AN: And she is done! Sorry this took so long to finish and I also apologise that it's not really that good. This fanfic sadly got slower and slower as I wrote it, I probably should have planned it better but aaaaah well. Enjoy guys even if it is a bit wordy.


Eyes staring at the bronze handle, heart's pumping, sweat trickling, breath noosing.

'a mix between a jester, the Queen of Hearts and a hooker,' Ormi repeated in his head; the words that Logos had used to describe her a few months earlier. What kind of bizarre and awful atrocity was about to enter.

The beat of heels stopped, and the door handle began to turn downwards, slow but firm, bowing to the 'Boss'.

Light slipped in from the reception area into the hall, Ormi and Logos's plan of acting natural had been abandoned and now the pair stood motionless and tense, eyes still fixed unwavering on the door.

Their hearts shuddered in a fleeting burst of panic as one of those bright pink (just like the roses) heels stepped purposely into the room, followed by the woman herself.

The partners grimaced a little, twitching to cover their faces but then the abhorrence just seemed to spill out of them and all over the carpet.

This 'broad' as Ormi would put it was actually, nice looking. Granted her choice of fashion was atrocious but the lady behind the fabrics was soft and, dare they say it, beautiful. Porcelain skin covered her body, so bright and unspoiled in it's colour it was almost transparent and the form it wrapped about was petite and lilliputian however muscular and taught. If you saw her from behind you would more than likely wonder how the companions had even been able to pick up on this detail but from the front there was no question. Perhaps the 'Boss' did have a slight sense of pride about herself, the front of her elaborate dress hung open poignantly, exhibiting a toned and trimmed stomach and the cleavage of her impressive and powerful bosom, a tattoo of the same heart from the article, branded above them. Although the anxiety had evaporated out of his being, Logos still felt the need to wipe his moist brow with an awkward fist.

He tore his gaze away from there, worried of it's distraction and finally looked to her face. Round and delicate, complimented with soft, lush locks of brilliant blonde hair. Her lips were set small but were full and blushed, pouted very gently. Nose tiny and mouse-like; turned upwards with sweet curiosity. And her eyes, her eyes were positively mesmerising, rippling with their deep, rich chocolate brown colour, sparkling with inquisitive and innocence. He had, an unfamiliar and somewhat unwelcome bout of deja vu, he pondered, concentrating harder, being drunk in more by those eyes. No, a haughtiness behind their sparkle, the odd feeling of recognition floated away.

"Hello loves." The pair started at the sudden sound of speech rising from her throat, "Welcome to the Chateu."

For a moment, they were skeptical before Logos stepped forward.

"It's most certainly a charming and gracious pleasure miss...miss?"

"Leblanc, love." Logos was surprised at the secure grip of her handshake, "just Leblanc. And your names?"

"Oh, how rude of me," he attempted to somehow smarten his father's shabby scarf about his neck, "my name is Logos Azriel Menkaura and this here is-"

"Er, Ormi Hassun, ma'am."

For a moment nothing was said. Those eyes of hers just scanned them thoughtfully, judging. Logos stole a sideways glance at Ormi, he was still sweating and seemed criminally tetchy, still ringing his fists and smacking his lips. His view returned to this Leblanc, she continued to eye them up and down, then her face softened, breaking into a welcoming smile.

"Please," she soothed, "sit."

She sauntered around them, and began to arrange herself on one of the couches and although their was a moment of ginger peaking traded between the ex-Yevonites, they did as she requested, taking a spot on the opposite couch, sitting straight and obedient, though a little awkward, towards her.

Leblanc lounged back comfortably against the soft suede.

"So, tell me about yourselves."

The friends did naught but gawk at each other baffled. What in Spira were they supposed to say? Damn it all, with all this discussion of not giving themselves away, now their minds couldn't think of anything else. Good God they could barely remember yesterday! That sweat was coming back again.

She eyed them curiously.

"Well, you're both looking quite dishevelled, you," she motioned to Ormi, "with clearly beautiful new trousers smothered in mud and you with a ripped and tattered scarf."

