Chapter X

Squall followed Rinoa into her apartment, gazing around with interest. The first thing he noticed was that while it was clean, it was not immaculate. Not like the hotel room he'd just checked out of or his own place at the resort. It was…lived in.

Little things caught his eye; framed photographs atop a mantelpiece over a gas fireplace, mostly portraits of what Squall assumed were friends or family members. Green plants of various types in various places, added life to the main room, while mismatched pillows were thrown haphazardly upon the overstuffed and very comfortable looking couch.

None of the furnishings were of any particular style or color or maker; taken individually, some might be considered unique or interesting, while others might not be. Yet they all seemed to work together to give the room a sense of warmth and welcome, with a healthy dose of unpretentious, unabashed fun added in the form a large, flat-screened LCD television, surround stereo system and a gaming console.

The second thing he noticed was Rinoa's dog. Indeed, his attention was directed to her by her thunderous barking virtually the moment he walked through the door. The only reason that she was the second thing he'd noticed was because he'd actually taken a quick glance around the room before focusing upon her.

Rinoa of course had told him about Angelo, so he'd known what to expect upon first meeting her. She was a larger dog than he'd envisioned however, before remembering that some Galbadian Shepherds could approach a hundred pounds in weight and nearly a meter in height at the shoulder. The collie part of her make up was what reduced her size somewhat and provided the thick coat and partially flopped over ears. The dog's breeder had docked its tail before she'd gotten it, and Squall recalled how sad Rinoa had been at her inability to prevent that from happening.

"Angelo! Shush!" Rinoa admonished the dog, kneeling down to scratch behind its ears in an effort to calm it, adding softly, "He's a guest here. Be nice."

Squall waited while Rinoa calmed her dog, knowing well enough about meeting strange dogs despite never having owned one himself. He watched as the dog's aggressively pricked ears and raised ruff calmed and the watchfulness faded from its gaze.

Once the dog appeared to have relaxed, Rinoa stood and approached Squall, hand firmly gripping the collar, and said formally, "Angelo, this is Squall. Squall, this is Angelo."

Squall extended his hand toward the dog, palm downward, allowing it to get a good sniff at him, saying, "Pleased to meet you Angelo." Rinoa gave him a conspiratorial smile, which he returned as the dog thoroughly investigated him.

When that investigation was completed, Squall ventured to stroke his hand over the dog's head, marveling at the soft fluff before gently rubbing at the silky fur behind its ears. Angelo slitting her eyes partially shut and dropping her mouth open in a tongue-lolling canine smile rewarded his efforts. He ventured further and dug his fingers into her thick mane, working them down her neck. The dog reached up and licked his face in appreciation, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

Rinoa echoed his laugher, saying, "It's official. She likes you."

"I like her too. She's lovely." Squall grinned, taking the dog's face into both hands and scratching behind its ears.

"Come on. Let's get you settled." Rinoa invited. Squall left the dog with a final pat and followed Rinoa further into her apartment and into her bedroom. He almost laughed when Rinoa pointedly took his duffel bag from him and tossed it onto her bed, giving him a challenging look as she did.

"You're sure about this?" He asked her, sobering.

"Yes. I have extra space in my dresser. You can use the three drawers on the end." Rinoa answered him.

Squall didn't ask her how she came to have the extra space. He could guess at why. Fortunately, there were no personal effects or clothing belonging to her late fiancée left behind, so that little bit of awkwardness was thus avoided. Squall rather doubted it was by choice. If he had to speculate upon it, she had likely either returned those items to his family or they had simply retrieved them. Or, yet another possibility, he hadn't actually started to move in yet; had delayed that step until after the wedding.

"All right," He said, immediately starting to unpack, much to Rinoa's fascination.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" Rinoa asked, amused.

Squall shrugged, "I try not to."

Glancing around, Rinoa noticed the long black case that Squall had brought along with his duffel bag. It was emblazoned with the same lion-head symbol that he wore as his pendant. She wondered what it contained; whatever it was, it was obviously important to him, if one went by the way he guarded it.

"What's in here?" she asked, curiously, reaching for the case.

"Don't touch that." He said flatly. Rinoa froze, swallowing uncertainly.

Squall left off his unpacking and turned back to where Rinoa stood next to his gunblade case. Lifting it off the floor, he laid it upon her bed and frowned down at it, still resting his hand on it just beneath Griever's symbol. He had brought it with him without thinking, an action as natural to him as breathing.

