Rating: PG-13....still
A/N: Happy New Years everybody!!
Chapter 8: Cabin Fever
They were trying to dig out, and things weren't going well. The tavern keeper and the two other men had the front door flung open and were valiantly attempting to tunnel through the snow bank with silver wear. The fluffy stuff kept caving into the little holes they managed to make, and more than a little had flooded into the building and was beginning to melt into an unsightly puddle on the wood floor.
Idiots.
Seifer leaned back in his chair, feeling remarkably clean and fresh. Quistis, despite the little lecture she'd given him, had banished him from the room so that she could take a bath. With all her bravado, she was still held back by her own fear and pride. The morons to his right were supposed to be watching him, although he got the feeling they felt more at ease pretending he didn't exist.
It reminded Seifer of a dog Matron had when he was little. Mangy little thing, smelled awful, and loved to sit inside and bark at the cats. Once the mutt got outside, he'd run up to the feline, teeth bared with all the bells and whistles of an attack dog. However, if the cat wasn't fooled by the mock charge and stood its ground, the dog simply turned around and pretended the offensive little beast didn't exist. It was easier just to act as if there were nothing there. A threat ceased to exist in some peoples' minds if they wished it away.
On the bright side, Seifer had finally taken the time to find out the other men's names. He was never one for formalities, and with as often as he'd frequented the place in the past month, he'd never once bothered to find out who the people around him were. He'd had bigger things to worry about, namely Quistis.
The big, brawny tavern keeper was Treban. The long vowels sounded nasally when Seifer tried his own tongue at them. Somehow, the name fit the man, and after knowing what one belonged to him, Seifer couldn't come up with one better suited.
The tall, scrawny guy who was oh so fond of Quistis was apparently named (or nick named) Slick. Very proper, considering the greasy tilt of the man's hair and the loose movement of his joints. He looked liked he'd been laying in a vat of vegetable oil for a couple years. His skin was remarkably supple, almost like touching the white of a hard boiled egg, only not quite so slimy.
The other man, older than the other two but not quite as offensive as Slick, was Cam. Whether Cam was short for anything was beyond Seifer's ability of conjecture, partly because he didn't care.
Treban, Slick, and Cam all were currently bickering with one another over the engineering of their hole which had just caved in for the fourth time in the space of an hour. Seifer's own thoughts were that the snow was too loose yet and needed to settle further and stiffen before they would have a chance to dig out. Freshly fallen, heavy and wet, it was like tunneling through sand. Silently, he supposed they would improve their chances if they tried the other side of the building where the wind had already packed the snow.
"What are they doing?" he turned to see Quistis coming up behind him, her eyes riveted on the three.
"Digging," he shrugged.
"Well, obviously," she rolled her eyes. "But they're supposed to be watching you."
"Guess cabin fever is starting to set in," he replied, looking up at her. Her hair was wet, hanging from her head in chunky strands. She looked refreshed, not quite as tired as she had only moments before. He felt energized and bored. Even if he and Quistis were at one another's throats, battling for their lives against one another, it would be something to do.
"Do you think they're going to make it?" she sounded excited.
"Not really," he laughed. A little more snow flooded in, accompanied by a loud curse from Treban, and Quistis nodded in agreement.
"I'd accuse you of sabotage if you were helping," she announced.
"Why?"
"The longer we're stuck here, the more time you have to find a way out of being taken back to Garden," she pointed out. "This is like a godsend for you."
"Doesn't feel like one," he grumbled. His muscles were twitching, needing to do something and achingly tired of sitting around in the static atmosphere of the tavern. Being trapped was a respite in the same way that hell was a release to dying sinners. Well...maybe not that drastic, but the principle was the same.
"I'm not that bad of company," she laughed, her mood obviously improved by her new state of cleanliness.
"Need help with the water?" he asked.
"Nope, already took care of it," she replied, cocking her head slightly to the side as she watched the three men continue to dig. "Do you suppose a firaga spell would do the trick?"
"How could you empty it on your own?" he asked, ignoring her question about the spell.
"He's got the rooms all set up with drainage systems," she replied distractedly. "Beyond me why he doesn't just get the right plumbing installed instead of putting in such an elaborate piping system."
"Saves money," Seifer shrugged. "Lower water bill if people have to ask for it. Probably makes up for the money to put the system in."
"Yeah...I suppose you have a point." Her azure eyes were narrowed, her fingers twitching slightly at her side. He could see the wheels turning in her head, noticed the slight change in her stance, and knew what she was going to do before she even took her first step forward.