The pair looked down at the acknowledged garments.

"Come on now, you must have some story to tell."

She was now leaning forward, knees together and forearms resting upon them, her dainty fingers interlocking and chin settled on the back of her hands. This pose was clearly one expressing interest however it also expressed an unbelievably captivating view of her assets.

Logos swallowed hard, trying to relieve his dry mouth. His eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of Ormi. Of all people Ormi was someone who actually held women's respect very highly, which Logos admitted surprised him quite a bit, and was a great supporter of gentlemanly behaviour. But to Logos's astonishment even he was lost in the vision, and even more terrifying, it was painted all over his face! Logos felt a surge of panic and a great pressure to say something fast.

"Um, well." He cleared his throat. "We have come from Bevelle, which is the city where we were both born and raised and, where we have lived for the past," he paused and turned to Ormi, brow furrowed with consideration, "er, well the entirety of our twenty-one years."

That pang of homesickness rumbled in his chest again.

"We have been Yevonites for a number of years and, as I'm sure you are aware, Yevon's armies have made the conscious decision and proclamation to disband and reform. Myself and Ormi here, due to reasons concerning the ethos of the old Yevon, chose not to be reinstated and instead decided to look for new occupation in this time of calm. We, er, have also found ourselves without residence because, hmm, well, appertaining to our status and, uh, well frankly regards to a somewhat difficult and personal instances-"

She waved her hand briefly.

"Don't worry love," she spoke softly. "You don't have to explain anything of that nature to me."

The sweat evaporated from their foreheads and any debris of apprehension still hugging the air suddenly vanished in a few fleeting seconds.

"What matters is that you two are clearly tired, and hungry, and have nowhere to stay."

She stood up and padded about the couch, rubbing behind one of her ears, deep in thought.

"Yes, yes that's quite right ma'am." Logos breathed.

"I must ask," she deferred, "being in Yevon, I am to presume you can use firearms effectively yes?"

"Oh yes, yes but we're not constricted by that by any means." Logos spoke cockily.

Leblanc raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"Well actually, ma'am," Ormi interjected, "we's had training to be bodyguards."

Her eyes suddenly lit up with revelation.

"Really?"

"Indeed," the taller man continued, "and I also was coached in assassin-" oh God wait, careful here man, oh Yevon, abort abort! "Err, other specified, specialist weapons."

"I see." Her eyes were still bright. "Bodyguards, eh? Hmm you know boys," ('Boys'? She was hardly hitting her twenties herself!), "you may just be exactly what I am looking for."

She walked back behind her couch. The pair in front of her eyeing her inquisitively. Logos leaned forward.

"If you could explain, ma'am?"

She placed her hands on the couch back, letting her knees buckle a little and shoulders hunch up to her ears. She gave them a knowing and slightly cheeky look which made the two men crane forward as if they were stretching to hear a dirty secret.

"My business is rapidly growing, with this whole Sin dying, Spira has moved into a new age. There have been great changes, loves. Like you two, many people have found themselves with nowhere to go; I've had a huge influx of Yevonites come to me in the past month or so, and even more Al-Bhed..bless them, they were completely helpless."

Logos snorted a little.

"Because of this, I'm feeling like I need to spread the authority of the group a bit wider, unfortunately there is only one of me, heh." She chuckled a little. "But I've had a hard time finding anyone I feel is qualified enough, that's the problem you see when you take in all walks of life. Then again, taking in all walks of life can have it's advantages, how would I have met you two otherwise?"

She rounded the couch slightly, so she could seat herself on the arm.

"Loves, most of the Yevonites that have come to me have only been simple soldiers of the most basic training. And, with no disrespect to their race, I don't wish to give too much responsibilities to the Al-Bheds, I'm sure you'll understand, they have a tendency to be hmm absent-minded, but they make amazing engineers. No I need advanced and reliable assistants and if I may say, a pair of bodyguards and a weapons expert are definitely extremely valuable persons to have immediately to hand."

