A/N: I hate this chapter name, but it was the first thing to come to me
while typing up the preview on the last chapter... bare with me, the
chapter will be good at least.
Session 5: Cat and Mouse Tango
Faye Valentine sat in the window of the hotel room she'd rented, sunlight illuminating her figure and the swirls of gray smoke that rested gently on the still air. Her emerald eyes searched the street below, before rising to study the skyline of Dollet, where she could see the top of the Red Dragon building. She'd been so stupid to think that she could make a friend out of Spike Spiegel so quickly, and now, she had already failed her mission.
She had been seething with rage when she left the night before, but of course, that didn't stop her from going back that morning. She had stepped into the building with a polite little smile plastered on her face, only to have Margie stop her in the lobby.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Maximoto. You no longer have permission to enter this building," she'd said.
"What the hell does that mean? How am I suppose to work for the syndicate if I can't get into the building?"
"That's just it, my dear. Mr. Spiegel requested that your file be terminated. You no longer have a job here."
Faye had turned and left then, in somewhat of a daze. How could she have failed so soon? With every step she took towards the hotel, she cursed Spike. He seemed so deceptively calm, apathetic, as if nothing in the world could ever truly bother him. But she had chosen the one, forbidden subject to harp on, one of the few things that tested his patients. She silently cursed the bitch that had left him, as well. Were it not for her, this would never have happened.
In her hand, she held her communicator, running her thumbs over the smooth surface as she wondered whether or not she should contact Quistis. SeeD protocol stated that as soon as a mission was failed, the leader of the operation should be contacted. She couldn't bring herself to do it, though. Not yet.
She tossed the small, hand-held device onto her bed before crushing her cigarette out on the nightstand. At a time like this, there was only one thing she could do to clear her mind and calm her nerves. Gamble.
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A large, pale hand shot out and slid one of the tiles forward, challenging his opponent. His plastic arm was leaned against the steel table, and a pair of long limbs was slung over his shoulders. Atop his head, he felt a light pressure as the almost inhuman creature rested her arms and peeked over his head with curious eyes.
"What did you do that for, Jet-person? You should've..."
"Alright, Edward. I said you could watch, but you can't help. It wouldn't be fair."
"You need all the help you can get," his adversary replied, before countering Jet's move. "I've been playing this game since I was a boy."
"You're still a boy, as far as I'm concerned," Jet retorted, only to be met with a pair of annoyed, winter-colored eyes. "Besides, you maybe be good at Shogi, but it seems to me you're awfully inexperienced when it comes to women."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Jet grinned. "Zell told me all about you and Rinoa yesterday. Seems you got a soft-spot for her, Squall."
"Whatever," he grumbled, staring down at the Japanese-marked tiles. "Just move."
Edward giggled. "Squall-person's blushing!"
"Remind me again why we let that kid stay?" Squall demanded.
"Because she has no where else to go."
""Yeah, well, at least she pulls her weight around here. That girl's been here for three days and all she's done is lie around and complain. If Caraway doesn't offer up that reward money soon, I say we dump her off at Deling City and forget we ever knew her."
"She's starting to get to you, huh?"
Squall slammed his fists down on the table. "Forget it! Just make your damn move already!"
Jet put his hand to his chin in thought. "I don't know. This is a tough one. Might take me awhile. It's all about getting into your opponent's head, you know, and you're one hell of a complicated person to be so young."
"Fine, then. While you're thinking, I'm gonna go take a shower."
Squall stood and headed down the hall, stopping briefly at his room to grab some clean clothes. He was just pulling his shirt off when he walked through the bathroom door and tossed the article of clothing to the tiled floor. His eyes slowly trailed up from the floor to the bathtub, where a long, slender leg was hanging over the side. Rinoa had her hair in a messy pile atop her head, and was calmly reading one of his "Sword Collector's Monthly" magazines. Her dark eyes lifted from the glossy pages and eyed him for a long moment before she let out a scream.
"You pervert!" she screeched, scrambling in the water for something to throw.
When his eyes caught sight of exposed flesh peeking through the white foam, his brain kicked into gear and he finally headed for the door, dodging flying objects the whole way. He finally made it out, only to be conked in the head with a bottle of conditioner before the door closed.
He made it into his room and pulled a shirt on before anyone noticed his tattoo, then flopped across his bed in frustration. "Damn girl," he growled to himself. "Can't even take a shower anymore without getting hit with something."
A moment later, Rinoa walked into his room, as if it were her own, clad only in a fluffy white towel. She jerked open his closet doors and began sorting through his clothes.
"What the fuck do you call yourself doing?" he demanded.
"Between the salt water and the snow, my dress is ruined," she explained, without turning to look at him. "Not to mention, it had a huge rip down the front. Do you want me walking around like that? Wait, don't answer that question, pervert. You should take me shopping today, since we'll be landing at Balamb soon."
"What makes you think, after trying to get me sick, and hitting me in the head with a shampoo bottle, that I would take you anywhere?"
She pulled out an old black shirt with a logo for some heavy metal band across the top. "Well, look at it this way. Jet is huge, so of course his clothes are way too big for me. Zell is shorter, but he's also wider, so his clothes don't fit either. You, on the other hand, are taller than him, but leaner, so you're clothes are too big, but overall, they fit the best. If you don't take me shopping to buy some clothes of my own, I'll keep having to borrow yours."
"No way! Ask Jet to take you since he seems to like you so much!"
