Chapter Nine: Remember
-o-o-o-
Two invitations, two recipients,
two different events, and two different replies
- one checked yes, one checked no.
-o-o-o-
July 14th, 7:30 a.m.
Nida's feet scuffed along the marble floor of the corridor. For someone in his position, why was he forced to do something as trivial as mailroom delivery? Sure, his piloting duties of Garden were of the utmost importance. The problem being, that when Garden was grounded, his status was too.
So, one of his downtime tasks became helping Xu with her daily responsibilities. Sure, that sounded simple enough and it did have its highlights, but it also had one very large 'low-light' and that was delivering mail.
Every morning, Nida would rise before dawn, press his uniform, dress immaculately, and then hopefully stand out in his own right. Unfortunately, the only person who seemed to notice his efforts was Caleb, the man who had been tasked with guarding the front gates.
Thankfully for Nida, it was Caleb's job to actually suffer through the tediousness of sorting the mail; the man once compared the task to the equivalent of cleaning Grat feces in the Training Center, though Nida would find the latter preferable – he had truly grown to despise all aspects of mail.
Fortunately, Nida was only required to hand-deliver to administration and its support staff. Garden had long realized that as far as students were concerned, it was their responsibility to check daily for mail. It was at least one of the positive things that the Garden Masters of the old regime had implemented. Nida had never been more thankful to those robed dictators of Norg. At least he was spared the menial task of walking down endless corridors, arms filled to the brim with the latest issues of Weapon's Monthly, Occult Times, or for those a little more daring and mature, though maybe not mentally in Nida's opinion, Girl Next Door. That would have just added insult to injury.
Of all the days of the week, he hated Monday's the most. No, it wasn't for the traditional reasons students across the world cursed its deplorable existence, it was based solely on the fact that the first day of the workweek yielded nearly three times the amount of mail. The last week had been even more of an annoyance; the commander was not located in his office, still on some 'farce' of house arrest. He scoffed at the idea that the powers that be would dare punish the beloved commander. Nida knew how this game was played, he had silently watched from the shadows for years.
He had learned to use his obscurity as a strength - people would often forget about him, but he would never forget about people.
Honestly, he didn't mean to sound so bitter. It just seemed that with the hand he was dealt, the cards of life had always been stacked against him. He had graduated in the very same class as Zell, Selphie, and Squall. Yet, if half the general population of Garden heard his name they would wonder if 'Nida' was a male or female. At least when he was piloting, he felt as if he served a purpose – this monotony was just an annoyance.
But he didn't complain. He never complained.
Now, Nida walked wordlessly in the corridor, uniform pressed to perfection. With large white mail tote in hand, he desperately tried to keep a firm grasp on the plastic handles. No one would have ever guessed how heavy it became over time. Again, it was another thing that would go unnoticed by onlookers.
This morning he had opted for Squall's apartment first, as it was the most direct route. Before knocking on the door, Nida shuffled through the rubber-banded stacks, searching for the commander's mail. Thankfully, after little ado he found it near the top. Not too surprisingly there was new issue of Weapon's Monthly anchoring the pile. At least there wasn't an issue Girl Next Door also attached, though Nida highly doubted that the commander would be foolish enough to have it delivered right to his apartment. Squall would be much more discrete than that.
He knocked on the door waiting patiently for the commander to answer. It didn't take long, thankfully. Nida saluted as was his usual custom, although Squall never seemed to acknowledge the gesture any further than a head nod. His superior rarely said anything to him, maybe a scattered thank you – that is, if Squall wasn't too preoccupied with his work or on the phone.
"Your mail, sir."
As Nida put the stack in his hand, an ivory envelope fell from its confines. Immediately, Nida reached down to retrieve it, somehow feeling as if he had failed in some way. He handed it separately to the commander, noticing it was hand addressed; that was something rather rare for their line of work. It didn't look official as much as it did formal, though again, this too was left unsaid. He noticed Squall's face break its normal indifferent look as his eyes scanned the envelope. Whatever the letter was had the commander momentarily at a loss.
"You can go." Squall finally stated, realizing that his subordinate hadn't gone on his way.