"Excuse me, but what are you proposing?"

Despite her lengthy explanation Logos was still unsure about what she was communicating, he had an inkling but he did not wish to trust it fully until it had been completely confirmed; there was only so much disappointment he could take in one week.

"I'm proposing, loves, that I award you much more administrative positions."

The pair could feel their cheeks twitch with the want of light smirks of joy and achievement, not only was a job finally in the bag but they may actually benefit significantly more than they had first expected.

"I feel you two would be perfect contenders for aiding me in spreading control, help begin a bit of a hierarchy if you understand."

"So's wes be like your right-hand men?" Ormi piped up.

"Exactly, my sweets!"

They felt the cue of 'gushy eyes' glowing from their faces after that comment.

"Of course," she added, rising from her position, "we will have to see how it all goes. This is the first time I have had to delegate like this while running the Syndicate, it will be something we will all have to get use to and may be a little trial and error for a time."

The comrades nodded understandably.

"For now I will hire you two on the pretext of body guarding status, I could use a reliable pair of strapping young men to help me out when things get messy with the fiends."

'Gushy eyes', oh those blasted 'gushy eyes'.

"Besides with the growth of the Syndicate I have found myself lately with a bit more attention than I may have otherwise liked, and not all positive sadly. Yes, I think that will be fine for the time being, loves, I shall place you with that title and that pay for now. All subject to change however, depends how much you impress me."

With that she winked, and began to saunter over to a cabinet on the other side of the room. She slid open a draw and rifled through the contents before retrieving two sheets of paper and an ink pen. She crossed to the table with the flowers and seated herself primly, beckoning the pair over and indicated two other chairs opposite her. Once again they did as they were told.

She placed the papers definitely on the table and begun to jot down information. Logos and Ormi craned over to see that these papers were in fact a pair of employment contracts.

"Now," she announced, "I will need you two to quickly read through these, loves, then sign at the bottom if you agree."

She ruffled the sheets momentarily then handed one to them to scan, the other she kept and now held upright in her palm.

"I'll give you a quick overview though," she cleared her throat with a gentle cough. "Basically, I, Madame Leblanc, agree to offer you employment at the Syndicate under the title of bodyguards and Sphere hunters. I offer you food and individual shelter, here, in the Chateau."

She coined their bemused expressions.

"I thought it maybe a bit off-putting and perhaps distasteful to call this place a Guado Mansion, you know with all that's happened, I decided to rename it to give it a new identity. So yes I'll set you up with lodgings and, for the time being, I'll place you in the highest band of payment but with all this talk of organisation re-structuring I may need to create a new, even higher band."

She returned the paper to the table and passed it over, before delicately picking up her pen and gesturing it towards them.

"So that will be, hmm let me think, erm, 3,120 gil a week."

The pairs' eyes froze before slowly glazing over the contracts and back up to her.

"S-sorry, 3,120 gil..a week?" Logos asked.

She examined at their shocked expressions, a little confused.

"Yes, love, 3,120 gil a week."

The tall man turned to his partner, a smile creeping across his face.

"Ormi, that's nearly double what we got paid at Yevon!" He whispered.

"I knows!"

They paused.

"Well, fuck reading the damn thing!"

Logos's skinny hand lunged out and snatched up the pen, stamping the paper with his impressive calligraphy skills so fast that Ormi hadn't even registered what had happened until he noticed Leblanc placing the contract to one side with a pleasing pat. Promptly, he scribbled down his own name and handed it over.

At this point the chirpy Al Bhed from before scampered into the room. She sprung over to Leblanc with intent, clearly ready to report something, but was instead met by two pieces of paper fluttering in her face. She gave a surprised chirrup, then smiled and trotted off again, contracts in hand ready for filing, she nodded but said nothing.

"Put them on my desk, love!" Leblanc called out but the door had clicked shut before she had finished.