"It's…. my gunblade. I don't even know why I brought it. Habit I suppose." It's instinct. Can't get away from it… Carl had said that. Was it true? Squall wondered. He'd tried to move beyond his former life as a SeeD, and for the most part, had succeeded. But parts of it, he had to acknowledge, would never go away completely. It was part of who he was.

Rinoa was left both curious about that and a little scared, to be honest. She vaguely remembered him sliding a long, glowing, bladelike weapon into a sheath he wore on his back the morning he'd left. She wondered if that was what he was referring to.

"Can I …I'd like to see it. Do you mind?" Rinoa asked him.

Squall hesitated, then said, "Okay but…don't touch it. It's very sharp."

"Okay. I won't." Rinoa nodded solemnly.

Squall studied her for a moment, and then dropped his gaze to where his hand rested upon the case. He stroked the smooth surface unconsciously, then unlocked, unlatched and opened the case, revealing what lay within.

It lay upon black velvet, as sleekly beautiful and deadly as a sleeping panther. Or lion, Rinoa amended as she saw the etching on the oddly translucent blue blade. It was neither sword nor gun, but an elegant melding of both. The glow from the blade was not as easy to see in the light of day, gloomy though it was, but Rinoa could just make it out. It reflected off of the gleaming silver of the cylinder where she could see the large bullets that the weapon required. More of those bullets were lined up in the case in a section set aside for them, each the size of Squall's thumb.

Rinoa placed her hand over her lips, trying to ignore the tingle in her fingertips that virtually begged her to smooth them over the blade to see if it was as smooth and cold as it looked, or its luminescence also included warmth. Instead, she watched as Squall did that instead, tracing his fingertips along the blade to the oddly configured handle, caressing it the way he would a lover. The way he'd caressed her.

Rinoa swallowed and held silence, not quite understanding what she was seeing, but somehow aware that it was an integral part of him. She thought he might pick it up; he'd curled his fingers around the handle as though he would, but then he moved his hand away from it instead.

Finally, Rinoa found her voice, whispering, "It's beautiful." She'd never seen such a weapon up close, though she'd heard a little about SeeDs and the weapons that they'd used second hand, mainly due to her father and how she'd been raised. The Galbadian Army used gunblades, but they were nothing like this; it was larger, the blade thicker and differently shaped, and presumably heavier. And the metal parts of the gun portion…were silver.

Not real silver, Rinoa discovered as she looked more closely. Only the decorative portions of the weapon were actual sterling. The rest was silver-chromed steel. The actual silver decoration on the side of it, incorporating the trigger guard and the hammer, took the fanciful form of a winged lion. The grip was fairly standard for a gunblade, though it was made of smooth black wood, and not plastic, as she'd originally thought. In an odd bit of whimsy, the end of the grip had a silver charm attached, an exact replica of the pendant that Squall wore, identifying him as the gunblade's owner.

"It's custom made. There isn't another like it anywhere." Squall said.

"You designed it?" Rinoa asked him, awestruck.

Squall nodded. "It took me a long time to get the materials together that I needed to have it made, but…it's by far the best gunblade I've ever used."

"It looks almost alive, the way it glows," Rinoa commented.

Squall studied her for a moment, then gently lowered the lid to the case and shut it, considering her observation.

"I suppose it is, in a way." Squall said. Then he smiled slightly at her and added, "It has a name."

Rinoa tilted her head and gazed up at him, intrigued, asking. "Do all SeeDs name their weapons?"

"Most of them do." Squall answered.

"Why?" Rinoa asked, curiously. She'd never heard of such a thing. A weapon was simply a tool; it had no soul or heart, no personality, and thus was not given any name save the one that identified what it was. Then Rinoa recalled Squall's weapon and how it had seemed alive. Its graceful, lethal beauty spoke more of the man who designed and wielded it than Rinoa would have otherwise thought, had she not seen it and gotten to know him.

Squall hesitated, unsure if he should answer her or not. Not for any worry of giving away trade secrets, it was common knowledge that SeeDs use a particular weapon throughout their careers and are very young when they choose it. No child over the age of ten is even accepted as a potential SeeD candidate.

He just wasn't sure that she would understand any of it. Then he decided that he was giving her too little credit…and far too little trust.

