(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Thank you, once more, for the reviews. I would finish this fic without them, but with them, I type faster. That was a subtle hint, by the way.
I'm afraid to warn you, but I must. Quistis and Laguna meet in this chapter, but I refuse to force them together on the first meeting. I've seen too many good fics ruined by, upon character meeting, each character gushing on the positive attributes of the other. Honestly. When I see a guy, I notice the bad things as soon as possible. And because of it, I get disappointed a lot less. . .
Alright, that sounds depressing. I'll do a LITTLE gushing. But nothing really noticeable.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. quistis .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
The car we took to the treaty signing was nondescript, a champagne color. Not as stereotypical as black, nor as blatant. And it hid the dirt.
Caraway, I, and a second bodyguard inhabited the back seat. The second bodyguard was rather pointless, as I would be the only one who would join Caraway in the signing.
He was new, I could tell. He wore his daggers in plain sight, and was trying to keep still. I found myself suppressing a dry chuckle. A slightly wry smile made it through, however, and the General noticed.
"What's so funny?" An insanely childish question, but Rinoa's father managed to make it sound incredibly serious. A serious question which I really couldn't answer without hurting the other guy's feelings.
Oh, Hyne. I was afraid I'd hurt the poor kid's feelings. Better to merely make it sound like advice.
I turned to the kid. "Listen. Don't take this personally. But you are reeking of 'newbie.'"
As expected, he bristled. He even reached for his weapons. How insulting. He thought he could actually beat me. I softened my tone sightly.
"Calm down, it wasn't insult, it was fact. But unless you want to emit rookie waves to every experienced fighter around you, here's a hint."
He leaned forward. Slightly, yes, but someone experienced wouldn't have budged. I couldn't help but bait him. "You listening? I'll not repeat myself."
"Yeah, yeah." Hmm? Was that impatience I detected?
I crossed my legs. "Don't look dangerous."
He looked at me incredulously "What?"
I shook my head. "I told you I wouldn't repeat myself. Try not to look dangerous. Those who actually ARE dangerous don't advertise it."
I did my best to look innocent. It probably wasn't a very successful attempt. "So pretend not to be dangerous, and people will think you are." I smiled, a bitter twisting of lips. I did my best teacher-to-naughty-student glare.
His eyes widened. I almost laughed. Almost.
The ride continued.
Why had I done that? I was never bitter, or mean. Yet I had deliberately made that kid feel like something the cat had dragged in. And instead of feeling absolutely miserable, I feel. . .
Powerful. Important. I may not be perfect. But I'm a hell of a lot closer to it than he is.
But I'd made him feel bad.
. . . But you'd made yourself feel good.
I leaned back. I was turning into something bad. A Seifer Almasy. Was this how Seifer felt all the time? Was this why he beat up all those other people? So he could feel that rush, feel that thrill?
Did he feel as insecure as I did?
I shivered lightly, though it wasn't cold. I shouldn't become like that. No, I couldn't.
Wouldn't.
"Hey," I smiled more warmly at the guy. "I just realized how cruel that must have sounded."
A small lie, yes. I had known it was cruel from the beginning. It hadn't even been that cruel. Couldn't even be cruel right . . .
I shook my head with a reminiscent tone. "Don't worry. I had to practice in the mirror to get it right. To tell you the truth, the fighting is the easy part."
He grinned back wanly. "Thanks."
Caraway looked at me strangely, and I held a finger to my lips.
Shh. My secret.
I might be traveling down a dark path, but I'm going to keep my candle lit.
We headed into the building, leaving the rookie with the car. I nodded at him as I headed inside.
And therein I met him . . .
I should have realized that he'd be there; I knew that the president of Esthar would be signing the treaty, and I knew the president of Esthar. I just hadn't put two and two together.
A rolled up denim jacket. The loose tee shirt. Baggy brown pants. Combat boots.
. . . He looked like he had in those flash backs Ellone had given us.