"Sir." The pilot once again saluted his superior.
Picking up his mail bin and moving on, he just so badly wanted to give an opinion or two to Squall, but again, he would never endanger his career. He often wondered if the commander realized that they had been on the same training mission in Dollet, had nearly identical course work throughout school, and for the sake of all that's holy, at least Nida had taken his Fire Cave test two weeks before the final. He did not procrastinate, waiting to the last possible moment like some gunblade-wielding cadets…
Didn't Garden even call him out on that?
Nida even swore that he had heard Quistis telling Squall how to use the terminal at his desk right before the exam. Surely, he had to been mistaken… how in the world would a student that had been at Garden since early childhood not know that? Or what GFs were assigned to him? Well, at least the instructor didn't have to tell Squall where the front doors and gate were located, though that would have been pretty much par for the course.
Several hallways and an elevator later, he had finally made it to the third floor. Reaching the main area of the administrative wing, he immediately headed toward the headmaster's office. He saw Rinoa sitting in her chair and leaning against her desk. It appeared that her elbows were supporting her entire weight. Not to mention that she held her obligatory coffee mug firmly in hand. She seemed tired and tried to put up a front, but he could see it in her eyes. Next to her was Selphie, who seemed to be in her own caffeine-coated world, sans the use of actual caffeine. The other SeeD was always so chipper and sweet, seeing her always brightened his day.
As for Rinoa, the great thing about her was that she always initiated conversation. Whether she asked how his weekend went, or just a general 'how you doing' it was always something. Selphie too always had some form of greeting, even if it was just in passing as the crossed in the hall. The 'male saviors' always seemed to be focused on something else, in Nida's opinion – with the commander it was work, with Zell it was martial arts or hot dogs, and with Irvine it was always…well, Irvine. One would think that with the rifleman's reputation he would be focused on women. However, every time Nida seemed to see him, he was either primping himself and/or looking at his reflections in a window – sometimes both simultaneously.
Nida rested the bin on the corner of Rinoa's desk, making sure not to bother anything. She never cared, she was the polar opposite of Squall – he still couldn't figure that couple out. If he would have guessed, he would have put her with someone like Zell, more energetic and enthusiastic about life…not some guy who would barely utter two words and who, most likely, didn't even have the physical ability to smile. It was a mystery to him, as it was to much of Garden. Selphie and Irvine he could understand a little more, though just a little. He would have rather pictured the female SeeD with someone more like… him.
"Good Morning Nida, another Monday filled with coffee cups and paper cuts," Rinoa piped as he neared.
"What's the good word?" Selphie asked giving her fellow SeeD a loose salute. It was not to be taken as official, more a gesture of greeting.
"Postal strike," he sarcastically replied. "I wish."
"Heh," Rinoa scoffed, "I should go on strike as it should be illegal to have to get up before the sun. Though, I'm pretty sure I'd be marching in a parade of one around here, so that plan would most likely backfire."
"You think?" Selphie giggled. "I have this great mental image of you walking around with a picket sign in one hand, coffee mug in the other, and of course, you forcing Angelo to march along with you, probably wearing some sign with a bad pun around his neck."
"Garden is too 'ruff' on its workers." Nida suggested in jest.
"Oooh good one…" Selphie laughed giving him a playful tap on the arm. "What about Garden has un-fur working conditions?" Nida momentarily lost all formality, exchanging a high five with his fellow SeeD. He didn't break from protocol often, but it was a nice change and a very welcome break.
Of course, Rinoa didn't find this occasion one to celebrate. "Yeah, great I'm glad you two are bonding over my misery… didn't you get this out of your system this weekend, Selphie? I mean it's just too early for this."
"Don't worry Nida, we know her bark is worse than her bite."
"Ha ha, very funny Selphie," Rinoa stated in a dry tone.
"I should get moving," began Nida, as he started sifting through the bin. Somewhere in there Rinoa had her own small bundle. "Unfortunately for me, the mail doesn't deliver itself." He gave them both a genuine smile; somehow around them he didn't feel awkward or his words forced. They knew his name and he appreciated them for it. Finally, he found her stack, which this time had been near the bottom.