Rinoa grabbed a pair of dark blue jeans and tucked the clothes beneath her arm. "Jet is a gentlemen, unlike you. Still, I need you to take me shopping. I think Jet is busy with a bounty today."
"Well, I'm busy too, so just forget it."
The corners of her lips twitched into a smile. "Fine then. But you'll be sorry."
She left that threat to hang in the air as she exited his room with his clothes in her possession. Squall groaned to himself and wondered what kind of torture he was in for now.
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Spike stared at the pearl-handled revolver on his desk. It had been a gift from the leader of the Phoenix syndicate, a prize for winning the Triple Triad game.
"Guess I couldn't have done it without her help," he murmured.
Their angry words were still ringing in his head. Why, of all subjects she could bring up, did it have to be that one? They could have talked about anything else, and he wouldn't have cared. But of course, it had to be that dark tale of his past, the long forgotten chapter in his life that only two other people on the earth, and one in the realms of heaven knew about.
Spike picked up the antique pistol and spun the barrel until it clicked. He briefly entertained the idea of Russian roulette, but decided he'd rather go to a casino to take risks instead. Pressing a button on his phone, he said, "Hey, Margie, get the limo ready, please. I'm in the mood for some gambling."
"Not headed for the Grand Casino space station this time?" she asked.
"Nah," he replied. "I wanna go to that one on the edge of town."
"It's kind of a run-down place, sir. Are you sure?"
He smiled to himself as a memory of his past lifetime returned to him. "Yeah. I'm completely sure."
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"Hit me."
Spike leaned on his elbow at the green felt-covered table, watching as the woman in front of him placed another card down on top of his.
"Nineteen," she announced, straightening her crimson skirt and matching vest. She peeked at him through her eyelashes, her pink lips smiling flirtatiously.
"Stay."
She flipped over the next card from the deck, revealing a two. "Oh, tough luck," she replied. "Tell you what. How about another hand, my treat?"
The glass door at the front of the small, brick building opened and shut, sounding off a small bell on the top. A tall, slender man with shoulder-length white hair strode in, a blonde beauty hanging on his arm.
"Sorry," Spike told the dealer. "Maybe next time."
He stood from his stool and approached the bar where the man and the woman now sat. "Vicious," he greeted the man with a nod. "Long time no see. Who's this lovely lady?"
The woman next to him turned and smiled, despite the wistful, melancholy look in her sky-colored eyes. "My name is Julia," she said in a soft voice, and offered him a delicate hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Spike. Vicious has told me so much about you."
"All bad, of course," Vicious added in a dry, humorless tone. His voice was deep, and dark, the kind that seemed to rise from the depths of hell itself.
Spike shook his head and laughed, silently admiring the way her long golden hair glimmered in the dim, smoky light. "You finally got a break from things, huh? I heard Edea's been working you hard."
Vicious nodded. "Yes, well, she found a new puppet to do her dirty work for her. I'm just the mastermind behind it all."
A beep sounded from the pocket of Vicious' trench coat. "There's the little pawn now. Tirelessly toiling away at Edea's bidding, no doubt. I have to take this. I'll be back in a moment."
Vicious walked toward the men's bathroom to answer the call, leaving Spike and Julia to themselves.
Julia ordered herself a glass of wine, then turned to her attentive companion. "So, you're part of the Red Dragon's inner circle? Never thought I'd get the chance to meet you."
Spike shrugged. "It's no big deal, really. Just where life landed me."
She smiled. "Ah, yes, fate. It landed me on the arm of a man colder than ice."
"He's not so bad, once you get to know him," he found himself saying. "He and I have been buddies since we were kids."
"Really? You two seem like complete opposites." She glanced over at a vacant pool table. "Do you play?"
"I'm an expert," he gloated. "How about we make this interesting? If you win..." Spike paused for a moment. "If you win, I'll buy you as many drinks as you want. But if I win, and I know I will, I get to..."
"Yes?" she pressed.
Spike struggled with himself, as his eyes traveled the woman before him. He felt like he'd been visited by an angel. Still, she was Vicious' girl, and he and Vicious had always been loyal to each other. He weighed the options for a few moments, before coming to the conclusion that Vicious wouldn't care, as he was never serious about any of his girlfriends. "If I win, I get a kiss."
A faint smiled played on Julia's lips. "Alright, you have a deal."
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It was suspiciously quiet. Jet had gone to take care of the bounty, and Zell had taken Edward to go pick up some food. It was just him and that she-devil that called herself Rinoa.
(Beautiful, seductive, and completely evil) he thought. (Yeah, she definitely qualifies as a devil to me.)
What happened next only reinforced his idea that she was some kind of unearthly demon. It was all perfectly timed, as if it had happened by fate.
He stepped into the living area, vaguely making note of the sound of the hanger doors opening. He was more distracted, however, by Rinoa, who lay innocently on the couch, mumbling in a deep slumber.
Shrugging to himself, Squall started to pass the sofa, but halted as he heard Rinoa shift and moan a little. "Mmm... Squall..."
His eyes went wide, and his body refused to move anymore. She was... dreaming about him? She rolled over again, and the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, before she let out a soft sigh. "Yes... Feels so good, Squall..."
He snuck around the front of the couch, and looked down on the sleeping woman. She had a small, amused smile on her lips, and her cheeks were flushed, though from embarrassment or excitement, he couldn't tell.
In a panic, he shook her arm roughly. "Rinoa, wake up!"
