"Why is life so tragic; so like a little strip of pavement over an abyss. I look down; I feel giddy, I wonder how I am ever to walk to the end." ~ Virginia Woolf

Sometimes in Winter

It sure been a cold, cold winter
My feet been draggin' 'cross the ground
And the fields has all been brown and fallow
And the springtime take a long way around

Sometimes I wanna wrap my coat around you
Sometimes I wanna keep you warm
Sometimes I wanna wrap my coat around you
Sometimes I wanna but I can't afford you
(Rolling Stones)

Heart in his throat Irvine arrived on the scene just in time to find Selphie standing jubilantly over a scrawny looking youth, one boot balanced on his chest to keep him down. Her face flushed, one hand on her hip the other tapping her nunchaku against her shoulder, she tossed her hair and glared at her captive. Irvine's pulse slowed back to normal, nearly laughing at himself for imagining the worst. Her startled scream had propelled him into motion without thinking.

Next to him, Zell shoved his hands in the rear pockets of his shorts and rolled back on his heels. He whistled as he took in the sight. Poor kid.

"What's going on?"

Selphie's head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed. "This little brat here tried to take my bag." She ground her heel in to punctuate her words. "Not very nice."

The boy let out a howl of agony, drawing the attention of passers by. Most turned their heads and gave them a wide berth. SeeD. Move along, move along.

"How stupid are you, dude?" Zell gave the thief a look full of disdain. "Baaad move pickin' on her." For effect, he gave a light shudder.

Taking a few steps closer, Irvine slid his hands in his own coat pockets and exchange glances with Selphie before turning back to the younger male.

"Do you always rob from innocent females, or is this just a one-time thing?"

The boy shook his head vehemently. Eyes wide and panicked they seemed to search the area rapidly, as if hoping an angel would swoop down and take him away.

"No, I-I swear. I'm no thief." His voice wavered. "Please, sir. I'll never ever do it again. I promise."

"I don't believe you." Cocking her head, Selphie pressed her foot harder at his rib cage. "We can't let you get away until we're sure. Irvy, teach him a lesson."

"Nah," Zell spoke up. "He ain't worth the energy. I say we just hand 'im over to the cops." If anything this possibility frightened the lad even more. He began to struggle.

"Let him up, Selph," suggested Irvine. "He looks like he's choking. And we wouldn't want him to pass out on us now would we?" Though his tone was mild and almost congenial, his mouth turned down in a frown and his forehead creased. The more he observed their hostage the greater his misgivings. He didn't have the appearance of an average pickpocket for one thing. His clothing was too clean, his hair decently cut, and his shoes were of a popular and expensive make. Of course, they could always be stolen.

With a sigh showing her lack of enthusiasm, Selphie moved away to let her attempted mugger rise. She held her weapon with both hands out in front as a warning.

"So," placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, Irvine ensured he wouldn't be able to escape. "You mind tellin' us what you're up to?"

He guessed his age to be around fourteen or fifteen, not too much younger than themselves. However, he was noticeably shorter. Besides a few scrapes due to his tumble to the ground, he didn't look to mussed either. Irvine surveyed his face for any outward signs of hunger or poverty. He had spent enough time in this city to recognise the scent of a street kid. And this guy just wasn't displaying that. Bony, but not malnourished. All he got from him was fear, his shoulders quaked under his grip. There was none of the belligerence Irvine knew one had to have to survive in the alleys of Deling. He was too green.

"Nothin'," the boy wiped a hand under his nose, his eyes lowered to the ground. "I was bored. An' some guys dared me. I didn't mean nothin' by it. Sorry."

"Not sorry enough," Zell cut in, standing next to Selphie. "Don't you know stealing is wrong? Didn't your ma teach you anything? You're just lucky we've got better things to do else you'd be in big trouble, buddy."

"That's right. I'm in a good mood today, boyo, so I'm gonna let you off with a warning." Irvine's long fingers tightened their hold. "But if I catch you tryin' to pinch from a lady again, I won't be so cordial. You understand?"

"Yes, sir. I got it. No more takin' from girls, I swear it." The kid raised his chin and vowed, bobbing his head like a puppet. "I learned my lesson."