"Here you go. I hope your day gets better."
Before Rinoa could firmly grasp the pile, a single letter on top caught Selphie's eye. The young SeeD just couldn't let it rest. It was too good to let slip by. Reaching for the envelope, she couldn't help but read the addressee out loud.
"Rinoa Caraway?" Selphie looked at her friend and then had to repeat it more drawn out and much louder than before. It was Selphie's law after all."C-a-r-a-w-a-y?"
Nida quickly took this as a sign to get out of there, trained instinct as a SeeD taught him as much. He did get a quick glance at the envelope and although similar to the commander's, it appeared to be rather different. It didn't look like they were sent from the same place; one was white while the other was more ivory.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Nida offered politely before heading toward the headmaster's door. The women didn't verbally respond, Selphie did put up a hand acknowledging him – it was more like a lazy variation on a wave. Though he understood, it wasn't their normal behavior, especially since Rinoa didn't even look up. Whatever was in that envelope was greatly upsetting her.
For her part, Rinoa didn't even notice Nida leave; she was caught up in all the emotions that came flooding back. She knew who the damned letter was from, as there was only one obvious answer. Only one person would be so obstinate and condescending to address a formal letter with that name – and have the audacity to send it to Garden no less. Just seeing her given name brought an unwarranted bitterness. As much as she tried to move on, somehow, that man always tried to drag her back in.
"This can't be good." Rinoa said under her breath, as she covered her face with her hands. It was Monday morning - Monday morning - and seeing that name right off pretty much set the precedence for the entire day, hell most likely the entire week. She might as well go crawl back into bed and wake up in seven days. It may be the safer of the two options.
"So you're really Rinoa Caraway?" Selphie gasped, wondering how this little minute detail of her friend's life seemed to have slipped through the cracks.
"On paper… I am. Just usually legal paper. I avoid it, when possible. Squall knows, somehow I guess I just forget to mention it to you guys…or you know, I just tried to repress it greatly."
"Wow, I feel so out of the loop, but guess it makes sense and all. Just…weird to see in print and even weirder to say – Rinoa Caraway, Rinoa Cara-"
"Selphie, please…I really don't need to be reminded. I heard it enough growing up. Ugh."
"Sorry, I wasn't trying to get you even more irritated. I was just seeing how natural it sounded. It doesn't at all."
"…And thank you for that. I guess the reality is, the legal system never quite caught up to my stubbornness. I may have verbally changed it when I was younger, but some 'people' won't acknowledge my choice. Legally, under Galbadian law, I had to either be eighteen or emancipated to formally change it without a guardian, and well, you know how much that request would have gone over."
"So you going to?" Selphie hesitantly asked.
"Going to what – open the envelope or change my name?"
Selphie let out a small laugh. "Well, I know you're going to open the envelope. You're curious as heck. I know this. You know this. So that's a moot point. I was actually talking about the changing your name thing. I mean, you're old enough now and you're on your own. So there's nothing really stopping you."
Rinoa was actually surprised at how little she had thought about it now. A year ago and a half ago, it was all she could think about. She literally counted the days to her eighteenth birthday on a calendar for awhile.
And then…well, life happened.
What seemed important once upon a time, no longer seemed so vital in the bigger picture. Sure 'Caraway' may still be a legal albatross in the back of her mind, but nobody in her life saw her as that person anymore.
Rinoa cast her eyes downward, really contemplating the question for the first time in almost a year. "Selph, you know… I just don't know."
Selphie shrugged in understanding. The most important part of being a friend in her book was listening, and listening didn't always involve the words being spoken.
"Rin, you're different now. It really doesn't matter what your name is on paper, you're Rinoa to us – whether Caraway or Heartilly… you're just you."
Of course, sometimes part of being a friend was also adding that one last comment. You know, that one that would have probably gone best left unsaid. Selphie gave a mischievous smile finally adding, "Then again, it doesn't seem like it would matter much figuring someday you'll change your name to Leonhart."