He grinned cockily at me. His face was slightly more weathered, but it wasn't all that noticable. He'd stayed fit.
I ran what information I knew of him through my head. Brown hair, hazel eyes, age 37. The most popular ruler of Esthar to date; up to the point that he had been re-elected five times now. Slightly awkward, and a leg that cramped when he was nervous. Rinoa's mother was his old flame, but he had settled with Raine in Winhill.
A fighter with admirable skills in leadership and battle.
Weapon of choice: Sub-Machine Gun.
Name: Laguna Loire.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. laguna .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Hey, I was sober! Go me. A little on the unhappy side of the scale, sure, but at least I could honestly say: I'd been worse.
I gotta admit, when we pulled up to this little lawyer's firm, I was kinda surprised.
Ward had told me it was a private signing, but that usually just meant a smaller room with richer people. This time, I actually got to stay in my normal clothes. Good thing too, because man! Estharians dress funny. I ain't too fond of wearing those dresses.
So I get into the room, look around the neat little office, and gave a low whistle. Treaties should be like this more often. A few waiters, a few politicians and witnesses, very businesslike, but everyone was in civilian clothing. I ticked off the pluses on my fingers. Casual dress. Good food.
Hey, Caraway's bodyguard was pretty hot, too. Add beautiful women to the list. I didn't recognize her from previous times meeting the General; must be a SeeD. She turned her head towards me.
I knew her! That one who was with Squall! During Time Compression! One of the touted heroes . . . what was her name . . .
Oh, hey! I snapped my fingers. Quistis! Couldn't remember the last name for the life of me . . . being horrible with names . . . I was lucky to remember as much as I did. An annoying little voice nagged me, saying 'You idiot. You only remembered that much because she's been touted as a hero so much.'
Nah. I remembered because she was Squall's friend.
I ran their names through my head briefly. Zell, Irvine, Rinoa, Elsie. . . was it Elsie? I frowed, picturing a bouncy brunette. Selphie! Selphie, not Elsie. Whew.
As I said, bad with names.
I looked more objectively at the people around me. Caraway, trying to hide the fact that he had a pistol. Hey, I could deal with that; he wouldn't be trying to kill me with, he'd be aiming at the other guys. Beside, I was armed too; If some baddies walked in, I'd be bustin' a few caps. A few of politicians might be armed, I could see at least one who was.
Ward had his anchor, which earned a few respecting looks, and that Quistis girl stood at attention with her whip dangling in a loop from her Hip. But methinks she wouldn't be the type to take assassination missions.
So, I was reasonably okay, or as okay as one can get when in serious danger of getting blown up or decapitated or something else just as painful.
Quistis was measuring me up in much the same way. Judging my ability, my fitness level, current arsenal . . . all while primly leveling her gaze at me over her glasses. I winked at her, and she raised an eyebrow. Jeez, what a stiff.
Well, if you can't dazzle them with intelligence, baffle them with something else. Finding exactly HOW to baffle an experienced and elite-of- the-elite SeeD was the problem.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Well, looked like I had fifteen minutes to find out. I bounded up to her. "Hey! I know you!" I grinned, and held out my hand.
She regarded it cautiously, and then glared at me; I felt like a kid again, like I hadn't done my homework or something. Ack, what'd I do? She leaned forward and said quietly, "You're armed, President Loire. That was against the agreement for meeting here."
Ouch. Baracuda. I stepped back hastily, and shook my head. "Yeah, well, your General's ready for action, too, you know. Those kinds of agreements are meant to be broken."
Her head snapped to Caraway. She inspected him coolly, and finally accepted my pro-offered hand. "It's nice to see you again, President Loire."
Aha. So she hadn't noticed that, and since I did, I'm to be respected. I would've been a tad less generous in her place, but hey, whatever floats her boat.
I scratched the back of my neck. "So, uh . . . You seem well, so how's everyone over where you are? Squall, Rinoa, Elsie . . ."