"All SeeDs start out as young children. The median age of a SeeD candidate is eight. Some are younger, but very few are older. The first two years is mainly academics, with mostly unarmed martial arts used for physical training. By the third or fourth year, we're considered ready to choose our specialties; our primary weapons. From that point on, our focus as SeeD cadets is to master that weapon. It becomes a part of us, an extension of our bodies; something that we rely upon to defend us and preserve our lives and the lives of those whom we are entrusted to protect. It becomes a reliable friend, and trusted companion; oftentimes, the only companion that we can fully trust. Based upon that, it's not so unusual that we would name our companions." Squall finally answered her.

How lonely a life he must have had, Rinoa thought, suddenly feeling sad for the child he'd once been.

"No." She finally agreed quietly. "It's not so unusual at all." Then she nodded toward the case and asked, "What did you name yours?"

Squall smiled briefly at her, relieved somewhat at her apparent acceptance of this part of him, and told her, "LionHeart."

Rinoa smiled back at him and repeated solemnly, "LionHeart. Weapon of legend."

Squall laughed softly at this and shook his head, "No it isn't."

"It should be." Rinoa said.

"Well, it's not. It's just a gunblade. And I'm just an ex-SeeD. No legends here." Squall told her with a shrug.

Rinoa sighed, then met his eyes, fascinated by their coolly mutable azure shade, replying, "I suppose it's just as well. Legends are mythical ideals, not flesh and blood people." She reached out, the desire to touch him again making her bold enough to place her hand over his where it rested upon his gunblade case, then lightly stroke back from his hand and up his forearm.

" I prefer reality to legend anyway."

Squall swallowed at this, suddenly wanting to kiss her thoroughly. Later, he promised himself, if things headed toward that direction. Instead he lifted his hand off of his gunblade case and used it to lightly brush the backs of his fingers against Rinoa's soft, white cheek.

"So do I," he agreed softly. Then he dropped his hand and looked away, adding, "I'd better finish up here so we can get all of this out of the way."

"It's not like you've got that much left." Rinoa said.

"No, so it shouldn't take long. Then, we can go eat dinner. I must admit that I am rather hungry. It was a long flight." Squall responding, resuming his unpacking.

"It was indeed." Rinoa agreed, and he glanced back at her with a small smile.

"So, I was thinking the first thing that we should do tonight is to get you a nice sweater or two." Rinoa was saying as they strolled along the strip.

It had stopped raining, and the streetlights and neon signs from the shops that lined the boulevard reflected off of the wet street in watery glimmers. The cold and damp were just enough for puffs of vapor to show as Rinoa spoke.

"I'd planned on doing that tomorrow, but I suppose we could do that tonight instead," Squall responded. He appreciated the fact that she'd snuggled close to him in an effort to warm him, as he was still feeling the cold despite his heavy coat.

"Well, you need something, even if it warms up a bit tomorrow. It's just too bad my Bears sweatshirt didn't fit you." Rinoa commented on a sigh.

Squall snorted, "Sweatshirts aren't meant to be worn skin-tight. I could barely get it off."

Rinoa laughed, recalling the humorous sight of him struggling out of the overly tight garment. It had looked good on him, though really anything that molded to his chest and accentuated his musculature would have done just as well. And the blue color had really brought out his beautiful eyes.

"Well, I'm glad we didn't have to resort to cutting it off of you. That's my favorite sweatshirt." Rinoa said.

"So, you're a hockey fan? I would never have guessed." Squall commented.

"Yup. Die-hard Galbadian Bears fan, through and through. In fact, they're in the playoffs, and I've got box seats for tomorrow's game. Wanna go?" Rinoa invited. She had an extra ticket and had been considering asking Selphie to accompany her. She was pretty sure however that her friend would not mind in the least that Rinoa had opted to invite a cute guy instead. Correction: Gorgeous, hot, brain-meltingly sexy guy. Nope, Selphie wouldn't mind, though she might be jealous.

Squall raised his eyebrows, intrigued, and grinned, "I'd love to. It's been forever since I've seen a Bears game."

"Great!" Rinoa smiled, adding, "Now let's go get you some sweaters." She reached for the door to the shop that Squall had just visited earlier, pausing when Squall's hand reached it first and he opened it for her with a quirk of his lips.

"My, how gentlemanly of you." Rinoa commented.

