3/18/07
Definitions
Nooj had never been so bored in his life. Someone had suggested that a 'boys night out' stag party on the beach might be fun. Someone else had seconded the idea and, before he knew it, he had been swept along with the others. They had had a cookout with underdone chocobo burgers washed down by watery beer and now the others lay sprawled on blankets around the dying camp-fire, boasting of their prowess with anything that moved and some things which didn't. The laughter became louder as the stories grew more ribald and fantastic.
Nooj supposed it was better than the earlier conversation which had centered solely around blitz-ball. Tidus and Wakka had held an impromptu contest using a beach ball to try to prove which of them was the more adept a handler. Barthello joined in and accidentally caught the ball in both hands, bursting it and ending that bit of foolery. Gippal started a knife throwing challenge but since he was the only real knife-man in the group and everybody was a little too drunk to be accurate, the first time he sliced a piece off Kimahri's calf was the last round of that game.
The Meyvn had found a tall cairn of stones piled near the water's edge and had made that his refuge. There was a conveniently angled rock at the proper height for him to rest his hip against and the heap was sufficiently far from the fire to afford him some privacy. He shuddered at the thought of attempting to get up from a reclining position in front of all the others. It was hard enough in privacy, having to first turn and prop himself up on all fours and then lever himself clumsily to his feet, using whatever aids were available. Yes, it was hard enough also without the sand which kept sifting into the precisely engineered parts of his prosthetic arm and leg. Why hadn't the Al Bhed supplied some tight covers for the delicate cogs and cables? Damn their carelessness!
So he leaned, his arms folded across his broad hairless chest and snarled silently at the childish men around him. Baralai was the only one with any dignity at all. He was sitting serenely with his legs folded under him and his hands hidden in his sleeves, avoiding the boisterous behaviour of his peers. Then, as Nooj watched, the white head tipped to one side and was followed by the rest of the body, legs still crossed and hands still tucked decorously into the sleeves. The man was drunk! Drunk and passed out. Nooj snorted with disgust and pushed away from his perch, ready to return to the village and his own bed.
A light touch on his right arm caught his attention. Standing beside him was a young man he did not recognize. He looked somewhat like Tidus, being much the same height and colouring but there was a subtle difference as between nearly identical twins.
"Is this a bad time?" The young man asked with a particularly fetching smile. "I can come back later. I'm never too far away."
"No." Nooj laid his gloved left hand on the youth's shoulder and left it there. "Divert me."
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