"It's Selphie." Quistis shook her head curtly. "Well, President Loire, I think-"
I held up my hands and chuckled a bit. "Hey, hey! What's with the 'President Loire' bit? You'd think after all that stuff we had to work together on. . . Call me Laguna, please. It's my name."
She hesitated. I hoped she took the bait, or I'd have to tell her I'd forgotten her last name. "Very well . . . Laguna. I think it's safe to tell the public now, but Squall? Squall Leonhart?" She tilted her head, wordlessly asking if I remembered him.
As if I could have forgotten. Raine's son. My son. I nodded as jovially as possible. "Yeah, what about him?"
Quistis crossed her arms loosely. "Well, he and Rinoa finally got engaged. Quite the happy couple."
Ah.
I scratched my chin and tried not to look too stunned.
My son was getting MARRIED. And-get this-to Julia Heartilly's daughter, hypocritically enough.
I cracked a few jokes on who probably would get invited to the reception, i.e. Ifrit doing the barbeque and Shiva making those swan ice sculptures. Trying to, honestly, ignore the snakes that seemed to suddenly enjoy the taste of my abdominal cavity.
From what I knew, Squall Leonhart had no idea of his parentage. And he seemed, to all extents, perfectly happy that way. Did I really want to tell him? He deserved to know, yeah, but. . .
He'd hate me. I mean, he's my son, and I'm his dad. I don't hate him, and the way it's eating at me to know that he's indifferent toward me, I can't help but feel him hating me would make me go over.
He's Raine's son. I loved Raine with all my heart, so why didn't I give her son what he deserved?
I shook that thought. This was really eating at me bad. I mean, I've told Kiros and Ward, but can you really see either of those guys as a father? Besides, I don't think they totally listen to me. I mean, sure, if I had to listen to me all the time, I'd ignore me a bit too, but . . .
I'm the PRESIDENT, for Hyne's sake! I can't just tell things to anyone. Scandals and stuff like that; I've had one or two, but really, letting the newsies find out I had a kid would be the biggest and hairiest of them all. Not that I'm ashamed of Squall, or anything . . . anyway, Kiros and Ward are all I got.
My mind snapped back to the present, and I got the feeling my jokes must have been worse than usual, because Quistis was scarcely blinking. Seriously, her eyes were kind of glazed over.
I shook my head, and waved my palm in front of her face lightly. Un-phased. I clicked my tongue. "Tch, come on, man, you seriously need to relax. Laugh things up." She gave me a blank, slightly condescending stare. Her mind was definitely elsewhere.
Probably thinking something along the lines of 'What a moron.' I get that a lot. But hey, I can get my crap together when it counts. Quistis had her crap together whether it counted or not.
"Ah, I see Ms. Trepe's serious nature hasn't gone unnoticed." Caraway stepped up to join the conversation. He still wore that long coat, which, with all the guys in jeans and polo shirts, made him stand out like a monkey in a barrel.
Or was it fish?
I perked up, however, at the revelation the General had given me. "Trepe! Now I remember! Your last name's Trepe! Quistis Trepe."
She looked slightly bemused, the largest reaction I'd gotten from her the entire time. "Ah, I see. So, you insisted on a first name basis because you forgot my last name?"
Well . . . um . . .
Oops.
Caught. I shifted my weight to my right leg since my left was cramping up again. Man, I thought I'd gotten rid of that habit! Or at least grown out of it. Hadn't happened in years. "Well, uh. . . Actually, yeah. Sorry about that."
To my total surprise, she actually laughed. I'd like to say it stunned me, took my breath away, all that jazz. But as much as I like to exaggerate, this was NOT like bells and flowers. Frankly, it wasn't pretty. Her eyes, if anything, got colder, and the sound she made held no humor. I struggled against the urge not to force some REAL laughter in her somehow.
Maybe she's ticklish.
I glanced at the clock. The signing was starting late. "Hey, let's start this show!" I grinned.