"Make sure it stays that way." Irvine stood back and watched him scamper away into the crowds of suits and workmen.

"Keep off the streets!" Selphie yelled after him. "Dumb kid." She turned to replace her nunchaku with the rest of her things before facing the two men. Straightening her shoulders and dusting off her hands, she grinned. "Not bad, boys. Gold stars!"

"You think he's gonna do it again?" Zell broached his question to Irvine.

"Probably, but not to anyone who looks like our Selphie. She plain broadsided him."

"Just doing what I do best!" Selphie chirruped with a salute.

He bent over to retrieve his own light carryall and then frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"My wallet." Irvine patted his coat pocket and found it empty. He let loose with a wry grin and chuckled. "He must've taken it. The little bugger." The moniker was born more of amusement than anger.

"Geez." Zell punched a fist into his opposite hand. "I told ya I hated this city. And that's exactly why. Don't get freaks like that in Balamb."

"What should we do?" Not too concerned, Selphie hopped from one foot to the other. Her eyes gleamed. "Should we go after him?"

"Let's continue to the embassy. There wasn't much in there anyway. I'll report the missing I.D. tonight." Still puzzling over the incident, Irvine shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs and motioned to the others to lead the way. He'd brood over it more later. "Lay on, Agent Tilmitt."

After awakening in an infested, low-scale motel room, his system chock full of unidentified drugs, Seifer didn't think it was likely to ever feel that sore again. He was wrong. No matter which way he positioned himself, it was impossible to find an arrangement that suited him. The cab of the truck felt constricted, his knees bunched up against the glove compartment. The handcuffs certainly weren't helping. In fact, the only thing that made the drive even remotely endurable was the knowledge that his constant squirming was pissing the driver off.

"Can't you crack a window or something? For fuck's sake I can't breathe." Seifer complained loudly, shifting against the seatbelt once more.

He tried to bend his knee and sit so he was facing the door but the position he ended up in was just as awkward as the last. His shoulder did not seem to be very pleased with the movement either.

"Maybe if you'd quit wriggling like a five-year-old." Quistis replied automatically, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. The air was pretty stale but feeling childish herself she decided to keep the windows shut out of spite. He wasn't the only uncomfortable one.

"Ouch, what a dig. How many times have I heard that before?" He rolled his eyes and twisted his frame back into a normal posture, back against the seat, legs stretched out on the floor under the dash. "Can you at least take off the handcuffs? They're chafing like a bitch."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer." His voice was reproachful, high-pitched and she glanced over at him. He'd contorted his face in what she assumed was an impression of her.

"Kiss ass."

Seifer snorted a contemptuous laugh. "I ain't that desperate." Leaning forward he reached out to occupy himself with the dials, flipping on the air-conditioning. "Get any music in here?"

Immediately, she slapped his bound hands away and switched off the vents. "What do you think?"

"Radio's still down, eh?"

Surprised by his attempt at normal conversation, her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. "I believe Esthar has a team working on restoring the interference problem."

The truck itself didn't have a transmitter installed. Digital cable was the only system currently available and fancy as the rig was, its owner apparently hadn't gone in for that expensive option.

Quistis glanced at the rear-view mirror and flashed her signal before merging onto the route that would take them directly to Dollet. The air was suddenly cooler, the desert long behind them. Instead of golden fields and grain elevators the landscape was pervaded by forests and rambling rivers. Mountains rose in the distance like beacons of hope. She said a little prayer to the powers that be for getting them safely out of Galbadia. Already her mood was lightening.

"So tell me, duchess." Angling his body toward her, Seifer spoke amicably. "How long have you been obsessed with sex?"

"Excuse me?" Her hands tightened on the wheel and she shot him her most displeased expression. The tension was back, nailing right between her shoulder blades. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Oh yeah? Then what was that back in Messenia? And at the pub? Could've fooled me. I thought Ms. Perfect Instructor Trepe was above such activities." His tone was lazy and she didn't have to look to know he was smirking at her.

"I'm not an instructor. Besides, I don't have to account for my behaviour to you, Almasy." Her words were tight and she could have cursed. She could not let the idiot get under her skin. It was humiliating how easy he could, especially since she knew he did it on purpose. "If anything, you should be prostrating yourself in front of me."