"Excuse me," she brushed Treban's back with her fingers, and Seifer watched the pliable bend of her body as she arched her back a little. "I'd like to try a little experiment."
All three of them turned and stared at her for a moment. She had her Save The Queen handing from her hip in an elegant, golden loop. Slick's eyes fell on the weapon with obvious apprehension, and he was the first to step away.
"This is a snow bank, not an enemy soldier," Treban reminded in, his voice gruff. Quistis held up a hand and nodded.
"I'm quite aware of that."
Cam moved away shortly behind his buddy Slick, and only the brawny tavern keeper stood in Quistis' way. Somehow, Seifer wouldn't have been surprised if she just casted her firaga spell anyway. However, her restraint and tolerance prevailed as she waited for the man to step aside. When he did, she quickly cast the spell, watching eagerly as light engulfed the room and the heat melted the snow. Water puddled in through the door, running down into the cracks of the floor and all the way back to Quistis' boots.
When the spell died away, they all looked eagerly at the door. The doorframe itself was slightly singed, and the wall of snow was still an immovable force. Puzzled, Quistis took a step back.
"Odd..."
"No real focus," Seifer tossed in his own thoughts. "Probably went too far back."
"Hrm...maybe," she nodded, chewing on her thumb nail for a moment. "Well, sorry about the door." She turned a sheepish face to Treban. Her show of SeeD force was enough to keep him from demanding reparations, and he merely shrugged, mumbling under his breath.
She turned toward Seifer, her face showing for the first time a level of reprimand toward herself. She grabbed his arm as she walked by him, dragging him with her, back into captivity and constant surveillance.
"Dang," she mumbled to herself, shaking her head as they walked up the stairs. "I really thought that would work."
"That's what you get for thinking," Seifer laughed. Her fingers dug into his arm, cutting his low chuckle short.
"Sit down, read your book, and be a good boy," she ordered, slamming the door behind them. The little, pink novel was still sitting where Seifer had last put it down. The air was warm and humid yet, laced with the scent of girly shampoo and soap. Despite himself, Seifer could almost see her in his mind's eye sunk into the steamy bathwater. Being alone was obviously starting to get to him, and he shook off the image and the lingering feelings that it created.
"Not really my style," he finally announced in reply to her command.
"You would have been a SeeD if you'd have been able to take orders, you know," she tossed back, forking her fingers through her still damp hair.
"I give orders," he snorted. "I don't take them."
"Then this will be a learning experience for you," she grinned. She wasn't nearly as flappable as she'd been, and he wasn't getting the sort of responses he was hoping for. He wanted some sort of domination over her, some sort of control. He wasn't gaining it through antagonizing her, even though he admittedly hadn't been putting as much effort into it as he once had. He was fairly out of practice, more used to keeping things low key so as not to draw too much attention to himself.
He was drawn back to the idea of romancing her. Another thing he was horribly out of practice at. Rarely, if ever, had he prefaced relationships. Rinoa, he'd put a little effort into her. Still, he was at a loss where exactly to start with the instructor. He wasn't even sure he wanted to try and gain power over her that way. He felt a little queasy at the thought, and at the same time a little excited.
"Did you see where I put down my knitting at?" she asked, leaning down to rummage through her things.
"No...I was distracted," he replied, trying to add a seductive lit to his voice.
"I'm sure," she shook her head, rolling her eyes. "You could help me look for it, if you're not too busy being distracted."
He took the chance, brushing against her as he bent down to help her search. She moved over, making room for him, and he groaned inwardly. Quistis wasn't an easy woman to trap. He figured he would have to work on his techniques a little.
"Half a blanket doesn't just get up and walk away," she grumbled.
"You have a point," he replied, leaning close to her as he said it. She twitched away from him, turning with a confused look splashed across her face.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Fine."
"Maybe you should just go back to your book..."
The book! He just about turned around and dived on it. A romance novel was like a peek into the female psyche. Surely there would be some hints inside on how to get a woman all jelly-kneed. He didn't want her to fall in love with him, he just wanted her swaying, giving in. He needed that sort of control, any sort of control.
Giving his head a firm shake to clear out the forming spider webs, he forced himself to be rational. Being stuck in the small space was starting to get to him, he wasn't thinking clearly. Still, the idea was a good one. Fueled by cabin fever, he picked up the novel with renewed zeal.
If Seifer was anything, he was determined. Quistis wouldn't be taking him back to Garden.
