her to smile without reservation with Rinoa dashes forward to squeeze her a in tight hug.

"It is so good to see you! Feels like forever! I am so so glad you came," says the younger girl before releasing her. "You look fantastic, by the way. I love your hair like that, and that jacket is gorgeous."

"Thank you," Quistis replies, touched more than usual. "It's great to see you as well." Her smile deepens. Rinoa's warmth is genuine and disarming.

Though their personalities differ on multiple levels, Quistis has always admired Rinoa's natural ability to charm and inspire. The younger woman seems to know how to make everyone feel valued without any effort at all. It took Quistis a while after meeting her to recognize her open disposition for what it is. With a strict military background, she had a hard time understanding how someone could be so authentic and passionate without reservation. At times, Rinoa's quickfire emotional responses grated. Now, Quistis is grateful for the opportunity to appreciate such a rare perspective in her small world.

Xu's eyebrows raise when Rinoa favours her with a hug as well but she says nothing, and Quistis hides a smile. It takes a determined sort of extrovert to ignore the seasoned veteran's well-sharpened prickles.

"You also look fabulous, but you always do. Thank you so much for coming," Rinoa compliments Xu with more restraint than she lent Quistis. She gestures to the imposing black metal doors. "Let's go inside! We have so much to talk about." Looping her arm through Xu's, she leads the way, giving Quistis and Squall no choice but to follow in her energetic wake.

Squall nods his hello as he holds open the door, shoving his hair out of his eyes. Quistis isn't slighted by his reticence. They have spent a lot of time in each other's company the past while. He likely assumes pleasantries are not necessary. Still, as they wait in the confined entryway for the hostess to appear, listening to Rinoa and Xu make small talk, Quistis feels obligated to strike up some sort of conversation.

"Are you and Rinoa flying back to Deling in the morning?" she asks, tucking a heavy lock of hair behind an ear.

"No. Esthar," is Squall's low response. He shifts onto one hip. "We're returning Ragnarok."

"Oh, that's right. Are you staying awhile before heading to Galbadia? It would be wonderful to see Ellone again," Quistis continues, craning her neck to try to see around Xu. It appears the hostess remains absent from the reception area.

"We're not going to Galbadia. My fath- the President has offered me a position in Esthar."

This statement got Quistis' attention. "Really?" She frowns and speaks without thinking. "Do you think that's wise?"

"The President has assured us of his protection." It comes out as a sigh, as if he'd been anticipating an argument.

Quistis holds Squall in her gaze, forgetting they might be overheard in her concern. "I'm sure he has, but Esthar still has a very anti-Sorceress policy, domestically and internationally. Not to mention the close presence of Odine lurking in every corner. I know Deling isn't ideal but it's a much safer option. Don't forget what happened the last time the Estharian government had Rinoa in its power."

Deep lines appear between Squall's eyebrows. "Things are different now."

"I really hope so." Quistis is about to say more when they are jostled by departing customers.

She swings her upper body to the right to prevent a large shoulder from smacking her in the face. As she moves, she sees Squall bend to avoid an errant elbow jutting into his stomach. As a third oblivious member of the unfamiliar party passes waving his arms in the air, the former SeeDs duck in concert. For her part, Quistis extends a foot, toppling the man into the metal bar between the open doors. His startled cry has Squall turning to her with a nod of approval. She inclines her head in reply, grateful she escaped wearing heels.

Moments later, Rinoa turns around and gestures that their table is ready. Something else to be grateful for, Quistis thinks.

Upon entering the wide, modern interior, she discovers the restaurant is really more of a bar than a place she'd anticipate finding a memorable meal. The walls are black, decorated only with long silver mirrors. The tables are also black, paired with silver stools. The music is electric, but low. Given the early hour, and the increasing vibe, she expects this will change. As will the number of diners, Quistis muses while gazing around. There are already quite a few milling at the high tables in sizable quantities.

While a SeeD, she prided herself on adapting to any situation she encountered while executing a mission, whether in brothels or penthouses owned by aristocrats – more often than not the two weren't mutually exclusive. Off-duty Quistis, apparently, is less resilient. It is not the sort of environment in which she would choose to find herself on a typical evening. A quiet corner pub with hidden alcoves is a lot more her style. This place is an airy warehouse, with a false sort of glitz that is more suited to Deling than Balamb. The large space could fill a banquet of hundreds. No doubt the cocktail prices will make her choke. She wishes she had ignored Xu and worn her glasses. It would be nice to have some armour.

They reach a high table in the middle of the room, and Rinoa says a few words to the young hostess, nodding with satisfaction. Xu exchanges a glance with Quistis and tilts her head toward the bar with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, letting her friend know she is already in need of a round.

"Drinks, anyone?" Xu asks before they all sit down. "I want to befriend the bartender, make sure he doesn't send over watered-down swill."

"I'll come with you," offers Squall, running a gloved hand through his too-long dark hair. "The usual, Rin?"

"Yes, please." Rinoa smiles at her boyfriend then watches him walk over to the bar area behind Xu before sliding up onto a low-backed stool with more grace than Quistis has ever observed in the younger woman.

Once the two are gone, Rinoa leans forward in her seat. "It really is good to see you again, Quisty. I missed everyone a lot when I was stuck in Deling. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here to help close Garden." The long silver necklace she wears taps against the metal table.

"It's okay. You were better off, I've no doubt." Quistis tries to relax back on her own stool but finds it impossible to do so without tumbling off. "Though, we've missed you as well. Your optimism was sorely needed. Squall says you are heading to Esthar tomorrow?"

"Yes, thank the gods. As far away from that man as possible," answers Rinoa with a little shudder. "I am so glad Squall accepted Laguna's job offer. I really hope this is a chance for him to get to know his father better."

"Yes, it's lovely he will be close to his family," Qusitis begins. She gives up on the idea of comfort and hooks her feet into the bottom rung of the tall chair. She supposes the stools at least force one to maintain good posture. "Do you think you will like living there?" The question is hesitant. She knows she needs to tread with extreme caution.

"Absolutely!" Rinoa beams, tucking back her hair and showing off her long, sparkling earrings. "Just think of the shopping opportunities. It's exciting to be starting fresh somewhere new, don't you think?"

Before Quistis can respond, Squall and Xu return to the table, both carrying two glasses each. As the young man sets down his pair and slides the one containing an enticing red liquid over to Rinoa, she grabs his hand in hers.