Not much to grin about, really. But man, with all these stiffs? Gotta get some good humor in there.
I turned back to Quistis. What I saw made my hackles rise; or at least would have if I had hackles. I don't even know what hackles are. . .
I narrowed my eyes. Her stance had changed remarkably. The glazed look had been replaced by utter focus, her feet slightly parted, her gloves hovering over her right side-her whip. She stared at something behind me, and trying not to look like I knew something, I put my hand near my Uzi.
People play the game of politics in different ways, breaking most rules in the process. The trick to this is to make sure no one CATCHES you breaking the rules. So even though half the room was armed and dangerous, you'd know which one was the bad guy. In this case, I never found out, because a second later, someone yelled, "GET DOWN!"
It might have been Quistis. It might have been me. But a word of advice to the wise: when someone with a weapon yells 'get down,' good guy or bad guy, you fall to the floor.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
My first cliffhanger. And-GASP!-a fight scene next chapter. For those who complained on Laguna's apparent airheaded-ness, notice how focused he is in battle. Many thanks, to my ( VERY ) few loyal readers. I'll do a few personalized responses later on, if I like you. As for the rest of you . . .
Flame away, my biased little friends.
Flame away.
(And Lady Deathstryke, I was aware of 'White Rose'. It's a Laguna/Quistis/SEIFER. Yes, for all we know, it might end up being a Quiefer. I have, however, taken the precautions of asking Orlando Bloom's Girl's permission for the plug "first coupling", since this is the first fic truly dedicated to the two. If she doesn't reply, I'm assuming she doesn't mind. I hope I haven't offended you.)
If anyone thinks I haven't addressed this situation properly, screw you.
. . .Speaking of screwing, I'd like to know if a Lemon is in order. I don't enjoy writing them, but as they are sometimes necessary for a plot . . . I'm not doing a lemon until near the end of the fic, but ONLY, and I mean ONLY IF I know for sure that people want one.
Thank you, once more, for the reviews. I would finish this fic without them, but with them, I type faster. That was a subtle hint, by the way.
I'm afraid to warn you, but I must. Quistis and Laguna meet in this chapter, but I refuse to force them together on the first meeting. I've seen too many good fics ruined by, upon character meeting, each character gushing on the positive attributes of the other. Honestly. When I see a guy, I notice the bad things as soon as possible. And because of it, I get disappointed a lot less. . .
Alright, that sounds depressing. I'll do a LITTLE gushing. But nothing really noticeable.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. quistis .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
The car we took to the treaty signing was nondescript, a champagne color. Not as stereotypical as black, nor as blatant. And it hid the dirt.
Caraway, I, and a second bodyguard inhabited the back seat. The second bodyguard was rather pointless, as I would be the only one who would join Caraway in the signing.
He was new, I could tell. He wore his daggers in plain sight, and was trying to keep still. I found myself suppressing a dry chuckle. A slightly wry smile made it through, however, and the General noticed.
"What's so funny?" An insanely childish question, but Rinoa's father managed to make it sound incredibly serious. A serious question which I really couldn't answer without hurting the other guy's feelings.
Oh, Hyne. I was afraid I'd hurt the poor kid's feelings. Better to merely make it sound like advice.
I turned to the kid. "Listen. Don't take this personally. But you are reeking of 'newbie.'"
As expected, he bristled. He even reached for his weapons. How insulting. He thought he could actually beat me. I softened my tone sightly.
"Calm down, it wasn't insult, it was fact. But unless you want to emit rookie waves to every experienced fighter around you, here's a hint."
He leaned forward. Slightly, yes, but someone experienced wouldn't have budged. I couldn't help but bait him. "You listening? I'll not repeat myself."
"Yeah, yeah." Hmm? Was that impatience I detected?
I crossed my legs. "Don't look dangerous."
He looked at me incredulously "What?"
