By: Southwest Eggroll
Chapter Three: Work Sucks
It's just one of those days,
When you don't wanna wake up.
Everything is fucked,
Everybody sucks.
--- 'Break Stuff' Limp Bizkit
SEIFER'S ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF at 6:30am, and for a moment he thought it was a mistake. Then he remembered that he had work to do on the Garden Festival, with Selphie at "7am SHARP!" He groaned loudly, and rolled out of bed groggily. It wasn't going to be a great day, he guessed as he set to brushing his teeth. Seifer ran a comb through his hair ad pulled on a pair of jeans, white T-shirt and his trademark trench coat. He left his dorm at exactly seven o' clock, and decided to take his time, just to get the Messenger Girl riled up. It would amuse him.
Seifer walked into the Quad and waited. He was late, he was always going to be late, he decided, but there was no one in the Quad anyway. He sat on the edge of a table, feeling slick as he did it. His weight proved to be too much for the table, and it tipped to his side. He slid off, almost falling on his ass.
"Smooooth," said a chipper voice coming from behind him. Selphie was carrying a long, rolled up peice of paper. "Okie-dokies. Today, we're gonna start on the big banner that we're gonna hang over the stage. Jordan and I traced everything, so all you have to do is paint! After that we have to start organizing the band. I don't know of any bands yet- whatta 'bout you? Know anyone that would be willing to perform for free?"
He looked at her dumbly. It was way too early for questions, and she was talking faster than the speed of light...It took about ten seconds for what she said to process, and even then it took him some time to come up with an answer.
"Hello...?" Selphie said, waiving to him. "Selphie to Seifer! Are ya there?"
Shaking his head, Seifer replied, "No, ah- I mean, I don't know anybody that could perform."
"Dern! I guess we need to start posting some ads around the halls. I'll design one today, and we can go stick them up on the walls together! Everything will be just gummy!"
"Did you say gummy?" Seifer asked, staring at Selphie like she was an idiot.
"Gummy. Gee Seifer, what's wrong with you today?" she asked, waving for him to follow her. She bent over and unrolled the sheet of paper. Seifer reflexively glanced at her bottom. And to his surprise- there was an ass there! She stood back up to her full height- which wasn't much- and looked over the banner, a smug look in her eye. Seifer frowned. What few curves he had glimpsed were now lost in that thick, loose jumper. He wondered what she would look like in normal clothing.
"Ever consider wearing anything besides that thing?" Seifer quizzed.
Selphie looked down at herself. She shrugged. "There's no point...Paint time! IIIIIIIIIIIII'm....gonna soak up the sunnnnnnnn. I'm gonna tell everyooooooooone toooooo liiiiighteeen up! I'm gonna tell 'em that IIIIIIIIII've got no one to blaaame..."
Seifer shut his eyes. Hyne, preserve me from hyperactive women...
THE BANNER WAS HUGE. IN big block letters, Jordan and Selphie had traced the words 'Garden Festival '09...Peace! Love! Happiness!' She had decided on using a hippie theme. Back around the Second Sorceress War, Balamb was overrun with hippies and flower children demanding peace! The funky colors and laid back setting was exactly what Selphie wanted. But the banner was huge. They had been working for nearly an hour, and only half of it was done. The Quad had been blocked off when plans for the Festival started, so no one interrupted them, but Selphie was sick of painting.
Arms spread out, Selphie was lying flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
"I don't want to see another drop of paint," she declared. She propped up her legs, and then extended them again. The end of her jumper rode up her thigh, Seifer was free to look his fill at her legs. He grinned at them. Who woulda thought the Messenger Girl was hiding world class legs under there? Seifer reached out and put a hand on her calves. She sat up.
"What do you think you're doing?" Selphie asked, sitting up and looking at Seifer like had some kind of fungus growing out of his nose.
Seifer sat up and leaned back onto his elbows. "You've got killer legs." With a smirk, he added, "Soft skin, too."
"Ugh," Selphie grunted, rolling her eyes. "Men- you're all the same."