"Yeah right. You'd really like that wouldn't you?" Not to be sidetracked, he leaned his cheek against the headrest. He could tell the directness of his gaze disturbed her. "So how long?"

She chose not to endorse his insolence with a reply. If he wanted to play it this way that was fine. It didn't mean she had to deign herself to participate in his little games. Besides, she knew nothing annoyed him more than being ignored. Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she pressed down a little harder on the accelerator.

He watched her for a few long moments, finding himself inwardly criticising every move she made. Hands at a perfect ten and two on the wheel, posture straight, eyes constantly roaming from windscreen to mirror to gauges. It was disgusting. She turned something as natural as driving into yet another practice in perfection.

"Should you be driving without your glasses?"

"If you're suggesting you take over, the answer is no." Shooting him a quick look, she rolled her eyes.

"For crying out loud, Trepe, what's your problem? I was just asking a question." He shook his head and changed positions again, scowling out the window. "I'm a little worried about saving my neck, y'know. Today's not a good day for eating pavement."

"I can see fine." The words came out between grinding teeth and a clenched jaw.

Quistis yanked the wheel and moved over into the fast lane. The rear of the truck jerked but otherwise was fine. It was good thing the route was fairly vacant, else she might have slammed into another vehicle in her red-blinded haste.

"Where are they anyway? Why aren't you fiddling with them like you always do when you're nervous."

"I'm never nervous." She batted his hands away from the knobs of the control panel once more. "And I lost them in Timber. Some time between falling asleep at a stink hole and rescuing your butt from a resistance faction with a world domination complex." Her elbow snapped out in reaction when he leaned over to check the gauges.

He winced knowing if he'd been in better shape, the jab wouldn't have dug as much. Feeling her wrath, he moved back to his original position, but not without noting the speed of the vehicle. Better than he expected, just the other side of the legal limit. So there was hope yet.

"Some nice friends you have there," she commented after ensuring the truck stayed on course.

"I never said they were my friends." Absently, he rubbed his side.

"But you never denied it either. Just what did you think you were going to accomplish?"

"None of your business," he countered, less distracted this time. "The world isn't going to fall apart if you don't have your manicured hands mixed up in everything." Seifer rolled his eyes. "Leave off for once. You may not like what you find."

"It is my business. For the duration of this mission, you are my business, along with every pile you wallow in." There was that instructor tone again, he silently ridiculed. And it sounded as if she'd been spending some time with Xu. How quaint, his inner sarcastic monologue jeered. So it was to be a pleasant jaunt through the countryside. Ante up.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? I like wallowing in piles. I like getting dirty. And even more, I like watching your expression when I do it. You're such a little princess sometimes, you know that? 'Ew, don't touch me, you might give me a disease.'" He scoffed. "The disease you're so afraid of, it's called a life. It wouldn't kill you to get one. Garden isn't the puritanical organization you make it out to be."

"I'm a princess?" Her jaw opened and closed. Any second now he knew her eyes would start to blaze. "You have no idea how hard I work, of what I've been through in the past. You know nothing about me. Or Garden, for that matter. It's not the evil institution you make it out to be. I'd advise you to keep your sour grapes to yourself and shut up."

"Yes, your Grace." Easing back, he propped up a sneakered foot on one leg. At the very least he could make an appearance of nonchalance, despite the seatbelt burrow into his ribs at a most awkward angle. He was going to get the name of the bastard that invented handcuffs, go to where he was buried, dig him up, and burn his body.

"So to go back to our former conversation, maybe you wouldn't be so obsessed with sex if you were having it."

"Seifer." It was a low warning. One that he chose to pay no attention to whatsoever. To call Quistis exasperated would have been saying it lightly.

"I'm serious." Moving his foot to rest on the dash, he leaned forward. "It'd get rid of all that tension build-up you've got going on."

"I am not discussing this with you. It's ridiculous." Quistis wanted to bang her head against the steering wheel. Or better yet, bang his head against the windscreen. It took all of her strength to hold back and concentrate on the road. "Put your foot down."

He scowled but obeyed.

Honestly, she thought. It was like minding a child. All of a sudden she felt a massive sympathy for Edea. What they all must have put her through. The woman ought to be canonised.