"Laguna is super nice and letting us stay with him and Ellone in the palace until we can find our own place. I really can't wait." Rinoa smiles up at Squall and he, almost, smiles back before sitting down next to her. As much as he is capable of smiling in public anyway.

Xu doesn't say anything as she sets a glass down in front of Quistis. The expression on her face, however, speaks for her, and Quistis has to bite her lip to keep her from snorting into laughter. She turns back to Rinoa to reply to her happy comment, then reconsiders.

It is a touchy subject. Squall has never been interested in her opinion on personal matters and she doubts he cares much for her advice now. She knows her words of warning in the entryway did not go over well. The last thing she wants to do is offend, and she is hardly one who can place judgment, given her own situation. However, she also can't deny her concern and would feel worse if she didn't say anything at all. Quistis looks to Xu again for support. The other woman, unfortunately, is gazing around the restaurant, making it clear she is uninterested in the conversation.

Taking a sip of her drink, which tastes exactly like its colour - purple, Quistis faces the young couple with a smile. "It definitely sounds like you've got everything all planned out. I take it you aren't worried about the potential challenges?"

"No worse than Deling," Squall cuts in. He takes a sip of the clear liquid in his glass while shooting a glance at Rinoa. "She's locked up in her father's house there."

"I'm not worried at all," says Rinoa, before Squall has a chance to add anything further. She squeezes his arm and diverts his stare toward Quistis. "It's just like I told that man." She makes a face. "Squall will be there, and his father with his entire military. You'll even be there too, right Quisty? I couldn't be more protected!"

"Wait, what?" At last, Xu's attention snaps back to the discussion. She spins on her stool and rests her palms against the edge of the table. "Quistis isn't going to Esthar. She's going to G Garden," she corrects, fine brows meeting over her nose.

"Oh." Rinoa darts a surprised glance at Squall, who sits back in his seat in his own mild gesture of confusion. "Squall told me that Laguna offered you a position in the Presidential Guard. Is that not true?"

Three sets of eyes swivel to Quistis. She feels the adiposity of their expectation and consternation settle on her forehead. Biting the inside of her cheek, she brushes back her hair and sits tall on the stool as she tries to think of the most diplomatic response to the sudden interrogation. To her heavy relief, she is saved from answering by a high-pitched trill beckoning behind Rinoa's back.

"Woooo-hooooo! Let's get this party started! Selphie and Irvy have arrived!" Selphie rushes up to their table with her much taller boyfriend strolling not too far behind. She does a few spins to show off the flowing sparkle of her gauzy yellow dress. Rinoa and Quistis rise to applaud and admire as obliged.

"Oh my gosh, you guys," Selphie exclaims, reaching up with both arms to hug the two taller women at the same time. "I am so sorry we are so late. Argh! It's all Irvy's fault."

"Naturally," replies Quistis. She pulls back from the embrace and gives the offending male a wink. "We assumed as much."

He grins in response and slides onto the stool beside Xu. "Sorry all. I just couldn't decide what shoes to wear."

"Actually?" Selphie goes on, hands on her hips while she surveys the group to ensure she has everyone's focus. "It's Zell's fault more than anything."

"Zell?" Rinoa asks, slipping back into her seat and patting the chair beside her to invite Selphie to jump up. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I have no freaking clue," declares Selphie, dumping her evening bag on the table in front of her. "As soon as we got here he ran off with a waitress somewhere. No idea what's gotten into that boy's head."

"Really?" Quistis laughs, taken aback. She leans over the table to look at Irvine. "What's that about? Is he channelling his inner Kinneas?"

"Apparently? He says that now he's not a SeeD and doesn't have to be a – how did he put it, sweetie?"

"A 'Pilar of the Community," answers Irvine, leaning back on his stool with a toss of his long ponytail.

"Right," Selphie goes on. "Now that he doesn't have to be a 'Pilar of the Community' he is throwing aside his morals and getting some action before the night is over." She lifts her hands and widens her perfectly lined eyes. "Don't. Ask. Me."

Quistis is baffled. "Good luck to him, I suppose."

Evidently bored with the discussion, Xu seems unable to resist teasing her former colleague. She cocks her head and watches Squall with pure impishness. When he looks away to murmur something to his girlfriend, she picks up the glass in front of him and takes a sip.

"Bleeech, what is this? Club soda? Plain club soda?" Wrinkling her nose, she pushes the glass back at him. "Oh, Leonhart, you are such a sad case."

Squall turned his head to glare. "I told you, we have an early flight. I don't want to be hungover."

"Right, sure. Whatever you say." Xu rolls her eyes and dismisses him to address Quistis. "Somebody is afraid of finding out he actually has a personality underneath all that leather."

As if sensing things could turn ugly, Rinoa laughs at the older woman's teasing. "Hey, that's not fair. Squall has a personality. It just can't always keep up with him."

Squall shifts his glare over to his girlfriend, tension working in his stiffened jaw, as Xu and several other members of the party snicker.

Rinoa gives him a playful smile in reply then rubs his shoulder. "Sorry, babe. I couldn't resist. You don't have to drink to prove anything to me."

"Fine," he concedes on a long sigh. He stands and shoves his hands in his coat pockets. "Can I get anyone else something?" The question is directed to the wall.

"Don't they have table service here?" asks Selphie, glancing around. The seats on both sides of their table have filled in the short time that has passed since they sat down.

Rinoa nods. "They sure do. But we haven't seen anyone come by yet."

"I'd like something green, please!"

Squall looks at Selphie with one brow raised. "Green?"

"I like to colour code my drinks."

"I'll join you," Irvine tells Squall, rising. "I want to make sure you don't wuss out again, ya teetotaler."

When the two have left, Selphie perches next to Rinoa with her sandaled feet dancing in the air above the rung. She leans forward on her elbows, the table high on her petite torso. "So. What did I miss?"

"I believe," Xu drawls, taking the last swallow of her drink then nudging the glass away. "We were inquiring as to Quistis' future employment." She appraises the woman next to her. Quistis feels rather than sees the calculating focus of her gaze.

There will be no escaping without an explanation.

"What do you mean?" Selphie tilts her head. "Quisty's coming with me n' Irvy to Trabia, isn't she?" Allowing her body to angle into Rinoa's space, she steals a sip of the other woman's drink while dodging her joking attempts to knock her away. "I saw the offer letter from the Headmaster. He was pretty stoked."

