Alone in his room, Squall drew out the platinum ring he kept on a sturdy chain around his neck. He didn't know how long he'd had it, but it was the only thing he'd ever had that he knew without question was his. It was the only possession he had that he would fight to keep.

Of course, he'd gotten into many fights lately. Since Zell had become his permanent roommate, there'd been at least two fights a week, with Seifer and his little posse. More since the first mission against human targets, about a year ago. Zell had stoutly maintained that Squall had killed more of the renegades than Seifer, despite the fact that he had had his own hands full at the time and Squall himself was unsure how many had died at his hands. It enraged Seifer no end, and now it was almost a fight every time the two of them were in the same room. They were both in Instructor Trepe's classes now, because she was the only Instructor who had managed to keep them from fighting during her classes.

Squall was tired of it. Right down to the bone, tired of it. What was the point?

He weighed the ring in his hand, feeling its unusual heft. His survival, that was the point, wasn't it? He fought, he survived, he grew stronger so as to survive the next fight. There was some reason he had to survive, wasn't there? There was some point to this, locked away in his mind, forgotten from disuse?

He shoved the dark thoughts aside, at least for the moment. He knew one of the reasons for his dark mood was simply that it was his birthday - his fifteenth. Birthdays always depressed him - not least because he couldn't afford to tell anyone. Zell would make his life hell with some form of blisteringly embarrassing festivity, and Seifer...well, Seifer would just make his life hell. Somewhere he knew that birthdays weren't meant to be celebrated alone - but unlike other holidays, he didn't really have the option of sharing them with anyone.

He had his own private ritual. On his birthday, he tried to wear his ring. One of the things that he knew, without really knowing how he knew, was that when he could wear the ring he would be done growing. There would be a little freedom then - for he would no longer be required to wear a cadet's uniform every single day. He could choose to wear something else, unless he were on a mission that required cadets to be identifiable as such, or it was a formal occasion. It was the only thing he had to look forward to, other than one day becoming a SeeD and having a room of his own.

He pulled off his left glove - an idiosyncrasy he'd picked up many years before - and slid the ring onto his finger.

It fit. The magnificent lion roared from his finger, fierce pride and indomitable strength radiating from its carven lines. He closed his hand, feeling the unfamiliar weight and adjusting to it. Griever was truly his now. He almost regretted the necessity of covering it with the glove again.

He stood up then, and eyed himself critically in the mirror. Fifteen was not the best age for a boy to be done growing, and Squall wasn't the tallest boy to start with. Still, at five foot eight he was still taller than Zell, and marginally taller than most of the female cadets, so it wasn't all bad.

Freedom - to wear his own clothes. He couldn't remember ever wearing anything other than the black embroidered with silver that all cadets wore, a plain white shirt beneath the jacket. He'd differed slightly from the regulations with his gloves and his necklace - carefully hidden within the cadet jacket and under his shirt - but still. With all the fashions out there, and a lifetime of complete regulation and regimentation behind him, it was a daunting prospect.

Zell burst into the room then, in his now-customary outfit of blue baggy shorts and a red-and-black jacket. Squall still found it outlandish, along with his new blackflame tattoo. Whatever he chose, it wouldn't be that, certainly.

"Hey man, whatcha mopin' around here for?" he said with his usual devilish grin. "It's a fine day out, or so I hear - wanna head down to Balamb? I bet Ma will be thrilled for the visit."

Squall shrugged. Zell had more or less 'adopted' Squall as family after the first Solstice as his roommate - he'd been floored that Squall was quite prepared to spend the most festive time of the year studying alone in his room. Zell now made a practice of periodically hauling Squall out of Garden to visit his Ma, never realizing that all he did was heighten Squall's sense of aloneness. But today he didn't argue - the ring fit, so if he bought clothes today, he would be able to wear them for a long time. He was going down to Balamb anyway - and if he went with Zell, at least he wouldn't have to pay for dinner on top of his new wardrobe. He nodded his consent.

Zell punched the air with his usual enthusiasm, and said, "Hot damn! Let's get goin', man. I haven't seen Ma in months and there's just so much to tell her, you know?"