Squall snorted, "I have my moments."

"And I've enjoyed them so far," Rinoa replied, prompting him to laugh softly.

She preceded him into the shop and headed toward the back, with Squall following closely behind.

The clerk greeted them as they passed; smiling at Squall, "Back again for the sweaters?"

Squall nodded and Rinoa smiled, "Yes, we are."

"Back there. If you have any questions, or need any help, let me know," the clerk offered.

"Thank you," Rinoa said, and they continued toward the section indicated.

"So, have anything specific in mind?" Rinoa asked him once they reached their goal. They both began examining the offerings there, with Rinoa paying particular attention to color, while Squall appeared more interested in what the sweater was made from.

"Anything that doesn't itch." Squall said, studying a black sweater critically.

"Are you allergic to wool then? I know some people that are…" Rinoa observed.

Squall shook his head, "No, nothing like that. I just have sensitive skin. I don't break into hives or anything like that if I wear wool, the scratchiness just irritates me, that's all."

"So, let's see then…" Rinoa mused, studying the items more closely. "Here's a nice one. Angora and silk, and its a really pretty blue. What do you think?" She held the item up and Squall took it and felt the fabric and the weight, then checked the size.

"Nice. But it's too small. And the knit's too loose." Squall said, handing it back to her, adding, "Lamb's wool is good for warmth and it's not as irritating as regular wool. Blended with either silk or angora or some other soft fiber, it works pretty well."

"I see," Rinoa said, returning to her search, only to look up when Squall said in an amused tone, "Rinoa? I'm a large. I like having room to breathe."

She laughed at this and moved closer to him to help search in the right size. She noticed he tended to look at either neutral or dark colors; black, navy blue, gray or more rarely, light tan or beige, or white. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was colorblind. Rinoa decided right then, that she would change that.

Bright colors wouldn't suit him, she decided, trying and failing to picture him in red or yellow. Nope. That wouldn't work. Neither his personality nor his coloring would be able to carry that off. But blues and greens? Yes. Definitely.

"This one." Rinoa said, her attention caught by the bright blue color. Not too bright, and with a green undertone, she just knew it would look fantastic on him. She quickly checked the size and fabric; the right size, and it was lamb's wool and silk in a nice, tight knit in a fairly plain, unfussy style…perfect. She held it up against him and smiled broadly as the color brought his eyes into bold relief.

Squall took it from her and studied it. The color was nice, though not one that he normally wore. Everything else about it was fine, so he nodded in acceptance.

"Okay." He said, continuing to study the offered items, and finally deciding on another one in soft heather gray. He figured that the two sweaters would be sufficient for his needs and turned away, intending to complete his purchases and continue with the rest of the evening.

"Are you only getting those two?" Rinoa asked him.

"I don't need a different sweater for every day that I'm here," Squall began.

"Variety is the spice of life, or so I've heard. Live a little." Rinoa interjected. "This green one's nice." She added, holding up the garment she was referring to.

She stepped closer and held it against his chest, smoothing the fabric out and studying how the color lit his features and accentuated the greenish cast to his eyes. Squall gazed down at her and leaned close, eyes sparkling, lips just on the edge of a smile.

"I'm working on it. That's why I'm here." He murmured softly. Rinoa swallowed as he invaded her space until they were nearly touching and his warm, spicy scent teased her senses once again. He reached his hand up then and covered hers where it still rested against his chest, pressing it into his warmth.

Rinoa simply stared up at him, the power of speech driven from her by the slyly amused glitter in his eyes, the almost smile that he wore, and by the fact that he was somehow close enough to kiss her, if he should bend down just a little more…

"This green sweater is nice. But I think that's going to be the last one for now. We still have dinner to get to, remember?" Squall reminded her.

"Dinner?" Rinoa said blankly, before she remembered the actual reason they were going out. "Right. Dinner."

Squall leaned even closer, until his lips were just a breath away from hers, the wicked glint in his eyes plainly evident. "Yes. Dinner. So let's get these paid for and be on our way."

Rinoa couldn't help staring at his lips, so close to hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, and remembered their flavor and how they felt on hers. Unconsciously, her tongue snuck out to moisten her lips.

That small action turned the tables on Squall's teasing, tempting him beyond what he could endure any longer. He had to kiss her.

