I've been thinking about Rinoa all day. That word Fujin said echoes through my mind over and over until I can't bear to hear it anymore. Except that I can't make it go away. What Rinoa and I had was nothing more than a summer fling, and to tell the truth, she kind of drove me crazy, as sweet as she was. Maybe she was just too sweet for my liking. I like my girls more subtle, the kind that are mysterious, blatantly sexual, not innocent and sincere, like Rinoa. That's the part that I don't understand. I don't get why it matters so much. I don't get why she's the one I never forgot about. What gets me is that I wasn't in love with her back then.
Aww, hell. Why am I even thinking about this anyway?
Today's been pretty shitty. First, I wrecked my beloved Sephiroth motorcycle when some dirt bag cut me off on the main strip. I wasn't hurt, but the bike was totaled. It was all I could do not to beat the crap out of the guy. Then, I found out Fujin is pregnant. I feel sorry for the poor kid. With parents like that, he/she/it is sure to turn out a)ugly, b)deranged and c)will probably develop a serious speech impediment some time during childhood. This news alone is enough to spoil my day, but it got worse from there. I decided to go out and test my skills on the plains outside Dollet proper, thinking I'm a hot-shot and I'm unstoppable and all that nonsense. I come upon a female Geezard and her three ugly offspring. In seconds flat, I slay the three young ones with quick, sharp movements, thinking to myself how I've still got it. Of course, the mother was pretty pissed off and attacked me and I actually broke the tip of my gunblade off in it's putrid gut. But, it wasn't finished with me. In no uncertain terms, I got my ass kicked. By a Geezard. Sheesh.
Currently I sit in the music studio with Raijin and Fujin, working on a new song for our second album. It's not going too well. Fujin is having a bad bout of morning/all day sickness and Raijin is preoccupied with thoughts of fatherhood.
It disturbs me that my friends are moving on to adulthood without me. They're settling down, starting families, and I'm still stuck in the same spot. Of course, no one can stand to be around me except these two, but how long will that last? A month, maybe two after the baby's born? I don't want to be a tag along, after all. That's not my scene. And having to deal with the screaming spawn of these two clowns? I shudder to think.
Guess it's time to start thinking about a solo career.
"Raijin, I told you a thousand times, I need a symbol crash at the end of that line," I demand. We have been over this multiple times and I'd like to bash him over the head with a drumstick or preferably something heavy to knock some sense in to his feeble brain.
"I'm tryin', ya know?" Raijin whines, obviously frustrated with me.
"This isn't rocket science, now do it right!" I bellow at him. I want to get this done. I've had a crappy day, I'm tired and I have a whole bottle of Galbadian Whiskey waiting for me in the freezer at home. Anything to speed this up would make my day just a little better.
"TIRED," Fujin says.
"I don't give a damn," I snap at her. "We're not leaving till this is perfect. Now, let's do it again. On three."
Rajin taps out a beat on the high hat and Fujin joins in four measures later. Bass guitar in hand, she plucks out a funky riff that I wrote myself. I give her a grin of appreciation and approach the microphone. But then, I stop. The inspiration fairy has just struck me right smack in the forehead.
I begin to scribble on a piece of paper the lyrics to a new masterpiece. What I come up with is pure brilliance, in my opinion, and sure to piss people off. I think that's my real reason for being on this planet. I exist to annoy people. There's nothing I do better than make people mad, so I might as well make a profit off of it if I can, right?
Within a half an hour, I've written a model song. One by which all future standards of songwriting will be measured. It's a proven fact that anything that's controversial will sell albums. It doesn't have to be good, but other bands will begin to copy your style, analyze your lyrics and try like hell to cash in on a trendy sound. I know this song will create that kind of environment for current music. I can feel it in my gut.
Despite my rather unpleasant day, things are looking up. I feel pretty confident of myself as I present my work to the pair. "It's called Chicken-Wuss." I announce, proud of myself for such a fine job done.
"ZELL," Fujin says when she's finished reading the lyrics. There's a funny gleam in her eye, one I know is of approval.
"Do you know any other chicken-wusses?" I ask.
"Fujin was just sayin, ya know, Zell's gonna be kinda pissed when he hears this, ya know?"
"That's the point, dummy," I snap at him. Sometimes Raijin's stupidity really gets to me. For the second time in less than an hour, I wish I could play basketball with his head.