She rolled onto her back and cried out his name again, her smile growing even wider. It hit him then, that she wasn't asleep at all.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded in whispered hiss.
"More..." she murmured and nearly burst out into giggles.
The footsteps were just outside the door now. "Rinoa, dammit, this isn't funny! What do you want? If this is about the shopping thing, then fine, I'll take you shopping, just cut it out!"
Rinoa sat up and yawned then, stretching her limbs just as the door slid open. She turned and looked to find Jet standing in the doorway, a bound man in his grip. Jet's gaze jumped from Rinoa, who was still flushing, with her hair a mess and clothes wrinkled, to Squall, who was leaned slightly over her with a blush of his own.
"Uh... Vacate, you two," he ordered, as soon as he'd regained his composure. "The bounty's slightly wounded, and I'll have to treat him in here."
Wordlessly, the two stood up and left, Squall heading toward his room and Rinoa following behind him. Once they were inside, she plopped down on his bed and gazed up at him shyly. "Sorry. I didn't want to have to do that, but I needed some way to get you to take me shopping."
He shook his head. "Whatever. It just reinforces my belief that you're a spoiled, immature bitch."
He'd expected her to get mad, and threaten, or shout at him like she'd done before. Instead, she just lowered her gaze to the floor in shame, pouting slightly. "So that's what you really think of me?"
"Yes."
She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them close to her, giving her the appearance of an insecure child. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I guess it seemed kinda funny at the time. I shouldn't have, though. I guess, I've imposed a lot on you, haven't I? I owe you my life really, and all I do is..."
Squall arched an eyebrow, skeptical of the way she'd gone from happy and giggling to apologetic and sulky. "Are you trying to guilt me?"
She gazed up at him with glassy eyes, her lips quivering slightly. "Why would I have to? I already got you to agree to take me."
"Then what the hell's your problem now?"
"I really am immature," she muttered. "This was all just a game, you know? Getting back at you, going around in a circle. It was fun, but I guess... I really am just a little girl." She glanced up at him again, and had to bite her tongue to keep from adding, 'a little girl with a crush.'
He sighed deeply. "Look, it doesn't matter. You're going back to your father soon, anyway."
She closed her eyes for a moment, then stood up. "I don't care how many times I have to run away, or how far. You're not going to take me back there, and that's final! Maybe I am just a stupid little girl to you, but I'm not going to give up!"
He clenched his teeth. "And I'm not going to keep saving your ass every time you get in trouble. Don't you get it by now? You don't have what it takes to make it on your own. Everywhere you go, you'll end up just like you did in Callisto."
Rinoa just stared up at him, tears threatening to run down over her cheeks. She wanted so badly to be strong, but how could she? How could she hold in her tears when he was standing there, calmly repeating everything her father had tried to beat into her? She turned to walk out his door when his hand shot out and gently grabbed her wrist.
"Go get ready. If you're not ready to leave in ten minutes, I'm not taking you," he sighed.
A tiny smile curved her lips. "Thanks Squall."
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Faye swirled the golden liquid around the glass, the ice rattling with every movement of her wrist. It promised release, if only temporary, from the pains of the dreary world in which they all existed, and it was oh, so tempting to dive in, and never look back on what was. All she had to do was tilt the glass back, and allow the bitter concoction to slide down her throat, her skin prickling and her lungs burning at the touch of the acidic fluid.
She pushed the glass away from her with a groan. Anymore and she was certain she'd puke. "Here's to you, Mr. Spiegel," she murmured, resting her head in her arms. "May you rot in the black, bottomless pits of your own hellish soul." Faye giggled to herself, thinking how poetic she sounded.
"Spike, my boy! Where ya been?" a loud voice boomed from behind the bar.
Groggily, she turned her head and peered through blurry eyes at the doorway. She squinted against the light shining in, and peeked through her violet locks until her eyes fell upon a tall, gangly figure.
"Been busy, Jim. You know that. How's Annie?"
Faye resisted the urge to groan again. There was no mistaking that deep, confident voice. Instead, she turned her gaze to the scuffed wooden surface beneath her and tried to pretend she wasn't there at all.
"Hey!" the bartender's voice sounded in front of her. "Get up, missy, the bar's for my paying, drinking costumers. If you're gonna pass out, do it elsewhere."
She refused to move, until at last he poked her with a sausage-sized finger on her head. She lifted herself up and slid off the bar stool, nearly falling on her ass in the process. "That's no way to treat your customers mister," she mumbled, before stumbling off to find some dark corner to collapse in. She knew, through the haze in her mind, that Spike's eyes were upon her, burning into her back as she walked away.
"Broads like that really get on my nerves," bartender Jim was saying. "Pretty, naïve little things, get their heart broken two or three times a week, and come drink away their sorrows here. Spend the rest of the night throwing themselves at anyone who'll take 'em, and crying on your shoulder about their cheatin' lover."
Spike shook his head and continued to watch as Faye leaned against an abandoned poker table and tried to steady herself. "How long has she been here?"
"Since morning," Jim replied. "Waltzed right in, and plopped down on that bar stool, second to last, where she's been puttin' them away, one after another."
Spike frowned as his eyes fell on the stool that Faye had recently vacated. It was the same stool Julia had sat in, all those years ago. Faye was seated at a Black Jack table now, watching the game progress with sad, empty eyes. They reminded him so much of Julia, that for a moment, he was overcome with nostalgia. But no, these were not Julia's eyes. Despite the evident sorrow, there was a still a fiery spark embedded deep within the shining jade. Despite her pain, she still looked alive.