It took nothing at all to bridge the gap that separated his lips from hers. Mindful of their location however, he pressed his lips lightly against hers, just enough to tease and to taste. Just enough to leave them both aching for more.

Rinoa's hand, pressing against his chest, clutched at him for support as she swayed, eyes drifting shut. Drifting, losing herself in the kiss…. which was far too brief for her liking.

"Let's go." He whispered, pulling back and smiling down at her. Rinoa swallowed and nodded, following him to the counter and feeling her cheeks heat at the amused expression on the clerk's face.

"Will that be all then?" the young man asked them politely, while sighing inwardly at the evidence of his handsome customer's preference. It was too bad too; the guy's beautiful eyes were to die for.

"Yes." Squall answered, placing his purchases on the counter to be rung up.

"That will be three hundred and sixty gil." The clerk responded, glancing over at Rinoa upon hearing her gasp.

Squall however simply gave the man the requested amount and nodded when the clerk thanked him politely, taking the bag his purchases had been placed in when the clerk handed it to him.

He led the way to the door and opened it for Rinoa, following her back out onto the street.

"Three hundred and sixty gil?" She exclaimed as they started walking toward the restaurant they'd both decided upon. "That's over a hundred gil apiece! Sheesh!"

"Hundred and twenty, actually. And it's because they're knitted from rather expensive yarn. Lambswool, silk, cashmere…" Squall responded, not bothering to mention the designer label. He wasn't normally a label hunter but this particular designer was known for their quality.

"Well, they'd better be warm, as much as you've paid for them." Rinoa frowned. "Speaking of which, why don't you go ahead and put one on? You're freezing and there's only so much I can do to keep you warm out here on the street."

"Okay. So you want me to just stop here in the middle of the sidewalk and put on a sweater?" Squall asked her, amused. "I presume you have a plan for dealing with the tags?"

"Don't you SeeDs carry around some kind of multi-use tool? You know, the knife, corkscrew, nail clipper, can opener, pocket watch, bottle opener thingie?" Rinoa asked him curiously.

"I left it in my other pants." Squall said dryly.

Rinoa sighed, "I have nail clippers in my purse. Which sweater do you want to wear?"

Squall considered that for a moment, and then remembered how it had felt when Rinoa had smoothed the green sweater against his chest, just prior to him kissing her. It had felt soft, smooth, warm…. like her kiss. And it was a nice color as well.

"The green one." Squall answered her. She reached into the bag and pulled it out, deftly cutting the tags off of it with her nail clippers.

"Here you go," Rinoa said, intending to hand it to him, when he stopped her.

"Hang onto that for a minute." Squall said, unbuttoning his coat and removing it and his scarf. Handing it to Rinoa for her to hold, he then took the sweater from her and pulled it on over the black, long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. Once he got it settled, he took his scarf from Rinoa and put it on, then did the same with his coat.

"Better?" Rinoa asked as he buttoned up his coat again.

"Much," Squall answered, reaching for her hand. The sweater was exactly what he'd needed to deal with the chilly night.

She threaded her fingers through his and they continued toward the restaurant.

Squall was familiar with Deling City, having been there more than a few times as a SeeD on assignments and when things got boring in Balamb. He hadn't been away from it so long that things had changed much since. Still, since he was a guest there, he had suggested that Rinoa pick where they would eat that night. He was curious to see what she would select.

Rinoa had really had a difficult time with the decision too. There were a number of places that she liked, but had purposely avoided selecting one of her favorites, Docksiders, because her friends might be there. NOT that she was embarrassed to be seen with Squall; quite the opposite. She just didn't want anything to intrude upon her time with him. She wanted him all to herself tonight.

And then there was the question of fare…. what was he in the mood for? What did she want? When she'd asked Squall, he said he was too hungry to care, which wasn't very helpful at all.

Rinoa had finally settled on one of her favorite steakhouses, suddenly having the urge for a nice steak. And maybe some shrimp.

"Here we are," Rinoa said, reaching for the entrance door and pulling it open before Squall could. She entered the restaurant ahead of him, chuckling at his exasperated huff as he followed her.