"Most of our missions have been classified," Squall said shortly as they headed out. "What were you planning on telling her?"

"Nothin' top secret," grinned Zell. "Just that I'm doin' well, kickin' ass, you know - the sort of stuff that mothers like to hear."

Squall paced ahead, irritated. "No, I wouldn't," he said. When would Zell get it through his head that his mother wasn't Squall's mother?

Zell immediately looked contrite; he hadn't meant to remind Squall of his family-less state. "Hey man, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean it like that."

Squall slowed, so that Zell could catch up without running. No, of course Zell hadn't meant it like that. He never did, but his mouth often ran several hundred feet ahead of his brain. It was one of those things about him that irritated Squall no end. Zell never thought - he only did, and regretted at leisure. Or at least as long as it stayed in his short-term memory, which tended to be about fifteen minutes.

"Hey, you wanna crash with Ma all weekend?" Zell asked anxiously, in what Squall had come to mentally label 'puppy mode' - as in, a puppy who has offended and is anxious to please. "We could hang around town, catch some shows maybe, meet some girls..."

"Why?" was the first thing out of Squall's mouth. He had no interest in any of that and Zell knew it. But at the clouded look on Zell's features he realized it was either agree or have Zell doing an embarrassing puppy imitation all weekend. He held up his hand, and said, "All right, all right, I'll go - but if you drag me to any of your 'shows' or on anything resembling your idea of a date, I'll leave you for Seifer, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" said Zell with an overdone salute made comic by his wide grin. Not for the first time, Squall wondered what he had done to get on Zell's good side. No matter how irritated he became with Zell, the other boy never seemed inclined to take the hint and move on. It was puzzling, but at times useful. Zell at least knew where the clothing shops were; he must, to dress the way he did.

"...I'm thinking of going shopping," he admitted slowly. There was no telling what Zell would make of it.

"Hey, really?" said Zell. "Always girls at the shops, you know. What kinda shopping?"

Nothing else for it. "Clothes," he admitted. "Something besides this uniform."

Zell's eyes went wide. "Wow," he breathed. "I have got to see this. You in anything besides cadet black...I didn't think I'd see the day." Noting Squall's increasingly annoyed expression, he immediately put on a serious face and said, "I'll do whatever you want, honest, and no teasing. Just let me come along, okay? I'll be a big help."

Squall suppressed a sigh. He did need Zell's help to find the shops - previous excursions to Balamb had been limited to holiday visits at the Dinchts'. He was half tempted to just throw the whole idea and stick with the cadet uniform until he made SeeD - but then his pride rebelled. He wasn't like anyone else. Even the desire to blend in took second place to that knowledge. Besides - if he stayed in cadet togs all the time much longer, he'd stand out just as much for that as for any outfit he chose to don. Most cadets went casual as soon as they could, and the few like Zell who could afford a new outfit every time they outgrew the old one had extensive wardrobes.

"All right..." he said, though he had a strong feeling he'd grow to regret it.

"WoooHooo!" cried Zell, and launched into backflips down the hall. Squall just shook his head. No more 'anxious puppy', now it was hyper Business as Usual. Sometimes it was hard to say which was worse.

* * * * * * * *

The weather to Balamb was only fine for the first half of the trip. The town was close enough that a cadet could walk along the road from Garden and reach Balamb by sundown - which was what the boys had intended to do. But as they neared the coast, a ferocious storm blew in from the sea - slowing them considerably.

Zell, had he been alone, probably would have taken to his heels and run back to Garden - which was marginally closer. But Squall...Zell had never seen Squall in quite this mood before. He acted as though the storm wasn't even there - no, that wasn't right. He acted like the storm had blown the top off of whatever box inside of him held all his rage. And it was scaring the living daylights out of Zell.

They hadn't followed the road, preferring to rough it and cut the distance. Bite bugs weren't exactly a challenge for either of them. Squall handled every swarm by leaping right into the middle of it, swinging his gunblade left and right in wide arcs, rage on his face but completely silent. Zell did his share of swatting too, but they were only bite bugs - not even as difficult as the Grats in the Training Center. The only thing that made the fight a challenge was the slippery footing caused by the rain.