"Trabia?" A loud and familiar voice calls over the growing buzz from the other customers. Three heads flick up to where Zell stands at the end of the table, chest thrust out, hands on his hips. Even in the odd shadows cast by the glittering chandelier above their heads, Quistis spies a ragged cut lining his bare cheek. "I thought you were staying with me in Balamb." It was the voice of a wounded puppy.

"Um..." she begins, feeling inelegant and exposed with so many of her friends staring at her. The gurgle of guilt returns to her stomach. She resists the urge to fidget like a child and lifts her chin. "Given so many generous offers, I actually haven't quite decided yet."

The table remains silent. Now Quistis does fidget. She crosses her legs and bites her lip, unable to meet anyone in the eye.

"Menus?" Another voice cuts in, more irritated and abrupt than the last. A young woman, who Quistis presumes to be their server, tosses several clipboards on the table. Curling her bright purple lip in Zell's direction, she stomps away and disappears into the crowd around the bar.

"Wow," says Selphie, eyes wide. "I hope she's not expecting a tip."

Rinoa appears to smother a smile. "The food here is supposed to be amazing, even if the service isn't. The head chef owns two really popular restaurants in Deling. This is her first attempt at casual fare."

After watching the server depart, Zell sighs and lifts himself onto the seat beside Selphie. Like hers, his feet dangle high above the floor.

"What happened to your face, Dincht?" asks Xu, jerking her chin in the defeated-looking man's direction. As she does so, she also pokes a finger into Quistis' thigh, a warning that their interrupted conversation is not over.

"I assume it's the outcome of his attempt to 'hit it and quit it," Squall speaks up in a wry voice, approaching the table with another glass in his hand, the liquid as suspiciously clear as the last.

Everyone laughs, more related to the unexpected words coming out of the former commander's mouth than any humour at Zell's expense. Still, Quistis watches as Rinoa gives Squall a warning glance and nudges his arm with her shoulder.

"Dude has no game," says Irvine, after handing Selphie a glass filled with a fizzy cocktail the alarming colour of chartreuse. He lazes back into his seat across from her at the table.

"Hey!" Zell protests. He punches a fist on the table and glares at the other male. "I have game. I'm just out of practice, that's all. Unlike you, I was trying to be a good role model to the cadets."

"I don't know, Zell. From what I've seen of your 'game', it's mostly pretty creepy," says Selphie. She scrunches her nose and shudders. "The way you were stalking that poor library girl? You totally give women the heebie-jeebies."

Before he is able to lash out at the brunette in retaliation, most likely with violence, Rinoa leans over the table to send him a sympathetic smile. "I think what Selphie means is that sometimes you might come on too strong. Maybe instead of worrying about 'game' you should try befriending the woman you are interested in."

"It wouldn't hurt," Xu comments. "Women know when all you want is sex."

"Hey, some women are into that," says Irvine, stretching his arms above his head.

"Indeed," she agrees, a smile curving her lips. "But not the kind of women Dincht has a chance with."

The skin of Zell's neck is an ugly shade of red. He now has both fists on the table. "I'll take that as an insult."

Irvine smiles, adjusting his hat. "And I'll take it as a compliment."

"You're both wrong," corrects Quistis. She rolls her eyes at Irvine then holds Zell within a steady gaze. "Rinoa makes an excellent point. Women are much more likely to be responsive if you treat them like fellow human beings and come from a place of respect."

Zells hands unclench, and he scratches the back of his head. "I respect women. Don't I respect all of you?"

"Sure, Zelly!" Selphie pipes up. "Because you're not trying to sleep with us. But when you try to hit on someone you get all weird and send out really icky, creepo vibes."

"As soon as you see a woman as an object instead of as a person." Quistis reiterates and the other three females at the table nod in agreement. She crosses her legs and lifts a hand. "I think you'll find this addvice will prevent future face-slapping incidents."

Mouth open and head cocked, Zell ponders the insight. "Huh," is all he emits as he crumples his face into an expression of deep thought. Irvine snickers at him from across the table but the other man doesn't seem to notice.

It is Rinoa who then re-takes control of the group and asks if they would all like to order food. Selphie dives for the nearest menu like a ravenous Torama and starts listing off every item that appeals to her empty stomach. In other words, every single item written on the legal-sized piece of paper, along with witty personal commentary, of course.

"Hmm, what does everyone think of beef tataki? It comes with a ponzu butter sauce. No idea what ponzu is. Sounds yummy! But fish roe? Isn't that kinda gross? I don't know... Maybe the short ribs would be better? Or the spin dip? But that is soooo eight years ago. How about pot stickers? I had the ones at Local 27 and they were dee-licious. I think I ate at least 18."

"Holy Hyne, Selphie, could you be any more annoying? Please, please stop talking," pleads Zell, grabbing another menu. "Do you think they have hot dogs?"

Beyond bored with the direction of the dialogue, Xu slips off her stool and angles her head back toward the bar. "As the service here is less than stellar, it seems I will have to get my own drink re-fill. Would anyone else like anything?

"I'll have a beer, thanks."

"Another cosmo, please."

"Anyone else? Leonhart?" The name is drawled with elongated vowels.

"I'll come with you," Quistis offers, standing. She rolls her shoulders. "I could use a walk."

They are steps away when Quistis hears Zell growl, "The hell is HE doing here?" She is about to turn back to see to whom her friend is referring when she is interrupted by Xu.

"I don't know how you do it, Quis. Individually, fine, but as a group? Fuck. Especially when you get Dincht and Tilmitt together. Bloody hell," Xu is saying as they dodge a hustling server. Her navigation of the gathering crowd is masterful. It is as if people shift aside on instinct. A space at the bar materializes the moment she arrives.

"They can be loud, yes," allows Quistis, squeezing in next to her friend. "But they are family. When you know people your whole life you forgive their faults. As they forgive mine."

"Fair enough." Xu taps her fingers on the black granite counter as she tries to catch the attention of a bartender. Making eye contact with a red-haired man currently muddling mint leaves, she smiles and signals him over. Her smile vanishes and eyes narrow, however, when she turns back to her friend. "Hopefully not everyone you've known your whole life."