"RAGE!" Her face is flushed, her eye hard and narrow and trained on me. She's in her fighting stance, and at the moment, with the bass guitar strapped across her body, she looks ridiculous. But knowing Fujin, it's likely that she'd use the guitar as a weapon, which makes the situation a little less funny than it could have been. I've already had a bad day, I don't need a concussion inflicted by a bass guitar-weilding, semi-psychotic pregnant woman.
"Fujin doesn't like you calling her a dummy, ya know?"
"Shut up and play the damn song before I come up with one about you two. Wait! I have a brilliant Idea, I could call it, The Legend of Meat Head and Iron Bitch."
Fujin is not happy about this comment and shows me her middle finger. "JERK."
"Fujin was just sayin, ya know, that you're a . . . ."
Why do I bother?
"Can it, moron," I say with a sigh. Right now, a solo career sounds pretty good. "Can we shut up and do the song now?"
After four attempts, we are able to play the song all the way through. It sounds fantastic. I smile at my creation and mentally pat myself on the back. I could write a whole album about the chicken-wuss, you know. There's just so much I could poke fun at. Maybe that'll be my first solo project. Heh.
Later, we discuss the show we are to do at the dance club, Aeris here in Dollet tomorrow night. I'm all for it, though I almost canceled it last week. Fujin, however is feeling nauseated and will hardly consider playing the show, even though it's too late to back out. We finally agree to go ahead and play, though reluctantly on Fujin's part.
As I watch the sun set from the patio, facets of mica reflect the orange- pink light of the dying day around my bare feet. For the first time in a very, very long time, I feel calm and confident. It's as if I've been renewed through some unknown force, and I see a future before me like I've never seen it before. It's so clear. So perfect that I can almost touch it. And I can feel in my bones that the path to my future has already been set in motion.
I've never been much of a drinker. Don't get me wrong, I do occasionally indulge in a little here and there, but I'm the kind of guy who'd rather nurse a beer or two over a course of an evening than get totally hammered, fall down and barf everywhere. Zell and Irvine are constantly giving me crap about being a wussy who can't handle more than two, but I prefer moderation.
But tonight, I'm throwing caution to the wind. It's either drink so that I can tolerate Laguna's incessant chatter or go throw myself into the icy harbor and put myself out of my misery. And I'd rather drown myself in drink than die a coward anyhow.
So, here we sit in a seedy pub in Dollet, not too far from said harbor, where the smoke is thick and old men relive their glory days in grand detail. It has already occurred to me that I'm the only young person in here, save the attractive waitress, who looks disturbingly like Quistis and Selphie all rolled into one. She has Selphie's build and piercing green eyes, but Quistis' blonde locks and facial features. I find it odd that someone can look so completely like two different people, yet nothing like them at all.
"So this one time, Ward and Kiros and I are stuck inside some cave on Trabia, when all of a sudden . . ." Laguna chatters on, apparently unaware that I'm trying to ignore him. "Hey man, you need another drink? Looks like you're about empty."
"Sure, why not," I mutter and stare down at the bar. This was a mistake. I should have just thrown together some camping gear and headed up into the mountains around Balamb instead of foolishly agreeing to this trip with Laguna. He is my father, but I can in no way relate to him. He's too easy, too free with his speech, too damned happy. I've always been baffled by happy people. Take Selphie for example. She's just so . . . happy all the time, even when things are tough, she'll find the bright side of the situation and turn it around in her favor. Me, I'm just not like that, and I don't pretend to know how it's done.
Laguna's like Selphie, and I don't pretend to understand him either. But, at the same time, I kind of wish I were more like him, and I have to admit, I kind of respect him, a little. Here's a guy who's lost two women, both whom he loved deeply, though in different ways, yet he's still got the desire to live, and he still carries on as though life were a gift. Maybe I'm being foolish, or maybe he's the fool. I can't decide which, and maybe I don't care.
I stare into my drink, counting the ice cubes absently. Without thinking, I slam the drink back, leaving only the ice cubes in the glass.
"Better slow down, honey or you won't make it to last call," the blonde bartender comments and adds a light hearted giggle. She's been flirting with me all night, and it's hard not to notice, but the only woman I want is Rinoa.
"Well, man," Laguna says and pushes his glass of grape juice away, "I'm going to have to hit the grass."
I don't bother to correct him. What's the point?