"Shut up," Rinoa hushed her friend in a whisper, though it came out more a growl. "Don't even go there…"
It was her friend's facial expression that led Selphie to full blown laughter. "I'm sorry Rin you should've seen your face – classic!" She leaned the desk to add, "Tell me you haven't once thought about marrying Squall and I'll take back my comment. Kay?"
"I-I…errr," Rinoa mumbled incoherently trying to save herself from admitting the truth.
Alright, she couldn't deny the thought hadn't entered her mind. She figured that it was a somewhat natural occurrence given their circumstance. Didn't most other normal people think about it too? Of course, she really never had other friends her age to discuss things like this in-depth. It wasn't part of her daily routine as a Forest Owl to talk about her 'dream wedding' with Zone and Watts. That would have been – awkward. Also, back then, time didn't lend itself to idle daydreams.
"Fine," Rinoa huffed after she realized that trying to lie would only prove fruitless. "Yeah, I've thought about it – it's natural, right? That doesn't mean I expect it or anything… or would even mention it. That is unless I would want Squall to go running from Garden into the nearest nest of venomous Anacondaurs."
"True or false," Selphie began, pointing her finger in an accusatory fashion. "Did you just compare being married to you like being poisoned slowly by an overgrown snakelike creature? Because, seriously, if you are - have you been talking to Irvine? I'm pretty sure that mirrors his exact views of commitment. Eerie."
"No, I haven't talked to your boyfriend about it… believe me. So, before you we delve any further into this spiral of insanity… have you ever thought about becoming Selphie Kinneas?"
"Totally!" Selphie quipped with excitement. "It's actually something fun to tease him about, especially when he looks at other women, plus it flusters him to no end. Strange what imagining changing a last name can do to a guy." She paused after a second, "But don't get me wrong, I get it, Squall is not Irvine."
Rinoa wanted to add a 'thank god' to that, but felt that it may be taken in the wrong context. Then again, maybe not… Still, the sorceress could not figure how her Monday morning had now turned into this fiasco. The whole realization did give her pause.
"Though in all seriousness, maybe that is part of my underlying hesitation now… not the marriage thing, but the reason behind the change. Sure, I don't get along with Caraway, but after everything – do I want to do something out of spite at this point? I think that's how I'd see it now… Maybe what was important a few years ago, just isn't that important now. We've all grown up to a certain extent. Maybe as long as I keep 'Caraway' there is still a chance at a relationship. A slim chance, but a chance. Not to mention, as you said, I'm Rinoa Heartilly to you guys. Maybe titles aren't as important to me as they once were – it's only words on paper."
Selphie looked at the envelope in her hand, before holding it up directly in front of Rinoa. "That's true… but, if it is only words on paper, you shouldn't let this bother you."
"I had one moment of clarity and you use it against me, huh?" Rinoa mumbled realizing what had unwittingly transpired.
"That's what friends are for, right?" The SeeD grinned triumphantly.
Now Selphie's attention turned toward the letter in hand. The name fascination had worn off, so now it was time to open the goddamn thing. "Man, that envelope looks really official, there's even a wax seal on the back. That's like the trademark of an event that has fine china and five types of dinning forks."
That, in Rinoa's opinion, was the absolute worst case scenario and unfortunately, the most likely. Quickly, she snatched the letter back, before her friend had time to analyze the sum of its parts anymore. Unintentionally, the sorceress held her breath, forgoing the use of a letter opener. She had several in her desk because of her line of work, but seriously, she didn't give a damn about neatness right now.
She held invitation in hand, noticing the heavy cardstock it was printed on probably cost more than she made in a week.
The Committee for
The Presidential Inaugural
requests the honor of your presence
to attend and participate in the inauguration of
Jefferson William Mitchell
President elect of the great Republic of Galbadia
August fifteenth at the
Presidential Palace Grand Ballroom
Rinoa then reached for a second piece of paper, which had fallen from the envelope. It was handwritten on Galbadian crested stationery simply stating "Your attendance is required." To add insult to injury, the word 'required' was underlined.
There was no doubt who wrote this. The invitation by itself didn't upset her; it was the backhanded way that Caraway was still trying to control her. He damn well just tried to give her an order. Did he honestly think that saying she must go would actually make her go? In fact, it pretty much garnered the opposite response.
