Losing Heart
Chapter Two:
You can't get away
Squall was nearly in control of himself as he strode down the hallway to his dorm room, a thick file tucked under one arm. To the students he passed—and ignored—he didn't seem any different than normal, if perhaps a little more preoccupied than usual, his steps maybe slightly quicker than his usual, long-legged stride as he hurried down the corridor. He barely flicked a glance at the cluster of recent SeeD cadets at their usual spot, the junction of the right and left wings, tittering with their heads together as he passed. Such was his preoccupation that he didn't even spare them the single thought that habitually crossed his mind on his daily trips back to his dorm room: What are these girls doing
Inside, Squall could feel himself settling slowly from the ferocious aftershocks of Cid and Edea's unforeseen announcement, and he forced himself to take a deep breath to calm the nerves that coiled greasily in his gut. He had faced monsters and machines with the sole intent of wiping his intestines across the land; he had faced humans just as deadly; he had fought through time compression and had even survived the indigestion following the hot dog eating contest Zell had convinced him to enter with him at Fisherman's Horizon's first annual Hot Dog Festival last summer.
Being trapped in a room full of seven- and eight-year-old children couldn't be all that terrifying…could it?
He was still a little shaky when he reached his door, and it took him two tries to get the door unlocked as he fumbled to swipe his keycard through the slot. Not looking where he was going, Squall nearly stepped on Angelo, sprawled on her side across the front rug in ambush, and for the second time in as many days, Squall was forced to throw himself overhead to avoid stomping on a paw or tail.
"Dammit, Angelo!" Squall found himself sitting on the coffee table as he stared at the dog, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest from the surprise. "You're as bad as Plumpy, do you know that? I take back anything I thought earlier about dogs being better than cats. Cats, at least, are a decent size."
Apologetic, Angelo flattened her ears and whined, rising to her feet and taking a tentative step forward, her large, brown eyes trained on Squall's in sincere repentance as she wagged her tail hopefully. Squall held out against those pleading eyes for four long, painful seconds, then caved and tossed the file onto the table behind him, holding his hands out to her in invitation and letting her plow into him. "Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. You're a good doggy. Why are you still here?"
"Because I am." Squall lifted his gaze to find Rinoa standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the front living area, her hair damp from a recent shower. She was barefoot and dressed only in a light green T-shirt no doubt unearthed from somewhere in his dresser and the pair of boxers he'd left tossed onto the floor in the corner. With a jolt, Squall realized he'd probably worn them sometime earlier that week and had yet to wash them, and he had to swallow as his mind immediately veered off-track.
Giving his head a slight shake, as if to dislodge the thoughts that clung persistently to his mind with sharp little claws, Squall nonetheless let a small smile play over his lips as his gaze swept her from head to feet. She looked…cute, he thought, amused as she curled her toes in reaction to his inspection. She'd never borrowed his clothes before—that is, he'd never seen her borrowing his clothes before—and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.
But he had to admit, she looked really sexy in his underwear.
Rinoa blushed and tucked her hands behind her, her gaze dropping as she twisted gently back and forth, an endearing habit left over from her childhood. "Um…" She wasn't sure what Squall was thinking, his cobalt eyes unreadable even to her practiced eye. She'd never worn his clothes before, and she wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. She hadn't wanted to overstep the boundaries of their relationship—even after two years, there were still areas yet to explore, shadowy pockets and corners left untouched, either from hesitance to forge forward before they were both ready or from uncertainty about their own desire to make something more of what they had.
This was one of those things Rinoa hadn't wanted to force Squall into before he was ready. Rinoa hadn't thought he'd be back so soon—though a small part of her whispered accusingly that borrowing his clothes and not telling him wasn't much better than borrowing his clothes when he wasn't ready for what it meant—and now could only hope he wouldn't be too mad.
Trying for a nervous smile—what was he thinking behind those inscrutable sapphire eyes?—Rinoa let her wandering eyes land on her dog. "You talk more to Angelo than to me. Do you prefer her company? I could leave and give you two some private time if you'd like."
