"We're here, we're here, we're here!" exclaimed Selphie as she yanked
the key out of the car as quickly as she could and practically jumped out.
While Selphie beamed and went on about how much fun this would be, Rinoa
turned to glance back toward the road as she climbed out.
Pouting in mock annoyance that Squall wasn't here yet, the brunette turned to face a sign reading "Camp Chicobo" in bright letters. Actually, she giggled, the sign said "Camp Chicodo", but she knew that some kid had just spelled it wrong.
Rinoa glanced over at Quistis, who had already donned her sunglasses. It was obvious the SeeD instructor had never been to a camp before; she was way over prepared for this. As the blonde looked over the children's campsite, her face fell. Quistis was anything but accustomed to camping, and as her hidden eyes searched the campsite she sighed and turned to Selphie.
"Remind me again why we're doing this?" questioned Quistis. Selphie, who was just as enthusiastic as Quistis was dismayed, chirped "Because I signed us up, remember?" Turning to Quistis, the hyperactive girl's smile grew wider as she hugged her friend briefly. "Don't worry, Quisty, you can thank me later!" Selphie called out as she ran for the registration cabin.
~*~*~*~
"Please, please, please?"
"No. Now, listen here, boy. I said no and I mean no."
"Pretty please with a hot dog on top?"
At this, the cowboy had to laugh aloud. Even Squall rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Zell, I hate to break it to you, but hot dogs don't go good with ice cream," retorted Seifer, smirking quickly at Zell as he polished his gunblade. Zell smiled his characteristic smile. "Who said anything about ice cream? I just wanna listen to the radio!" he exclaimed, reaching for the radio control from the backseat of the convertible like a 10-year-old.
Irvine grabbed hold of Zell's wrist before the street fighter could reach the radio. "No fair," complained Zell, recoiling his hand. "Why can't I listen to the radio?" he asked childishly. "Because," started Irvine, spying a group of girls riding by in a similar convertible with blaring pop music. "Jimmy Hendrix sucks. Now pop music…that's much more my type," the cowboy told Zell as he tuned the radio to the same station as the girls in the adjacent car were listening to. Zell rolled his eyes as Irvine flashed them a charming smile.
Zell pouted, falling back into his seat. "No fair," me muttered. "He said that about classical music last time some girls our age passed by!" he exclaimed as he shot a death stare at Irvine, who was now window-to-window with the other convertible, no doubt flirting with its occupants.
Squall, who had never been a fan of pop music himself, had to object. He could only take so much of N*Sync. As he turned the radio off, Squall glared at the cowboy who had turned to face him in confusion. "Irvine, remember what happened last time you got distracted while driving up here?" asked Squall cynically. Irvine raised an eyebrow.
"You still don't believe me, do you?" questioned Irvine. "I swear, I knew Melanie! We hadn't talked in forever, so I just thought-" but Irvine was cut off by a gesture and comment from Squall. "You wrecked the car. You're lucky we weren't hurt. Now we're late, and we're in debt."
Anything else Squall had to say was drowned out by Jimmy Hendrix. Irvine could only laugh as he looked back at Zell playing the air guitar. Squall fell back into his seat with his head facing the sky. Rubbing his temples, he muttered, "Hyne, help me."
Pouting in mock annoyance that Squall wasn't here yet, the brunette turned to face a sign reading "Camp Chicobo" in bright letters. Actually, she giggled, the sign said "Camp Chicodo", but she knew that some kid had just spelled it wrong.
Rinoa glanced over at Quistis, who had already donned her sunglasses. It was obvious the SeeD instructor had never been to a camp before; she was way over prepared for this. As the blonde looked over the children's campsite, her face fell. Quistis was anything but accustomed to camping, and as her hidden eyes searched the campsite she sighed and turned to Selphie.
"Remind me again why we're doing this?" questioned Quistis. Selphie, who was just as enthusiastic as Quistis was dismayed, chirped "Because I signed us up, remember?" Turning to Quistis, the hyperactive girl's smile grew wider as she hugged her friend briefly. "Don't worry, Quisty, you can thank me later!" Selphie called out as she ran for the registration cabin.
~*~*~*~
"Please, please, please?"
"No. Now, listen here, boy. I said no and I mean no."
"Pretty please with a hot dog on top?"
At this, the cowboy had to laugh aloud. Even Squall rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Zell, I hate to break it to you, but hot dogs don't go good with ice cream," retorted Seifer, smirking quickly at Zell as he polished his gunblade. Zell smiled his characteristic smile. "Who said anything about ice cream? I just wanna listen to the radio!" he exclaimed, reaching for the radio control from the backseat of the convertible like a 10-year-old.
Irvine grabbed hold of Zell's wrist before the street fighter could reach the radio. "No fair," complained Zell, recoiling his hand. "Why can't I listen to the radio?" he asked childishly. "Because," started Irvine, spying a group of girls riding by in a similar convertible with blaring pop music. "Jimmy Hendrix sucks. Now pop music…that's much more my type," the cowboy told Zell as he tuned the radio to the same station as the girls in the adjacent car were listening to. Zell rolled his eyes as Irvine flashed them a charming smile.
Zell pouted, falling back into his seat. "No fair," me muttered. "He said that about classical music last time some girls our age passed by!" he exclaimed as he shot a death stare at Irvine, who was now window-to-window with the other convertible, no doubt flirting with its occupants.
Squall, who had never been a fan of pop music himself, had to object. He could only take so much of N*Sync. As he turned the radio off, Squall glared at the cowboy who had turned to face him in confusion. "Irvine, remember what happened last time you got distracted while driving up here?" asked Squall cynically. Irvine raised an eyebrow.
"You still don't believe me, do you?" questioned Irvine. "I swear, I knew Melanie! We hadn't talked in forever, so I just thought-" but Irvine was cut off by a gesture and comment from Squall. "You wrecked the car. You're lucky we weren't hurt. Now we're late, and we're in debt."
Anything else Squall had to say was drowned out by Jimmy Hendrix. Irvine could only laugh as he looked back at Zell playing the air guitar. Squall fell back into his seat with his head facing the sky. Rubbing his temples, he muttered, "Hyne, help me."