Seifer stared out the window, his mind drifting in and out of focus. The truck was getting stuffier by the minute and Quistis' attitude wasn't helping. She kept pestering him with questions he didn't have answers to. He couldn't remember a thing about Timber, the drugs had seen to that. He remembered leaving the cellar and going to the warehouse. Zone had wanted to introduce him around, had said the guys had all looked up to him. He'd figured, why not? Give the schoolmarm something to bitch about. After that his memory blurred.

Zone had introduced him to the leader of the whole shebang, who'd preceded to interrogate him on his loyalties. Seifer had shrugged most of it off. He wasn't joining anything at this point. Then he recalled something about a revolution. Some kind of violent insurrection. Which was insane given the circumstances. Timber simply did not have the resources. The guy had told him something else too, something that niggled at the back of his mind. He didn't suppose it mattered now. Obviously, he had not taken Seifer's sarcasm calmly. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the roadside motel.

"Idiot!" Quistis swore and pressed a hand to the horn. "Does the no-passing sign mean nothing to you?" She honked one more time for good measure. Not because she thought it would do anything but because it made her feel better. "Ugh. I hate Galbadian drivers."

"Somebody needs to get laid." It was a mumble but she picked up the basic gist. He could feel her practically teem with fury.

"Seifer Almasy! If you don't shut up right now, so help me I will—."

"You'll what?" He cut her off, turning back around to regale her with a raised brow. "What could you possibly do to me?"

She took a breath and tried counting to ten. Made it to three before he spoke up and destroyed whatever progress she'd made in controlling her temper.

"I see it this way. You're like, what? Half my size? Even with that precious whip of yours there ain't much you can do to stop me." Reckoning he had her, he bent his legs and pushed his feet up until they rested on the dashboard. He heard her snarl and he grinned. Easy victory for his side.

"How do you know I'm not junctioned? The shape you're in, one dose of thunder magic and you'd be permanently fried." And why exactly was she participating in his immature little battle of wills? She had no clue but she couldn't stop herself either.

"Because." Seifer drawled out the word to its full capacity. "You would have already used it on me. You wouldn't have thought it against the rules to cast a simple sleep spell. Don't forget, I know how you operate, duchess."

Now that rankled much more than she would have liked. His opinion was essentially meaningless.

"I doubt there's much you could do with those on your wrists." She nodded to the metal cuffs.

"You'd be surprised." Unable to resist, he leered, dirty suggestion in his eyes. "I have practice."

"I doubt it." For one crazy moment she'd had the most horrid urge to laugh. "I know all too well how you operate. I suspect a bullet would do the trick."

"You wouldn't shoot me."

A smile teased the edges of her lips as she thought back to the previous evening. If only he knew. "You'd be surprised."

"I doubt it," he mocked back, sneering. He lifted both hands to run through his hair. "Predictable and transparent, is The Trepe. No way you'd be able to explain that to Garden."

Quistis smirked, glad he'd given the opening she'd been waiting for. "Seifer, you're not as critical to the world, or Garden, as you seem to think. Many would have been fine with leaving you to rot in the D-District. Your disposal wouldn't exactly be thwarting the precarious world order."

Did she think he didn't realise that already? Did she think he was oblivious to what waited for him once they got to the island? He may be a perennial screw-up but he wasn't stupid.

"Makes no damn difference either way to me." He shrugged a shoulder, expression stony. "It's all a load of political shite."

"It should make a difference, it's your life on the table. If I were you, I'd be wanting to save it." Lifting a hand off the wheel, she brushed aside her fallen hair and regarded him sombrely. "You'd do better making a good impression if you cooperated."

"Well, you're not me. And frankly, you know nothing. So why don't you keep your mouth shut and drive like a good little SeeD?" With that he jerked himself away so that his back was facing her.

"You know what you need?" She divided her time between watching the road and watching her passenger. It was obvious he was in no way eager to discuss anything with her but she was sick of playing guessing games. They had two more hours before they reached Dollet; she planned on spending them prodding him until he gave her what she wanted. With a very large stick if she had to.