"What do you mean?" Quistis asks, confused by the abrupt change in her friend's demeanour. She is having a difficult time focusing. It is hard for her to conceptualize the idea that she won't be returning to her quiet Garden dorm once the night is over. For all intents and purposes, she is homeless. Without place, without vocation, and without a plan. While she had known this day was coming, she had not thought she would feel so adrift. Far from helping her make a decision, the aimless floating sweeps her further out to sea.

Xu rolls her eyes and juts her chin to indicate the source of her ire to Quistis' left. If possible, the shorter woman's eyes slit even further, and a sneer mars the smooth lines of her face. Bewildered, Quistis rotates on a flat booted heel and finds herself staring at the profile of the last person she would expect to see at a place like this.

"Seifer." The name comes out before she can stop herself.

The man looks over at the sound of her voice and does a double-take. Despite standing right beside her, he clearly hadn't anticipated seeing her there either. He looks out of place against the modernist backdrop of the bar, the way he always has to her in any location that isn't a field site or battle ground. In a long black jacket and snug-fitting t-shirt, he certainly plays the part of normal guy at a trendy club well. If it wasn't for the angry scar on his forehead, he might even get away with it.

"Instructor," he acknowledges, relaxing against the bar. Crossing his arms over his wide chest, he leans forward to whisper in her ear. "Blink three times if you're here against your will."

Without thinking, Quistis laughs, causing Seifer's eyebrows to lift. She shifts her hair out of her eyes and lends him a teasing smile. "Why, are you going to rescue me from my evil captors?"

"Hell, no!" Seifer snorts. "More like buy them a drink. Anyone capable of kidnapping you and getting you into a bar is someone I'm not fucking with." He drags his languid gaze down her body in as obvious a manner as he can get away with. When his eyes travel back up to meet hers they are amused. "I should've known it was you. I'd recognize that ass anywhere. Come here often?" His smirk switches on at full power, right on cue.

Quistis decides to ignore his typical disgusting behaviour. He only does it to get a rise out of her anyway. She hears Xu speaking with the bartender behind her and straightens her shoulders. It won't kill her to play nice for a little while.

"How have you been?" she asks. "I thought we'd see you this morning at breakfast."

"Oh yeah, right, that's my fucking scene. Eating week-old eggs and getting all butt hurt over the end of Garden with a bunch of self-entitled assholes who hate my guts and blame me for the collapse of their pathetic little worlds." He runs a hand over his short blond hair and leans into her space once more. "I'll pass. But thanks for the concern. Warms my heart to know you care."

"What is your fucking scene, Almasy?" Xu interupts with a sweet voice. She pushes away from the bar and moves to stand between the two. "Other than detention rooms and prison cells, are there any places you do fit in?"

Seifer's face darkens as his eyes light on the older female. His smirk folds into a scowl. "Can't go anywhere without your babysitter, can you, Instructor? Think one day she might cut your leash, let you play with the mutts in the park?"

There is something in his wary expression that holds Quistis' tongue. A flicker of more than just aggravation or the dangerous glint she most often finds there. The black of his clothing sets off the lightness of his hair and skin in the glittering light. Perhaps it is the odd shadows cast by the bright bulbs, but she gets the feeling Seifer is not up to their usual games. It occurs to her now that he may be the only other person in the world equally troubled by Garden's closure.

"Speaking of lap dogs," says Xu with a broad grin. She folds her arms and adjusts her weight onto one hip. "Shouldn't you be shovelling shit in a Deling sewer right now? I could have sworn I saw a letter of reference for you on Cid's desk. I thought you'd be a shoe-in for the sanitation job."

"I could do worse," replies Seifer, shrugging a single shoulder. "Better than selling out to hypocritical fucktards who fill their greasy fat pants with cash raised from the rape and torture of civilians by ten year old soldiers who don't even know their dicks from their swords and wet the bed every fucking night."

Her smile fades. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I gotta say, I was surprised when I heard you were going to G Garden," he goes on. "But I guess you've never had a soul. And, unlike Trepe, job offers haven't been pissing on your head."

"I've done well enough. Leading the largest military institution in the world is nothing to be ashamed of."

The bartender clears his throat. Since Xu is otherwise occupied, Quistis uses the opportunity to slide away from yet another pointless argument with Seifer Almasy and pulls out her card to pay for the beverages.

"They always like that?" asks the twenty-something man behind the bar.

"You have no idea." Quistis smiles and shrugs. "This is actually friendly for them." She bites her lip and hesitates, wondering how she will have the strength to get through the night. "On second thought, can you add a shot of tequila to the order?"

He chuckles, dimples winking in both cheeks. "Will do. Just one?"

Looking over at Seifer and Xu who are standing in each other's faces spitting venom, she sighs. "Maybe make it two."

"Sounds like a plan." The bartender laughs again and fills two shot glasses, sliding them across the bar. "If you need anything else, just let me know. We keep the tranquilizers and cattle prods in the back."

"I might have to take you up on that," replies Quistis with a sigh and a self-deprecating smile. She sips from one of the shot glasses then decides to just dash it back. It can't hurt, at this point. She winces a bit as the alcohol sears its way down her throat but manages not to cough. "You could end up being my saviour."

"It would be my honour and pleasure," he cocks his head and holds out a hand. "Sabir."

"Quistis," she responds, crinkling her eyes into a brighter smile as she shakes his hand. The bartender is kind of cute, she realizes for the first time. It's in a boyish kind of way, with messy red hair and lightly freckled skin, but still. She is surprised she didn't notice how engaging his deep blue eyes were before. The evening is looking up. "I will likely be seeing you again very soon."

"Only if I'm lucky," he says with a grin, releasing her hand.

When the bartender turns away to help waiting customers, Quistis swivels to re-enter the battle between Seifer and Xu, only to notice they are both staring at her like she has morphed into a Blobra.

"Quistis?" A slow smile oozes over Xu's face. "Were you flirting with the bartender?"

"What? No, no. Not really." Sweeping back her hair, Quistis tries to pretend she doesn't feel the heat gathering at the base of her neck. "It was just friendly conversation."

Seifer folds his arms and smirks, seeming to take immense pleasure from her embarrassment. "Like the Trepe would know how to hit on a guy. First base with her is when you don't get frostbite from holding her hand."

"Hilarious, Almasy. Wouldn't you like to know?" Xu defends her friend, hands moving to her hips. "Alas, you are doomed to a lifetime of wet dreams."