I shook my head. "I told you I wouldn't repeat myself. Try not to look dangerous. Those who actually ARE dangerous don't advertise it."
I did my best to look innocent. It probably wasn't a very successful attempt. "So pretend not to be dangerous, and people will think you are." I smiled, a bitter twisting of lips. I did my best teacher-to-naughty-student glare.
His eyes widened. I almost laughed. Almost.
The ride continued.
Why had I done that? I was never bitter, or mean. Yet I had deliberately made that kid feel like something the cat had dragged in. And instead of feeling absolutely miserable, I feel. . .
Powerful. Important. I may not be perfect. But I'm a hell of a lot closer to it than he is.
But I'd made him feel bad.
. . . But you'd made yourself feel good.
I leaned back. I was turning into something bad. A Seifer Almasy. Was this how Seifer felt all the time? Was this why he beat up all those other people? So he could feel that rush, feel that thrill?
Did he feel as insecure as I did?
I shivered lightly, though it wasn't cold. I shouldn't become like that. No, I couldn't.
Wouldn't.
"Hey," I smiled more warmly at the guy. "I just realized how cruel that must have sounded."
A small lie, yes. I had known it was cruel from the beginning. It hadn't even been that cruel. Couldn't even be cruel right . . .
I shook my head with a reminiscent tone. "Don't worry. I had to practice in the mirror to get it right. To tell you the truth, the fighting is the easy part."
He grinned back wanly. "Thanks."
Caraway looked at me strangely, and I held a finger to my lips.
Shh. My secret.
I might be traveling down a dark path, but I'm going to keep my candle lit.
We headed into the building, leaving the rookie with the car. I nodded at him as I headed inside.
And therein I met him . . .
I should have realized that he'd be there; I knew that the president of Esthar would be signing the treaty, and I knew the president of Esthar. I just hadn't put two and two together.
A rolled up denim jacket. The loose tee shirt. Baggy brown pants. Combat boots.
. . . He looked like he had in those flash backs Ellone had given us.
He grinned cockily at me. His face was slightly more weathered, but it wasn't all that noticable. He'd stayed fit.
I ran what information I knew of him through my head. Brown hair, hazel eyes, age 37. The most popular ruler of Esthar to date; up to the point that he had been re-elected five times now. Slightly awkward, and a leg that cramped when he was nervous. Rinoa's mother was his old flame, but he had settled with Raine in Winhill.
A fighter with admirable skills in leadership and battle.
Weapon of choice: Sub-Machine Gun.
Name: Laguna Loire.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. laguna .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Hey, I was sober! Go me. A little on the unhappy side of the scale, sure, but at least I could honestly say: I'd been worse.
I gotta admit, when we pulled up to this little lawyer's firm, I was kinda surprised.
Ward had told me it was a private signing, but that usually just meant a smaller room with richer people. This time, I actually got to stay in my normal clothes. Good thing too, because man! Estharians dress funny. I ain't too fond of wearing those dresses.
So I get into the room, look around the neat little office, and gave a low whistle. Treaties should be like this more often. A few waiters, a few politicians and witnesses, very businesslike, but everyone was in civilian clothing. I ticked off the pluses on my fingers. Casual dress. Good food.
Hey, Caraway's bodyguard was pretty hot, too. Add beautiful women to the list. I didn't recognize her from previous times meeting the General; must be a SeeD. She turned her head towards me.
I knew her! That one who was with Squall! During Time Compression! One of the touted heroes . . . what was her name . . .
Oh, hey! I snapped my fingers. Quistis! Couldn't remember the last name for the life of me . . . being horrible with names . . . I was lucky to remember as much as I did. An annoying little voice nagged me, saying 'You idiot. You only remembered that much because she's been touted as a hero so much.'
Nah. I remembered because she was Squall's friend.
I ran their names through my head briefly. Zell, Irvine, Rinoa, Elsie. . . was it Elsie? I frowed, picturing a bouncy brunette. Selphie! Selphie, not Elsie. Whew.