"I'll be at the hotel if you need me. I just love unfamiliar beds! There's nothing like sleeping in a hotel room," he continues. I know that he'll continue this monologue for another ten minutes, so I order another drink and pretend to listen. He finally says his goodnight and I'm left alone in this dingy, dirty little place, alone with the antlers on the wall and the old men who play cards and talk about hunting and fishing and things they did when they were young. If I ever end up like that, someone shoot me. Please.
"Why the long face?" the bartender asks as she brings me another round.
"Not really in the mood to talk," I reply, hoping that she'll get the hint.
Of course, she doesn't. "Sometimes it helps."
"Thanks but I'll pass," I reply, refusing to look at her.
"Well, if that's the way you want it," she replies with a shrug and turns to help a customer at the end of the bar.
I finish off my drink, and suck down for two more before I decide to leave this smoke filled little dive and head out into the cold night beyond it's battered wooden doors. The cold air comes as a shock as it blows across my face. But surprisingly, or maybe not so, considering the amount of booze I've consumed tonight, I don't feel terribly cold.
I walk through the streets, where my life as a SeeD began. It wasn't so long ago that these streets were littered with bodies of both Dollet Army and G-Army soldiers during the seige on Dollet that served as my induction into the mercenery life. It wasn't so long ago that I was a boy with no dreams or plans for the future, so I suppose it's fitting that I now walk these streets a man without dreams or hopes for a future.
Except that this is only half true. I still hope that Rinoa's just being irrational and that she'll change her mind and we can work everything out.
I don't know how long I've been walking now. I've circled the city restlessly, without direction, but I know I've passed the harbor seven or eight times now. The chill is starting to get to me.
Up ahead I hear thunderous music, and blindly follow the sound. Here, tucked away in a narrow alley is a club of some kind with a gaudy neon sign that garishly announces it's name. Aeris. The building itself seems to throb with the heavy bass of the dance song, it seems to shudder on it's very foundation, and despite myself, I'm drawn inside.
The place is nearly packed, people stand elbow to elbow and I must fight my way to the bar. I don't know what I'm doing here, since I detest this sort of place, but perhaps I can finally feel totally alone with my thoughts. In a place like this, it's easy to be anonymous. Once I reach the bar, I order myself another drink. As if I need another, but I'm past the point of caring. As I sip my poison, I watch the people pass by.
How many of the people in here have felt what I feel right now? How many of them have lost someone they thought would be theirs forever? Disheartened, I glance from person to person, and see that almost everyone in this room is on the arm of someone else.
One couple in particular catches my eye. They seem deeply in love as they toy with each other. The man plays with the woman's beautiful raven hair, and her hand caresses his well muscled arm. They seem so enamored of each other that I can't help but be envious. How long ago was it that Rinoa and I did the same thing?
Something familiar about that girl. Something about her reminds me of Rinoa, though her hair has never been that long. But still, I'm compelled to take a closer look. I pick up my drink and crane my neck, watching the couple laugh and giggle at one another, their faces hidden by shadows cast by the strange lighting in here.
As I push through the crowd to gawk at them, she turns her head and I catch a glimpse of her profile. Oh, hyne. That face. I know every inch of that beautiful face.
Rinoa.
And the man with her. He's tall, blonde and wears a long gray coat emblazoned with red crosses.
Seifer? It can't be.
Rinoa? And Seifer? She sits in his lap, smiling up at him as if she adores him and she giggles as he whispers in her ear. I am horrified as I watch his hand boldly touch her breast and she gives him a playful shove.
No. No, no, no.
Rage swells inside me and I push through the people that suddenly block my path to where they stand. I swear, the next person who gets in my way gets a mouthful of glove.
Someone crashes into me from the side and I spin, my fist in the air, ready to duke it out, but a familiar voice squeals my name.
Before me stands Selphie dressed in a yellow micro-mini skirt and a matching halter, and Quistis wearing a tight black dress, both with drinks in their hands, gaping at me as if they've never seen me before.
"What are you doing here?" Quistis yells over the thunderous music.
"Came with Laguna," I reply and knock back the rest of my burbon. "Why are you here?"
"Came with Rinoa," Quistis replies.
Oh, right. The conference. The one I told her I didn't have time to accompany her on.
"Have you been drinking?" Quistis asks in disbelief.
I toss aside the glass that contained my millionth drink of the night. Or something like that. I stopped counting a while ago. "Yeah, so what?" I reply, looking around to make sure I don't loose sight of the lovebirds.
