Kiwi-Strawberry.
A/N: It's a short one. Aaaand, that's all I have.
Jill, Jill, Jill, Jill, Jill. Sheva was kind of tired of hearing that name – Jill. 'Yes, Chris,' she could imagine herself saying, 'I remember Jill, I know we're looking for Jill, yes, Chris, you've shown me her picture before, I know what she looks like and if I ever saw her randomly around, yes, I would point her out to you.' But, no, she never said it. It would've been rude. Sheva wasn't rude. Not intentionally.
They had gotten to the Marshlands and found a relatively quiet and peaceful area. There was a hut made of wood, with a small and uncomfortable-looking cot placed right underneath a window. Chris said he wanted to sit down for a minute. So he sat down, on the cot, not the chair about a foot away. About thirty-seconds later, he was asleep.
"You're getting old," she whispered teasingly to Chris's sleeping figure.
"Shut up, Jill," Chris slurred in his sleep. Apparently, he even dreamed about her too.
If Sheva knew anything about Jill, it was that she was one lucky woman indeed. To have a friend like Chris who is so dedicated to finding her was the sort of characterization that Sheva only expected in fairy tales. Maybe Josh would show that same dedication if Sheva ever saved his life and she mysteriously disappeared. Maybe not. No, he'd probably just notify the BSAA, and it would become a group mission, a necessity, not a want. There was something much more romantic about a single knight in shining armor with his own set agenda, such as Chris, rather than a whole horde of them sent by a king.
She imagined that it would be as delicious as a cold bottle of kiwi-strawberry fitness water under the African summer sun.