Squall stumbled out of the bathroom to his bed. He unceremoniously shoved a giggling Selphie to the floor—still holding his jacket—and lay on his back, one arm over his eyes.

Peering indignantly over the edge of the bed, Selphie said, "I didn't know you were so vain."

Lifting his arm, Squall looked quizzically at her.

"You get all huffy when we ask you to change the way you dress, and now you're throwing a tantrum because your hair is a different color!" She bounced up and knelt next to him. "If it makes you feel better, you look great." She smiled fondly at him and prodded an exposed arm. "Skin is good."

Eyeing the copious amount of skin exposed by Selphie's tiny dress, Squall scoffed. "You would say that."

"She's right, though," Quistis said. She walked over and sat on the bed opposite Selphie, between Squall and the wall. Tracing a finger down his naked arm, she added, "You've got great skin."

"You're a silver-haired pretty boy now, Squall." Zell's eyes sparkled with glee. "You'll have to beat the girls off with a stick."

"And the boys." Irvine smiled seductively and sashayed over to sit beside Selphie. He fingered one of Squall's multitudinous belts. "I wonder if the color change was all over?"

The three seated around Squall exchanged glances.

They looked down at Squall.

They smiled, predatorily.

His eyes went wide.

Zell jumped onto the bed, glaring at them. "Knock it off," he scolded. "Would you think it was so funny if it was you?" He turned to the closest of them. "Quistis?"

She ducked her head, loose hair falling over her face. "No," she whispered. "Sorry."

Squall lifted a hand to touch her face, buried as it was in her golden hair. She raised her eyes to meet his. Squall blinked. He opened his mouth.

"What a pretty picture you all make," Rinoa said. Five heads turned to her. "We need to start for Balamb if I'm going to catch my train. I'll explain what Edea told me along the way."

Sheepishly mumbling apologies, Selphie and Irvine rose from the bed. Zell stood next and offered his hands. Quistis and Squall each took one and allowed themselves to be hauled up to their feet.

Stepping around the people crowded into his room, Squall moved up to Rinoa and solicitously offered his arm. "Milady," he said.

Rinoa eyed him suspiciously. "What's with you?"

"I don't have a stick."

Zell snorted.

"Huh?" Rinoa looked at the sniggering blond, and then took in the others' expressions. Guilty good humor showed on all of their faces.

Dubious, but eager to be moving, Rinoa linked her arm through Squall's and they set out, the rest of the group trailing behind.

"What did Matron say?" Squall asked as they walked to the garage. The six of them were collecting a lot of stares.

"She said that I had focused on getting rid of 'those freakish light streaks' thank you very much for that phrase you jerk, rather than adding dark, or transmuting the color. When I forced the color out, it apparently ended up on all of your heads."

"That doesn't make sense." He paused, getting bumped by the closely following Selphie in the process. Squall flashed the petite now blonde an irritated look before continuing, "You didn't have any of these colors in your hair." His gesture took in Selphie's gleaming gold—and tidily pinned—cap, Irvine's near-white locks, and his own gently shimmering mop.

She shrugged. "Time Compression doesn't make any sense, but we lived through it. It's just one of those things. Magic is like that. What is wrong with these people?" The last was in reference to the vast quantity of onlookers circled about them. Every one of them was getting some attention, but the majority of stares were directed at Squall.

"This is what I was talking about," Zell commented. "People just go crazy over silver-haired pretty boys."

"Let's…" Squall swallowed. "Let's get out of here."

They edged cautiously forward and the gathered crowd parted silently.

"This is creepy," Selphie said. There were a few nods of agreement, but no one spoke again until they were safely in a car and halfway to Balamb.

"Tell me you can fix this." Squall was the first to speak. "Please," he added, and edge of desperate pleading creeping into his voice.

"I don't dare try. Edea said it's probably temporary, but if I start messing with it, it might become permanent—or something worse could happen."

"How long?" Squall wanted to know.

"If it hasn't started to revert to normal in two weeks, get in touch with me and I'll give it a shot."

Squall sighed. A minimum of two weeks of uncomfortable stares and people trying to get into his pants. Even if the attention felt… good?

He was grateful to Zell for defending him, but Squall knew that a part of him had been excited by the idea of his three friends—all of whom he had shared some intimacies with yesterday—pinning him to his bed.

His mind wandered in that direction for some time, until an uncomfortable throb reminded him that excessively tight pants were a bad idea in a crowd. Trying to turn his thoughts onto a safer path, Squall realized that among his circle of friends, the only one he hadn't kissed was Zell. Glancing over, he noticed how much softer the shorter man looked, his tattoo partially obscured by a sweep of soft, yellow hair.

Realizing that he was staring, pale eyebrows deeply furrowed, Squall looked away. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He studied it curiously, with a detachment he'd been incapable of back in his own brightly lit room.

Without the deceptive bulk of his jacket his shoulders looked narrower and his neck longer. Where his brown hair had contrasted with his fair skin, the new hair seemed to match it. He almost seemed to glow, as if he were carved from pure, solid light. Also, he had failed to notice in his initial shock that the scar Seifer had gifted him with had gone pale. No longer obtrusively red, it was hardly noticeable; it was two shades paler than the surrounding skin. He traced the outline of his reflection with one finger, awestruck.

"…Squall!" He turned placidly to Rinoa who, judging by the looks the others were giving him, had been trying to get his attention for some time.

"What?"

"We're here." She waited. "Open the door and get out of the car," she elaborated.

"Damn, sweetheart," Irvine's voice floated after him as he sheepishly complied. "Are you just now figuring out how hot you are? We've all known that for a long time." There were nods and mumbled assent.

Squall sighed, decided to ignore Irvine, climbed out of the car, and turned to offer his hand to Rinoa.

She accepted with a sly smile. Once on her feet, she leaned in to embrace Squall. Standing on tiptoe, she gently kissed his cheek. "You look stunning." Grinning, she released him. "Let's go."

Squall stood, gaping after her, while Rinoa headed toward the train station, quartet of blonds in tow. They quickly disappeared.

An unexpected voice came from behind. "That's a new look for you, Squall. I like it."