As I said, bad with names.
I looked more objectively at the people around me. Caraway, trying to hide the fact that he had a pistol. Hey, I could deal with that; he wouldn't be trying to kill me with, he'd be aiming at the other guys. Beside, I was armed too; If some baddies walked in, I'd be bustin' a few caps. A few of politicians might be armed, I could see at least one who was.
Ward had his anchor, which earned a few respecting looks, and that Quistis girl stood at attention with her whip dangling in a loop from her Hip. But methinks she wouldn't be the type to take assassination missions.
So, I was reasonably okay, or as okay as one can get when in serious danger of getting blown up or decapitated or something else just as painful.
Quistis was measuring me up in much the same way. Judging my ability, my fitness level, current arsenal . . . all while primly leveling her gaze at me over her glasses. I winked at her, and she raised an eyebrow. Jeez, what a stiff.
Well, if you can't dazzle them with intelligence, baffle them with something else. Finding exactly HOW to baffle an experienced and elite-of- the-elite SeeD was the problem.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Well, looked like I had fifteen minutes to find out. I bounded up to her. "Hey! I know you!" I grinned, and held out my hand.
She regarded it cautiously, and then glared at me; I felt like a kid again, like I hadn't done my homework or something. Ack, what'd I do? She leaned forward and said quietly, "You're armed, President Loire. That was against the agreement for meeting here."
Ouch. Baracuda. I stepped back hastily, and shook my head. "Yeah, well, your General's ready for action, too, you know. Those kinds of agreements are meant to be broken."
Her head snapped to Caraway. She inspected him coolly, and finally accepted my pro-offered hand. "It's nice to see you again, President Loire."
Aha. So she hadn't noticed that, and since I did, I'm to be respected. I would've been a tad less generous in her place, but hey, whatever floats her boat.
I scratched the back of my neck. "So, uh . . . You seem well, so how's everyone over where you are? Squall, Rinoa, Elsie . . ."
"It's Selphie." Quistis shook her head curtly. "Well, President Loire, I think-"
I held up my hands and chuckled a bit. "Hey, hey! What's with the 'President Loire' bit? You'd think after all that stuff we had to work together on. . . Call me Laguna, please. It's my name."
She hesitated. I hoped she took the bait, or I'd have to tell her I'd forgotten her last name. "Very well . . . Laguna. I think it's safe to tell the public now, but Squall? Squall Leonhart?" She tilted her head, wordlessly asking if I remembered him.
As if I could have forgotten. Raine's son. My son. I nodded as jovially as possible. "Yeah, what about him?"
Quistis crossed her arms loosely. "Well, he and Rinoa finally got engaged. Quite the happy couple."
Ah.
I scratched my chin and tried not to look too stunned.
My son was getting MARRIED. And-get this-to Julia Heartilly's daughter, hypocritically enough.
I cracked a few jokes on who probably would get invited to the reception, i.e. Ifrit doing the barbeque and Shiva making those swan ice sculptures. Trying to, honestly, ignore the snakes that seemed to suddenly enjoy the taste of my abdominal cavity.
From what I knew, Squall Leonhart had no idea of his parentage. And he seemed, to all extents, perfectly happy that way. Did I really want to tell him? He deserved to know, yeah, but. . .
He'd hate me. I mean, he's my son, and I'm his dad. I don't hate him, and the way it's eating at me to know that he's indifferent toward me, I can't help but feel him hating me would make me go over.
He's Raine's son. I loved Raine with all my heart, so why didn't I give her son what he deserved?
I shook that thought. This was really eating at me bad. I mean, I've told Kiros and Ward, but can you really see either of those guys as a father? Besides, I don't think they totally listen to me. I mean, sure, if I had to listen to me all the time, I'd ignore me a bit too, but . . .