He made a mental note to stay the hell away from Squall when the weatherman predicted heavy rain. He had done his best to be Squall's friend, as Kadowaki asked - and he had in truth gotten to like his moody roommate, and trusted him more than any other cadet of his acquaintance. But he knew there was a wall inside his friend - a wall that Zell was not permitted to go past. A wall that no one was permitted to pass.

He'd always wondered what was on the other side of that wall. Right now, it seemed that the answer was an inferno - or a storm.

There were no other incidents on the road, for which Zell was intensely grateful. The rain didn't let up, but Squall didn't seem to notice it. He didn't even seem to notice his bangs being pressed into his face by the falling water. Zell took care to walk on Squall's left side - his off hand, so that if in this fey mood he chose to turn his gunblade on his friend, he'd have to twist his body to do it. Hopefully giving Zell time to duck.

* * * * * * * *

Squall welcomed the storm and the rain it carried. It pulled the bleakness from his thoughts, let him care for a moment whether he lived or died. Bite bugs weren't a challenge, of course. But he'd felt the thrill of fear at the possibility of defeat, and felt honest rage at the idea of mere bite bugs taking him down.

It was happening more and more often lately, that he didn't feel anything at all. Not rage, not pain, not fear...nothing. Even fighting off Seifer wasn't always enough to make him feel, unless Seifer was in uncommonly good form, or they fought outside of Garden where it wasn't supervised - where Seifer really could kill him. The monotony of the fights wore him down, and yet he was growing to need them - growing to need Seifer's skill, growing to need the knowledge that here was a foe who could truly take him down.

He wasn't naturally talented with weapons, but he had grown steadily in skill. He never, ever, took a step back. With every fight, every single one, he grew better. Seifer was one of a very few left who could challenge him. And of those few, only Seifer seemed to really want to make the fight real - not mere practice. Most of Squall's injuries over the years had come from his fights with Seifer - and vice versa.

A few weeks ago Seifer had broken Squall's sword arm, and had gotten the surprise of his life when Squall kept on fighting as though nothing had happened - though both of them had heard the sound of the break. Squall had won the fight because of that - but as he'd walked to the Infirmary to have it treated, he had felt...not right. Intellectually he knew he should be practically howling from pain, but although he did feel pain it was muted, easily bearable. He knew too, that that should worry him, but it hadn't. He hadn't felt a damn thing.

He needed the storm. The feel of cold raindrops against his skin proved that he could still feel, even if it was only feeling cold. If he feared anything, it was that emptiness.

The darkness was heavy, sundown coming earlier with the storm all around. But the boys knew their way - and better now, with the lights of Balamb town just visible to the west. Zell picked up the pace, and Squall automatically set his own pace to match. Within another hour they had reached Balamb. Zell broke into a run, and Squall chose to match it. Not out of any desire to race, or to get out of the rain - which appeared to be Zell's primary motivation - but simply because there wasn't anything else to do.

They didn't present a poster-worthy image of the Garden Cadets when Zell knocked on the door of his home. Both boys were soaked through from the storm, and their hair was plastered straight back against their heads. Ma Dincht didn't even waste time on hellos, but practically dragged both of them into the parlor.

"Here, you boys take off your wet things, and I'll go get some towels," she said as she bustled up the stairs. Zell pulled off his black and red jacket and his socks and sneakers, leaving them in a dripping pile by the door. Squall followed suit, feeling vaguely embarrassed - and realized that the emptiness had already returned. He should have expected that, he supposed. He always felt very much the outsider at Zell's house, no matter how welcome they tried to make him.

Ma Dincht returned with an armful of oversized fluffy towels in a variety of colors, and Zell immediately pounced on them, tossing one to Squall. It wasn't enough to dry him, but it was enough to stop him from dripping on Ma Dincht's floor. When she judged them dry enough, she shooed Zell upstairs as she offered Squall a seat in her kitchen.

"So, you boys will be staying all weekend?" she asked cheerfully. "You don't eat enough, Squall. But no worry - my cooking will restore your appetite after that awful stuff they serve at the Garden. No wonder my Zell has fallen in love with hot dogs - how can you tell if a hot dog is badly made?"