Squall shooed Angelo away, standing and walking to Rinoa. There were no words to describe the humming of his heart in his throat, the emotions that swirled through him as she stood there, eyes wide on his face with a strange mix of apprehension and excitement. She looked so adorable, so right, wearing his clothes, and there was no way to explain it or to even voice aloud the jumbled thoughts running through his muddled mind.
A little nervous by the deliberate way Squall was striding towards her, his face set and intent, Rinoa swallowed over the tightness in her throat, backing up until she bumped into the wall, her heart fluttering as he caged her body with his, her breath locking in her lungs as his hands sliding low over her hips. "Um…Squall?"
He heard the trepidation in her voice, understood the reason she was trembling beneath his touch. But he honestly couldn't have done anything else, leaning forward—leaning into her—to rest his forehead against hers, his mouth brushing hers as he murmured, "She doesn't talk back as much as you do." His lips curved an instant before he nudged her head back, tipping her face to his to catch her mouth in a deep, warm kiss that had her melting against him, her hands lifting to his shoulders, then going limp as he moved closer to take her weight, her knees wobbly as the heat of his kiss swept through her.
"I'm back from my meeting, honey." Laughter danced in his eyes as he leaned back, his teeth scraping lightly over her wet bottom lip as he drew slowly away, his smile contented as he moved one hand to twine his fingers with hers, his other hand sliding along her thigh to finger the hem of the boxers. "Maybe they'll give me a raise, and we'll be able to afford a shopping trip so we can buy you some clothes of your own next time we go into town."
The fluttering traveled down to her stomach, and Rinoa was glad for the wall's support—and for Squall's, holding her lightly against him—as her knees suddenly went weak. Squall very rarely made jokes, even now, and had never joked about the mundane domestic chores of living together. Her heart leapt into her throat at the unintentional implications, and she swallowed. "Squall…"
He understood her confused hesitation and eased back reluctantly. "Sorry." Squall offered her that smile—that warm, oh-so-shy smile that simply stole her heart—and released her hand, rubbing his palm over her hip in easy affection before stepping off to the bedroom to return his gunblade back to its corner. Chances were he'd be going back out shortly, but there was that file to look at first, and he didn't like having his Lionheart just laying around when it had its own special case for a reason. "So, why haven't you left yet?"
From anyone else, it might have sounded demanding—or insulting—but from Squall it was neither, nothing more than what it was: a simple question, and his unique way of not saying he was glad she was still there.
"Well, I was planning on going back to my room to shower, but I must have fallen back asleep after you left." Rinoa watched Squall carefully set his gunblade down in the padded case, then strip off his black jacket as concession to the daytime heat. It was still early spring, but the past week had been unseasonably warm, the sun beating down on the continent of Balamb with a surprising ferocity for having just stepped out of the last clutches of last season.
"All I wanted when I woke up was a hot shower—you know how public trains make me feel, sort of gross and grimy—especially on overnight rides—so I thought I'd just borrow your bathroom for a bit." Her cheeks heated treacherously as she added, "I wasn't really planning on staying around long enough for you to catch me wearing your clothes." Though if you kiss me like that every time I do, I'll make sure to rummage through your drawers more often, she promised silently before hurrying on before her deepening blush could betray her, "Anyway, your cat kept waylaying me. I don't think he—it is a he, right?—likes me very much." Squall glanced up to Plumpy's favorite spot, tucked on the top of his bookshelf between the thick volumes of Garden rules and regulations, to find the cat glaring with what must have been pure feline jealousy at Rinoa.
Squall grinned and led Rinoa back to the front room—the immediate essentials taken care of, it was time to take a look at that dreaded folder the Headmaster had given him—as Plumpy hunched his shoulders in displeasure. "Plumpy? He's probably just miffed because he had to share his bed with two humans and the dog last night. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll get over it soon enough."
Sitting down beside Squall, Rinoa leaned back far enough to look him in the face. " 'Plumpy'?" She asked, skeptical. "What kind of name is that for a cat like him? He doesn't look fat to me."