She signed, sure the girl had not heard her. No matter. Her hands struck the table top firmly and purposely. She rose, chair shifting back obediently.

"Right," she announced, her tone suddenly haughty and authoritative. She stood straight, hands crossed behind her back.

It took a moment but the pair hurriedly took their cue and bumbled up compliantly.

"If you'd like to follow me boys."

She strode out and around the table and straight to the back of the room, a commanding swagger to her step. She began to briskly punch numbers into a small switch panel before pulling a prominent and well shined lever next to it. The peculiar shield-shaped ornament on the back wall suddenly began to rise and open out to reveal a dusky corridor sloping down on the other side. Logos and Ormi peered into the mouth of this bizarre beast gingerly.

"Now boys I hope you understand that I am by no means some uppish dragon but I do run a tight ship here."

She turned to them, eyes fierce and expression stern.

"I expect the upmost respect and loyalty. You shall do as orders dictate and trust my decisions and directions, is that clear?"

The ex-Yevonites stood a bit stunned for a moment then looked at each. This, slightly alarming, change of nature was somewhat disconcerting but none the less this young lady had done them a huge favour, one they would have to work extremely hard to repay. They turned back, bowing a little.

"Yes ma'am."

She eyed them, then nodded and turned away but before continuing she noted,

"And you shall refer to me as Boss."

She stepped through the hollow archway to the Syndicate underbelly.

"Yes Boss." They replied.

The passage sloped downwards, it was by no means steep but it was an abnormally sharp angle for any interior design. The high ceiling, brick layered walls and stone floor caused every step they took to echo, sending light foreboding chills up the two men's spines. The pair marvelled at it's enormity and the mystery of how in Spira this had ever been kept hidden, but then they considered, was this some kind of wild and eccentric extension, requested by the mansion's new occupants, or had it been a wonderful and convenient surprise for them when they moved in. Their very innards turned when they tried to consider what Seymour may have hid away in these man-made catacombs.

"Um," Logos heard Ormi mutter charily, but before he could continue Leblanc's voice came again.

"Usually all my workers sleep in dorms much further to the back." Her voice bouncing off the walls. "But considering the circumstances we now find ourselves in, I guess you two will require something a little different."

Her hand came up and lightly tapped her chin and, after a moment of brief hesitation, she nodded and sauntered on, past a sign, nailed to the wall, on her left that had inscribed an arrow and the word 'Dorms' in both Spiran and Al Bhed, and instead strode forward and heaved open the pair of doors directly in front of the three of them.

A deep and pungent, musky smell began to ooze out, totally replacing the sweet scent of cooking that had been clinging to their nostrils. Peering through a powdery blanket of dust, inside was revealed to be some kind of store room. At first glance one would have grimaced at the flakes of dirt now sprinkling the ground but on the contrary, the room was quite well organised and cared for. The granules of filth had simply drifted off neat piles of newly plucked glittering orbs; the spheres, and the bizarre odour had risen from the crates of bottles most likely full with freshly brewed liquors.

"Of course this room is hardly prepped for tenancy," she began to shuffle a couple of spheres near the doorway, "but near the back you can pull a bed out from the wall."

She scooched about the boxes and bundles to the back and began to rummage about, running her fingers along a few deep ridges in the wall. Logos and Ormi watched inquisitively for a moment as she gave a few sharp yanks but to no avail.

"Ahem, hey, here lets me have a go ma'a-eh Boss."

Ormi's huge bear-like paws hooked into the ridge and with one swift movement the bed opened out, hitting the floor with an almighty crash. In the impact, a pyramid of bottles had toppled and started to roll across the wooden floorboards, revealing underneath a modest pile of what looked like armour and weaponry. Leblanc's momentarily crumpled face soothed as she turned towards it.

"Ooooh interesting," she cooed, "I didn't know that was here. Actually," a dainty hand rubbed her chin, "that makes me think."

She craned a little to see better, eyes scanning over the metallic rubble and beckoning the pair to do the same.

"Pick something." she said simply, waving a hand about it. "Anything."