"Fix me up a prairie oyster, will you?" he asked of Jim. "Put it on my tab."
"Got a hang over already?" Jim chuckled as he poured a small amount of Vodka into a glass, and followed it with raw egg yolk and Tabasco sauce.
"Here ya go, buddy. Enjoy."
Spike nodded to him, and carried it over to the Black Jack table, where Faye had just bet her last chip. He sat the glass down in front of her, and she stared at it, her eyes glazed over in drunken confusion. "It's a prairie oyster," Spike explained. "Good for drunkenness and hangovers."
"It looks like someone was already sick in it," she replied slowly.
He laughed. "Yeah, I know. Just pinch your nose shut, and swallow it all in one gulp."
She did as he instructed, then sputtered and coughed at the taste it left. "That was the most rancid thing I ever tasted!"
"Trust me, it'll help."
"Nothing will help," she grumbled. "I'm out of a job, and I just gambled all my money away."
"That wasn't very bright," he pointed out. "Look, this is just pathetic. If you'd get off your lazy ass and work, I'm sure you wouldn't have any problem." He sighed, feeling responsible for her current condition. "But, I guess... until you get back on your feet... I could let you work for me a little while longer. Just don't bring up anymore personal issues."
She nodded, and instantly regretted it. The room started to spin, and next thing she knew, Spike was helping her up from the ground. The dizziness increased as she stood, and before she could make it to the bathroom, the prairie oyster hit her stomach.
Spike covered his eyes with his hand. "My favorite shoes... Next time you decide to run off and sulk, do us both a favor and stay sober."
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Rinoa was so happy she felt like skipping, but the scowling man on her arm made her think twice about it. She had already dragged him to several shops and had yet to find something she liked. With every unsuccessful shopping attempt, the murderous look on his face seemed to worsen.
Rinoa gazed happily through the mall's skylight as the two wandered past a fountain. She allowed her fingers to skim the edge, and saw the image flicker before her eyes. It was nothing more than a very realistic hologram. Neon signs flashed everywhere, and vending machines lined the walls between shops, holographic people and cutesy animals popping to life every time some one passed by so they could push their product on the common impulsive shopper. To Squall, it might as well have been the harsh environment of Callisto, but to Rinoa, it felt like home.
They passed by a candy machine, causing a cartoon bunny to appear with a sugarcoated grin and a squeaky voice spouting off some annoying jingle. "That's it!" Squall growled. "Either you grab something at the next store, or we leave! I have a migraine the size of Jupiter, and it's all because you insisted on dragging me here."
She hugged his arm tighter. "But I really appreciate it. Don't worry. This should be the last stop, I promise," she replied, tugging him into another women's shop.
He'd never been so miserable in his life. She led him from rack to rack, not at all embarrassed about picking out bras and thongs in front of him. He looked away, trying to find anything to distract him, and concentrating on keeping the redness out of his face, and his mind out of the gutter.
At last, she emerged from a changing room, spinning around to give him a full view. "Well, what do you think?"
He felt his mouth go slightly dry. She wore a light blue duster that only came down to about her mid thigh. A few ties a the top of her abdomen kept the knit garment closed over her chest, but it opened up and flared out to the sides, revealing her flat stomach. Long, spider-web style sleeves fell down her arms, and she wore a pair of really short black shorts beneath her top. She spun around in her tall black boots once more before giggling to herself.
"I think it looks good. I'm getting it."
As he waited for her to pay for her things, Squall glanced to the other side of the mall and noticed a small weapons shop. In the window was a display of samurai swords, three of the same style resting on a stand. They were simple, unlike the popular, gaudy ones with the fake golden dragonheads on the top. They were straight, with sleek, smooth black sheaths and silver Asian writing on the sides. He squinted, and could barely make out a lion head dangling on a chain from the hilt of the largest one. It was the rare 'Black Lion' style, a kind he hadn't seen since his days in the syndicate.
"What're you looking at?" Rinoa asked as she gazed over his shoulder.
"Nothing," he answered abruptly. "You done?"
She nodded and smiled at him. "Yeah, I am. Thanks Squall. I'm sorry you had such a miserable time. I think I know the perfect way to make it up to you, though."
"Don't bother," he grumbled, before taking hold of her hand to leave. He paused in mid-step, realizing what he'd done, and abruptly dropped her hands, as if it were diseased. "Let's just go."
Rinoa sighed at his aversion to the physical contact she longed for. She followed behind him with sluggish steps, glancing over her shoulder once last time at the sword display he'd been looking at. She wanted to make it all up to him somehow, and it was the only thing she could think of. Of course, despite her sympathy for him, she didn't intend to go much easier on him.
(He's a man of few words and few emotions) she thought to herself. (I know that I like him, but the only way to find out how he feels about me, is to keep playing this cat and mouse game.)
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A/N: Sorry if it was kinda boring. I'll admit, it was sort of a filler chapter, though I believe it did serve some purpose... I'll let you know when I figure out what. Sorry if you have one of those gaudy swords I was talking about. Nothing against your tastes, I just personally prefer the more realistic ones.
