Squall didn't know what to say to the angry woman. He racked his brain trying to remember her name—"Zell's love interest" didn't sound right when it came to addressing the person in question.

"…Ako?" he ventured doubtfully. In the absence of a hostile response he continued, "Where's Zell?"

"Who cares?" she spat. "I hope he's playing tag with a hexadragon." She looked at him venomously and added, "Are you quite finished disturbing my library, Commander?"

Squall rose to his feet and headed for the door as Ako spun on her heels and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Figuring he could use the distraction, Squall made for the training center. It was probably the only place he could be alone, and the prospect of beating the hell out of a T-Rexaur or two somehow appealed.

When he entered the jungle-like terrain, though, it became apparent that today was just not going to be his day. The first thing he saw was a dead grat, obviously beaten to death. A few feet beyond lay two more, their gelatinous bodies splattered against the trees.

Venturing forward, Squall heard a familiar voice coming from near the bridge. "…Besides, it's genetic!" The inimitable sound of a leather-clad fist striking scaly flesh followed.

"Childish, am I?" the voice continued as Squall eased closer. "Barbaric, am I?"

Peeking around a tree, he was greeted with a unique sight. A young T-Rexaur, dead or unconscious, was dangling in a headlock, and Zell was furiously punching it with his other fist. At least a dozen grats and two more T-Rexaurs were casually strewn about him, all bearing signs of a severe beating.

"A rude, crude, gluttonous pig, huh?" More punches followed. "I'm not pathetic, and I'll have you know that my mother hasn't dressed me since I was nine!"

A flurry of blows descended on the hapless reptile. "I may be short, but I'm big enough to kick your ass!"

A surge of pity for the lizard swept over Squall and he opened his mouth to interrupt, but—

"Tactless, careless, callous, self-centered jerk? Do I look like Squall?"

"Zell!" Squall barked.

The blond jumped, dropping the T-Rexaur, spun in the air and landed, facing Squall, who looked decidedly displeased.

"Um." Zell nervously dug his toe in the ground. "Heh. Squall… uh," he coughed. "How long have you been there?"

"Since 'childish.'" Squall folded his arms and glared.

"Oh…" Zell's face fell. "Sorry. I didn't mean that; it's just…" He collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself. "Ako hates me!" he said in a fierce whisper.

Squall shifted.

"Crap," Zell added fervently. "Now you hate me, too. You always stand that way when you're pissed."

Squall looked at himself and quickly moved his hand away from his hip. "I don't hate you," he said gruffly. "But that was out of line. Don't you agree?"

"You're hardly the cheerful fairy, I know that. Anyway," Zell continued accusingly, "you've said worse about me!"

That was true, Squall had to admit. "Yeah, but I said it to people, not alone with nobody around to hear but dead grats and a stunned T-Rexaur."

They both thought about that statement. Zell opened his mouth to speak a few times, but always reconsidered. Squall watched as the much-abused lizard struggle to its feet and stagger off. He wished it well.

In a reasonable tone of voice, Squall asked, "Self-centered?"

Zell looked at him; a grin had gripped his lips and refused to let go. "Yeah. That was out of line… you callous jerk."

Squall smiled faintly and rested a hand on his spirited friend's shoulder. "Care to tell me why you're decimating the grat population? And just what did that Rex do to deserve that?"

"A victim of circumstance," Zell answered dryly. "It was within reach."

"I thought you had a punching bag."

"I do, but it doesn't fight back."

"You want a fight?" Squall shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the ground. He reverently unhooked his sheathed gunblade from his hip and nestled it in the folds of his jacket.

Zell's eyes narrowed as he watched. "Yes," he hissed. He stripped off his own jacket and carelessly tossed it on top of a monster pile.

"Remember," Squall admonished him, "my hand-to-hand is nowhere near yours."

"How about I take my gloves off?" Zell asked, his attention never leaving Squall.

"I wouldn't want the best fighter in SeeD to injure his hands," Squall replied, beginning to circle his opponent.

"No hits," Zell proposed, moving counter to Squall. "Old fashioned wrestling. Pin the other for a count of ten." Zell pulled the gloves from his hands and tossed them in the direction of his shed jacket.

"Agreed." Squall removed his own gloves and dropped them on his gunblade the next time he passed it.

Zell gave a short bark of laughter. "I don't remember the last time I saw your hands. They're even paler than the rest of you."

"Don't you start, too."

"Start what?"

"Never mind." The circled a few more times, occasionally feinting a movement at the other. "What happened with you and Ako?" Squall asked after an unsuccessful attempt at diverting Zell's attention to the wrong side.

"She dumped me," Zell responded bitterly. "She said she didn't know why she wasted so much time trying to get my attention." Striking like a snake, he managed to get a grip on Squall's arm, but Squall turned his wrist deftly and slipped out of his grasp. "You already heard most of what she said to me," he went on.

Knowing that Zell was stronger and more agile in this kind of fight, Squall tried to push at Zell's infamous temper. "She was right about one thing at least. You are short."