"He can't even ask me. It's not an invitation it's a military-type order disguised in fancy pretense."
"So, you going to go? I mean it is the president and all. It could be a once and a lifetime thing. Plus, this means we can go shopping again! That's always a huge plus."
"I seriously doubt Caraway would even want me anywhere near him if it wasn't for my involvement with Garden. I mean, had I not been in the group that 'saved the world' he would have never wanted me around. Really, for god's sake I was against Deling during the war. He's such a damn hypocrite."
"Maybe… or maybe he just wants you there and doesn't know how else to ask."
"Well, maybe asking would be a start, not ordering…big difference."
"I still think you should think about it. Just don't dismiss it because of anger. I think you should talk to Squall."
"Hmph," Rinoa muttered. "You think he of all people would even consider going? I highly, highly doubt that. I barely can get him to a dance in this building without forcibly dragging him…and he only has to travel up an elevator and two hallways for that. You think I can get him half way across the world?"
"Well, I think you should discuss it. He may surprise you."
The problem was, Rinoa didn't think this time she wanted to be surprised. She had already had a firm grasp on her answer. There may be time to mend fences later, but somehow, she doubted this event would be that time.
For a few minutes, Squall had let the envelope idly sit atop his pile of mail. He had been busy and looking at a personal letter seemed to be the last distraction he needed. Well, he figured it was somewhat personal, given that it was hand addressed. Over the last few months, he had been invited to several events, parties, and celebrations and he turned them all down. Those not being forced on him by Garden, of course. He didn't need to play the hero; it wasn't who he was after all. He was just some kid tossed into an unbelievable situation. It just seemed the rest of the world didn't take his involvement as lightly and SeeD felt the need to elevate his contribution above the others. This bothered him, he wasn't the only one fighting for the future, he just seemed to the one people remembered.
As for this letter, he didn't think it was another baseless invite; usually, those came to his desk via the headmaster. No, this was addressed not only him to him personally, but it also listed his old room number – something very obscure indeed. As curiosity finally got the better of him, he mentally scolded Rinoa for her influence in that area. A year ago he would have not even given that damned thing a second glance, now he felt the inherent need to open it.
Reaching over, the commander sighed in irritation as he found himself giving into his weakness. Making quick work of the envelope, he pulled out the letter inside. He found a crimson colored paper with a ribbon attached, definitely not something that was the norm in his life. Undoing the ribbon, he opened the card further to an ivory insert. There he saw a once familiar name –Wimbly Donner.
Squall had almost forgotten about him, but it only seemed like a lifetime ago. Sadly, Wimbly had been his roommate for nearly ten years; one would think he would have deserved more than a casual thought. The commander had purposely avoided all social contact with the boy, who was basically the polar opposite of himself. Donner was outgoing, well-loved, and ironically, Selphie's predecessor to the Garden Festival Committee. It was his obsession with the latter that resulted in Wimbly eventually pulling away from SeeD. Well, that and his girlfriend, who apparently had been more than just a passing fling.
However, there was one thing that Donner never knew he would be - the person who inadvertently helped Squall from making the biggest mistake, up until that point, in his life. The commander would never admit it to his ex-roommate, in fact, back then he had lashed out at him for his horrid timing. It was amazing how things seemed different now, looking back with an entirely new perspective.
Squall stared blankly at the wedding invitation; it was still a very difficult concept in his mind. There was a part of him that was glad to see Wimbly and his girlfriend had survived their adversities. The commander had his doubts back then, but again, Squall pretty much doubted the need for relationships in general in those days. It seemed that his former roommate wasn't the only one who had matured over the years.
A sudden knock on his door brought him back to the present. He bit back the urge to grumble, though he truly hated distractions, especially those in human form. He set the paper on his desk heading toward the door. He would be glad when he didn't have to be in his apartment anymore, this getting up and answering the door was becoming an annoyance rather quickly.
He opened the door only to see a smirking Irvine, a sight that actually frightened him on many levels. Instead of his usual response, Squall looked at the cowboy, apparently the grinning man knew something he didn't, or at least thought he did.