"Xu!"

"I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Seifer sneers in retaliation. A cruel flicker mars the green in his eyes. "Quistis is more likely to fuck me than-"

"Enough!" The flush had crept up to Quistis' cheeks at this point, and Seifer's words were only making it worse. To save herself from further humiliation, she picks up the remaining shot glass and shoves it in his hand. "You. Drink this," she orders before reaching over to lift the tray of full glasses arranged by Sabir the bartender and handing it to Xu. "And you, take these."

Turning back to Seifer, she points in a distant direction on the other side of the restaurant. "You, go that way. And you, Xu, you go this way," she finishes, directing her friend back to their table. "All right?"

Seifer looks unimpressed but doesn't say anything. He smirks at Xu, downs the tequila, then wanders off in the opposite direction Quistis had prompted.

"I don't condone murder, but in his case, I'd make an exception," comments Xu as she watches him saunter away.

Qustis sighs. She knows the feeling is mutual. "Hopefully you won't have to run into each other anymore." With a shake of her head, she moves away from the bar.

"Hey, where are you going?" Xu calls after her, but Quistis doesn't stop, merely waves a hand backwards in the air.

"I need a minute!"

Relieved to not receive any further questions, and even more to not be followed, Quistis strides toward the women's restroom, dodging wide trays of servers and jockeying elbows of heedless fellow patrons without personal damage.

She delays in a stall for as long as she can, chin in hands. Sitting down had forced her to acknowledge the startling level of her rapid intoxication. Or perhaps that was when she had tried to stand and the room fell down around her. This is not how she prefers to appear in public, like a silly teenager with a fake I.D. She decides it is definitely time to slow down, gulp some water, and plan an escape back to the beckoning hotel room. That is, once the walls stop bobbing up and down like Zell taking practice punches.

Righting herself with improved control over her body, she finishes in the stall and steps out, only to encounter a solemn-faced Rinoa pushing open the silver restroom door. Heavy electric beats crescendo until the closing door muffles the sounds outside once more.

"Oh! Hi, Rin. How's it going?"Quistis turns on the tap at one of the black-tiled sinks and glances at her younger friend in the mirror through a shaft of fallen hair. She hopes she is managing to appear soberer than she feels. With her wobbly vision it is hard to tell.

The other woman leans back along the counter next to her and doesn't return her smile. She tilts her head before asking, "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course," answers Quistis, thinking more of her need for a cool drink of water than Rinoa's request. Providing an ear and dispensing sympathy and advice is almost reflexive. All part of the big sister role she trapped herself into playing years ago. Not that she is complaining, exactly.

Stepping over to the hot air dryer, she misses the sound of Rinoa locking the restroom door. But when she turns back around, she is surprised to see her friend standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips.

"I need you to talk to Squall, tell him you were wrong, and that you fully support us moving to Esthar," states Rinoa, eyebrows lowering so there are two sweeps of chestnut visible beneath her darker bangs and above the pale skin of her nose. Quistis hasn't seen her look this determined since a long ago day involving an enchanted bracelet and a secret passageway.

"I don't know if I can do that," she replies, biting her lip and pushing back her hair. What she wouldn't give for a clip right now. She tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and rolls back on her heels. "Because it isn't true. I do think you'd be safer almost anywhere else. The continued government sponsorship of Dr. Odine's research alone is deeply concerning. Have you considered Trabia, or perhaps Dollet, instead?"

"Dollet?" Rinoa wrinkles her nose and gives an emphatic shake of her head. "No. Look, Quisty, I appreciate the fact that you care? But I've been arguing about this with Squall for, like, a million years. I really don't want to go through it all again." Raising her arms, she folds her hands into fists and holds them shoulder-height. "I am not living with that man anymore and Squall is not going to work for a death machine. We are getting as far away from that hell as we can."

Taken aback by the hard look in her friend's eyes, Quistis widens her own and flattens her hands along the front of her thighs. "I'm sorry if I overstepped, Rinoa. I just worry for your safety. Where you live is entirely your prerogative."

"Thank you," concedes Rinoa with a small nod. Her fists loosen as she turns away to study her reflection in the restroom mirror. Wiggling to adjust her dark blue mini-dress, she purses her lips. "So you will tell Squall we have your blessing?"

This makes Quistis chuckle. "I doubt I have much influence over his decisions."

"You have a lot actually," says Rinoa as she leans over the sink to check her eyeliner. "Squall thinks very highly of your opinion. You're his old teacher and practically his big sister. He's already changed his mind about Esthar again because of you."

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Quistis's fair hair and skin hover ghost-like over Rinoa's shoulder.

"If that's true, as his former instructor and big sister I don't know if I can lie to him. He'd see through it anyway."

On a long sigh, Rinoa shifts back from the glass then begins digging in the tiny evening bag that dangles from her shoulder to her hip. She bends back toward the mirror, lip gloss in hand. "Then you'll just have to be creative. Apologize, say it's none of your business, which it isn't, and tell him you support whatever we think is best for us." Satisfied with her make-up, she tucks the pink tube back in her bag and spins to face the other woman. "Can you do that?"

Quistis lifts a single eyebrow. "I suppose I could."

"Fabulous!" Rinoa is all beaming smiles now. Anger mollified, she claps her hands and darts forward to grip Quistis in a tight hug. "If you could do it right now, that would be amazing. He's already asked Nida to fly Ragnarok back for him tomorrow morning instead."

"Nida?" asks Qusitis as she's tugged out the restroom door. "I didn't know he was here."

The only response she receives is a weird squinty-eyed look. When Rinoa tries to pull her in the direction of their table, she hesitates. "Can I have a second? I would like to get some water."

To her substantial gratification, Rinoa acqueisces to this request, though with obvious reluctance. The younger woman releases her arm but gives her a look filled with warning and dire consequences before departing.

Watching her younger friend wind her way around the large and vibrating crowds, Quistis shakes her head and then her arms, as if unburdening Rinoa's uncharacteristic behaviour with a few jerks. If only she could have avoided going out tonight, she thinks, everyone would be much happier. She raises her chin and straightens her shoulders, rolling them under her leather jacket, and turns toward the bar. Her intentions are pure. There will be a chance to fulfil her promise to Rinoa later, she is sure. At the moment, she has other priorities.

