mach·i·na·tion (n): 1. The act of plotting. 2. Crafty schemes; plots; intrigues.
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Gippal leaned against the doorframe, watching Rikku preen and make seductive faces at herself in the mirror. She'd moved through coy, come-hither looks, to flirty glances, and was midway through her repertoire of kissy-faces when he figured he'd better speak up.
"When you make that face, your mouth looks like a sphincter."
She jumped with a startled shriek, then glared angrily at him.
"So, why exactly do you know what a sphincter looks like?" She frowned at him, tugging down the hem of her ridiculously short skirt.
He grinned, shouldering away from the door. "'Cause I'm lookin' at one."
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"She's not ready?"
"Nah." Gippal rubbed a cloth over the shiny barrel of his gun. "She's checkin' her calendar, I think." He didn't much like the man seated on his couch, the man who'd come to pick up Rikku for a date.
"Checking her calendar? What for?" The man fidgeted impatiently.
"How should I know? She said something about being late and needing to take some sort of test." Gippal shrugged.
"Test?" The man echoed. "She's…you mean to say she's pregnant?"
"Well, now." Gippal pulled back the hammer, leveling his gun at the man. "Would you be the father?"
---
"What did you tell this one?" Rikku fisted her hands on her hips.
"Nothing." Gippal was the image of innocence. "Why should I care who you date? Even if it is some sissy Yevonite."
She thrust out her lower lip. "But I sort of liked that one!"
"Sort of?"
"Well," she cocked her hand on her hip. "He was kind of prissy."
"I'll say. When I told him you were pregnant, he practically– oof!"
She withdrew her fist from her stomach. "You ruin my love life, and I'll ruin yours," she promised, flouncing away in a glorious fit of temper.
---
"I'm sorry." Rikku smiled apologetically at the woman waiting for Gippal. "He won't be able to make your date. His herpes flared up."
Horrified, the woman beat a hasty retreat.
Around the corner, Gippal smothered a laugh himself as he heard Rikku's delighted giggle. He'd only sort of liked the woman anyway.
"So, where's my date, kid?" He asked, upon approach.
"Oh, something came up," she responded innocently, smiling sweetly.
He grinned back. "Since you've run off my date, I guess I'll just have to settle for you."
He grabbed her wrist, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.
---
"You've got to be my girlfriend."
"Do not." She casually sipped her tea, doing her best to ignore him.
"You do, too. You got rid of all potential rivals, therefore you're the only one left to fill the position." He slipped his arm around her waist.
"That doesn't make me your girlfriend."
He sighed. "What if I ask you to be my girlfriend real nice?"
"Why would you do that?" She arched a brow.
"Because I love you." He tweaked her nose, then linked her fingers with his.
"Oh. Well." She smiled. "Maybe I'll be your girlfriend after all, then."
