Locke was not in a very pleasant mood. Not only had Edgar manhandled him and tossed him around like a sack of potatoes, he was now slung over a the back of a chocobo in a most undignified manner! The chocobo smelled, too.
Locke had the suspicion that Edgar had considered trussing him up like a chicken, but had decided against it. Probably more to do with the fact that Locke's past as a treasure hunter (ie thief) would make the gesture pointless than their longstanding friendship, though.
Right now, Locke was sulking. He had no problems admitting, either, as he at least felt his behaviour was perfectly justified. How would you like to be treated like a thing? Exactly. You wouldn't.
Edgar had given up trying to converse with his very difficult travel companion about an hour back. Locke refused to talk to him, so instead he had sunk into his own thoughts. Most of these thoughts were very depressed.
He couldn't understand why Locke had done it. Edgar had just woken up one day with a massive hangover and had gone out to find his friends in a state of panic. Locke had just disappeared, no note, no nothing. None of them knew where or why. He'd given no previous indication.
They had entertained the possibility of a kidnap for a short while, but they all knew they were deluding themselves. Locke had taken his small number of possessions with him. Everyone figured that he'd probably heard about some treasure or other and had gotten so excited that he'd left at once and forgotten to say goodbye.
Only, Edgar knew that wasn't it. Locke always told him when he was leaving, even if he had to wake the young king up at some hideous hour of the night. So Edgar was aware that this wasn't just Locke's normal behaviour, and he alone continued to worry. His efforts to find Locke for the last year had proved somewhat fruitless, and it was pure luck that he ended up in that bar when he did. He had needed a drink; he had found Locke.
Edgar didn't really know whether what he found was better or worse than what he'd been dreading. He had been afraid that Locke was caught, or injured, or at the worst killed, but he'd never even considered the notion that Locke might be- selling himself. It just didn't make sense. Locke had a strong personality, not to mention pride and dignity. He wouldn't even let people call him a thief. So what on earth had driven him to this?
Edgar had the sinking feeling that it might have been something he did, but he had no idea what. It would certainly explain why Locke left without telling anyone. But wouldn't Edgar have noticed if he'd done something that truly awful? He must have done something or said something the night before Locke left. He was so drunk he couldn't remember anything, and it was extremely frustrating.
Edgar still felt that whatever he did wouldn't be bad enough to drive Locke to this, though. Maybe something had happened after that? This was probably true, but Edgar wasn't going to understand the situation any more unless he asked Locke. Which obviously wasn't an option right now, so he'd just have to wait.
Meanwhile, Edgar found the silence was becoming a bit oppressive. Shifting nervously in the saddle of the chocobo, he looked over his shoulder at Locke, who was currently bracing himself over the back and looking very annoyed.
"Locke. Will you just say something? Please? You haven't said anything since we left that town."
There was a short silence, and then Locke finally responded in irate tones.
"Fine. I'll say something. I would just like you to know that this is embarrassing, uncomfortable, and the chocobo stinks!"
That reminded Edgar so much of the old Locke that he couldn't help bursting out laughing. Granted, the laughter was a bit hysterical, but it was laughter none-the-less.
Locke groaned.
"If I promise not to jump off the chocobo and run, can I sit up now?"
Edgar shrugged. He was just glad that Locke had started talking again.
"Yeah, sure thing. You don't want to stop for a rest or anything?"
Locke blinked. Stop for a rest?
"How do you know I won't try to run away?"
Edgar sighed. "Locke, we used to be best friends. I hope we still can be some day, but for now- can't we pretend things are like they used to be, at least until we get to the castle?"
Locke considered this. He was tired, sore, and hungry, not to mention that he really did miss his old friendships. He could act normal for a short amount of time if it meant he could get off the damn chocobo.
"Whatever. But only until we get to the castle, got it? Now are we stopping for that rest, or what?"