"Let me guess," he grumbled. "An attitude adjustment. Blow it out your ear."
"No, you need to quit acting like the victim. 'Everyone hates me,'" she mimicked, scrunching up her face. "'Everyone is against me. No one understands me. It wasn't my fault. Poor me. Boo hoo.'" Tossing her head she returned her voice to normal levels. "Grow up."

"I need to grow up? Me?" Temper flaring, he swung back around, which caused the bench beneath them to shake. "Fuck that, Ms. Paragon of Maturity. Wake up to the real world already. Don't you get it? All I am is a symbol, a scapegoat. It doesn't matter how many lily-white asses I kiss. I'm a criminal because I failed. End of story. Save your idealistic spew for your adoring fans."

"So you're just going to give up? That's it, show's over?" Her fingers gripped the wheel like doing so would keep him in line. "It's not idealism, Almasy. It's survival. Maybe if you gave me some straight answers once in awhile and didn't run off with old war buddies, I'd be more willing to help you."

"Give it a rest. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want your help? Anyone's help? That maybe I just don't give a rat's ass anymore?"

It wasn't his words that scared her. It was the expression on his face. Cold, hard, eyes glittering with something she couldn't describe. Except for the threat of violence emanating off his frame, he was nothing like the man she used to know. There was none of the defiant student that used to taunt her from the back of the classroom. Back then there had always been a touch of amusement, of mutual challenge. He was a bully, but one with dreams. Even throughout the whole war, he'd never looked at her in such a way. It wasn't defeat - she doubted he'd ever truly give up, no matter what he said – and it wasn't hatred either. She sensed none of their old competition. If anything, it was empty. As if he felt nothing at all.

"I think you do." Quistis replied quietly. "And if I'm wrong, then I'm very sorry for you."

"Whatever." He flipped back over, despising the flash of pity on her face. Her wistful eyes pissed him off and he didn't want to deal with any of that. He was a man. He'd fight his own battles. "Like I said, it doesn't matter. What I did, what you did, it's all the same anyway."

Silence befell the cab once again as they contemplated this. Neither was desirous of broaching the subject he'd proposed. Save the highway philosophy for another day, Quistis thought wryly. Right or wrong, good or evil, none of it was making too much sense any longer. There was a time when she'd been so sure.

But that was before the chaos of Ultimecia.

"Least I have an excuse," Seifer spoke up. He decided to swing the tone of the conversation back round to his comfort zones. Where he could control it. "I was possessed."

"Right." Easing up on the accelerator, Quistis tried to catch up with the change on dialogue. She gave him a hard look, almost as if she could find the truth hidden in the lines of his mouth, or the flicker of his eyelashes. Whatever she had been looking for, it wasn't there. He leaned back and stretched out, closing his eyes.

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Why not? Isn't that the rumour?" His mouth curved in amusement. "I'm the victim, remember? It wasn't my fault. If that's what Garden wants to think, I don't mind going along for now. Sure as hell is what got me outta prison."

"Is it the truth?" She couldn't see it, Seifer possessed beyond his control. It just didn't fit somewhere. Not the man who'd purposely flouted every semblance of authority for as long as she'd known him. There was more to the situation than she knew she could grasp. But she wanted to. She couldn't say why, but she really wanted to.

Just as Seifer couldn't say why he responded to her question like he did. He told himself later it was because he'd been tired, and had wanted a way to shut her up. He didn't care about her estimation of his character, didn't care if she thought him weak enough to be taken and used as a puppet. If it got him out of trouble, took the heavy-handed guilt from his own hide, then what did one woman's thoughts, especially this woman's thoughts, count for? At least, that's what he told himself. Because they did count, they always had.

He opened his eyes to grant her one last cool glance. The glint in his eyes, while reassuring in its familiarity, did not do much to answer any of the zillions of questions that pranced up and down her tongue.

"What do you think?" Saying this, he shifted away and shut his eyes again, signalling the end of their discussion, as it were. "Wake me up when we get there, will ya?"

From time to time, Quistis peered over at him as she continued along the straightaway. She sighed and tried to refocus.

Strike Two.