"What?" Squall asked trying not to sound too irritable, but it was early on Monday morning. Plus, as much as he liked Irvine, he had quite frankly had enough of him over the last weekend. Too much of Irvine was usually a bad thing in his book.
"Just dropping by, Cid said I needed to run getting some new supplies through you."
"So, it's work related?" That was at least somewhat encouraging; he didn't need to hear another bout of personal angst between Selphie and Irvine. That pretty much summed up the entire train ride home from Dollet.
"Yep. Though I suppose you and I hold different definitions of work."
Squall glared at him, not understanding that comment, then again, it was probably for the best. He shook his head in disgust, "Never mind, I don't even want to know what you mean. Come on, the computer's in back."
Irvine followed the commander, letting him take the lead. He had only been to Squall's a handful of times, and in most of those, he never made it any further than the living room. It was one of the first times he got the full scope of the commander's apartment.
"Nice," he drawled out overemphasizing the word as he eyed the place. "See you're moving up in the world. Although, could do a little better in the decoration department - you know, like actually have some."
"So I'm told." Squall responded well aware of this fact. It seemed to be a sticking point with Rinoa. His lack of decorating skills was a hot topic among some of his friends, that and his outright lack of furniture.
Without furthering the conversation, Squall made it back to his spare room that served as his temporary office. He took a seat behind the card table that served as his desk.
"Alright, let's have it."
Irvine looked around the room quickly realizing there wasn't a secondary chair in the room. "Squall man, where exactly am I supposed to sit?"
"You don't." The commander retorted as if the answer was painfully obvious.
"Seriously, this is cruel man… not even a folding chair in the closet? What are you going to do when we all show up for dinner one night?"
"Send you to the cafeteria," Squall replied just as calmly. The commander had found a direct correlation in having furniture to people wanting to sit in it…and not leave. So he just avoided the middleman, this way people would hopefully get the hint. Then again, with the stubbornness of his friends, maybe not.
"Fine," Irvine replied realizing this was a battle he couldn't win. Maybe Rinoa could, but him…not so much. "Anyway, I needed to see about ordering some dark ammo, but the stuff I'm looking for-"
Irvine stopped as he saw the invitation on the desk. He knew this situation well, and somehow wanted to help his friend from making the cardinal mistake often made by males everywhere. This squarely fit into his area of expertise, and he really hated to see his friend make a rookie mistake.
"Is that an invitation?"
"Yes." Squall had no idea why Irvine seemed interested in it.
"…To a wedding?"
"Yes, again."
"Are you thinking about going and taking Rinoa?"
"I've not decided anything either way."
"Squall Leonhart, I'm going to give you some advice. Never, and I mean never take a female to a wedding. It's just asking for trouble."
"What?" Squall replied half in amazement of the asinine comment. He figured Irvine had a reason to say what he did, but he'd be damned if he could figure it out.
"Yeah, that didn't come out exactly right," Irvine said straightening his hat with a soft chuckle. He hadn't meant it to say it so direct, but upon reconsidering his words; he could understand his friend's confusion.
"Look, just know if you take her, she won't be just watching the wedding, she'll be thinking about her own. She'll put herself in the bride's place, and guess who will be standing next to her? One guess. You could be getting yourself into a heap of trouble, trust me on this one – guns and women, remember?"
"Irvine, I'm not even going to…" Squall said still disbelieving this. Sure the commander had his doubts about going, but that certainly wasn't among his concerns. "Irvine, I think we better just stick to the subject of guns. Just get back to your ammo request."
For the third time in ninety minutes, someone knocked on Squall's door. He had to, had to get back to his office before his sanity ran thin. He had just gotten Irvine out not more than ten minutes before, which was quite the accomplishment for the day. After the cowboy's odd advice, he wasn't sure what to think. Worse yet, he started to think about what Irvine had meant.