The hostess guided them to a table not long after they entered, and Rinoa couldn't help sighing at the image Squall presented as he removed his jacket and scarf and sat down. He looked stunning in green. The color was reflected in his eyes beautifully and made it hard not to stare at them. The warm lamplight in the restaurant glinted off of the necklace he wore, his earring and the stainless steel watch on his left wrist, throwing those silvery accents into bright relief. A forelock of his thick chestnut hair had flopped into his eyes, the coppery sparks amongst the sable strands once more visible in the golden light. Rinoa wanted to run her fingers through it and feel its smooth, warm silkiness once more, but that would have to wait. They had to eat dinner first.

She wasn't nearly as hungry for her evening meal as she was for the man who sat across from her however. Suddenly, Rinoa's mouth felt as dry as Esthar's central desert. She reached for the glass of ice water that the waiter had left for her and took a sip.

Squall, apparently absorbed in studying the menu, was in actuality anything but. He didn't know exactly what was in Rinoa's mind just then, but her suddenly pink cheeks and the downright hungry look she'd given him before that slight flush of color gave him a hint. And all he could think about from that moment on was how badly he wanted her naked and in his arms again.

"So…um…what are you going to order?" Rinoa asked him.

Squall lowered the menu and stared at her blankly for a moment, before clearing his throat and answering, "Prime rib sounds good."

"I'm going with surf and turf." Rinoa declared decisively.

"Oh? Steak and lobster?" he asked.

Rinoa snorted and shook her head, "No. I love lobster but that's too much for me tonight. Just a ribeye and shrimp."

"There are better places for lobster than here anyway," Squall commented.

"True. There's a great seafood place right near the wharf," Rinoa replied.

"I was thinking of Balamb, actually." Squall said, adding. "Blue rock lobsters. Can't get them anywhere else, and they're incredible. They're native to the ice current out from the seawall all the way toward Trabia. Can only hunt them twice a year but they're huge, even so."

"I take it you're a fan?" Rinoa asked, charmed by Squall's sudden animation as he described his homeland's native crustacean.

"Most everyone is. They even named their hockey team after them." Squall answered her.

"So that's why they're called the Blue Lobsters? I thought it was an odd name, I had no idea of the reason behind it." Rinoa commented. Then she tilted her head and asked, "How do you know so much about them? It almost sounds like you've worked as a fisherman before."

"I spent a couple of months on a lobster trawler while on assignment once. Hard, dirty, dangerous work it was; I was glad that my next job was firmly on dry land." Squall answered her.

"I'm guessing that decided you against pursuing that as a career option post-SeeD?" Rinoa asked him.

"Yeah." Squall answered, declining to mention that until he'd found Ellone, he had no intentions of ever quitting SeeD. He figured that he, like most SeeDs, would die young and violently. No sense in planning for a future that would likely never come to pass.

The only reason that he'd had such a large amount of funds in reserve for his retirement was because unlike other SeeDs, he wasn't a spendthrift and his personal needs were few. Indeed, while he'd accumulated quite a few items in his years as a SeeD and in particular as Commander, he could still pack nearly everything he owned that was of any importance into one duffel bag.

That, and the fact that he'd discovered he had a knack for investing. It was like a game to him, a challenge that he enjoyed. And if the score he racked up just happened to be in cold, hard gil, so much the better. He wasn't emotional about it… neither the wins nor the losses. He could always earn more money. No matter what, he could survive, so it wasn't a problem for him to give everything he had for Ellone's sake.

Nor was it a problem to earn it back, though this time he had a specific reason for wanting to do so. He discovered that he liked the idea of having a comfortable financial reserve; it gave him far more options than he would have had otherwise.

Options like taking a week off from work with no regrets.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter returned, asking them. Rinoa and Squall both nodded and told the man what they wanted.

After the man left, Rinoa rested her chin on her clasped hands for a moment, studying Squall intently before commenting, "You know, I took you for a sailor in the coffee shop. Now I know where you came by the peacoat."

"Yeah, well I didn't need any of my really warm gear when I moved to Esthar. It works pretty well for the odd rainy day we get there." Squall replied.

"And it looks very nice on you as well." Rinoa said with a smile.

Squall chuckled softly and nodded once, acknowledging and agreeing with her observation. They lapsed into silence when the waiter returned with the wine they'd ordered, and as one, they both picked up their glasses and paused, gazing at each other.

"Well, it's not Red Moon, but it'll do for a casual dinner," Rinoa finally said, taking a sip.

Squall followed suit and commented, "It's not bad."