His half-smile was rueful. "I found him wandering around the Training Center the day after you left for Timber. He was still there for the next few days, so I figured he must have been a stray. I thought I'd adopt him, maybe, if he and Angelo got along—they don't seem to have any problems. Anyway, my first choice of names was 'Stripes', but I thought you'd laugh at that and say it's too 'unimaginative', so his name's Pumpkin. But since that's too long, I call him 'Plumpy', because 'Pumpy' sounds so dumb. Hey. You're laughing at me anyway," he pointed out as Rinoa stifled a giggle. "I don't know why I even try. I liked Stripes much better, and if you're going to hurt my feelings, maybe we'll abandon Pumpkin after all."
There was an outraged yowl from the direction of the other room, and Squall glanced up to see the orange cat stalk angrily into the room, his eyes narrowed to slits. Squall, realizing what had upset his new pet, hastily qualified his previous statement. "No, Plumpy, we're not abandoning you, we'd abandon the name. I won't get rid of you, as long as you behave, so don't worry." Rinoa muttered something in his ear and Squall, guessing what she'd said, turned to run a hand over her shoulder and murmured in her ear, "If he continues to be bad, I'll give him away. He's a nice cat, normally, but not worth you being unhappy."
Rinoa's eyes were warm as she kissed Squall lightly. "You're so sweet," she said, then contented herself with resting her head on his shoulder as he turned his attention to the folder on the table before him. "New briefing from the Headmaster?"
Squall made a face and picked up the folder. It was so plain, so innocuous. Nobody would suspect that, beneath the plain tan cover lay the source of his irrational, uncontrollable fear. Nobody would think twice about the regulation file given for all new assignments given to SeeDs, tucked under the Commander's arm as he walked the halls. Nobody would even spare a lone thought as to the dangerous, volatile, destructive plans lying beneath the deceptively plain wrapping.
Lesson plans.
"Sort of," he admitted finally, turning the file over and over in his hands nervously. As if he could avoid the truth by delaying opening the cover. Squall gave himself a mental kick and glanced at the wall clock. He really couldn't afford to stall any longer; he needed all the time he had to prepare, and he and Rinoa still had their standing date to have breakfast together in the cafeteria. Knowing the state of the Garden dining hall during rush meal hours—especially on the first day of a new semester—Squall didn't have any pretenses about getting any studying done once he left the room. It was now or never. Learn the strategy now, and commit to memory every detail so that he would walk into room 206 fully prepared.
Who was he kidding? Years of studying papers and plans and outlines wouldn't prepare him for what he would have to face once the nine o'clock school bell rang and he found himself in front of thirty-four pairs of eager, innocent young eyes, all fixed on him as a source of information, strength, stability, instruction, leadership.
It was everything Squall hadn't wanted when he'd first fought the idea of being dubbed 'Commander' of Balamb Garden.
He realized he'd just been sitting there, lost in his own thoughts—something he still did frequently enough that Rinoa didn't find it unusual—and returned to the present to find Rinoa watching him with a smile. Squall returned it with one of his own before elaborating, "Headmaster Cid called that emergency early morning meeting to tell me that the normal instructor for the spring session of junior SeeD trainees was called away unexpectedly late last night. As we're short on substitutes this semester, it seems as if the duty has fallen upon, um, me to fill in until such time as we can find a more suitable instructor."
Rinoa's eyebrows lifted until they disappeared beneath the fringe of her bangs. It was only a matter of milliseconds before the laughter erupted—like a volcano, Squall thought with disgruntled affection—out of her, bubbling out to fill the small room joyously. "You?" she managed to gasp between desperate hiccups for air. "Teaching? Children?" The corresponding mental image her thoughts evoked proved too much for the young sorceress, and she threw back her head and cackled with unchecked and altogether improper glee. "I don't know how they'll stand it."