A slightly bemused but curious, Ormi waddled over and surveyed the mess. Logos was not so sure, finally allowing his face to relax out of it's cringe (ears still thumping from the sound of splintering wood) he cocked his head, trying to read the 'Boss's expression. Eventually folding his arms and deciding instead to see how Ormi's choice may pan out.

"Whys?" Ormi's confusion had finally got the better of him.

Leblanc turned to her new employee, the same sour expression at first, but then breaking into that sweet smile she had had up in the main hall. She chuckled a tad.

"Well I guess you could fight with your bare knuckles if you really wanted, but really a weapon of choice is more ideal don't you think?"

She gave a spirited wink, then stole a sideways glance to the taller of the pair.

"And you too, unless you would rather use that scarf as a lasso."

"Humpf?" Logos snorted, glancing down at his father's scarf and holding the end of it tightly in his palm.

"Heys, what's this?"

Ormi bent down and stretched out a hand, gripping at a strange curved edge at the very bottom of the mound, aaah Ormi awkward as ever. Sending the rest of the mail, plates and blades battering down with another horrendous bang, he arose presenting a large, finely decorated, circular shield.

"Bwa ha!" Ormi trumpeted, a triumphant smile strung about his round face. "This is awesome!"

"A shield? Really?" Logos simpered. "She said a weapon, Ormi, a weapon."

"It is a weapon, heres watch."

With that the large man swung it over his forearm and with a great jolt pummelled the remainder of the stack of items with the full brunt of it's smooth convex surface. His comrade did naught but to run his hand down his forehead, embarrassed for the man and also trying to sooth the growing pain in his ears and temple.

Leblanc scratched her own ear a little.

"Well it is an interesting choice, I originally had that prototype made as an example of a mass defence technique I was thinking of using when out on missions but then I thought when on Earth do Sphere Hunters fight in great numbers eh?"

She rested her elbow and forearm on a shelf next to her, laughing a little to herself and giving them a coy smile, as if they knew all about running a businesses like this.

"No, my workers prefer sneaking, quick sprints and sleuthing, to get the job done."

She caught a glimpse of Ormi's bewildered face, and blushed a tad, feeling that she may have worried the poor man into thinking he had made a poor choice.

"Whatever makes you happy, love. This can be your room then." She said simply.

She shimmied back through the room's stock.

"If all is well with you, I'll leave you here to have a little clean up and sort out your new...new place. I'll get some of the goons to give this all a good, proper clear out tomorrow."

Logos shifted past a crate and began to approach the armour littered corner of the room but was stopped by a firm pat on the shoulder.

"You, love, come with me."

With that she gave his scarf a playful tug and strolled out into the passageway once more.

After calling out to Ormi to come back upstairs when he was ready for supper (which teased Ormi's howling stomach greatly, though he thought it rude to drop everything immediately and stuff his face) Leblanc had lead Logos a little way further down the tunnel, heels re-establishing that demanding clip-clop they had heard earlier.

Descending down further into the dark she stopped at another door, interestingly at this one she brought out a small and sparse ring of keys. His stomach gave the hint of a queasy lurch as he recalled his mother fumbling at his old bedroom door. He looked down at the scarf and twiddled the tassels through his fingers.

"I don't really approve of having locked doors down here if I'm honest, love." She muttered, eyeing one of the keys, trying to remember which one was paired with this lock. "I just don't think it shows a great level of trust, I don't have a lock on my door upstairs for the exact same reason, I like to think my employees can trust me and I them."

Her eyes floated to his fidgeting fingers, and a knowing smile played momentarily on her lips. She had found it, a short, slightly rusted key with sharp 'teeth'. With a little rattle she slid it into the lock and turned it, pushing the doors open smoothly.

This room was very different from the one Ormi had just claimed. It was more than modest compared to Logos's unnecessarily spacious room back at his old home but with his noticeable lack of possessions now it actually worked perfectly for his needs. There was only two sets of shelves in this room to which items were being stored, glancing over the tall man could see them filled with particularly organised white boxes but other than this the room only had a few pieces of stacked furniture in. It's adorning feature though was a long bed centred to the back wall.

