Wardrobe Malfunction

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He first heard the stories from Edge a few years back. The Eblan king had too much of the red fruity drink during Cecil and Rosa's banquet, slurring his words with 'member's writ' and 'secret passage underneath the Troia city pub' and 'adult entertainment' that Palom might one day enjoy.

Being five and curious, he had poured more wine into Edge's goblet. But before he could force the drink back in the king's hand, Porom's trusty whack over his head had halted his investigation.

Even in his tender age, he had a vague idea of it. During their travel with the paladin knight, Baronian dancers wouldn't stop their move on Cecil, caressing his face in such a way that made him flush awkwardly. Yang had firmly stated there's a woman armed with frying pans waiting for him back home.

A few gil bills changed hands, a bright yellow ticket was produced and a wall slid back to reveal a staircase that led to a dimly lit stage. When his shoes slid over the lush red carpeting in The Emperor chamber, he decided that King's bounty pub was even more extravagant than he imagined. He grabbed for his gil pouch and counted the coins in his mind. It wouldn't hurt to buy some souvenirs, preferably ones that might make his trip more worthwhile. Especially after the horde of old women tried to-a shudder escaped from him, and he focused on the equipment set offered by a dancer.

"Do you have those in another color? Like bright pink, perhaps?"

The Troian dancer shook her head and somehow it made her chest jiggle in a way that required Palom's sheer willpower to focus on her face. "I am afraid not, sir. But your friend there is welcome to try them first."

"Leonora," he called the epopt candidate over, and saw her fidget at the merchandise laid before him. "Try these on."

Leonora skimmed over the options of wardrobe, ignoring the tang of leather and the way they gleamed under the pub's dim lighting, finally taking them in full view. Her cheeks flared. "I...um, I don't want to."

Palom pinched the bridge of his nose and released a long sigh he has been holding. Good persuasion skills have long eluded him, Porom have told him enough times over the years. "Look, lady, I'm gonna buy these whether or not you like it. Making you wear them in battle is a matter a time."

"B-but I already tried the Queen's whip," Leonora countered, raising her puffy sleeves over her mouth. "I have done what you asked last time, even if it has nothing to do with en-enhancing my magic."

Persuasion. Yes, he probably don't have an ounce of persuasion skills or sweet talking in his bones, but the great prodigal black mage of Mysidia knew exactly how to coerce people over the years with his title and the mere mention of his name. He'd rather ride the ship for another month back to Mysidia than missing this chance. Logic has worked better with Leonora, anyway.

"I understand that these equipment might not offer you good defense," Reaching over for the Queen's mask, he put it over his face, making her fidget under his stare, "but it provide you protection from status effects."

"But-"

"Almost all of them in fact," he placed back the mask and reached for the Queen's glove, waving it in the air. "What do you think will happen, if we meet a pack of Malboros, and I got bad breathed, and right when I need Esuna the most, you are silenced?"

The thought of mentioning his twin's attire occurred when he was halfway through reaching the Queen's tights. He didn't try to tone down disgust in his voice. "I expect you to leave me there to dry, like you did when that group of...old dancers ganged up on me."

He had half expected her muttering something along the lines of I will not be a two gil performer, but Leonora hung her head low, and ever so slowly, she nodded with an evident look of defeat.

Palom forced himself not to dance to the tune of the chocobo song right then and there, and settled for a smirk.

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A/N: In Palom's tale, watching the first 'dance' in Troia's strip club will make his HP drop to 1.