He was about to say 'thank you' for her sympathy when her words fully registered in his mind, and Squall gaped at her in shock. "Rinoa!" It didn't even cross his mind that he sounded exactly the way she did, all too often, when he was teasing her, her name coming out on a surprised, insulted breath. "That's not funny!"
"I'm laughing anyway," Rinoa tamed her delight to a few giggles, leaning over to pat him on the arm in commiseration. "I'm sorry. Sort of." He slanted her a dark-eyed glare, and Rinoa giggled again, then turned her gaze to the unopened file in his hands. "So? Are you going to actually open it, or just stare at it as if you could wish it into nonexistence?"
"If it doesn't work, it won't be because I'm not trying," Squall muttered, lifting his arm as Rinoa scooted closer to him and forcing him to accommodate her as she wiggled her way against his side. "Here goes nothing. The road to hell." He opened the folder.
It was something of a disappointment to find that the first page wasn't covered with—Squall wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, really—runes or mystic child-defying spells or the like. Instead, the list of student names, organized alphabetically by last name, stared blankly back up at him, a notation by each name denoting male or female; some names were followed by a brief mention of any SeeD training previously received.
Most of the students, Squall noted with a sinking feeling in his stomach, were completely new to the Garden; experienced ones, even mildly so, were the exception rather than the rule.
"Hm, I know some of these names." Rinoa nipped the paper from Squall's lap as he merely sat, as if paralyzed, and held the paper up for closer inspection. "You might recognize some of them, too, through older brothers or sisters. Parlafoc—that's Nida's name, isn't it?—Aelynne, it says. I think she goes by Lynne. And this one's Sandraine's little brother; you know, Sandy who works part-time as a mechanic in the Garden garage."
Dazed—that list was impossibly long, and how could Rinoa possibly sort through all those names and pick out ones she knew?—Squall nonetheless managed to put a teasing sneer in his voice. "We call it the 'parking lot', you plebeian."
Rinoa gave him a hearty shove with her shoulder, laughing even as she grabbed for the file before Squall let the contents scatter. By accident, of course. "I'm not a plebeian!" She was giggling as Squall caught her around the waist, dragging her with him as he fell backwards. From her position sprawled over his chest, Rinoa smiled and tried to ignore the persistent thrum of her blood. "You're never going to make it through all these notes at the rate you're going, Commander."
Squall sighed heavily and shook his head, plucking the folder out of her hands and giving it a negligent toss onto the coffee table before hooking his arms companionably around her waist. "Damn. You saw right through my intentions all along." Rinoa snorted, and he grinned, looking suddenly terrifyingly young. "We have time. Besides. You still have to change out of these clothes before we head down to the cafeteria for breakfast." One eyebrow arched smirkily as his hands moved to the hem of her T-shirt, giving in fully to the thoughts that hadn't stopped dancing at the edge of his awareness since the first moment he'd seen her standing there in his boxers. "Why don't I just help you take these off?"
His palms were damp with nervous perspiration, his skin cold and clammy as if he were in a state of emergency shock. And wasn't he? Irritated—trying to focus on irritation over the roaring anxiety having a field day with his blood pressure—Squall wiped his hands over his slacks. Over breakfast—once they'd made it down to breakfast—Rinoa had suggested he wear his formal SeeD uniform to class.
'It'll make you look professional', she said, Squall thought, and tried to ignore the butterflies stomping steel-soled boots in his belly. His eyes swept over the students around the large classroom, mingling in the open, unabashed manner of children as of yet untainted by the darkness in the world. I feel like an idiot. An overdressed, out-of-place idiot surrounded by children dressed in their usual attire of T-shirts and shorts. Squall tried not to fidget with the stiff collar of his jacket and wondered, almost in an unreal fog induced by his nameless panic, if the students thought he was dressed strangely for the first day of school.
As if it mattered what a bunch of children thought of him…right?
The bell rang, loud and unnecessarily long. Squall felt his heart jolt uncomfortably in his chest as the students—somewhat reluctantly—made their way to their assigned seats, as indicated by the diagram on the screen on the front board. Squall was thankful their teacher—their real teacher—had had the foresight to have all the plans already laid out for the first week of school, and a rougher sketch of what was to come in the following weeks.