By the time Xu returned to the main office, after taking a leisurely stroll around the perimeter of Garden that is, Squall had worked himself into a nice comfortable rage. Not only had she left him alone to deal with Galbadian presidential candidate Vito Tarquin but somehow his access code to the inner office had become defunct. Hence they'd been forced to meet in the central area.

"Balamb Garden cannot take an official position at this time," Squall droned in response to the man's request for support in the heated campaign race.

They sat side by side in two of the chairs fabric-covered chairs next to the coffee pot in the waiting room. Squall hated diplomacy. He hated it even more when he didn't have the security and power of a desk in front of him. Fortunately, Tarquin appeared to be taking the situation in stride.

"I know, I know," agreeable as ever, the older man waved both hands in the air as a symbol of peace. "I'm not asking you to make a public stance, per say." He smiled then, full out, and Squall caught the glint of a single gold tooth. The lines of his face were youthful, though Squall knew he must have been pushing sixty years of age. He was tanned, in shape and dressed to the nines in a pin-strip grey suit and subtle green tie. His hazel eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. His pores oozed charisma and self-assurance. For all counts and purposes he was a likeable character. If elected, Squall knew Galbadia would be in good hands. Which was the problem.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Squall wondered how he could end the meeting with as little offence as possible. Tact was not listed up high on his CV.

"I'm not asking to distribute buttons. All I want is a pledge, if you will. An understanding that when I do win I will have the full backing of your institution. It would go far in ensuring the efficiency of my government." As Tarquin spoke he gesticulated with his hands. The file spread open and balanced on his knees threatened to slip to the carpet. "Along with the lack of support for my opponent. Your continued ambivalence in the upcoming election is accepted, in fact, appreciated by my staff."

A politician to the core, thought Squall sardonically.

The elevator door opened and they both looked up, one in relief, the other in smooth pleasure. Xu walked through casually, chucked her folder on to her desk, and walked over to the coffee machine before she bothered to bestow either with a glance. Reaching for a clean navy blue mug, she raised a surprised brow and nodded her head in greeting.

"Ah, the woman of the hour." Rising from his chair to his full height of a perfect six feet, Tarquin moved toward the counter with one ringless hand outstretched. "You must be the real brains behind the operation, Headmaster Kramer's right hand man, or woman rather, which is even better. My name is Vito Tarquin, I own Tarquin Industries, based in Deling City."

"Yes, I know who you are." Xu poured out her liquid caffeine and tucked her hair back before she turned to shake his hand. "The paper man." Her smiled was caustic but he paid no attention.

"That's right." His laugh was hearty and most, she suspected, found it contagious. "Best quality this side of Esthar." He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair modestly. "Your commander was kind enough to entertain my ambitions, as dull as they are. Once again, I want to thank your institution for granting your valuable time. I look forward to dealing with you again in the future."

Charming, she thought, and very slick. It was surprising he wasn't at the top of the polls in the race. He would be, she knew, and if so, it would be most advantageous, not to mention, lucrative, for Balamb to be on his side. Therefore, her expression and phrasing was polite.

"Just as we look forward to dealing with you, whenever possible." Her smile this time was brighter. "If you'll excuse us, we have some important issues to discuss over a mundane Garden. Thanks for dropping by. I'll have a student see you out."

The man was sharp enough to sense when he was being handled but keen enough to admire her for it. "No trouble, no trouble. I know the way. Until we meet again." He shook her hand again and then Squall's before recovering his briefcase and heading toward the door.

"Good luck, Mr. Tarquin."

"And good luck to you," dimples winking he gave her a light salute. "Commander Leonhart."

"Goodbye, sir."

The moment the lift door closed, Squall folded his arms over his chest. Rounded on her. "Where were you?"

"You know I had the monthly regulation meeting this morning." Xu leaned back against the counter and sipped her coffee. "I came as soon as I could. Since we lost Maia in the Timber bombing, we're both going to have to suck it up and deal with people for awhile. Until we can find a replacement."

"My pass code doesn't work."

"What do you mean?" She lifted her brows. "Didn't you get the memo?"

His forehead creased and he shifted his stance onto the other hip. "No."

"I sent it out first thing. There was a breach of security and I had them changed last night. It must have been after you left." Tongue in cheek, she gave him an open-eyed look. "I sent you an encoded email."