"You're drunk, Squall?" Selphie asks with a girlish giggle. It's obvious that she's had a little more than her share too.
"No more than you, Sefie," I reply.
"Selphie, go find Xu and Rinoa," Quistis orders.
"Um, Quisty, Rinoa's still with Seif . . . oh."
My jaw clenches as Selphie throws a guilty looking glance my way and then sprints off into the crowd.
"I'm gonna kill him," I mutter.
"I'm coming with you. You're drunk and you might do something stupid," Quistis says.
"Leave me alone," I demand and push away from her. Unfortunately, I stumble and am forced to grab onto her to remain vertical.
"Let me come with you," she urges, a plea in her eyes, as if she doesn't want me to see them together. Too late for that. I've already seen, and Hyne does it hurt to know she'd touch someone else like that, let someone else touch her that way. Especially someone like Seifer.
"Let me go!" I yell and pull away from her. "I'm fine, damn it!"
I leave her bewildered as I head in the direction that I last saw the pair, but I don't see them anywhere and I begin to search from corner to corner, but still the two are mysteriously absent.
In a panic, I fight my way out of the bar, out into the cold night again. The icy air takes my breath away momentarily. The wind has picked up and a definite chill has set in. I shiver and look both ways, up and down the alley, hoping to spot them. But except for a sprinkling of people I don't recognize, there's no one else out here but me.
I'm suddenly exhausted. I realize that I'm not going to find her tonight, and maybe it's best that I didn't. With great reluctance, I return to the city gates, where Laguna landed the Ragnarok earlier this evening, and head aboard, thankful for the warm air inside.
As I lay down on a cot and fall into sleep, I a voice cries out, I'm lost. Please, someone help me!
I struggle to lift my head so that I might find the source of the voice, but I'm too tired to even open my eyes.
Squall, help me!
Funny. The voice sounds like Rinoa's.
From a deep, dreamless sleep induced by far too many glasses of whiskey, I awake to dawn in Dollet. I'm not sure what hurts worse, my head or my stomach. My head throbs, aching at the temples and behind my eyes. My stomach churns as if there is some live creature inside that must get out. I swear at myself and rub my eyes.
My stomach feels bad, but I think my pounding head has won the battle. And somebody, please tell me, where am I?
There's a body in the bed next to me, and it's definitely not Quistis, who agreed to share a bed with me at the hotel. The body's arm is slung across my hips, and the rest of it cups me from behind, warm and smooth. I'm sure this arm belongs to a man, though I don't remember going to bed with one.
What the hell?
For a moment, I wonder if I'm still asleep. In sleep, though, my head wouldn't hurt so much, and my stomach certainly wouldn't feel as if something were trying to claw it's way out through my guts. Ugh. I'll never drink again, I swear.
And who is this man beside me? I don't recall. Fearful that I've done something terribly stupid that I won't be able to get out of, I sit up and gently push the arm off me. I look around at the room, and catch a glimpse of a gunblade, it's tip missing. Please let it be Squall beside me, please . . . oh Hyne, please!
There is a gray coat with red crosses on the sleeves hanging over the back of the chair that stands next to the bed. Oh, bloody hell. This has to be a dream. I'd never, ever in good conscience go to bed with Seifer. But I'm naked under these sheets, and he, well, he's not exactly dressed either.
What have you done, Rinoa? What in the name of Hyne have you done?!
How do I get out of here without waking him? Beyond that, how do I get up from the bed, without exposing myself to his eyes, should he wake up? I'll just take the sheet. Oh. That's no good either. The sheet is tucked underneath his legs, and there's no chance of me taking it without waking him. I'm trapped.
Before I can even consider what to do next, Seifer's eyes open and he yawns. His breath smells of whiskey, his eyes are bloodshot and surprised.
"Am I dreaming?" he asks, his voice gritty from sleep.
"I hope so," I manage to say, clutching the sheets to my bare breasts. I search my foggy memory of last night's adventures, and come up blank. I have no recollection of any events beyond ordering my first drink with the girls. What in Hyne's name have I done?
Seifer's now touching my hair, smoothing it back from my face. There's something in his eyes that reminds me of Squall. Please let it not be what I think it is. I can't bear to be more than just a conquest to him. I flinch away from his touch as if it were poison. "Don't be afraid," he says, his touch becoming more intimate. My skin crawls; I'm filled with disgust, for him and myself. I slap his hands away, panicky and half terrified. I don't want him to touch me. Ever. Again.