Dinner, when it arrived, was very good, and the wine paired well with it. Squall enjoyed it immensely, and not just because he was hungry. The company he was with far outstripped the meal; what he was eating and where made no difference to him. As long as he was able to study the way the light caressed her flawless skin, gilded the caramel highlights in her hair and made her brown eyes sparkle, he was content. He did enjoy the prime rib of course; it was delicious. But that was just an added bonus.

"How's the steak?" Rinoa asked him as the conversation lagged a bit. She began to understand that he was naturally taciturn and would need encouragement to actually converse with. He at least seemed a bit more willing this time around to talk to her, though he rarely initiated anything.

"Very good." Squall answered her after sipping a bit of his wine.

"Have you been here before?" Rinoa asked.

"Here as in Deling City? Or here as in this restaurant?" Squall asked her, wondering which she meant.

"The restaurant. I'm sure you've been to Deling City more than once, with Balamb just across the channel like it is." Rinoa clarified.

"No. Not this particular restaurant." Squall answered her.

"It's one of my favorites but I don't come here much. It's kind of pricey and a little out of the way…. But the food's good." Rinoa commented.

"I agree." Squall responded. They lapsed into silence as they each concentrated on finishing their meals.

The waiter arrived with the check a few moments later, which Squall took over Rinoa's protests.

"But I invited you!" she argued.

"It was a mutual decision. Even if you hadn't come with me, I would have had to buy my dinner anyway. It's no trouble for me to pay for your dinner as well as mine, as I was very glad for the company." Squall reasoned.

"But…" Rinoa began, when Squall interrupted her softly, "this is a date, Rinoa, which in my book means that I've got this." He twitched the check between his two fingers before laying it back down on the tray it had arrived in and including his credit card. The server quickly returned and picked it up.

"You know, it just doesn't seem fair though, that guys pay for everything on a date. I have a decent enough job, I can contribute…" Rinoa sighed.

"But that would send this into a direction that we may not want it to go, wouldn't it? I can't claim to be an expert on the whole male-female dynamic, my former occupation notwithstanding but…" Squall said, when Rinoa interrupted him.

"Wait. What do you mean, former occupation? Did you lose your job?"

Squall shook his head, "No. I'm still head of security at the resort, that hasn't changed. But I had myself removed from the concierge list."

Rinoa felt as though all the air had been squeezed out of her lungs, and she simply stared at him, eyes wide.

"Why?" she finally breathed.

"I should think the answer to that would be obvious."

Rinoa swallowed, then licked her lips before asking in a small voice, "for….me?"

Squall considered that, and nodded in confirmation. He had earned back the money he'd spent for Ellone's treatment, but even if he hadn't, he'd have had himself removed from the concierge list. And yes, it would have been for Rinoa's sake. He didn't want that to add yet another obstacle to…whatever it was that he hoped would develop from this. He almost wanted to laugh at the fact that he was so clueless that he didn't even know what it was that he wanted from her. He simply wanted to see her again, and maybe take a stab at figuring it out.

"Yes. Mostly, anyway." He answered.

"But…I thought…. didn't you like doing it?" She asked, confused. That didn't make sense. He quit that job for her? That implied something far more than a single night in his bed, glorious though it might have been, could account for.

"On a certain level, yes, I did. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But it was a means to an end. A method to reach a certain goal; it was never intended to be a permanent occupation. You just gave me another reason to quit doing it, that's all." Squall responded.

"Another reason? You had more than one?" Rinoa asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Yes. The original reason I took it on no longer applies." Squall answered her.

The original reason… Rinoa paused for a moment, frowning as she tried to recall what, if anything, he'd said about that. The only thing she remembered him saying was that he'd needed to earn extra gil, but he'd never answered her question of why.

"So…" she said slowly, "you don't need to earn the extra money anymore? You never answered my question of why you needed it in the first place."

Squall looked away for a moment, expression pensive, and sighed, "no, I didn't." Then he turned and met her eyes and added, "it was personal, and at that point I didn't feel it something that you needed to know."

"What about now?" Rinoa asked him, hoping that she wasn't pushing. The fact that he was there, that he was making an effort to relate to her, told her many things. Things that both frightened and excited her. His physical attraction to her had never been in question, despite the fact that he'd baldly stated that he only "did" blonds. Rinoa began to think that it had something to do with his job as a concierge that he'd made that distinction. But this implied that his interest went beyond the physical.