Squall nodded to answer her question, but said nothing. He felt only a keen sensation of being out of place in this domestic setting, and couldn't decide whether that was better or worse than feeling empty. He was hoping Zell would get changed quickly; Ma Dincht focused exclusively on Zell when he was available for her to do so.

Ma Dincht looked him right in the face, wearing a critical expression. "You look a little peaked," she said. "Probably the cold walk getting here. Hang on, I'll get you some hot tea."

At least she hadn't tried to touch. But Ma Dincht had already learned that Zell's 'quiet friend' was far too shy to understand touching. And while she was hunting down tea bags, honey, and all the other things required for a good cup, Zell returned - hair dried and combed straight back Seifer-style for the evening, and casually dressed in an old tank top and sweat pants.

With Zell in the room, Squall no longer felt out of place. Now he was invisible, as he should be with Zell and his mother chatting happily away. No one was paying any attention to him, and he felt the sense of displacement give way to emptiness as he sipped at the hot tea. He listened with half an ear to their conversation, more or less lost within his own thoughts once more. The storm still raged outside - there was a vague temptation to go back out into it, to see if the cold rain could make him feel...but unfortunately there was the certainty that Zell would follow him. Explaining...was probably impossible. So it was best just to wait.

In the end his hosts decided that he would bed down in Zell's room on a pile of cushions. Squall would have just preferred the floor; he found uniformity of surface more conducive to sleep than softness. But he let them pile up their mound of cushions; the Dinchts liked to be helpful and would have felt themselves to be poor hosts if their guest just slept on the floor. He got ready for bed once Ma Dincht had gone downstairs, stripping off his clammy wet uniform and changing into a dry T-shirt and boxers, and lying on his lumpy cushions staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.

He didn't even try to sleep. This wasn't his first visit here by a long shot, and he knew the routine. Sure enough, just when he would have been drifting off had he not known better, Zell started asking questions.

"Hey, Squall," came the traditional opener. "What sorta stuff you looking to buy?"

Interesting; a pertinent question. "Clothes," he said shortly. Pertinent or not, if he wasn't going to be allowed to try to feel, he'd rather sleep than chat.

"What, like mine? What kinda clothes?"

"Not like yours," said Squall. He didn't really know what he wanted, but he knew without question that Zell's style wasn't it. Thinking of that, though... "You still remember that metalworking class you took last year?"

"Yeah," said Zell. "Why? You want me to make you something? I can probably do that, if we can get the materials. I wouldn't even charge ya for the labor."

Squall hesitated. He would have to get it made, but having to ask Zell made him nervous. Unfortunately he lacked any sort of artistic talent, so it was either Zell or a paid jeweler. When he'd gotten his ring appraised, he'd decided that he wouldn't deal with jewelers unless he had to. The man who had appraised his ring had very nearly managed to keep it - Squall had had to move his gunblade very pointedly before the man would give it back. He'd tried to tell Squall he thought the ring must be stolen; no mere kid would ever have possession of such a valuable platinum ring - worth over ten thousand gil. No - he'd have to ask Zell. He hated owing Zell favors.

"Can you make a pendant like the design on my gunblade case?"

Zell chuckled to himself. "Oh, yeah. I used that as a design in the classes anyway, seeing as it was standing right there. Real pretty. Pendant? Yeah, no problem. What d'you want it made out of?"

"...I don't know. Something silvery, but maybe not silver. I'll just have to see what I can afford."

"Well, I'll do it," said Zell with a yawn. "Good design."

A few moments later, Zell's breathing went rhythmic - telling Squall that there would be no more questions tonight. He was mildly pleased to have redirected Zell's thoughts so easily. He had no idea what sort of clothes he wanted, but he didn't want to explain that to Zell. It would just be more bother than it was worth to try.

He listened to the rain against the window, mourning his inability to feel it until he felt the darkness within him claim his thoughts.

* * * * * * * *

Squall squinted at the early morning sunlight pouring through the window of Zell's room. How the guy managed to sleep through such brightness was just unfathomable, but having the dawn wake him was worlds better than Zell's idea of a wakeup call. Here, it was the sound of Zell pounding away on his punching bag in the corner. No - blinding as it was, the sun was without question the better option. He grabbed his travel bag and headed for the shower, moving as quietly as he could.