For a second, our eyes meet. In his, I see radiant, dancing whorls of light, a whirlwind of color that is both beautiful and menacing. For a very brief second, I glimpse a pair of black wings, infused with the same shimmering colors that pulse and move in serpentine waves in his eyes. I reel back, remembering the nightmares I had just nights ago. I shudder and flee from the bed, taking the sheet with me and clinging to it as if to a rock on the edge of a high cliff.
I remember last night now.
Seifer'd been on stage with the Disciplinary Committee, or in other words, Rajin and Fujin. They played a few songs. I'd already lost count of how many drinks I'd had. One might say I was plastered, if not outright crocked. (Wait, is there even a difference?) The memories after my third or fourth drink are a blur, but they are there, including my own willingness to be seduced by Seifer, and the subsequent act that followed his seduction.
This is just great. Fantastic. So I dumped Squall, fine, but why did I have to jump into bed with Seifer? Seifer, of all people!
I know what I did, and I'm ashamed of myself. The funny thing is, I feel as if I had no choice in the events that occurred last night. I remember saying and doing things I know I'd never do or say, even after a few glasses of Galbadia's famous liquid death. It's almost as if my body was being used as a puppet, and someone else at the strings. It's as if my actions are simply the will of some unknown master. Yet, at the same time, I went along with no resistance. I certainly didn't put up a fight when Seifer took me home and then into his bed. In fact, the prospect seemed, well, very enticing at the time.
It's not like I'm possessed or anything, at least I pray I'm not. When Ultimecia used my body to deactivate the seal of Adel's tomb, I had absolutely no control over my own body. I knew what was going on, but I could not stop her. No, this is more subtle. I know I would have turned Seifer down if I'd had no desire to spend the night at his place. I wanted to sleep with Seifer. I'm pretty sure about that. Aren't I?
Hyne. What is wrong with me? I'm so confused. Was this what I wanted? Can I really say to myself I wanted this?
Currently, Seifer strokes my bare shoulder, lust in his eyes. He stands naked before me, and he has no shame at all about showing himself. "Last night was really special."
"For you, maybe," I reply, drawing the sheets tighter around me as I take a step away.
"You sure seemed to enjoy it." His smile sickens me, makes me want to vomit.
"I've got a train to catch, Seifer, and my friends are probably worried sick about me." I throw his coat at him and indicate that he's supposed to cover himself up so that I don't have to see all of him, but he ignores the gesture.
"Don't go,"
"I have to. Cid is expecting me back before sundown," I say as I struggle with the sheet, which threatens to expose more of me than I wish to. I feel his eyes upon my back as I turn away, I feel his lust for me as he watches me bend down to pick up my discarded garments from the floor and enter the bathroom.
I dress quickly, the door locked behind me. I can't imagine how Squall would react if he ever found out about this. Would he be furious? Would he even speak to me again? One thing is for sure. I have to keep this quiet, for my sake and Squall's. I glance into the mirror and I'm startled by my reflection.
My eyes, they're not brown anymore. I don't even know what color you'd call this. It's kind of a blue-green-brown that is no where close to being described as hazel.
And my hair. It seems to be growing overnight. There's now a full five inches or more added to the length and it's the same glossy black with chunk highlighting in red, but the red seems to have turned darker, to more of a true red than an auburn.
So much for blaming it on the hotdogs.
But the most disturbing part of my reflection is the faint lines on the left side of my face. They are whitish-gray, and resemble soft down feathers. The lines grow darker near my hairline, almost black, and they cup my face like gentle fingers against my cheek.
Oh, Hyne, this is not happening! I understand now what is wrong with me! For the first time in a long while, I'm truly frightened beyond my senses. I don't want these changes to happen. I want to be the old me, plain old Rinoa, not Rinoa the Sorceress.
Trembling, I leave the bathroom and say an unceremonious goodbye to Seifer. I'm forced to dodge his attempt to kiss me by ducking out of the way. My skin crawls with the thought of him touching me, and my head pounds with the memory of what I'd so willingly and completely done in his bed. I can't make this mistake again. I belong with Squall, not Seifer.
"When will I see you again?" he asks as I walk away.
Hmm, let me think. Never? How does that sound, Seifer? "Soon," I hear my voice say, against my will. The desire to do wrong is so electrifying, yet so shameful. I feel split in two, as if there are two Rinoas inhabiting my body, one good, one evil, and the evil one seems to be winning the battle.