Next Session: Games can only last so long, before someone gets hurt. The role of the mouse does not suit everyone, and soon, the mighty lion bares his fangs in protest. Does the dragon still burn with fire, or will she fall prey to his ice? The drama unfolds beneath the watchful eyes of the moon. Session 6: Waltz for the Moon
Session 5: Cat and Mouse Tango
Faye Valentine sat in the window of the hotel room she'd rented, sunlight illuminating her figure and the swirls of gray smoke that rested gently on the still air. Her emerald eyes searched the street below, before rising to study the skyline of Dollet, where she could see the top of the Red Dragon building. She'd been so stupid to think that she could make a friend out of Spike Spiegel so quickly, and now, she had already failed her mission.
She had been seething with rage when she left the night before, but of course, that didn't stop her from going back that morning. She had stepped into the building with a polite little smile plastered on her face, only to have Margie stop her in the lobby.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Maximoto. You no longer have permission to enter this building," she'd said.
"What the hell does that mean? How am I suppose to work for the syndicate if I can't get into the building?"
"That's just it, my dear. Mr. Spiegel requested that your file be terminated. You no longer have a job here."
Faye had turned and left then, in somewhat of a daze. How could she have failed so soon? With every step she took towards the hotel, she cursed Spike. He seemed so deceptively calm, apathetic, as if nothing in the world could ever truly bother him. But she had chosen the one, forbidden subject to harp on, one of the few things that tested his patients. She silently cursed the bitch that had left him, as well. Were it not for her, this would never have happened.
In her hand, she held her communicator, running her thumbs over the smooth surface as she wondered whether or not she should contact Quistis. SeeD protocol stated that as soon as a mission was failed, the leader of the operation should be contacted. She couldn't bring herself to do it, though. Not yet.
She tossed the small, hand-held device onto her bed before crushing her cigarette out on the nightstand. At a time like this, there was only one thing she could do to clear her mind and calm her nerves. Gamble.
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A large, pale hand shot out and slid one of the tiles forward, challenging his opponent. His plastic arm was leaned against the steel table, and a pair of long limbs was slung over his shoulders. Atop his head, he felt a light pressure as the almost inhuman creature rested her arms and peeked over his head with curious eyes.
"What did you do that for, Jet-person? You should've..."
"Alright, Edward. I said you could watch, but you can't help. It wouldn't be fair."
"You need all the help you can get," his adversary replied, before countering Jet's move. "I've been playing this game since I was a boy."
"You're still a boy, as far as I'm concerned," Jet retorted, only to be met with a pair of annoyed, winter-colored eyes. "Besides, you maybe be good at Shogi, but it seems to me you're awfully inexperienced when it comes to women."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Jet grinned. "Zell told me all about you and Rinoa yesterday. Seems you got a soft-spot for her, Squall."
"Whatever," he grumbled, staring down at the Japanese-marked tiles. "Just move."
Edward giggled. "Squall-person's blushing!"
"Remind me again why we let that kid stay?" Squall demanded.
"Because she has no where else to go."
""Yeah, well, at least she pulls her weight around here. That girl's been here for three days and all she's done is lie around and complain. If Caraway doesn't offer up that reward money soon, I say we dump her off at Deling City and forget we ever knew her."
"She's starting to get to you, huh?"
Squall slammed his fists down on the table. "Forget it! Just make your damn move already!"
Jet put his hand to his chin in thought. "I don't know. This is a tough one. Might take me awhile. It's all about getting into your opponent's head, you know, and you're one hell of a complicated person to be so young."
"Fine, then. While you're thinking, I'm gonna go take a shower."
Squall stood and headed down the hall, stopping briefly at his room to grab some clean clothes. He was just pulling his shirt off when he walked through the bathroom door and tossed the article of clothing to the tiled floor. His eyes slowly trailed up from the floor to the bathtub, where a long, slender leg was hanging over the side. Rinoa had her hair in a messy pile atop her head, and was calmly reading one of his "Sword Collector's Monthly" magazines. Her dark eyes lifted from the glossy pages and eyed him for a long moment before she let out a scream.
"You pervert!" she screeched, scrambling in the water for something to throw.
When his eyes caught sight of exposed flesh peeking through the white foam, his brain kicked into gear and he finally headed for the door, dodging flying objects the whole way. He finally made it out, only to be conked in the head with a bottle of conditioner before the door closed.
He made it into his room and pulled a shirt on before anyone noticed his tattoo, then flopped across his bed in frustration. "Damn girl," he growled to himself. "Can't even take a shower anymore without getting hit with something."
A moment later, Rinoa walked into his room, as if it were her own, clad only in a fluffy white towel. She jerked open his closet doors and began sorting through his clothes.
"What the fuck do you call yourself doing?" he demanded.
"Between the salt water and the snow, my dress is ruined," she explained, without turning to look at him. "Not to mention, it had a huge rip down the front. Do you want me walking around like that? Wait, don't answer that question, pervert. You should take me shopping today, since we'll be landing at Balamb soon."
"What makes you think, after trying to get me sick, and hitting me in the head with a shampoo bottle, that I would take you anywhere?"
She pulled out an old black shirt with a logo for some heavy metal band across the top. "Well, look at it this way. Jet is huge, so of course his clothes are way too big for me. Zell is shorter, but he's also wider, so his clothes don't fit either. You, on the other hand, are taller than him, but leaner, so you're clothes are too big, but overall, they fit the best. If you don't take me shopping to buy some clothes of my own, I'll keep having to borrow yours."
"No way! Ask Jet to take you since he seems to like you so much!"
