A/N:LeonxPrecis. Involves a love letter. A very advanced Christmas gift-fic for Feria . OoC-ness--hopefully not too much, and I had to cut it inconveniently because a) I couldn't think of anything write any more and b) it was getting too long. XD Honestly, some of Leon's lines may make you want to bang your head on the desk. It had that effect on me.

Furthermore, I haven't watched Star Ocean EX since two/three years ago, and it's been longer since I played Star Ocean 2, although I don't think that really justifies anything. xx

I.
"I have a question. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. I'll try my best to answer it. Shoot."

Cough. "In a hypothetical scenario, a man finds himself to be very fascinated by a woman, and he wants her to be informed of his... emotional developments. What do you suggest?"

"Me?"

"Yes. A hypothetical solution to a hypothetical problem."

"Uhm. Wait, so basically you--I mean, this man likes this woman, and he wants her to know how she feels. Is that the problem?"

"The hypothetical problem."

"Hypothetical. Right. Well, I--" Pause. Fingers drum against the table. "I'd write her a love letter."

"Love letter?"

"Yeah. Something a little poetic. It doesn't have to rhyme. Just be a little imaginative. 'Roses are red, violets are blue', stuff like that."

"I... see."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Thanks." Footsteps pad against the wooden floor. The door creaks open.

"Leon, wait."

"Yes?"

"By any chance... This hypothetical woman that this hypothetical man likes. What would she look like?"

Five seconds pass. Ten. Fifteen. Then: "I imagine she would--hypothetically--have dominant brown-hair and green-eye genes, as well as a fetish for robots."

Footsteps resume and trail off.

Silence. Then a chuckle.

II.
Signed, or anonymous?
His palm slapped his forehead in frustration. How could he have forgotten to ask something so crucial?

Think, Leon. Be calm. Be rational. Let's pretend this is a hypothetical problem. Let's pretend this is the story of your parents. What would they have--no, that would be too depressing. They'll end up marrying and procreating and dying. Just... think.

Minutes flew by as he pondered deep and long. Finally, he picked up the pen and scrawled down his closure--Signed, Anonymous.

III.
Precis frowned at the sheet of paper as she strolled around Fun City. Horohoro was whirring mechanically along.

Something bumped against her, and she toppled back with an "Ow!"

A hand, loosely cuffed in white, stretched out to help her. She brushed it away and lifted herself to her feet, to find that she was face-to-face with Leon.

"Oh, it's you," she said, smiling. He'd been quite the little brat, but lately, she'd been growing more and more attached to him. She wasn't quite sure if he had changed for the better, or if she just got used to him. It didn't really matter much anyway.

"What's that?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the paper on her hand.

"This?" She held it up for him to see better. "I don't know. I found it under my pillow this morning, but I don't know what it is." She scratched her head and she puzzled over it. "A grocery list? And there's a signature at the bottom. The only thing I can make out is the 'A'. Ashton? Maybe I should ask him--"

"Don't!" Leon's tone alarmingly skirled up an octave. "I mean," he amended, more calmly. "Let me see. Maybe I can read it. I think it's a love letter."

She shrugged, letting him try his luck on the troublesome scrap of paper. "I didn't think that love letters would be so illegible." Besides, she added to herself, I'm quite sure that Ashton's attentions have been waning. A voice in her head responded treacherously, Just as your attentions for Claude have been waning?

"It's not illegible," Leon's protest broke through her stray thoughts; she blinked. "Geniuses are merely misunderstood."

"What makes you think a genius wrote--" She paused midway through her question, and prompted a new one. "You can read it?" When he nodded, she tapped her foot impatiently. "Well? What's it say?"

He cleared his throat, and began to read. "Dear Precis--"

So he was right. It was a love letter. She clasped her hands at her back, leaning forward in eager anticipation.

"You have enchanted me with the light of your eyes, a sight that would put the greenest beryls and rarest emeralds to shame, and your hair, which is richer than the finest loam--"

"What?" Well, that certainly puts Ashton off the suspect list. Or Claude. Or any person in the right frame of mind. Maybe this was just someone's odd idea for a prank...

"This force that drags me towards you--I know it isn't magnetism, because even though we have polarity to some extent, we are not that different or faraway. It's stronger than gravity, and I'm falling and falling, but there is no ground to shatter my skeletal system. Do you know why? It's because the fall will last forever, whether or not there is an equal and opposite reaction. I believe the term is, 'falling in love'..."

Okay, odd, but a little sweet.

"And I just thought I'd let you know," Leon went on. His ears were twitching furiously, and a tinge of red had crept up his neck and flowed into his cheeks. Precis didn't blame him; it must've been embarassing to read aloud something like that... "Because knowledge is power. Signed, anonymous."

IV.
His body temperature was rising. He hoped that the pinkish pigments haven't started to manifest themselves.

He was trapped in the centrifuge of his own emotions--anxiety, accomplishment, hope, and, most dominant of them all, mortification. Had he, Leon DS Geeste, just stooped to such a level and recited a page that overflowed with lovesick nonsense?

Apparently so. His pride--what was left of it--was internally beating him up. He thought he could see Daemon's Gate opening up before him...

"Thanks," Precis said, her voice banishing the hallucinations."Isn't there--Isn't there at least a hint of who wrote it? Don't you recognize the writing?"

He shrugged, offering her back the telltale letter. It was an answer that displayed the lack of it.

She looked disappointed. "I guess not, huh?"

"What if--" Leon heard himself saying, before he could stop himself. "What if--just hypothetically--the person who wrote it is... ah, standing in front of you?"