Leblanc entered and drummed her nails on one of the white containers.

"This room was supposed to be a medical bay, that's why the bed is here."

She lazily waved her hand over to the mattress though Logos wasn't fully concentrating, the word 'medical' was ringing in his brain a little (or that could just be the headache Ormi had incited) and memories of home sparked in his mind for a few seconds, making him feel a little sick, hm, ironic, perhaps this was the room he needed.

"But in the end we decided to go with a bigger room so we could accommodate more. Oh that reminds me," she spun round to face him, "I should probably tell you we have our own Doctors here but anything really serious, Yevon forbid," Logos laughed a little at the way she sweetly placed her hands in a pray position and looked at the ceiling, "it's straight to the Hospital in Bevelle. Fortunately we haven't had anything like that yet, and I want to keep it that way, love."

She winked and then tottered over towards the bed.

"So yes, no ones used it, so you won't catch anything."

She gave his arm a jesting pat and laughed but quickly trailed off as she found him silently peering over the bed. She simply inspected his expression for a moment, feeling a slight awkward.

"You know," she spoke softly, "you two have been awfully quiet since we came down here."

Logos's conscientiousness suddenly came spilling back to his brain and he turned to her abruptly with an embarrassing jumbling sound of 'huhwha?' He brown eyes showed a sense of inquisition. He quickly gathered himself.

"Oh oh it's nothing, we don't mean to offend, if that's how it seems of course. I think we're both just...just,"

He searched deeply within his mind for a moment, struggling to uncover a single working brain cell.

"Just tired." He sighed, putting his fists on the bed and drooping down. "It's been a long few days."

It was quiet for a few seconds and then he felt something pat him thrice gently on the back. He turned and looked back up at her, she was smiling again, the corner of his mouth curled up a fraction, just smiling back.

"I think perhaps it's time you two got some food and sleep then yes?" She said.

He uncurled himself and stood straight again.

"Yes, indeed."

"It's important to note though that, well, you two must have heard a few things about me before you came here."

"Hmm?"

What an odd thing to say in response. He looked at her bemused for a moment, hands on his back stretching a bit, she cocked her head towards the bed and baffled his eyes drifted haphazardly back to the chaise. A flash of horror struck through his bones as on the bed lay the crumpled, torn and stained article they had found in the papers, the heart savagely creased and showing all the signs of abuse; stuffed in the back of pockets and forgotten about until it was a last resort.

"Err, I-" He began.

"There are people out there, who don't like me very much."

Logos could not be more thankful for her cutting in but was not so pleased at her now knotted brow and sad eyes.

"There are a number of reasons why but people do say things about me and I know they do. I know your opinions have been influenced."

Her head rose and for a minute their eyes were locked in a stare that for him was almost unbearable. His heart was thumping in his chest, his brow, that had been cooled so instantly by her soothing tone was becoming clammy again; please, through this idle misfortune, had he not completely and utterly stuffed it.

"You are allowed to think whatever you want of course but please allow me to prove different. I will be authoritative and you will work hard here but honestly I don't like to see people unhappy or put down; if there is a problem, I want to help."

She bit her lip slightly, expression all the more sullen, and muttered something.

"I am not a bitch...or I'm not a hooker."

She looked at..nothing in particular for some seconds, then tucked a few strays hairs behind her ear and walked about him, heading for one of the shelving units.

"Boss."

She turned to him blankly.

"If it's any consolation, though I did hear some rumours, I personally never received that nature of impression from you in the least."

She grinned, flattered, and nodded at him.

"Why thank you, love."

Over the next few minutes Logos surveyed her curiously. After her brief moment of melancholy she had knelt down and begun rifling round the back of the shelf, at one point he aided her in moving it so she could forage deeper into the unseen and, it seemed, neglected corner behind it. His head was still too fuzzy, and still a little painful, to do any proper thinking so instead he had entertained himself with just looking at her, her position was very pleasing.