The crowd pressed up to the long granite counter has thickened since her last visit. Above and between the heads and waving wrists of impatient customers, she spots the hurried movements of several uniformed bartenders, sliding gleaming bottles off shelves and pouring kaleidoscopic slushy drinks out of canisters. Music from the restaurant speakers is drowned out by a cacophony of laughter, ice hitting glass, shouted orders, and bottle openers. Quistis can't help but be struck by the orchestration of it all. The men and women behind the bar maneuver like tentacles, stretching around to grab glasses and cocktail shakers without getting in anyone else's way. Their movements are swift, proficient, and remind her of comrades in battle. Teamwork like this, she knows, takes practice and collective dedication to a goal. Watching them causes a rush of sadness she doesn't want to dwell on.

Eventually, she spots the twinkling eyes of Sabir the bartender looking right at her beyond the crush of jostling patrons. It is impossible to hold back a smile to match the one growing on his face. He shouts something to her that she can't quite discern over the discord of banter, blenders, and bass guitar. She holds up her hands in supplication, and he tries again, pointing at himself and then her with a question in his gaze. Quistis mouths the word water in reply, moving a hand in front of her to mimic a wave.

He seems to understand immediately as he narrows his eyes and sags his shoulders in a sign of immense disappointment, making her laugh. She holds the palms of her hands together and attempts a beseeching attitude. This time he laughs, but gives in, reaching into the cooler behind him for a bottle of water. Unsure how to get it to her, he glances around and then mimes throwing it, lifting his brows as if asking permission, or perhaps, whether or not she will be able to catch it.

If he had been a fellow SeeD, she would have been offended, even incensed. Mercenaries from Balamb Garden who aren't able to catch a potion thrown mid-battle from more than five times the distance between her and Sabir now have short careers indeed. More than confident in her abilities, she nods and holds up her right hand, snagging the bottle out of the air with ease after it soars over the heads of the people between them.

Quistis mouths her sincere thanks then holds the cold plastic to her heart. "My saviour!" she calls.

Sabir laughs in reply and adopts a super hero stance. She waves to take her leave and he folds into a debonair bow, making her break into laughter once more.

Okay, so maybe she was flirting with the bartender, she admits to herself as she walks back toward the group table, just a little. But what is the harm? He is adorable, and she is single, and for the first time in her life she doesn't owe anyone anything. Her time and how she spends it is up to her alone. Besides, it is also kind of nice to be flirted with in return. Like a normal woman more accustomed to wine bars and walks in the park than week-long dragon hunts and fermented Cactaur juice. Which, incidentally, is better than most wine she's tried.

She hesitates a few metres from the group's table. Unscrewing the lid from her water, she observes her friends. Xu is nowhere to be seen but Irvine, Selphie, Rinoa, and Squall are all seated and having what looks to be a confidential chat. There are large platters of appetizers between them, and the moment her eyes inform her stomach of this information it rumbles, reminding her she hasn't eaten since breakfast. Undecided on her next direction, she sips her water. The cold liquid soothes the back of her throat and clears her muddled head. No doubt she is more than welcome to join the group of four. They might even be wondering where she is.

Something holds her back. It could be the palpable intimacy making her feel abnormally shy. They all appear too absorbed in conversation to look up and see her there. It would be easier if Xu or Zell were seated as well. She would feel less of an interloper. Yet these people are some of her closest friends, more like family, though even deeper than that word can imply. There is little, if anything, they have not shared.

She is saved from screwing up her courage by Zell's excited voice at her elbow. "Hey, Quisty! Can you do me a favour?"

Quistis turns to regard him with a careful expression. The young man looks nervous. Dressed not in his usual board shorts and t-shirt, but in actual pants that could be tailored, and a bright blue shirt that matches his eyes and enhances his not-unimpressive upper body, he appears more put together than she's ever seen him. Despite his short stature, and even with the wild hair and tattoo, he could be seen as very attractive. A part of her has to resist an urge to reach out and ruffle his blond head. Her baby brother is all grown up.

"That depends," she says. "What do you need?"

"There's this girl, over there, and I don't know what to say," Zell replies, flushing a little. "Will you be my wingman?"

Her caution was justified. She holds the half-empty bottle to her warm forehead and closes her eyes. "Isn't that more a job for Irvine?"

"I already asked him. He just laughed at me," he says, voice full of dismay. Running a hand through his hair, he starts to bounce on the balls of his feet, which is not as easy to do in black dress shoes. "And I asked Nida, but he's worse than me and the girl threw her drink in our faces. Stupid jerk."

"When did Nida get here?" This was the second surprising reference to the former pilot of Balamb Garden, a man she hasn't seen tonight and didn't know had been invited. While a capable SeeD, he isn't someone they socialized with on a regular basis as far as she knew.

Zell stopped bouncing and screwed up his face. "Uh, he's been here all night. Kind of rude of you not to notice. You know how sensitive he is about that."

"I didn't..." She allows her voice to trail off, shaking her head. It isn't an important enough subject over which to argue. "Never mind. Anyway, I'm sorry but I can't be your wingman."

"Awww, why not? C'mon, please?"

"I wouldn't even know how!" Rolling her eyes, she takes another long drink of water. The hydration is much needed.

"You're a girl so you know how to talk to other girls. It's easy for you! I just can't go up to her alone. Please?" Taking her silence for assent, Zell grabs her arm and pulls her through the crowd toward a darker section of the restaurant.

"For starters," says Quistis, "you could call her a woman instead of a girl. That would help."

"Woman, okay, got it," he confirms, though he doesn't slow down or release his hold on her bicep. As she gets dragged past tables and more laughing groups of people, she realizes it's not going to be possible to get out of this. Now she wishes she'd asked Sabir for a real drink.

What a bizarre night this is turning out to be, she muses. Zell must be desperate if he is turning to Quistis Trepe for dating support. Seifer would die laughing if he knew.

And on that note, she thinks, what happened to Seifer anyway? Did he leave the restaurant? It would almost have been nice to try to talk to him more, gauge his emotional status. If she is honest, she feels guilty for being too wrapped up in her own grief to think of how Garden's closure would affect him. It's upsetting to think she missed one last opportunity connect with her former student. Who knows when she will see him again? There is so much she wishes she could have done.

Zell comes to a halt and releases her arm, disrupting her ruminations.