When he returned to Zell's room, dressed and ready to go, Zell was up and scooping huge handfuls of cushions into a corner. Away from Garden, his habitual state appeared to be Chaos.

"Figured that's where you'd be," he grinned. "G'wan downstairs, I bet Ma heard the shower and already has breakfast ready. We'll be out of here toot sweet and you can get your shopping done."

Squall bit back a sigh - he wasn't hungry this early in the day. But he knew the rules of the house by now, and all arguing would net him would be hurt looks from the Dinchts and he'd still have to eat breakfast. The Dincht household had rules as strict as those of Garden sometimes.

Breakfast was at least a quiet meal, Squall reflected as they finally got underway. People were too busy sorting out their dreams or their schedules to say much - even Ma Dincht. All Squall really had to do was look like the sort of person who you Do Not Disturb Before Coffee, and he was left in respectful peace.

The peace was worth drinking a cup of coffee - a beverage he normally loathed. The first thing he paid for once they were out of the house was a bottle of water to wash the taste out of his mouth. Zell knew it was a trick, but didn't say anything. He'd never found a way to properly explain the Manual of Squall to his mother, and he figured if Squall was willing to drink what he usually termed as 'sewage' for the sake of a quiet breakfast, that was his affair.

* * * * * * * *

The Balamb Mall was a revelation. Zell had trouble not grinning at the wide-eyed look on Squall's face as he realized that Fashion was a full-time occupation for some people. Mostly women, true - but there were almost as many stores geared at men as there were at women, and the sheer variety available was beyond the comprehension of a boy who'd spent all of his life in a uniform.

"So, where ya wanna start?" asked Zell casually. It was all the same to him; there was a good chance that no matter where they went, there would be girls around. And his curiosity as to just what his reserved roommate might choose was getting the better of him.

Finally forced to confront the fact that he had no idea what he wanted, Squall just shrugged and pointed at the nearest store. "There, I suppose."

The first store turned out to be a leather shop. Pants, shoes, boots, gloves, everything. Zell was strongly tempted to hint that just maybe it would be a good idea not to try this stuff, but too many fascinating images played across his mental cinema. Squall in leather? Given his distaste for the company of other cadets, there were endless opportunities...

Squall, for his part, completely ignored Zell now that he knew where the shops were. Although shopping was his reason for being in Balamb, he had no desire to hang around longer than he had to; the idea of spending his afternoon watching his roommate pant after everything in a skirt was just too annoying. It sparked an idea.

"Zell - why don't I meet you at the mall entrance later on?" he said. "You can go...do whatever it is you wanted to do."

Zell understood the dismissal, though he was a bit disappointed that he wouldn't get to see the results for hours yet. "Yeah, sure," he said, trying not to let it show. "There's a vendor in the food court does great Balamb hot dogs. I'll meetcha there at six, okay?"

"Sounds good," said Squall absently, and returned his attention to the racks. Leather...held possibilities. Not tight shiny leather, though. Too confining, plus the creaking sound the salespeople were making as they walked around would be a dead giveaway in the training center.

He found what he was looking for farther back, away from the display cases. Soft, black leather pants that weren't too tight, didn't make a sound and didn't reflect light. Suede, most likely, or a leather from an unusual monster. Whatever, it suited perfectly.

Trying them out, he amended that to almost perfectly. The tightness around his hips didn't impede movement, but it could easily make for awkward moments - and stares. Hyne, he hated the female cadets. He had no idea how women in the towns were treated, but the women of Garden typically were randier - and rowdier - than the men. Squall was blessed (or cursed) with sharp, delicate, fine boned features and the sort of thick, fine hair many women would kill for. He was beautiful in the way only men could be beautiful, and thanks to the female cadets he knew it.

And hated it. So many of the men of Garden spent all their time trying to get into a girl's bed that most of the women of Garden had but to beckon to the man of their choice. They didn't understand Squall's refusals, and it only made them try harder. A fifteen year old boy who wasn't interested in sex? It was unheard of. He must have a girl hidden in his bunk or something.