With a shout of anger, Zell charged. Squall dodged to one side and Zell barely missed him, heading, instead, to the tree Squall had been in front of. Using his momentum, Zell grabbed ahold of the trunk and swung his body around the back of it. He emerged feet first on the other side and kicked Squall squarely in the middle of his back, sending him sprawling.

Before Squall could move he found himself pinned. His left hand was behind him, Zell's left knee holding it in place, and he could feel Zell's other knee at his hip. His right hand was near his head, Zell's hand pressing it to the ground, and there was pressure at the base of his neck.

"At least I still have time to grow," Zell growled.

Squall couldn't help it. He started laughing. Zell, taken aback, relaxed his grip slightly.

As soon as Zell let up, Squall kicked back, striking Zell in the butt. Yelping, Zell sat up, releasing Squall's right hand.

That was all he needed. Squall rolled to the left, knocking Zell onto his back. This time, Zell was the one who found himself pinned. Squall was holding his arms down, just below the elbow, with one hand and the opposite knee. Zell's hips were twisted to one side, giving him no freedom to kick at his captor with his free leg—his topmost leg being securely held in the crook of Squall's arm.

"Are you really hurt," Squall asked, breathing heavily, "or are you just upset for now?"

"Some of each," Zell replied with perfect candor. "Squall… we're friends, aren't we?"

"You have to ask?"

"With you? Of course. It's impossible to tell how you really feel under that shell of yours."

Squall looked down. Zell's spike of hair had collapsed during their exertions and was tumbling over his vibrantly blue eyes in shining yellow threads.

"Zell," Squall began, "you're probably the best friend I've got."

A bright smile spread across Zell's face, but it quickly dimmed. "Tell me the truth… do you think I'm stupid?"

"Hardly," Squall scoffed. "No one as good with mechanics as you are can be stupid. You just act without thinking sometimes." Half a smile snuck onto his face. "I guess that makes two things she was right about. You're not only short, but you're tactless, too."

Since he was unable to shift Squall from his position, Zell resorted to crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out. "Seriously, though. What do you see me as?" His sapphire gaze was nakedly pleading.

Squall frowned in thought. He finally answered, "When I didn't know you very well, I thought you were annoying, hyperactive, loud-mouthed, and obnoxious." Zell looked hurt and opened his mouth to speak, but Squall overrode him. "After I got to know you, I realized that you are impulsive, yes, but you're energetic, warm, caring, generous, thoughtful, bright, funny, loyal… you have a childlike sense of wonder, a strong sense of playfulness… you're strong—in every respect." A corner of Squall's mouth pulled in an odd fashion. "You're everything I'm not."

Zell looked shocked, then his expression melted into something tender, tinged with wonder.

"Including," Squall continued, breaking the mood, "the inescapable fact that you're short."

"You son of a…" Zell pushed against the hand holding his wrist. To Squall's dismay, it lifted. With a snarl and a fierce heave from Zell, Squall toppled over backwards. Quickly rolling after him, Zell captured Squall's ankles under his arms and leaned forward to hold down the trapped man's arms at the wrist.

Squall tested the hold but couldn't find any way to move. His knees were pressed up to his chest with Zell's full weight bearing down on him. There was a surprising amount of mass on that compact frame.

He knew he was beaten, but Squall merely smirked and said, "That's a good look for you. You should wear your hair down more often."

Zell winked. "Flattery will get you everywhere… except up." His face took on a troubled cast. "Did you mean all that?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Every word. Shrimp."

Laughing, Zell taunted, "Like you're much better. You're only three inches taller… and that's with boots on."

"Damn. You've discovered my secret. Now I have to kill you."

Zell laughed harder. He looked down at Squall's face, scarcely inches from his own. "Where did you find a sense of humor?" he inquired teasingly.

"Strangest thing. It was rolled up in my sock drawer. I found it while looking for something to shut you up with." Zell caught the spark of mischief in his friend's color-shifting eyes. Right now they looked like a clearing storm—pale grey with flecks of blue.

"Why aren't you like this more often?" Zell asked.

"What can I say?" Squall tried to shrug, but gave up when Zell tightened his hold. "You bring out the worst in me."

"Squall?" Zell's broad grin faded into a small, concerned frown. "…Do you ever get lonely?"

That frown made a flippant answer impossible. He swallowed. "…All the time," he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

"Would you mind if…" Zell hesitated, then went on, "if I stopped by some night? To… talk? Or… or play cards, or something?"

"Zell…" Squall looked up into blindingly blue eyes framed by stray strands of soft, golden hair and continued, "I'd love it." Zell's mouth broadened in a toothy grin.

"Ahem," a voice broke in above their heads. Suddenly very conscious of their position, they both looked up. "If you're busy," Quistis went on, "I could come back later." There was a positive leer on her studious features.

Zell stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment, but Squall said, "…Ten. You win, Zell. Good match."

"Huh?" Zell looked stunned. "Oh. Yeah. Good match." He hastily pushed himself to his feet, letting Squall's cramped legs drop to the ground. "Thanks," he added as Squall rolled to his feet. "I'm going to get a shower and grab some lunch. I'll see you later, okay?" Hurriedly snatching up his jacket and gloves, Zell scurried away.

Quistis watched him go, shaking her head in tolerant good humor.