"W-Wait!"
People rose out of their seats. Whispers and murmurs fluttering about the established tavern in response to the sudden commotion by our two stars of the night. On one end of the barrel, lied the defeated figure of a young Bangaa male. The Bangaa was caught pickpocketing in the tavern again, not to the barkeeper's surprise. He had warned the lad earlier that if he were caught again, it would be on the public's terms, and not his own. It didn't add any favorable points to the other attending Bangaa in the tavern. Slurs of 'racist prick' and other obscenties were directed towards said barkeep, but he wasn't one to be deterred by the whining of an unpopular minority. (in the literal sense, of course.)
The giving end of the barrel was a Hume, yes. A female Hume to be exact. She was fairly sized in height, and slim in weight. Thick-skinned sunglasses covered her heterochromic eye color, the glasses themselves tucked neatly within the woman's long, flourishing blonde hair. A literal definition of 'vixen.' There was no lack of eyes being gazed at her tonight, Hume or otherwise. (one of the benefits of being a unisex/race tavern in Rabanastre.) The specific grip of her hand onto the bizarre looking revolver was a clear sign that the woman in question was no pushover when it came to her guns. She came prepared. The intent of killing shining brighter and brighter to compliment her already mysterious aura.
"L-Look, I'm sorry!" The Bangaa pleaded to the blonde woman. "I needed the gil, f-for my mother! She's gone ill...our clan has very little money, and I'm too you-" The Bangaa was silenced by the stray bullet fired much too close in his direction. The crowd jumped back in fear of getting shot by the blonde. The barkeep played it off as nothing too serious. At the stools, the shot caught the eye of a certain character.
"Well..." The blonde finally spoke, her stern-toned voice cutting through the Bangaa's conscience like a razor. "I guess it'll be a shame to bring you back to your mother with a bullet through your head, eh?" Her smirk shifted into a sarcastic grin. Her back arched over to the Bangaa to lean and place the barrel of her gun to the accused's head. His panicking-from pleading to bawling-worsened. But you could tell that she was enjoying the torture.
Back to the stools, a young man leaned back into his chair. Wine in one hand, and what appears to be a book in the other, he looked on to the direct scene of the thief and the vixen of self-justice. It was humorous. That particular Bangaa ("a friend of Migelo's? Unlikely.") has tried the same on him. If it weren't for the man's generous heart, he'd put himself through the same scenario as the blonde. He leaned back a bit to his chair, whispering over to the Barkeep. "Tomaj?" He began, voice smooth and professional. "Is that woman a regular at the Sandsea? Do you mind her causing collateral damage to this place?" The barkeep-Tomaj-let out a defeated sigh, noticing the man had already defeated his first glass of Valendia-imported white wine. He readied another glass for the man, beginning to speak as he worked.
"I gave the kid a warning. Obviously, no one takes me seriously enough to heed them." He retorted. His voice was tired, but endearing. "You should know all about warnings falling on deaf ears, Balthier."
The man-Balthier-swiveled around in his chair, a brow of mischief rose and pointed directly to Tomaj. "Is this another one of your famous jokes, my friend?" He began, "You know well enough that I treasure your thoughts and opinions dearly."
"Oh, sure." Tomaj joked, handing another glass to Balthier. "I kinda get what Fran goes on about regarding y-" His voice was cut short again, another yelp echoing through the Sandsea from the Bangaa pickpocketer.
The two were now in a peculiar position. The blonde had held the Bangaa's tail, tipping him over into the air. It wasn't odd that she was punishing him with the tail, but more of 'how' she did it. It was inhuman. The Bangaa had to be at least twice her size! And yet, she stood, grin standing strong as she dangled the Bangaa to and fro as if her were a cheap toy. Giggles emitted from the blonde's mouth, obviously unheard from the now unioned cries of concern from both the Hume and Bangaa audience.
Balthier looked over his shoulder. "...Ah. Now, Tomaj. I know you enjoy a rowdy woman now and then, but I believe this has gone far enough. It doesn't help that I'm curious about our superwoman." He began sliding up to his feet, setting aside his book and taking another sip of his wine before beginning to walk towards the group.
"W-Wait! I don't think this's a-" Tomaj stopped. Then he sighed, setting aside Balthier's stuff for him to return to.
"Ahh, whatever...not like you'll listen anyway."
"Ahh, excuse me! Miss!" Coming from behind, Balthier's voice rang like a soothing bell for the distressed crowd, and a sign of god for the Bangaa pickpocketer. As smooth and articulate as ever, the Bangaa /knew/ that Balthier could get him out of this jam.
"S-Sky Pirate!" The pickpocketer called out. "Help me! This insane wench is trying to kil-" As soon as the word 'wench' was muttered, the Bangaa was met with a very swift, very direct kick to his muzzle. The Bangaa yelped out in pain, reaching his arms over to cover his muzzle up.
"A word of advice, my friend." Balthier began, crouching down to the Bangaa's eye level. "Watch your mouth around a professional, to begin with. Second; if someone gives you something that could benefit your life in the future, it'd be best for you to not take it for granted. Yes?" The Bangaa nodded. He was in no position to dick around with this 'superwoman' and the infamous Sky Pirate of Ivalice.
The woman only looked towards the man as he continued to speak to the Bangaa. There was no mistake that he was handsome. Charisma could only go so far. But it was too early to get the man's true intentions out. So, she simply kept quiet until she was spoken to. But it'd be a lie if I said she 'wasn't getting a kick out of the little thief being interrogated.
Balthier sat up, placing a hand on his hip, finishing off his little lecture. "Let's try this again; don't pickpocket. And don't justify your thievery with lies. If you're going to steal, well...at least be honest, yes? Then again, I'd never understand the thought process of a thief."
The woman smirked, turning to Balthier with a response; "Didn't you just say you're a pirate, pal?"
Balthier sighed. "Now, now. There's a difference between everyday thievery and being a Sky Pirate. Surely someone of your strength can differentiate the line, yes?"
"Well, if you say so." A chuckle escaped her voice. "I can differentiate a lot of things, but a thief's a thief. Like this...thing." She gestured towards the Bangaa.
"Ah, you're referring to the Bangaa lad, then? ...Tell you what, I'd like to make an offer. For the Bangaa. Let him go, and..." Balthier stammered as he started to think as to what he could offer to the woman. As he thought, he got the opportunity to observe her a bit more. There was no mistaking it; she was beautiful. He could see beneath her sunglasses to see her bizarre eye colour. It was pleasant. She was curvaceous and well-shaped in all of the right, necessary places. A rarity that a Hume could be 'this' good looking. Too beautiful, in fact. It began to fit in an eerie sensation in Balthier's gu-
"Eyes up here, Sky Pirate." She snapped, Balthier's train of thought being cut short and back to her eyes instead of glazing her over. "Look. I'll ditch the...Bangaa. But you, mr. Sky Pirate, you'll have to be his replacement."
His eyes shot up slightly, only to return to it's neutral position. A smirk approached his face. "Am I to be your prisioner? I don't even know my warden's name."
Her hand, traveling up to her face to pluck the shades away from her eyes to reveal light grey orbs staring across into the Sky Pirate's vision. Giving off an atmosphere of enchantment.
"It's Trish."
1,450 words. My god this is terrible. I don't really see how I could complete this into a small three part story, but hey it's something I'm getting out of my system.
I really like writing but I have the tendency to never finish some of the work I do. :/ Oh well. Work's work, I suppose.
I really appreciate criticism, so please point out the flaws where you see them.