I hurry back to the hotel, not wasting any time looking around at this beautiful city. I have to do something about this. My friends are going to think me mad if I continue behaving like this. I know they're already wondering what the hell is wrong with me. But these impulses, they're so strong. Do all Sorceresses feel this way when they come into their own power? Perhaps I should speak with Edea. She'd be able to tell me everything I need to know.
And what were those lights I saw in Seifer's eyes? They were so similar to those in my dreams, the wings almost identical. Would anyone believe or understand if I tried to explain? Maybe this is another thing I should keep to myself. I'm already half out of my mind in their opinion, I don't want to give them a reason to lock me up in the Balamb Psychiatric Ward.
But, maybe I belong there.
At the hotel, my friends are packing their things in preparation to return to the Garden. I remember I must do the same, and quickly. The train leaves in less than an hour.
"Where the hell have you been?" Quistis demands. She sounds very motherly when she says it, and I feel sorry that she hasn't settled down yet. She'd make a wonderful mother, though probably a bit stern and controlling. "We were about to organize a search party. We've been worried sick about you."
"Sorry," I reply, throwing cosmetics and toiletries into my duffel bag. Suddenly I'm not feeling so hot. My head hurts, and I feel like I might throw up. "Had too much to drink last night."
"I'll say," Quistis remarks, her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Were you with Seifer?"
"Yes, but I passed out on his couch," I lie. What can I do but lie? The truth wouldn't exactly go over well with any of them.
"Thank Hyne!" Xu exclaims as she folds a shirt carefully into a square, as dictated by Garden policy. "I can't imagine anyone stooping so low as to sleep with Seifer. You had us all worried."
I find this almost unbearable to take. I want to scream at Xu and rip her shiny black hair from her head, strand by strand. And then, I'm surprised by my own rage. And frightened. How angry do I have to be to actually do it? What would happen if I did? I shudder and continue to pack my things in silence.
"Laguna's here, Rinoa!" Selphie says excitedly. "He's gonna fly us home on the Ragnarok."
Great. This was just what I need after a night of sin and slumming. The Ragnarok is not one of my favorite places. Though some pretty important moments in my life played out there, many of them good, the bad ones were bad enough to keep me from listing it in my top ten. Nevermind the way it shudders. Maybe I should just go throw up now and get it over with.
"Rinoa, when did you grow your hair out?" Xu asks, curious and a little suspicious.
I want to tell her to mind her own business and I have to force my lips shut not to say anything nasty. After a few seconds, I reply, "Fujin gave me extensions last night." The lie sounds stupid, and I have to stop myself from groaning at the sheer idiocy of the statement.
"Oh," Xu replies, looking mildly surprised. "I didn't know she did hair."
"I didn't either."
"Well, it looks nice."
"Thanks," I reply. I feel bad about wanting to rip her hair out. I didn't mean it. I really, really didn't! Wanting to change the subject, I divulge a piece of tasty gossip the Seifer shared with me last night. "By the way, Fujin's pregnant."
This news is met with a collective gasp and noises of disgust.
"We should throw her a baby shower," Xu comments, sounding serious.
We all look at her as if she had little purple lizards crawling out of her nose.
"Just kidding," Xu said and rolled her eyes, as if the joke had been completely lost on us.
Quistis shudders. "That's disturbing," she says. "Can any of you imagine what kind of mother she'd make?"
"Yeah," Xu replied and zipped up her bag. "And it terrifies me to think about it."
I continue to pack, and look up to see Selphie staring at me in a funny way.
"What?" I ask, annoyed.
"Squall's here too," Selphie says quietly, a look of discomfort, and a little guilt on her sweet face. I feel the urge to choke her. But I keep control of myself and busy my hands with zipping my bag. I have to concentrate on the task, because for just a split second, it feels like my hands might actually lift up against my will and throttle her until she turns purple.
"He'll be aboard the Ragnarok," I echo, hoping this is a mistake. Squall is the last person I want to see today. I can't face him after what I've done.
"Unhunh," Selphie says "And boy, is he not himself. I thought he was withdrawn before, but now . . ."
Stop talking, Selphie, just stop talking before I scratch your eyes out. I favor her with a chilly look and her face crumples into a scowl.
"Gee, did a sand worm crawl up your butt this morning or what?"
I'm gonna kill her.
"Shut up, Selphie," Quistis cuts in. "She had a rough night."
If they only knew . . . .