Squall had no desire to form any attachment that would not hold. He didn't want to reach out to someone who wouldn't even be there in the morning when he woke up. He knew that he was virtually alone in that viewpoint, too, so he didn't bother explaining it.

Perhaps now, he wouldn't have to. Leather...a small, sly smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. Beautiful, was he? Well then.

He'd want something to block the view though. Scanning the various racks, he came across a selection of wide belts. Yes, this would do. A couple of these, and the first thing those cadets would see would be belts and nothing else. He might even be able to make them useful, perhaps store a few gunblade charges in them. He picked a few that looked about the right size for what he wanted and slung them over his arm with the pants.

Jacket. Of all the accouterments he really wanted to change, the itchy embroidered cadet jacket was at the top of the list. Since most people who wore leather went for jackets or coats, the store had a wide selection. Squall would have stared openmouthed, but a flash of color in the black and brown store caught his eye. He crossed over to where he'd seen it, to get a better look.

Fur. Hyne, it was beautiful - thick, white fur from a Trabian snow lion, all around the collar. Almost, he grinned; yesterday the ring, and Zell would make him the pendant - and now a white lion's mane around his throat. He tried it on; crop jacket, stopping at his ribcage. The fur ruffled with his hair; yes, this would do very well.

He took his prizes back into the changing rooms to test them out. It took a while to get the hang of the unfamiliar fittings, and adjust to the feel, but at the end of it he had what he needed.

He knew beauty when he saw it, the same as anyone else with eyes. But this look - this look said 'don't touch me' in a loud message to those female cadets. Of course, it also said 'give me a call' to the few gay men in Garden, but at least the men had been more discreet, and already understood that he wasn't interested. It was worth the trade-off. Besides which, it would give Seifer a heart attack. Seifer had a streak of homophobia in him, and once he got an eyeful of his favorite sparring partner in this getup, said partner would probably get a much needed break. Seifer wouldn't want anyone to 'get the wrong idea', especially since the two of them had been 'disappearing' out of Garden's eye to fight several times in the past few weeks.

And Seifer claimed that Squall couldn't fight dirty. Squall changed back into his uniform and took his prizes to the counter.

Ouch - leather wasn't cheap. It took a good two thirds of his funds to pay for just the one outfit. Still - it wouldn't be all that long before he could get spares. And he wouldn't have to choose a shirt - the plain white one did just fine. But it meant that the pendant would have to be just plain silver, not white gold or platinum. He swung the bag containing his purchases over his shoulder, and started looking for a silver shop. The food court too, while he was at it - if he was going to meet Zell there later, he ought to be able to find it.

There was a sale at one of the women's accessory shops, and it was causing the human equivalent of a traffic jam. Squall scowled; the options were to wait or to push through a very large crowd. He elected to wait, and to pass the time tried to see what was causing the trouble.

Ear piercing? A crowd this big for ear piercing? What were they doing, offering a selection of free earrings or something? Squall shook his head; piercings weren't that expensive - causing a crowd like this for what amounted to a minor discount...he just shrugged and chalked it up to female thinking.

On the other hand...hm. What he'd gotten was good; the clothes he'd chosen suited his style and would definitely draw attention away from his too-beautiful face. But the job wasn't done; he'd still have to wear cadet togs on official missions. The necklace he could wear, and the gloves hid the ring...an earring might just work, though he doubted he could find a lion's head or other suitable design. Of course, it wouldn't need to be much. Just enough to pull eyes off his face. Just enough to give the female cadets the impression that his disinterest was genetic and not due to the fact that most of them came on like a pack of cats in heat.

He wandered over to another shop that did ear piercings but wasn't having a sale, and checked over the possibilities. Mostly they were the sort of things that girls liked; hearts and mesmerize heads and the like. But since tastes differed, there were also various studs and heavily 'masculine' options like daggers and skulls.

And one tiny, perfect diamond. It glittered like a star fallen to earth. That was it; that would be enough. He paid the man for the diamond and the piercing job, apparently winning marks for bravery when he didn't flinch as the spike was driven through his earlobe. He listened carefully to the instructions on making the piercing permanent - cleaning the earring, how long to leave it in, how often to turn it so it didn't glue itself to the skin - then paid the man and left.