She finally pulled out six metal boxes, much like the white containers on the shelves. One of her pink sleeves came up and ran across her forehead as she pushed one towards him with her foot.

"Have a look." She sighed, a little flustered from the rummaging.

Gingerly he flicked the latches on the box and lifted the lid. Inside lay a set of finely polished throwing blades all mounted on handsome wooden handles and laid delicately in sheaths on a leather belt.

"Are, are these for me?" He asked.

"Well," she plonked another metal chest next to the one he had just opened, "no necessarily, there's more to see."

She unlatched this one and tapped it's lid.

"Pick one." She spoke impishly.

Methodically he opened all six boxes. In them he had discovered: a pair of short katana-like daggers, some knuckle-dusters with unfolding blade attachments, a type of ridged machete, a set of sharp armoured gloves with metallic claws and finally a suave sabre. He inspected each, carefully and prudently but ultimately returned each to it's case leaving him now scanning them thoughtfully.

Leblanc's eyes dulled and excited grin faded.

"What's wrong, love?"

He collected himself trying desperately to pick (his hand hovered back over the sabre briefly but then retracted).

"I'm sorry, I don't wish to offend but I don't think any of these weapons are right for me."

His eyes continued to breeze over them until she began to gently close the metal lids before her contemplating form.

"Well to be honest it's no surprise to me that a weapons expert be very particular about his choice of accessory." She said saucily, rising to her feet once more, he followed. "What do you like to fight with."

His mind whirred for a moment, probing at those worn out brain cells again. He closed his eyes delving deeper, trying to re-jog his logic and rekindle old memories and emotions of when he first learnt to fight. Involuntary his arms bent and his hands came up, level with his shoulders, making a bizarre gripping motion.

"I like guns." He finally spoke bluntly.

"Hmm?" That lip of her pouted a tad, "we don't really have any guns, we don't usually use them."

"I know." He responded.

Guns had always been a weapon associated with Yevon and the army mentality. They were very rarely seen outside that context in Spira, the Al Bhed had some but these were machina, they were very different to that iconic musket or rifle carried by the guard. Due to these implications they were deemed almost completely unsuitable for single or minute unit fighting; blades, bombs etc were the preferred. And smaller guns, the ones that could be suitable for solo battling had been coated with an atmosphere of distrust due to their intense use from the old Yevonite mercenaries, even though that occupation had died out nearly fifteen years ago now.

"That's understandable I suppose, it's probably what you know best, working for Yevon and such." She spoke this widespread opinion precisely. "We can work something out though."

She gripped his shoulder, shaking it spiritedly.

"I have some of the finest Al Bhed here, you wouldn't believe, they could make you anything to your exact specification like that!" She beamed, clicking her fingers.

She noted his mouth open and expression turn to heated anxiety.

"Don't worry, love, these ones can make more than just machina."

Logos still wasn't so sure if he even wanted to speak to another Al Bhed let alone fight with something they had had their grubby, sand-speckled mits all over.

"But that is something we can deal with in the morning."

She released his shoulder and strutted towards the door, opening it up once more.

"Well, Logos," he felt his cheeks warm a little, "I think enough talk now, you should probably come get some dinner."

Craning to the side he could see a few gaggles of men and women trudging behind her, all heading back up towards the large hall, babbling and chatting merrily, stomach's leading. A few peeked in at him inquisitively, one or two smiled and even waved, but eventually all found their empty guts calling a bit too loud to warrant stopping and introducing themselves right now.

He clutched his own aching stomach, actually feeling a bit faint.

"I'm sure Ormi is famished too." Leblanc added, trotting out of the door, beckoning him with her. "I usually take my meals in my room but today I think I may have a few announcements to make."

She chuckled and winked.

"Our arrival on the scene is really going to twist the fates of this place that much, hm?"

"Oh love, you don't know the half of it."