Rinoa grabbed a pair of dark blue jeans and tucked the clothes beneath her arm. "Jet is a gentlemen, unlike you. Still, I need you to take me shopping. I think Jet is busy with a bounty today."
"Well, I'm busy too, so just forget it."
The corners of her lips twitched into a smile. "Fine then. But you'll be sorry."
She left that threat to hang in the air as she exited his room with his clothes in her possession. Squall groaned to himself and wondered what kind of torture he was in for now.
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Spike stared at the pearl-handled revolver on his desk. It had been a gift from the leader of the Phoenix syndicate, a prize for winning the Triple Triad game.
"Guess I couldn't have done it without her help," he murmured.
Their angry words were still ringing in his head. Why, of all subjects she could bring up, did it have to be that one? They could have talked about anything else, and he wouldn't have cared. But of course, it had to be that dark tale of his past, the long forgotten chapter in his life that only two other people on the earth, and one in the realms of heaven knew about.
Spike picked up the antique pistol and spun the barrel until it clicked. He briefly entertained the idea of Russian roulette, but decided he'd rather go to a casino to take risks instead. Pressing a button on his phone, he said, "Hey, Margie, get the limo ready, please. I'm in the mood for some gambling."
"Not headed for the Grand Casino space station this time?" she asked.
"Nah," he replied. "I wanna go to that one on the edge of town."
"It's kind of a run-down place, sir. Are you sure?"
He smiled to himself as a memory of his past lifetime returned to him. "Yeah. I'm completely sure."
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"Hit me."
Spike leaned on his elbow at the green felt-covered table, watching as the woman in front of him placed another card down on top of his.
"Nineteen," she announced, straightening her crimson skirt and matching vest. She peeked at him through her eyelashes, her pink lips smiling flirtatiously.
"Stay."
She flipped over the next card from the deck, revealing a two. "Oh, tough luck," she replied. "Tell you what. How about another hand, my treat?"
The glass door at the front of the small, brick building opened and shut, sounding off a small bell on the top. A tall, slender man with shoulder-length white hair strode in, a blonde beauty hanging on his arm.
"Sorry," Spike told the dealer. "Maybe next time."
He stood from his stool and approached the bar where the man and the woman now sat. "Vicious," he greeted the man with a nod. "Long time no see. Who's this lovely lady?"
The woman next to him turned and smiled, despite the wistful, melancholy look in her sky-colored eyes. "My name is Julia," she said in a soft voice, and offered him a delicate hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Spike. Vicious has told me so much about you."
"All bad, of course," Vicious added in a dry, humorless tone. His voice was deep, and dark, the kind that seemed to rise from the depths of hell itself.
Spike shook his head and laughed, silently admiring the way her long golden hair glimmered in the dim, smoky light. "You finally got a break from things, huh? I heard Edea's been working you hard."
Vicious nodded. "Yes, well, she found a new puppet to do her dirty work for her. I'm just the mastermind behind it all."
A beep sounded from the pocket of Vicious' trench coat. "There's the little pawn now. Tirelessly toiling away at Edea's bidding, no doubt. I have to take this. I'll be back in a moment."
Vicious walked toward the men's bathroom to answer the call, leaving Spike and Julia to themselves.
Julia ordered herself a glass of wine, then turned to her attentive companion. "So, you're part of the Red Dragon's inner circle? Never thought I'd get the chance to meet you."
Spike shrugged. "It's no big deal, really. Just where life landed me."
She smiled. "Ah, yes, fate. It landed me on the arm of a man colder than ice."
"He's not so bad, once you get to know him," he found himself saying. "He and I have been buddies since we were kids."
"Really? You two seem like complete opposites." She glanced over at a vacant pool table. "Do you play?"
"I'm an expert," he gloated. "How about we make this interesting? If you win..." Spike paused for a moment. "If you win, I'll buy you as many drinks as you want. But if I win, and I know I will, I get to..."
"Yes?" she pressed.
Spike struggled with himself, as his eyes traveled the woman before him. He felt like he'd been visited by an angel. Still, she was Vicious' girl, and he and Vicious had always been loyal to each other. He weighed the options for a few moments, before coming to the conclusion that Vicious wouldn't care, as he was never serious about any of his girlfriends. "If I win, I get a kiss."
A faint smiled played on Julia's lips. "Alright, you have a deal."
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It was suspiciously quiet. Jet had gone to take care of the bounty, and Zell had taken Edward to go pick up some food. It was just him and that she-devil that called herself Rinoa.
(Beautiful, seductive, and completely evil) he thought. (Yeah, she definitely qualifies as a devil to me.)
What happened next only reinforced his idea that she was some kind of unearthly demon. It was all perfectly timed, as if it had happened by fate.
He stepped into the living area, vaguely making note of the sound of the hanger doors opening. He was more distracted, however, by Rinoa, who lay innocently on the couch, mumbling in a deep slumber.
Shrugging to himself, Squall started to pass the sofa, but halted as he heard Rinoa shift and moan a little. "Mmm... Squall..."
His eyes went wide, and his body refused to move anymore. She was... dreaming about him? She rolled over again, and the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, before she let out a soft sigh. "Yes... Feels so good, Squall..."
He snuck around the front of the couch, and looked down on the sleeping woman. She had a small, amused smile on her lips, and her cheeks were flushed, though from embarrassment or excitement, he couldn't tell.
In a panic, he shook her arm roughly. "Rinoa, wake up!"