It would make his job marginally easier.
Spoke too soon, Squall berated himself a moment later as he found thirty-four pairs of eyes latched on to him, waiting expectantly for their first day of class to begin, just as he'd imagined.
Nothing could make this easier.
Squall swallowed hard, sent a fervent prayer to Hyne for guidance and protection, and opened his mouth.
"Good morning." At least his voice sounded steady to his own ears, and Squall took one deep, calming breath before continuing. "Welcome to your first day of class here at Balamb Garden. I'm Squall Leonhart, and I'll be your, um, temporary instructor until a more suitable replacement can be found." The students continued to watch him in a mute, unwavering sort of fascination that was both unsettling and terrifying, and Squall could feel a trickle of sweat slither down his back as he hastily plunged onward.
"Your schedules have Instructor Lavince listed as your normal teacher, but due to unexpected circumstances, she was called away last night. We hope she will return to Garden soon and that all is well with her. Um…yes?" Uncertain how to react to the dark-haired girl in the front row raising her hand, Squall hesitated a moment before pointing at her, hoping she would somehow understand.
To his great relief, he'd apparently used an acceptable signal, and the girl lowered her hand before speaking, her wide, innocent eyes intent on his face. "You're our Commander, aren't you? My older brother said you're a very good Commander. It's your job to keep us all safe, isn't it?"
All those eyes, which had shifted to the speaker, returned to Squall full force, and he had to struggle not to stammer. "Yes, I'm the Commander of Garden, and it is my duty, as it is every SeeD members', to protect those at Garden from harm and danger." Article 12, Section 7. These, at least, were questions he could answer, and as long as they stayed simple like this, Squall thought maybe he'd be able to handle them…
"Commander Squall?" Squall looked up to find the girl in the yellow dress who had spoken earlier pointing at the door. "Someone's here."
Squall glanced up to find Rinoa in the open doorway, a warm smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt, Commander." There was a sly twinkle in her eye, and Squall, remembering just in time that they weren't alone, hid his scowl as she entered. "Headmaster Cid asked me to deliver some papers to you." The doors automatically whisked shut as Rinoa stepped further into the room, approaching the desk and holding out the stack of papers for him to accept. Her back to the class, she whispered, "Introduce me. I'll stay and help." Sensing his hesitation, Rinoa smiled and lifted both eyebrows. "Cid gave me permission." Without waiting for a response, Rinoa turned to face the students in obvious expectancy.
Squall was torn between exasperation at her assumption and utter relief at her presence, but cleared his throat and said, "Class…We have a special guest today. Let me introduce Rinoa Heartilly—Sorceress Heartilly. She often guest teaches in the advanced magic class. If you've attended classes here at Garden before, you might recognize her."
Smiling disarmingly, Rinoa addressed the wide-eyed students. "Hello. I hope to get to know you all during your stay at Garden. If you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask."
There was a pause before a fair-haired boy raised his hand, and Squall watched in a mixture of awe and envy as Rinoa tilted her head in his direction in a casual and graceful movement to acknowledge him. There was a welcoming, easy smile in her voice when she said, "Yes? And your name is?"
"I'm Ted." The boy answered her solemnly before continuing with his question. "My best friend's brother is studying in Tr-Tr-Tra—"
"Trabia?" Rinoa supplied helpfully, and the boy—Ted, Squall fixed in his memory—smiled, grateful for her help.
"Yeah. In Trabia. An' he said he learned in history class that two years ago, you and Commander Squall fought a big battle against a lady from the future and saved us all. Is that true?"
Squall interrupted before Rinoa could respond, an appalled expression on his face. "We're in history books?"
While Rinoa giggled helplessly at Squall's utter horrification, Ted nodded sagely. "Robbie—he's my best friend—showed me the book the last time I went up to stay with him. There were a lot of words and not many pictures, so it was really hard to read. But I remember it said that SeeDs were supposed to train to kill the sorceress. Is that true, too?"