"I couldn't get in the office, so I couldn't check my mail."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. Was there a problem?" Xu smiled when he glowered at her, eyes radiating hostility. "You should have paged me."

"Whatever. It's fine." Impatient, he dropped his arms and headed to the office door. When it was clear she wasn't moving or going to administer his new code, Squall turned halfway round. "The code?"

"My, aren't we tetchy today?" Pulling herself from her relaxed position, Xu set her mug on her desk next to the computer and walked over to punch in the numeric digits. The door slid open immediately. He didn't bother to thank her before he went in, the door sliding shut at his back.

"Very tetchy indeed." Enjoying every second of it, she hummed as she sauntered back to her desk and slipped into her worn leather chair. She took another drink from the mug before booting up the computer and turning on the slim, high-tech monitor. Her mood had vastly improved.

A few minutes later, just as she was getting into a good session of Intergalactic Warriors, the elevator doors pinged musically. Pausing the game at a crucial point, Xu looked up to see Rinoa. Since she was feeling uncharacteristically charitable, she gave the female a genuine smile and amicable greeting.

"Oh! Hi, Xu!" Rinoa's dark eyes lightened to match the curve of her lips. "Is Squall around?"

"That he is." Xu rolled her eyes in the direction of his door. "He's a bit narky, however. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was PMSing. But you know how he is. Leonhart will be Leonhart." She waved her hands vaguely in the air, her tone full of disinterest. "Why don't you sit down and catch me up on all the latest Garden gossip? I feel so out of the loop these days."

It was tempting, the offer of a nice girly chat. Now that Selphie and Quistis were both gone on missions she didn't really have any female companions to hang out with. She'd never considered the idea that Xu could become one of them.

"Aren't you busy?"

"Please," Xu shrugged, blasé. "It can wait. I'm just a secretary. Sit, talk, and don't leave out the juiciest bits."

Rinoa was about to comply when the inner office door opened and Squall stood before them, a troubled frown marring his smooth features. Xu noted how Rinoa's eyes lit up at the sight of him. His own glazed over the younger woman before landing on her.

"Where are this week's accepted mission requests?"

"You mean, I was supposed to go through them?" Adopting her own troubled expression, Xu bit at her lip. "I thought you wanted to do all that from now on. I can get them for you tomorrow, if you like. You should have said something."

Eyes darting from one to the other, Rinoa hesitated in speaking up right away. But when Squall's silent frustration brought a break in the conversation, she gathered her courage and stood her ground.

"Squall, if you have a few minutes, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Can't it wait?" He rubbed a hand at his forehead. "Why don't we meet for dinner or something."

And how many times had she heard that in the past? And how many times had he stood her up. With Xu's gaze upon her she shook her head. "I'd like to talk now, please. Since there are no new missions to organise, I'm sure you can spare the time."

"All right." Turning on his heel, Squall returned to the enclosure of his office, leaving the door open.

"How do you not beat him?" Xu asked from her chair, head against her fist. "Like daily?"

Brows drawn together, Rinoa opened her mouth to give an automatically, emotionally driven answer. Unexpectedly, she thought better of it. Instead she closed her mouth, widened her eyes, and shrugged.

After the door had shut, Xu leaned forward to switch on the intercom. Screw Nida, Garden's infamous gossip hound, she had first class tickets to the real deal.

"Starfish!" Selphie took a running leap and collapsed spread-eagle, face-down on the soft mattress of the hotel bed. She wriggled until her face pressed into the down of the pillows. "Mmmm. I could stay here forever."

Zell collapsed onto the bed nearest the window and sighed in agreement. It had been a long, boring day of meetings and introductions and appointments. He felt more exhausted than he would've if he'd spent the same amount of hours in the training centre. Sitting around and listening took more out of him than the most strenuous of exercise. He wanted to curl up under the quilts and pretend it was all over.

Taking the unoccupied middle bed, Irvine dropped his bag on the floor and sat back against the head rest, swinging his legs around to stretch out before him.

"What's y'all's thoughts on room service?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. Do they have pizza?" Zell dropped backwards so his eyes were on the ceiling, his legs dangling over the side. "I'm starved, man. I could eat two."