She rolled onto her back and cried out his name again, her smile growing even wider. It hit him then, that she wasn't asleep at all.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded in whispered hiss.
"More..." she murmured and nearly burst out into giggles.
The footsteps were just outside the door now. "Rinoa, dammit, this isn't funny! What do you want? If this is about the shopping thing, then fine, I'll take you shopping, just cut it out!"
Rinoa sat up and yawned then, stretching her limbs just as the door slid open. She turned and looked to find Jet standing in the doorway, a bound man in his grip. Jet's gaze jumped from Rinoa, who was still flushing, with her hair a mess and clothes wrinkled, to Squall, who was leaned slightly over her with a blush of his own.
"Uh... Vacate, you two," he ordered, as soon as he'd regained his composure. "The bounty's slightly wounded, and I'll have to treat him in here."
Wordlessly, the two stood up and left, Squall heading toward his room and Rinoa following behind him. Once they were inside, she plopped down on his bed and gazed up at him shyly. "Sorry. I didn't want to have to do that, but I needed some way to get you to take me shopping."
He shook his head. "Whatever. It just reinforces my belief that you're a spoiled, immature bitch."
He'd expected her to get mad, and threaten, or shout at him like she'd done before. Instead, she just lowered her gaze to the floor in shame, pouting slightly. "So that's what you really think of me?"
"Yes."
She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them close to her, giving her the appearance of an insecure child. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I guess it seemed kinda funny at the time. I shouldn't have, though. I guess, I've imposed a lot on you, haven't I? I owe you my life really, and all I do is..."
Squall arched an eyebrow, skeptical of the way she'd gone from happy and giggling to apologetic and sulky. "Are you trying to guilt me?"
She gazed up at him with glassy eyes, her lips quivering slightly. "Why would I have to? I already got you to agree to take me."
"Then what the hell's your problem now?"
"I really am immature," she muttered. "This was all just a game, you know? Getting back at you, going around in a circle. It was fun, but I guess... I really am just a little girl." She glanced up at him again, and had to bite her tongue to keep from adding, 'a little girl with a crush.'
He sighed deeply. "Look, it doesn't matter. You're going back to your father soon, anyway."
She closed her eyes for a moment, then stood up. "I don't care how many times I have to run away, or how far. You're not going to take me back there, and that's final! Maybe I am just a stupid little girl to you, but I'm not going to give up!"
He clenched his teeth. "And I'm not going to keep saving your ass every time you get in trouble. Don't you get it by now? You don't have what it takes to make it on your own. Everywhere you go, you'll end up just like you did in Callisto."
Rinoa just stared up at him, tears threatening to run down over her cheeks. She wanted so badly to be strong, but how could she? How could she hold in her tears when he was standing there, calmly repeating everything her father had tried to beat into her? She turned to walk out his door when his hand shot out and gently grabbed her wrist.
"Go get ready. If you're not ready to leave in ten minutes, I'm not taking you," he sighed.
A tiny smile curved her lips. "Thanks Squall."
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Faye swirled the golden liquid around the glass, the ice rattling with every movement of her wrist. It promised release, if only temporary, from the pains of the dreary world in which they all existed, and it was oh, so tempting to dive in, and never look back on what was. All she had to do was tilt the glass back, and allow the bitter concoction to slide down her throat, her skin prickling and her lungs burning at the touch of the acidic fluid.
She pushed the glass away from her with a groan. Anymore and she was certain she'd puke. "Here's to you, Mr. Spiegel," she murmured, resting her head in her arms. "May you rot in the black, bottomless pits of your own hellish soul." Faye giggled to herself, thinking how poetic she sounded.
"Spike, my boy! Where ya been?" a loud voice boomed from behind the bar.
Groggily, she turned her head and peered through blurry eyes at the doorway. She squinted against the light shining in, and peeked through her violet locks until her eyes fell upon a tall, gangly figure.
"Been busy, Jim. You know that. How's Annie?"
Faye resisted the urge to groan again. There was no mistaking that deep, confident voice. Instead, she turned her gaze to the scuffed wooden surface beneath her and tried to pretend she wasn't there at all.
"Hey!" the bartender's voice sounded in front of her. "Get up, missy, the bar's for my paying, drinking costumers. If you're gonna pass out, do it elsewhere."
She refused to move, until at last he poked her with a sausage-sized finger on her head. She lifted herself up and slid off the bar stool, nearly falling on her ass in the process. "That's no way to treat your customers mister," she mumbled, before stumbling off to find some dark corner to collapse in. She knew, through the haze in her mind, that Spike's eyes were upon her, burning into her back as she walked away.
"Broads like that really get on my nerves," bartender Jim was saying. "Pretty, naïve little things, get their heart broken two or three times a week, and come drink away their sorrows here. Spend the rest of the night throwing themselves at anyone who'll take 'em, and crying on your shoulder about their cheatin' lover."
Spike shook his head and continued to watch as Faye leaned against an abandoned poker table and tried to steady herself. "How long has she been here?"
"Since morning," Jim replied. "Waltzed right in, and plopped down on that bar stool, second to last, where she's been puttin' them away, one after another."
Spike frowned as his eyes fell on the stool that Faye had recently vacated. It was the same stool Julia had sat in, all those years ago. Faye was seated at a Black Jack table now, watching the game progress with sad, empty eyes. They reminded him so much of Julia, that for a moment, he was overcome with nostalgia. But no, these were not Julia's eyes. Despite the evident sorrow, there was a still a fiery spark embedded deep within the shining jade. Despite her pain, she still looked alive.