"Don't be silly." That was from a darker blond boy in the next row back, and he frowned condescendingly at the first boy—at Ted, Squall mentally corrected. "SeeDs don't kill sorceresses, stupid, they learn from them. Weren't you paying attention earlier?"
The students started squabbling, and Squall understood, somewhere in his mind, that he should stop them, but all he could do was turn to Rinoa, shock plain in his eyes, and repeat, "History books? Rinoa, we aren't that old, are we? It was just two years ago."
She laughed and reached over to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry," she teased. "You aren't going senile yet." The rising noise level had her tilting her head towards the students. "You'd better get them under control, Instructor Leonhart." She giggled at his narrow-eyed stare and added, "But you didn't know about the textbook thing? We each got a copy of the parts that involved us—you, being you, might have gotten an actual copy of the book, but Garden doesn't have the budget to spring for a copy for each of us involved. I'll show it to you after class."
Squall shook his head—history books, indeed; what a bunch of nonsense—and had to raise his voice to be heard over the shouts. "All right. All right already!" They quieted down, turning to look at him as Squall moved to stand in front of the desk beside Rinoa. "Sit down." They obeyed, immediately, and Squall said, "First of all, don't call people 'stupid'." He fixed the boy who had spoken last with a stern stare, then shifted his gaze.
"To answer your questions, Ted, yes, we fought a sorceress—she wasn't a lady—from the future to save, well, the world, I suppose. In doing so, this sorceress passed on her powers to Rinoa, so now she has sorceress powers. As for the rumor of the origins of SeeD…Originally, SeeD was formed to stop the sorceress from destroying our world; Garden was created to train SeeD to fulfill said objective. Now that the threat has passed, however, we have restructured the SeeD organization to diversify our focus from—"
Shaking her head—how easily Squall forgot he was speaking to seven-year-old children—Rinoa nudged him gently with her elbow, translating the words into something the students would be able to understand. "Now SeeDs are supposed to help me, the sorceress, and protect the local countryside. You are all training to be SeeDs, right?" There were nods from across the room, and Rinoa smiled. "It's hard, but I'm sure each and every one of you will succeed, especially if you have our Commander as your teacher. Are there any other questions? Yes?"
A girl raised her hand and blushed shyly when Rinoa called on her. "Um, my name's Lynne—Aelynne. I don't want to be rude, but…I was at the Training Center late one night with my friend, and we got back to the dorms after curfew, so I was going to stay over with her so I wouldn't get in trouble. Um, my friend's room is in the same wing as Commander Squall's, and…" Her gaze shifted briefly to Squall, then dropped, almost guiltily, as he gazed back at her. "Uh, we saw you going into his room, Sorceress Heartilly. Does that mean you two are going out?"
Squall turned a horrified shade of bright red while Rinoa burst into uncontrollable laughter, and—as he fought viciously to erase the damnable visible evidence of his utter mortification—Squall thought that neither reaction was fit for a SeeD instructor. Not that either of them had exactly signed up for this job—if one were to be specific, Rinoa wasn't even signed up as a SeeD at all—but here they were, and standing there mute, blushing, was not what he should have been doing.
Recovering her breath, Rinoa lifted a hand to cover the smile that stretched gaily across her face and shot Squall a mischievous look. You can't hide anything from a child, she thought, and then turned her attention to answer Aelynne's question. "Well, I was probably going to consult with the Commander about some Garden matters—we have ties with the other Gardens and many other factions around the world. Before I became sorceress, I was involved with a little rebellion group in the city of Timber…" She waved that away gracefully. "In any case, I often work with the Commander for such matters when there are no other experts in that particular field at the Garden. And our Commander, dedicated man that he is, often keeps late hours to ensure the safety of all of us here at Garden."