Always individual. Even in cadet togs, always individual. He checked his watch; great Hyne, he'd been at this most of the day. Amazing. Well, time to see if the work was worth it. He ducked into the bathrooms and got into his new clothes. The looks he got when he came out confirmed it; they weren't staring at his face any longer - just his dress. And most of them immediately decided they weren't going to be caught staring and looked elsewhere. Perfect.

The belts clinked slightly as he walked, but not noisily enough to give him away in the training center so he paid it no mind. He was now invisible to the people of Balamb; none of the men wanted to be caught staring, and the women didn't want to go chasing after a guy who looked like he already had a boyfriend. Just one more test; he found the food court, and headed over to the hot-dog vendor. From here he should be able to see Zell...yes. And of course, his brash roommate had picked up a girl, and was chatting away with her.

Squall strolled into his line of sight, and was hard pressed to hide a grin when Zell choked on his hot dog in shock. Absolutely perfect; if even Zell reacted this way - who really should know better - then Squall could predict the rest of Garden's reaction just fine.

"Shit, Squall - you tryin' to pick up a sailor or somethin'?" coughed Zell as he picked up the remains of his hotdog. The girl in the next chair was laughing, which made Zell blush. "Not me," he told her. "Um - this is my roommate, Squall. Squall, this is Elise."

"Roommate?" asked Elise, looking disappointed. "Oh."

"Not like that!" said Zell quickly. "Just - roommate, okay? We're up at Garden, it's sorta the rule. Nothin', you know, kinky goin' on."

"Ohhh," said Elise, grinning again. "Well, that's a relief."

Zell shot Squall a look of pure annoyance. "Well, if you were hopin' to screw my social life up, buddy, it looks like you've done it," he said sourly. "You know everyone's gonna start thinkin' we're dating now."

"I'm sure you'll be able to clear things up," said Squall equably, waving a gloved hand at Elise. "Just console yourself with knowing that Seifer will have the same problem."

"Seifer?" Zell looked confused for a moment, then a look of pure evil glee came across his features. "Damn. Did I ever tell you I like the way you think?"

Squall just nodded. "I'll head back to the house," he said. "I've done what I came to do. You have fun with your friend here."

"Yeah, sure," said Zell. "Just don't get the tar beaten outta you on the way home, okay?"

* * * * * * * *

Squall found out what Zell meant not long after leaving the mall. It seemed that Seifer wasn't the only phobic around, and it further appeared that enough phobics in one place resulted in mania. Squall didn't have his gunblade with him - weapons being frowned on in Balamb proper - but the attackers were unsophisticated and Squall had had expert instruction in hand-to-hand.

Which meant that the first idiot to go down lost his homemade staff, and with that in his hands Squall fought off the rest easily. He kept the bat; it was good quality and might come in handy later.

So - people could react violently to a presumed homosexual. Amazing, the variety of reactions one outfit produced; this sort of behavior would've gotten the attackers expelled from Garden. He prodded the fallen town boys' unconscious bodies with his toe. Well, as his instructors had always taught him, Stupidity Kills. These boys...Squall found he didn't much care if he'd killed them or not. But on the off chance he hadn't, they needed a little lesson. He searched them, and lifted out their wallets. Enough gil here to cover getting blood off his new clothes, and also enough to get the pendant made of white gold.

Second big lesson of the mercenary; when you win, you get to loot. Assuming, of course, you have time to. He washed the staff off in a nearby fountain, and slung it over his shoulder as if it were his gunblade as he strolled back to the Dinchts'.

* * * * * * * *

Squall was greatly amused by Zell's explanations to Ma Dincht. In the end, the poor lady chalked it up to Squall being a 'repressed character' who needed to 'blow off steam', and carefully said nothing else about it.

The hike back to Garden was clear, sunny, and entirely uneventful, much to Zell's private relief. Squall bought a small block of white gold before leaving, and handed it to Zell without a word. There was more than enough there to make a good pendant.

Time to go fight dirty.