"I don't know." Irvine removed his hat and ran his fingers over the top of his head. "The menu's on the table by the door."

The two males looked over at it in unison, measured the distance. Calculated their desire for food and their need for rest. The latter won out.

"Tilmitt's closer." Zell rolled onto his side and shut his eyes.

"Selphie, darlin', would you mind…"
The female swivelled her neck and levelled Irvine with a blank stare. Making her point, she wordlessly moved her face back to the pillows. He sighed and decided his belly could wait. He sure as heck wasn't going anywhere.

The three weltered in self-pity for awhile, unmoving, before Zell slid onto his stomach and rested his chin on his folded arms, eyes toward the other two. "We're pathetic." Irvine laughed, although it came out a whispered snigger. "It's like nine o'clock and we're too lazy to even move across the room. Talk about sad."

Sinking down into the cushiony goodness that was the mattress of Deling's finest hotel, Irvine cast a glance over towards his friend and their eyes met, equal smirks teased their lips. He tipped back his head and gave in. "Saaaaaaad." Neither could help it, they both cracked up.

"Speak for yourselves." Perturbed at not being in on the joke, Selphie flung herself up to a seated position. "I'm just getting my second wind thingamajig. By ten I'll be ready to pah-tay!" Lifting her arms she attempted a little dance as proof of her infallible energy. But even her voice was weak and her arm movements were shallow.

"See? I'm hip, oh yeah, I'm happening." On a random burst, she leapt off the bed and proceeded to boogie about the room. "A buncha crabby old men can't get me down." She twisted herself in comical contortions in a rendition of a popular dance she'd seen once in a nightclub. But without music and without her usual coordination, she just looked like a mutating jellyeye, on downers. "Look out Deling City! Here I come!"

The guys watched her without comment, her crazy movements serving to increase their own physical exhaustion. Eventually she lowered her arms and stood in one spot by the door.

Irvine craned his neck to address her. "Hey, Selph, now that you're over there. Ya mind tossin' me the menu?"

Her jaw dropped. "Irvine Kinneas! You did that on purpose!" In two bounds she was next to him on the bed, pounding his shoulder.

"Ow! Hey! I didn't, I swear. Ow!" Picking up his hat, she decided to belt him with that as well. All he could to was crumple into a ball and cover his face.

"You big jerk! The only sad one here is you!" Thwap.

"Zell started it!"

"Don't make excuses!" Thwap.

By the far wall, Zell rolled his eyes and did his best to tune the other two out. Eventually, he got up the energy to roll off the bed and stand. He stretched out muscles that had laid idle for too long and gazed out the window. Immediately he noticed the lack of stars in the sky. The moon itself was only a haze-covered light. One more mark against the city. Working out his calves, he peered at the street below.

A vehicle pulled up on the curb of the hotel entrance. He could tell right away it was expensive as it's metal glimmered under the streetlights. Probably Estharian. The driver in full uniform stepped out and moved around the hood to open the door for his passenger. One good look at the top of the man's head proved his suspicions.

"Uh guys?" Their altercation had calmed down enough to pick up his call. "Whatchamacallit's here from the embassy."

Smoothing down his hair, Irvine sat up straighter. "Murphy?"

"That'd be him." Zell squinted down through the glass. "Hold up, another car just pulled behind. It looks like some kind of military dude. He's wearing a uniform." His eyes widened. "Hey, it's that guy we met at Caraway's. Keating or something. He's shaking hands with Murphy."

Irvine and Selphie exchanged narrowed looks and scrambled off the mattress to crowd around the window. She pressed her nose to the cool pane. "Where? I don't see anyone."

"They went inside together." Moving from the window, Zell linked his hands and put up his arms in a full body stretch. He felt a little better. "Should we go down there? It might be important."

"Why not? We wanted food anyway." Irvine gave his mattress one last yearning look before he resigned himself to another couple hours of work. A SeeD's job was never done. "Ready, Selphie?"

"You bet!" She was already unlatching the locks and throwing open the door. "Last one there has'ta buy me dessert!"

Zell and Irvine followed close behind, though at a steadier gait.

"Do you believe her?" Zell jabbed a thumb in her direction. "In-sane."

Irvine merely smiled. "That's my girl."