"How do I look?" Turning to Qusitis, he adjusts his shirt and then runs a hand over the top of his hair to ensure it remains appropriately spiky. He gives her an anxious smile. "Do you think I have a chance?"

"You look great, Zell. Really." Her returning smile is genuine. "Any woman would be flattered by your interest." It isn't a lie. Zell is a sweet guy when he is comfortable enough to be himself, she knows. A bit awkward, perhaps, but his earnestness has a certain sort of charm on its own.

"Thanks, Quisty." He heaves a relieved sigh. "Okay, she's over there, at the bar. No, don't look!"

"If I don't look, how am I supposed to approach her?"

"Okay, you can look now," he whispers, as if the woman could hear ten metres away in all the noise. "But make it really fast."

Pretending to gaze about the room, Quistis turns her head and catches sight of a slight young woman with rainbow-coloured hair sitting alone at the corner of the bar. It is safe to assume she is the recipient of her friend's interest. Glancing back at Zell, she sees a look of panic contort his features.

"Crap! She saw you looking! I'm screwed." His shoulders fall in dejection. "There's no way I can talk to her now."

"No chickening out," she urges, voice bright. This time, she is the one who takes his arm to pull him toward the bar. When he doesn't budge, she lets go and walks toward the woman on her own, hoping he will eventually follow. "Boys can be such cowards," she mutters.

Upon reaching the bar, Quistis decides there is nothing for it but to just to sit down and engage with the woman. She tries to think how she would prefer to be approached and figures sincerity is best.

"Hi," she begins, grabbing the younger woman's attention. "Is this seat taken?"

The woman's hazel eyes widen as she glances up. Her lips, which have been painted deep burgundy, curve into a small smile. "No, not at all. Please." She pulls out the stool next to her.

"Thanks," Quistis replies, smiling back. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Zell inching closer and she directs him into the stool with her eyes. To her chagrin, he takes the one beside it, forcing her to take the space in the middle. It is all she can do to hold back a sigh. Instead, she slips onto the seat and faces the woman onces more. "I'm Quistis, and this is my friend, Zell."

"It's really nice to meet you. I'm Rehka," she holds up a small, bejeweled hand in a wave. Her curly, brilliantly-hued hair bobs as she leans over the bar to include Zell in her warm greeting. The round glass in front of her is filled with wine the colour of her lips.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Rehka," says Quistis, nudging her friend with a foot when he remains silent. She struggles to think of what to say to draw him out. "I love your tattoo. It's absolutely beautiful. Zell and I were just taking about it before we came over."

"Wow, thanks!" Rehka gushes then holds out her bare arm to better display the illustration of a Mesmerize over her deltoid. "I love it too. I think they are such amazing creatures."

"It's a very good likeness," compliments Quistis, fibbing. "Have you seen one in person?"

The woman shakes her head. "Oh, no, I've never been to Trabia. Only in pictures. Have you?" Her voice is filled with awe.

"Er, yes, many times." She assumes it's best not to share more details than that. No point in disturbing the woman's illusions by talking about kill rates and the eerie blue colour of their blood. It is such an annoying stain to try to remove. "Zell has even ridden one!" The memory of her unfortunate comrade on the back of a bucking monster makes her giggle. "Remember?" Turning to the man beside her, she gives him a hard stare.

"Yep, that was great! You should really try it sometime..." His voice fades, and he rubs the back of his neck, gazing down at the granite counter.

"That is so so cool." Rehka sits back, taking a sip of wine. "Like, I would die if I even saw one in person."

Yeah, you probably would, Quistis thinks. Mesmerizes are temperamental beasts. Out loud she asks, "Have you always lived in Balamb?"

The other woman nods, placing her glass back on the bar. "My whole life. Never been off the island. Have you travelled a lot?" Her light eyes appraise Quistis and she shifts closer so that the hem of her long black skirt brushes her boot.

"Yes, Zell and I have been fortunate to explore several regions. I confess, I am a bit of a dunce when it comes to geography, but Zell could share many incredible stories."

The man in question directs his response to his feet. "Uh, yeah, the world is pretty awesome..."

"It really is," agrees Rehka. Moving closer still, she makes eye contact with Quistis then rests a hand on her thigh. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Quistis may be inept at romance but she has no doubt where the woman's greatest interest lies. Stunned and uncomfortable, she shoots an apologetic glance toward her friend before rising. She can't lead this innocent woman on any further. "I'm so sorry, I just remembered I am supposed to meet someone. It was really nice chatting with you, Rehka. Take care."

Striding away, she takes a quick look back to see Zell glaring at her. She mouths the word sorry but she isn't sure who she regrets leaving more. Zell with a disappointed Rehak, or Rehka with a tongue-tied Zell. Heading back toward the group table, she winces, once again remembering why she doesn't go out. This whole meat market situation is excruciating. How anyone meets anyone at a bar and forms a solid relationship, she doesn't know. She'd rather fight a Malboro.

Her wide stride is cut off by a server in a short skirt and obvious red wig. Quistis' reflexes stop her from running the petite woman over but only just in time.

"Are you Quistis?" asks the young woman, sounding bored.

"Yes."

"This is for you, then. From Sabir."

Quistis finds herself holding a martini glass containing a compelling, aqua blue liquid. Unless she misses her guess, it almost matches the colour of the bartender's eyes. "Thanks."

"Whatever."

The server's dismissive attitude is brushed off without a thought as Quistis takes a tentative sip of the drink. Her mouth is hit with an explosion of sweet, and then an undercurrent of something more dangerous. Strolling in an unknown direction, she contemplates the flavours on her tongue. She doesn't have enough experience with cocktails to guess at the ingredients. The drink is good, though, far too good. She reminds herself to take it slow. Her eyes wander to the bar but aren't able to locate her benefactor. Just as well, she rationalizes. It isn't as if she would know what to say to him anyway.

She makes it back to the table through random luck. Xu is the only one present now, a fact for which she is grateful. Her friend reclines against the metal back rest of her stool, in a position that conveys ownership of her space and the entire establishment. One tall heel hooks over the bottom rung and the other is swung against her opposite calf. Quistis thinks she has never looked more magnificent or formidable.

"Hey, there you are," the older woman greets her with a drawl and a lift of a brow. "Nice of you to show up."