It had never occurred to him about any double meaning. The last thing he ever did was put himself in other people's places – such as picturing himself at a wedding. He started to wonder if Irvine was right, would Rinoa do that? Though he doubted that was limited to women; he bet some guys did that too, as he could see Zell doing something along those lines – Laguna even more so. Then again, he started to believe that this must have at least crossed Irvine's mind at one point, which probably accounted for the warning. It was most likely the cowboy's fears of commitment manifesting in another way… he'd bet a hundred Gil on that
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Rinoa standing there. Then again, probably the best possible scenario.
"This is starting to become a habit." He offered the smallest of smiles to her. He didn't want her to think he was upset with her.
In return, she offered a very brief smile, something very unlike her. He immediately knew something was bothering her.
"Rinoa, you all right?"
She shrugged, it wasn't the biggest issue in the world and he had far greater concerns than her parental issues. She didn't even know why she found herself coming down here, he absolutely despised distractions, and just because she was going through a minor personal crisis didn't mean that he should stop working. She had just stepped out a break and to run down to grab a muffin. Unfortunately, she just found herself by passing the cafeteria and taking one too many steps to his apartment.
"I should go you're busy."
"Yes, I am, but you're here for a reason."
"It's not a good one," she countered.
"Let me decide." He stepped to the side, giving her unspoken permission to enter. He closed the door behind her, waiting for her to say something. She didn't, which again, was very unlike her.
"Is what's bothering you have something to do with what you have in there?" He motioned to her purse with his hand.
"What?" She questioned in shock. How in the world did he possibly know that? Sure, they could share empathetic moments at times, but this was crossing some mental line.
"Don't worry, it's not what you think." Ironically, he said that knowing what she was most likely thinking. "It was actually a simple conclusion, because since I first opened the door, you've done nothing but clutch your purse. Now, I could either assume you're afraid that I'm going to jump over my nonexistent coach and become the most unlikely purse snatcher at Garden, or there's something in there that is bothering you."
"You are good." She found that his attempt at humor had made her involuntarily smile, lightening her overall mood. It just seemed so easy when he was around, even if she had a rather upsetting morning. She knew she had done that to herself, making a mountain of a molehill had somehow become her specialty.
"No, I'm just observant and you're changing the subject." He glanced at his watch before looking back at her. "Early lunch."
"Is that a question?"
"I suppose it is... Why don't we take an early lunch? We can talk."
"God, it's got to be bad if you're offering to talk," she mumbled in embarrassment. She didn't expect this; then again, she had no idea what she expected when she walked down here.
"Rin…"
"Sorry, yeah…if you don't mind. I know you're busy, I really don't want to bother you."
"We went over this, I think. Plus, it was my suggestion, remember?"
"Wait," she paused taking a step into the room. It was hazy and slight, but there was something clouded in her thoughts. "Is there something you want to talk about too?" She looked at him questionably.
Rinoa had no idea why she said it or how to gauge his response. His stare was near emotionless, and she had come to understand he had several emotions; it just took subtle nuances to understand, and this one wasn't one she had learned to read.
"Now…you're good," he responded in disbelief.
There was a sudden awkwardness between them that hadn't been their earlier. He tried to shake it, pressing forward. He pointed toward the back.
"If you want to sit, there's a chair in the office."
"Isn't there only one?"
"Yeah, it's fine, I can sit on the floor."
"You need furniture, you know that right?"
He shrugged giving her the tiniest hint of a smile. Didn't he already have this conversation today?
"Just makes people think their welcomed. Same reason I'll never have a welcome mat in front of the door – sends mixed singles after I try to bludgeon them with whatever is nearby."
She sighed lifting her hands in jest. "Didn't this weekend teach you anything?"
"Yes, I shouldn't take you to jump off a bridge for our anniversary." He quickly wanted to amend his statement to say 'birthday' as he didn't know how she would interpret anniversary. Damn Irvine for getting into his thoughts, although he felt at this point it was better just to let it slide. He usually got himself into trouble when he tried to correct his wording. He just needed to sit her down and talk.
"Want to go to my bedroom?"
…And crap.
"I mean go to the bedroom and sit. Sit on the bed together and talk," Squall fumbled.
Ah yes, if this was any indication of how this conversation would go, he should have just stayed asleep.