The children seemed to buy her excuse, and Rinoa back the last of her laughter, hooking her hands behind her back in a seemingly casual movement that she hoped hid the mortification running through her. She knew she looked amused, but…Who wanted a child asking them such personal questions? "And, well, we are going out, but the Commander is easily embarrassed by discussing such private matters in front of anyone. If you have any further questions, please feel free to ask me later." She dropped a wink at the naive children seated in front of her, then lifted her eyebrows in gentle invitation. "Are there any other questions?"
"I can't believe they asked that!"
Squall had changed out of his formal uniform and was dressed comfortably in his usual attire of white T-shirt and black pants. He was lounging easily at one of the tables in the cafeteria, lingering over a late lunch with his friends—junior classmen sessions ran until noon, and then the students and staff were free for the long afternoons.
His dark cobalt eyes narrowed dangerously on his longtime friend's face. "I'm glad our predicament is such a cause for your merriment, Zell," he drawled sardonically as the young martial arts master grinned broadly in obvious delight and disappointment that he'd missed the scene. "Perhaps you'd like the take tomorrow's class and let them ask you similarly humiliating questions?"
The blond-haired Zell Dincht waved one hand in the air, unfazed by Squall's implied threat. He was long used to the commander's moods and simply took each one in stride, leaning back in the Garden-sanctioned metal chairs that were deviously fashioned for ultimate discomfort—probably to discourage students from lingering and disrupting the cafeteria staff from their favorite pastime of gossiping about students behind their backs.
"Don't worry," Zell replied, tossing a casual arm around the back of his wife's chair. "Thanks for the generous offer, but there's nothing they can say that might embarrass me. Man," and he let his mirth get the better of him again, "I wish I could have been there. That really would have been something. Right, Jamie?"
Zell's wife, the pretty, quiet 'girl with a ponytail' who still worked in the Garden library, smiled with disarming sweetness up at him. "Of course, dear. No embarrassing stories? In that case, I guess it wouldn't hurt to mention the little ducky boxers incident, or that time I walked in on you in the bathroom while you were—"
There was a certain satisfaction in watching scarlet flush across Zell's handsome face as he hastily interrupted, "No, no, no need to mention that at all, honey. Just hush up now." Rinoa, seated close beside Squall, giggled and exchanged secretive winks with Jamie. "Man. Sometimes I forgot she knows all my embarrassing moments." Catching his own mistake, Zell stammered in an attempt to save face, "Uh, you know, the few ones that I have…"
"Too late, Dincht," Rinoa quipped, laughing at her friend's mortification. "We've called your bluff. Ducky boxers? I think that's sweet. Don't you, Squall?"
Squall met Zell's steely-eyed gaze and was torn between the opportunity to make fun of his friend and the knowledge that his actions would sweep around to bite him in the ass immediately. Rinoa, thankfully, still didn't know about the 'ducky boxer incident', and he had no desire to let her in on the secret. Still, it was a good story…And it was more incriminating of Zell than of him, but there would be no denying his own complicity if he opened his mouth to voice his opinion one way or the other…
"I don't think Squall wants to say," Jamie said, malicious laughter dancing in her eyes. "Otherwise he'd be admitting his own involvement in this ducky boxers mess. Isn't that right, Commander?" The smile she sent him was sugary, and Squall winced as Rinoa rounded on him, accusing laughter in her eyes.
"You what! Don't tell me you've been keeping secrets from me, Leonhart."
Squall winced and tried to bluff his way out of it. "Well, you see, Rinoa, lying and not divulging the truth are subtly different. It's not that I was actively denying anything, I just wasn't…uh, actively…telling you, either."
He looked so pained, Rinoa merely shook her head, giving him a little pat on the arm. Her mind was already racing with plans for that evening—plans that involved the 'cuchi-coo' treatment, an array of torture devices, and a whole slew of 'Pain' spells, if necessary—but she tilted her head prettily. "I'll let you off the hook for now, Squall, but just you wait until I get you alone. Then you're in for it."
"Hey, that sounds like fun." Zell's humor had returned with the prospect of the ducky boxers incident fading in the background—for the moment. "Can I watch?"
He couldn't dodge fast enough as three wads of used paper napkins smacked him in the face.
8.2.05