"Now it's…. different." He admitted, and then he explained, "Ellone had been sick with leukemia when I found her, and fighting it had worn her resources to nothing. Simply put, she needed gil for her treatment and she'd run out. She was by no means well and the added stress of how to pay for it all didn't help. Meanwhile, I had managed to accumulate a rather substantial reserve as a SeeD, particularly once I'd made commander. So I used it all up; my retirement fund, my savings, everything, to help her. She's in remission now, and getting stronger every day. I've earned back all that I'd spent and then some; I've discovered a latent talent for investing that's paid off rather well. So, no, I didn't need to do the concierge thing any longer."

The waiter returned then with the receipt and Squall's card. He signed it and added a tip; a rather generous one, from what Rinoa could see, and they left.

Squall's revelation had left Rinoa with plenty to think about as they strolled along the central strip through Deling City. He'd reclaimed her hand, engulfing it and warming it with his. They'd fallen into silence again, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Instead, Squall appeared content to simply gaze about as though reacquainting himself with the bright lights and bustling energy of the city.

They came upon a street musician playing outside one of the more eclectic shops along the strip; a bookstore/café/coffeehouse sort of affair, and Rinoa paused to listen to him. Still holding her hand, Squall of course stopped as well.

Rinoa sighed, listening to the music, and leaned into Squall. He obligingly released her hand and wrapped his arm around her instead, pulling her close to his side. The guitarist was quite good, his playing imbued with both energy and an intricate, melodic flair. It was easy to become lost in the melody, but Rinoa was able to discern the beat that flowed beneath it. The time signature was a familiar one, and Rinoa suddenly had a mad urge to dance.

She moved, turning to face Squall and took both of his hands and smiled up into his face, eyes sparkling with both mischief and excitement, saying, "dance with me."

Squall smiled down at Rinoa, her smiling energy holding him captive, and asked her, "What? Here? Now?"

"Yes. Right now." Rinoa urged him.

"There are too many people here. There's no room," he said, knowing it was a weak argument and not putting much effort into resisting her invitation in any case.

"They'll make room. Come on, dance with me." she said, still smiling.

"All right," he capitulated, pulling her into his arms. He paused for a moment, listening to the music. Finally finding the beat, the simple three-four time signature that every waltz ever composed adhered to, he began to dance.

As Rinoa had predicted, the gathered crowd, sparse at first then growing as they danced, did make room for them. And the musician flashed a quick grin at them and continued playing, keeping the beat measured and the melody sweet. Squall let the melody and the rhythm lead them both along, completely oblivious to the fact that they were both dancing in the street in front of strangers instead of within a gilded ballroom.

It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms. The only thing he paid attention to was her brilliant smile and the sparkle in her brown eyes. Those same, warm, bottomless brown eyes that he fell into, every time he gazed into them. And he fell deeper, each and every time. He didn't think he'd ever stop falling. He'd simply fall forever, lost in her eyes.

The music finally ended and they stopped dancing but continued to gaze at each other, breaths steaming in the cold night air. They ignored the applause and comments of the onlookers, completely focused upon each other. Squall brought a hand up and caressed her soft cheek, marveling anew at its delicacy, then bent forward and kissed her.

He kept it brief but sweet, though Rinoa couldn't mistake the dark, smoldering look in his eyes as he pulled back. She rather suspected hers looked the same. Certainly, she felt the same way.

Recapturing her hand again, Squall said softly, "We should head back."

"Yeah." Rinoa agreed. As they turned to leave, Squall fished something out of his pocket and flipped it toward the musician. The twenty-gil piece landed in the guitar case with a muffled ping as they walked away. The man smiled wistfully after the young couple and returned to his playing with renewed energy. They had drawn a crowd with their dancing, and that crowd stayed, appreciating what the two lovers had enjoyed as well. It was shaping up to be a beautiful night.

Author's note: Sorry for the extended delay in completing this chapter. Distractions as always, abound. Still working on the illustrations project, and the next one up is for Future Says Run... dunno when I'll have anything worth posting but when I do I'll put it on my twitter page. I also want to complete a sort of "valentine" of Rinoa for Squall. Hopefully I'll manage to get that done by the 14th. Meanwhile, enjoy!

PS... I erred in the time signature for the waltz, as has been pointed out. My apologies, it has since been corrected.