Eight O'clock Arrangements
By Willa T.
She hopped on top of the man on the bed, straddling his hips and tugging at the belt around his waist. "You've had a difficult day, haven't you Doctor?" She had a thing for role-playing. It was something new every night, although often times she repeated her favorites. She even switches roles, halfway through, sometimes, with totally confused him the first few times when she would be cooing the professor then completely wild on top of a politician. Nida decided it was best not to ask questions. Although, he wished that she would just be herself for one night.
"For god sakes, Selphie. Not now. It's eight o'clock in the fucking morning." She was only dressed in only a white, SeeD issued undershirt, borrowed from him, and a pair of plain, white underwear. It disgusted him to think of how many men (and fellow students) imagined her in this way. He should feel lucky.
She giggled. "I know. I have to meet Quistis in thirty minutes. Better make this a quickie, ay?" She had the drive of a maniac. She was up for it at all hours (her hours) of the day. She dropped her head to place kisses on his cheeks and down his neck, until she was rudely interrupted by the man himself.
"Have you been drinking?" Like that, it was gone.
"What? …no."
"Oh fuck, you have. I can smell it! You reek! What time is it anyway? Eight? Ten past eight?"
"I had some scotch. Sue me." She rolled off the bed, landing dramatically on her feet. "It was only a glass…I had a headache… and I was tired… it was nothing."
He grunted and sat up, adjusting his belt.
She stepped in the bathroom, grabbing the purple toothbrush dubbed hers, and started vigorously brushing her teeth. He lay back down on the bed.
"…Quistis huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. Why?"
"Nothing. What's new with her?"
"She said her second period class was shit. She feels under-appreciated—"
"Unappreciated."
She stuck her head out, with the toothbrush dangling from her mouth. "I like under better."
"Whatever."
"So she's gonna ditch it. Can you believe that? A teacher ditching her own class? It's absolutely wild. We're going out to eat in Balamb. Easy as that."
"Is that even allowed?"
"Probably not."
"Yeah, but why are you going with her? I mean, can't she just use this as a planning period or something?"
She spat. "Yeah, well that's the thing. I was sorta the one to talk her into it."
"And she took your advice?" He said flatly.
"Yeah, but I'm kind of regrettin' it now."
He sneered. "It sounds like a train wreck."
"Hm." Her clothes were folded neatly ontop of the hamper in the corner of the bathroom. "Oh yeah, and thanks. But I still think that you should get that tick checked."
"What?"
"What's it called? Oh god, I completely forgot. You know how when you just forget things, like words or something, and you know what it is, but you can't get the words exactly right? It just happened. Give me a minute." She prodded her mind, while buttoning a sweater on top of her camisole. "It's over-over-over something."
He picked up a stray magazine from the floor. Estharian News, from a few months ago. It was about the terrorist bombings on the train going through Timber. "Do you want to see a movie tonight?" Twenty-four people died, not including the bombers.
"Over compulsive. No. Which one?"
"They did a remake of Ruby Dragon Knight…"
"Over-over-over…no. Irrational compulsive…no…"
"…but I swear, if I see another remake of a shit movie, I'm going to kill myself. I mean, what kind of name is 'Ruby Dragon Knight' for a movie anyway? It's so unbelievably cheesy. It should be the name of a porno or something." He laughed at his own joke, waiting for some kind of response from her. None came. "It's obsessive compulsive, for god sakes."
"I'm sorry. Thank you so much. It's just, if I didn't find that out, I swear, I think I'd explode or something." Her teal cardigan was buttoned to the top, and she held up the small skirt. "Wasn't Sir Laguna in the first one?"
"Yeah. I think so."
"I'd rather just rent the original." She let out a long sigh. "He's really incredible. Don't ya think? I mean, imagine how much he's done. Movies, government, all that stuff." She finished zipping up her boots.
"I guess…"
"But, you know, I think you're pretty incredible too." She didn't mean it, really.
She stepped out. To any other guy in the garden, in the entire world, she would have had a cloud of sparkles and lights surrounding her. But to Nida, it was nothing special.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" He motioned to the two white boots covering her feet and half of her calves."
Her head bobbed down, then up again. "You don't like them?"
"It's a fad." A few of the girls were wearing them.
"That's right…" She grabbed her purse. "Nida Caine is just way too good to get caught up in something as foolish as a fad."
"You look like a prostitute."
"No, I look like one of those mod girls from the 60's. And I'm wearing a cardigan, the official sweater of grandmas and housewives."
He said nothing, which made her want to back into a corner like a stranded child. Her voice was small. "And plus, I like them."
He turned around, stood up, and adjusted his SeeD uniform. "Do you wanna go tonight or not?"
She smiled, and opened the door, letting the breeze from the dank tope hallway slip in. "Sure…" It was eight twenty five. Quistis was probably nervous and twitching, already outside waiting for her. "I really would."
I do not own Final Fantasy VIII or any of its characters.