"Please don't start, Xu," groans Quistis, somehow collapsing into the seat beside her. "Between Rinoa calling me out in the restroom and Zell entrapping me in his romantic efforts, it's been a rough night." Glad to be with a trusted confidant again, she slides her glass onto the table then rests her head on her arms. "Is the party over yet?"

Chuckling, Xu reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. "You're just low on solid calories. Gotta keep up your stamina. Here, eat some nachos."

The concept of food has Quistis raising her head. A frightening pile of tortilla chips covered in queso, peppers, and unidentifiable meat product all layered in a rusted metal bowl looms before her eyes. "Is that a tire rim?" Nonetheless, she is too hungry to be picky and sits up to sample a chip.

"There are also deep-fried Caterchipillar legs, if you're interested," offers the older woman, gliding one hand through the air to showcase the full display of delicious appetizers at their disposal. "Or perhaps some frog steak tataki?"

Nibbling on another cheese-smothered chip, Quistis frowns. "What, no boiled Geezard brains? The culinary world is really going downhill."

Xu laughs, setting an elbow on the table and parking a chin in her upright hand while she watches her friend poke at one of the insect legs. "You know it's bad when the food we resort to on missions becomes a gourmet trend."

"Don't knock Geezard brains," Quistis defends. "Add a little butter and some salt and pepper, they aren't bad. Very nutrient-dense."

"Better than anything you'll get here, I'm sure," agrees Xu. "Maybe you should open a restaurant." Holding one of the aforementioned frog steak pieces between a set of chopsticks, she attempts to appraise the rare protein from every angle. "I bet Leonheart ordered this."

The two women munch in silence for a few minutes, content with each other's companionship. When she grows tired of stale chips and canned cheese, Quistis nudges the tire rim away and picks up her forgotten glass. The unusual flavour floods her taste buds and dances over her tongue leaving pleasure inits wake. Imbibing more alcohol is unwise, she is aware, but she feels the need to do something with her hands. And it tastes better than anything else she's ever drank.

She turns to Xu with a sigh. "Where is Squall, anyway?"

Xu jerks her glossy black heard toward the dance floor. "Out there with the others. Apparently, it only takes two vodka tonics for him to loosen up. I wish I'd known that years ago."

"Squall is dancing?" Disbelief wars with relief for supremacy in her answering question. If she can escape before he returns, she hopes, perhaps she can get out of yet another tricky conversation. She can always leave him a voicemail message once she is free. That would satisfy her promise and prevent further dialogue in her inebriated state, which she notices is gaining in velocity after only a few more sips from her glass. She doesn't trust this unfamiliar version of herself. Already she is having thoughts she would never normally permit, allowing herself to react to challenges with more candour than she would usually dare. It is time to take her leave before... Well, just before.

"You holding up, Quis?" Xu's low voice breaks into her reverie. "Gonna make it?" When Quistis turns to meet her gaze, her friend's eyes are clouded with concern.

"I think, actually, it's time for me to go," she says, with practiced regret. "I know it's early, but I'm exhausted."

The other woman's dark eyes search hers for a moment, and she does her best to appear burnt out and distressed. Alas, subterfuge has never been her strongest skill, at least not among her friends, and Xu doesn't seem to buy her act. Leaning forward, she pats her knee. The light in her eyes shifts from worry into mischief.

"Nah, you just need hydrating. Hitting the wall is normal at this stage for a greenhorn. You'll get your second wind soon," she advises in the same offhand tone she used once when calming Quistis after an early failed Garden mission. She uncrosses her legs and raises her arms above her head in a stretch. "Besides, I can't leave until I've gotten that sexy bartender's phone number."

"I could go without you," protests Quistis, irritated. Gathering her hair together in one hand, she waves at the back of her neck with the other. The room is becoming far too warm with the massive number of people and increasing pace of the music. Everything around her seems to be speeding into allegro while she is stuck in andante. "Which bartender do you mean?"

"Please. You know exactly who I mean, the one with the red hair and massive shoulders."

"Sabir?" She blinks. "I wouldn't call him sexy, really. Attractive, yes, but with those freckles he's more..."

"Ha!" Her friend cut her off, triumphant. "I knew you were flirting with him!"

"Why, because I know his name?"

Xu sits back and crosses her arms, saying nothing. A smirk toys with the corners of her mouth.

"Even if I was, what's wrong with that? Especially if I got a free drink out of it," Quistis continues, nodding toward the near empty martini glass in front of her.

"Nothing is wrong at all. I couldn't be prouder," replies her friend, with true admiration lighting up her voice and complexion. "If I can get you laid tonight, I will consider it my greatest achievement."

"Whoa!" Quistis objects, holding up two hands. The annoyed frown between her brows deepens. "There is a huge difference between flirting and sleeping with someone. The latter is not happening."

"So you say now..." Xu teases. She takes her friend's glass off the table and drains the last gulp. Licking her lips, she nods in approval and appears to consider the liquid hitting her palette. "When was the last time you had sex, anyway?

"That is none of your business." Quistis wishes her voice sounded more determined and less stiff, like the prude she knows Xu thinks she is. It is so tedious to be treated like an inexperienced cadet all the time. Just because she doesn't talk about it or flaunt her sexuality, doesn't mean she doesn't have any.

"Oh, come on. Six months? A year?"

"I am not discussing this with you right now," she huffs, sliding her feet to the floor. Feeling the heat in the room, and on her cheeks and neck, rise to an unbearable level, she yanks off her jacket and chucks it on the back of the stool.

"Where are you going?" asks an amused Xu.

"Dancing, apparently." Throwing back her shoulders, Quistis traipses over to the small dance floor where the lights are dimmer. It isn't easy to stomp with so many drunk twenty-somethings in the way but her unreasonable anger forces her to try regardless. She doesn't know why she is feeling so irritated. Most of her ire is directed at Xu, and she can't quite account for it. Xu hasn't done or said anything out of the norm, but maybe that's part of the problem. She concludes that it doesn't matter.

If I am not allowed to leave, she fumes, then I am not responsible for the consequences. She vows not to turn down any opportunities for amusement or mayhem that come her way throughout the course of the rest of the night. There is a high probability she will end up doing something irrevocably stupid that she will hate herself for in the morning. It will be all Xu's fault, she decides. If she ends up in a dive bar signing karaoke, or worse, Xu will be to blame. She looks forward to accusing her friend after her inevitable loss of dignity.