"Are you comparing me to Irvine?" he asked, rolling back onto his stomach and grabbing a paint brush. "What happened to the cowboy anyway? Gone back to the open range?"
Selphie shrugged and picked up a brush, dipped it in paint and continued with the first P in Happiness. "We broke up, and he went back to Galbadia. You're going to ask why, aren't you?" Seifer grinned. "Well, he chased every two-legged, warm-blooded female in sight. Now that I think about it, he went after Shelaina, and she's cold-blooded. Ooooooh!" She stabbed her paint brush, creating a funny blot on the P. "Whoopsies," she said cheerily, and painted over it.
"So he dumped you?" Seifer asked. Irvine must not have noticed what Selphie was hiding under that hideous yellow jumper.
She giggled. "You're kidding, right? Irvine- dump me? Ha...ha..."
"...So he dumped you?"
"Yeeeaaaah...but I saw it coming. I was going to dump him, but when I found out he was going to do it, I decided to let him. I think he was a little disturbed...teehee...He said, 'Selphie, I don't think we should see each other anymore. I want the freedom to see other girls!' and I said, 'Okay-dokay!' I think he expected me to swoon over and die of heartbreak. Teehee! Whatta 'bout you? Seein' anyone?"
Seifer's brows furrowed. "This is a little weird. One day you're calling me a Lapdog, the next you're inquiring into my love life."
Wincing, Selphie replied, "Sorry about that. But you were making out with that girl on my poster. And you keep calling me 'Little Messenger Girl!'"
"What's wrong with 'Little Messenger Girl?'" he asked.
"I'm not little," Selphie said pointedly.
He laughed, a rich and velvety laugh that echoed in the Quad and made Selphie want to laugh, too. She didn't, instead she stuck her tongue out at him.
"You're what, 5"? 5'1?" You're...you're pretty little," he said.
Selphie stood up, silently challenging him. One eyebrow arched, Seifer stood up, chin in the air and walked up to Selphie. He was more than a foot taller than her. He towered over her, smirked, and Selphie smiled sheepishly.
"Okaaaaay, point proven," she said. "But I could still kick your bum!" She slapped the side of her hip for emphasis and stuck out her tongue. He grabbed it. That's right- he grabbed her tongue between his thumb and index finger.
"Ooooowww!" Selphie howled. Seifer tugged on her tongue, pulled her closer to him. "Hey buh-ee, whus yo probum! Leh me go!" She banged on his arm, but it was like an iron rod.
He leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Afraid of me now?"
Selphie glared at him as much as she could. She lunged forward and bit at the edge of Seifer's finger. He immediately released her throbbing tongue. Selphie shouted, "No! What is your problem, Seifer? Ahck! You taste like salt...ech..."
He looked down at the bite marks on his hand and studied them closely. "I saw your post on the message board. That I wasn't like that, and that they shouldn't be afraid of me." It was worded strangely, but Selphie would understand.
She thought about it for a minute, then nodded. The big curl around her head bobbed. "Did you drill holes into some guy's feet?" He shook his head. "I didn't think so. Maybe it's because I never really knew you that well, but I can't imagine you doing that. I don't think you're really that cruel- I mean, I didn't think you were that cruel. Gummybears, my tongue hurts..."
Seifer flashed her that famous smirk of his. "It's ten o'clock. Time to go. C'ya 'round..." And with that, he sauntered out of the Quad, leaving a big mess for Selphie to clean on her own.
Her jaw dropped and she stuck her tongue out at his back. "LAPDOG!" she shouted after him. Selphie heard his laughter down the hall, and she wanted to hurl a bucket of paint at him. Selphie looked down at the unfinished banner. Reading the partially painted words Peace! Love! Happiness!, she sighed. At the moment, she was not thinking any of those things. She was thinking Violence! Hate! Anger!. Her tongue still felt weird, and Seifer's finger was really, really gross.
The nerve of that guy! He walks in here like Mr. Bigshot, zones out on me, has the guts to touch me, complain about my clothes, grab my- my tongue and then he just leaves like he was Sir Laguna or someone saintly like that...Oooooh! That's okay! I'm going to get him back tomorrow...LAPDOG!!
