A bit of explanation is in order.
It has long been established amongst my friends that I cannot for the life of me write anything with porny bits in. When I even so much as try, it either comes out as black comedy or horror or both. Here's hoping this is more the former than the latter.
That said: I am so, so sorry.
TheApathyImp, this one's for you.
Gabranth was cockblocking him again.
It was hard enough to get Basch to strip off his judicer's plate of an evening, worn as the man was; he was getting old before his time, threads of white in his golden hair. Balthier, on the other hand—he could cite a thousand papers on the rejuvenating effects of sky travel, and often (to Basch's groans) did. Five years had done nothing to dull his edge nor dim his beauty; he was the sort of man to have a lass in every port of call, and if one was occasionally of the rougher sex, well—there were none who would speak against it. (He thought Fran approved, even, judging from the soft lecherous smiles he caught her with when she thought he wasn't looking.)
Except that that one was a Judge Magister of the Archadian Ministry of Law and his dead twin brother was staring at him from the foot of the bed. The former called for a bit of subterfuge, naturally, Balthier being a vagabond and a scoundrel and in no way polite company for a Judge. The latter . . .
"Are you tumbling my brother," said Gabranth, voice a Judge's deadpan.
Balthier looked up incredulously, wanting to say isn't it obvious? But then, it wasn't really a question to begin with.
"Are you tumbling," repeated Gabranth, rubbing his eyes with a smoky hand, "my brother, Ffamran."
"Only when I'm in town," said Balthier, pausing midstroke. "Do you mind?"
Basch made a quiet questioning noise. Balthier silenced him with his mouth. Gabranth sighed, the long world-weary sort of sigh that used to rattle his armor.
"You fancy yourself an airship, don't you? One of the big commercial sorts," said Gabranth, carefully averting his eyes from their indiscretion. "Everyone gets a ride, whether for pleasure or business or the sheer bloody adventure of it."
Balthier flicked a spent cigarette butt at him (through him), but could not quite bring himself to voice disagreement: he had a certain respect for poetry, after all. A deeply, deeply bemused look crossed Basch's face for a moment, but he was quickly distracted by something lovely the pirate did with his fingers. After all: even in Nabudis, he had not seen the ghosts until Fran took him by the shoulder and pointed.
But the shade did bugger off eventually, only shortly before the actual buggery began. Possibly in disgust. Gabranth being Gabranth, it was difficult to tell.