I'm the PRESIDENT, for Hyne's sake! I can't just tell things to anyone. Scandals and stuff like that; I've had one or two, but really, letting the newsies find out I had a kid would be the biggest and hairiest of them all. Not that I'm ashamed of Squall, or anything . . . anyway, Kiros and Ward are all I got.
My mind snapped back to the present, and I got the feeling my jokes must have been worse than usual, because Quistis was scarcely blinking. Seriously, her eyes were kind of glazed over.
I shook my head, and waved my palm in front of her face lightly. Un-phased. I clicked my tongue. "Tch, come on, man, you seriously need to relax. Laugh things up." She gave me a blank, slightly condescending stare. Her mind was definitely elsewhere.
Probably thinking something along the lines of 'What a moron.' I get that a lot. But hey, I can get my crap together when it counts. Quistis had her crap together whether it counted or not.
"Ah, I see Ms. Trepe's serious nature hasn't gone unnoticed." Caraway stepped up to join the conversation. He still wore that long coat, which, with all the guys in jeans and polo shirts, made him stand out like a monkey in a barrel.
Or was it fish?
I perked up, however, at the revelation the General had given me. "Trepe! Now I remember! Your last name's Trepe! Quistis Trepe."
She looked slightly bemused, the largest reaction I'd gotten from her the entire time. "Ah, I see. So, you insisted on a first name basis because you forgot my last name?"
Well . . . um . . .
Oops.
Caught. I shifted my weight to my right leg since my left was cramping up again. Man, I thought I'd gotten rid of that habit! Or at least grown out of it. Hadn't happened in years. "Well, uh. . . Actually, yeah. Sorry about that."
To my total surprise, she actually laughed. I'd like to say it stunned me, took my breath away, all that jazz. But as much as I like to exaggerate, this was NOT like bells and flowers. Frankly, it wasn't pretty. Her eyes, if anything, got colder, and the sound she made held no humor. I struggled against the urge not to force some REAL laughter in her somehow.
Maybe she's ticklish.
I glanced at the clock. The signing was starting late. "Hey, let's start this show!" I grinned.
Not much to grin about, really. But man, with all these stiffs? Gotta get some good humor in there.
I turned back to Quistis. What I saw made my hackles rise; or at least would have if I had hackles. I don't even know what hackles are. . .
I narrowed my eyes. Her stance had changed remarkably. The glazed look had been replaced by utter focus, her feet slightly parted, her gloves hovering over her right side-her whip. She stared at something behind me, and trying not to look like I knew something, I put my hand near my Uzi.
People play the game of politics in different ways, breaking most rules in the process. The trick to this is to make sure no one CATCHES you breaking the rules. So even though half the room was armed and dangerous, you'd know which one was the bad guy. In this case, I never found out, because a second later, someone yelled, "GET DOWN!"
It might have been Quistis. It might have been me. But a word of advice to the wise: when someone with a weapon yells 'get down,' good guy or bad guy, you fall to the floor.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
My first cliffhanger. And-GASP!-a fight scene next chapter. For those who complained on Laguna's apparent airheaded-ness, notice how focused he is in battle. Many thanks, to my ( VERY ) few loyal readers. I'll do a few personalized responses later on, if I like you. As for the rest of you . . .
Flame away, my biased little friends.
Flame away.
(And Lady Deathstryke, I was aware of 'White Rose'. It's a Laguna/Quistis/SEIFER. Yes, for all we know, it might end up being a Quiefer. I have, however, taken the precautions of asking Orlando Bloom's Girl's permission for the plug "first coupling", since this is the first fic truly dedicated to the two. If she doesn't reply, I'm assuming she doesn't mind. I hope I haven't offended you.)
If anyone thinks I haven't addressed this situation properly, screw you.
. . .Speaking of screwing, I'd like to know if a Lemon is in order. I don't enjoy writing them, but as they are sometimes necessary for a plot . . . I'm not doing a lemon until near the end of the fic, but ONLY, and I mean ONLY IF I know for sure that people want one.