"Fix me up a prairie oyster, will you?" he asked of Jim. "Put it on my tab."
"Got a hang over already?" Jim chuckled as he poured a small amount of Vodka into a glass, and followed it with raw egg yolk and Tabasco sauce.
"Here ya go, buddy. Enjoy."
Spike nodded to him, and carried it over to the Black Jack table, where Faye had just bet her last chip. He sat the glass down in front of her, and she stared at it, her eyes glazed over in drunken confusion. "It's a prairie oyster," Spike explained. "Good for drunkenness and hangovers."
"It looks like someone was already sick in it," she replied slowly.
He laughed. "Yeah, I know. Just pinch your nose shut, and swallow it all in one gulp."
She did as he instructed, then sputtered and coughed at the taste it left. "That was the most rancid thing I ever tasted!"
"Trust me, it'll help."
"Nothing will help," she grumbled. "I'm out of a job, and I just gambled all my money away."
"That wasn't very bright," he pointed out. "Look, this is just pathetic. If you'd get off your lazy ass and work, I'm sure you wouldn't have any problem." He sighed, feeling responsible for her current condition. "But, I guess... until you get back on your feet... I could let you work for me a little while longer. Just don't bring up anymore personal issues."
She nodded, and instantly regretted it. The room started to spin, and next thing she knew, Spike was helping her up from the ground. The dizziness increased as she stood, and before she could make it to the bathroom, the prairie oyster hit her stomach.
Spike covered his eyes with his hand. "My favorite shoes... Next time you decide to run off and sulk, do us both a favor and stay sober."
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Rinoa was so happy she felt like skipping, but the scowling man on her arm made her think twice about it. She had already dragged him to several shops and had yet to find something she liked. With every unsuccessful shopping attempt, the murderous look on his face seemed to worsen.
Rinoa gazed happily through the mall's skylight as the two wandered past a fountain. She allowed her fingers to skim the edge, and saw the image flicker before her eyes. It was nothing more than a very realistic hologram. Neon signs flashed everywhere, and vending machines lined the walls between shops, holographic people and cutesy animals popping to life every time some one passed by so they could push their product on the common impulsive shopper. To Squall, it might as well have been the harsh environment of Callisto, but to Rinoa, it felt like home.
They passed by a candy machine, causing a cartoon bunny to appear with a sugarcoated grin and a squeaky voice spouting off some annoying jingle. "That's it!" Squall growled. "Either you grab something at the next store, or we leave! I have a migraine the size of Jupiter, and it's all because you insisted on dragging me here."
She hugged his arm tighter. "But I really appreciate it. Don't worry. This should be the last stop, I promise," she replied, tugging him into another women's shop.
He'd never been so miserable in his life. She led him from rack to rack, not at all embarrassed about picking out bras and thongs in front of him. He looked away, trying to find anything to distract him, and concentrating on keeping the redness out of his face, and his mind out of the gutter.
At last, she emerged from a changing room, spinning around to give him a full view. "Well, what do you think?"
He felt his mouth go slightly dry. She wore a light blue duster that only came down to about her mid thigh. A few ties a the top of her abdomen kept the knit garment closed over her chest, but it opened up and flared out to the sides, revealing her flat stomach. Long, spider-web style sleeves fell down her arms, and she wore a pair of really short black shorts beneath her top. She spun around in her tall black boots once more before giggling to herself.
"I think it looks good. I'm getting it."
As he waited for her to pay for her things, Squall glanced to the other side of the mall and noticed a small weapons shop. In the window was a display of samurai swords, three of the same style resting on a stand. They were simple, unlike the popular, gaudy ones with the fake golden dragonheads on the top. They were straight, with sleek, smooth black sheaths and silver Asian writing on the sides. He squinted, and could barely make out a lion head dangling on a chain from the hilt of the largest one. It was the rare 'Black Lion' style, a kind he hadn't seen since his days in the syndicate.
"What're you looking at?" Rinoa asked as she gazed over his shoulder.
"Nothing," he answered abruptly. "You done?"
She nodded and smiled at him. "Yeah, I am. Thanks Squall. I'm sorry you had such a miserable time. I think I know the perfect way to make it up to you, though."
"Don't bother," he grumbled, before taking hold of her hand to leave. He paused in mid-step, realizing what he'd done, and abruptly dropped her hands, as if it were diseased. "Let's just go."
Rinoa sighed at his aversion to the physical contact she longed for. She followed behind him with sluggish steps, glancing over her shoulder once last time at the sword display he'd been looking at. She wanted to make it all up to him somehow, and it was the only thing she could think of. Of course, despite her sympathy for him, she didn't intend to go much easier on him.
(He's a man of few words and few emotions) she thought to herself. (I know that I like him, but the only way to find out how he feels about me, is to keep playing this cat and mouse game.)
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A/N: Sorry if it was kinda boring. I'll admit, it was sort of a filler chapter, though I believe it did serve some purpose... I'll let you know when I figure out what. Sorry if you have one of those gaudy swords I was talking about. Nothing against your tastes, I just personally prefer the more realistic ones.
Next Session: Games can only last so long, before someone gets hurt. The role of the mouse does not suit everyone, and soon, the mighty lion bares his fangs in protest. Does the dragon still burn with fire, or will she fall prey to his ice? The drama unfolds beneath the watchful eyes of the moon. Session 6: Waltz for the Moon