-- Final Fantasy IX : Have and Have Not -- Chapter Eleven : Red Wine With Dinner --

---

I know, I know! This chapter took me an eternity! And I'm sorry!But not only did we just start studying Romeo and Juliet in English, but I've had to worry about an Independent Study Unit (among other things) for my Drama Class, and irregular French verbs. Ick. Not fun at all. So publishing this chapter (which I've honestly had done for about a week and a half, if not two) kinda escaped my Things To Do list.
But, never fear, for Chapter Eleven of Have and Have Not has finally arrived! (Without much fanfare, I'm afraid.) So, with no further ado, on with the story!

---

The weeks progressed in a horribly predictable manner, but at least it gave her time to think.

Sophia accompanied Eve on patrols for weeks, until she knew her way around the castle well enough to find her way around on her own without getting lost too many times. Finally, she was allowed to do single patrols (which were horribly boring) and patrols with Riss (which were better, but full of overheard gossip that made Sophia wish she were elsewhere).

On one of the nights where she patrolled with the latter, she did hear one interesting thing. Apparently, Kuja was interested in her progress -- and he wasn't the only one, she was assured, there were plenty of fine looking higher-ups interested in her --, and interested enough to have someone (Riss hadn't been able to find out who) spying on her movements, and then reporting what she did. From what Riss said, she had been the last to find out.

Which was probably why, when she returned to her room, she was the most surprised to find an oblong, flat white box waiting for her on her bunk.

Riss practically attacked her the moment she walked in the door. All the girls had already been in the room for almost half an hour already, gawking at the box, glaring at the letter on top, addressed to Sophia in elegant, but still masculine script. It was so obviously from a man, they insisted.

Sophia, having carefully stowed her new leg armour (which had taken much longer to make than the armourer had originally suspected) in their armour closet, had no idea what Riss was talking about when she started gasping that she "had to open it".

"There, on your bunk!" The package and the letter were both delivered to her waiting arms, and she was free to stare at them while at least ten people tried to explain.

"Someone left it--"

"It was here when we came in--"

"Just open the damned thing already!"

Sophia, in a bit of a daze, fumbled with the top on the box. Her hands were trembling with adrenaline and nerves. No one had ever sent anything to her before -- no one outside of her family ...

A collective gasp, followed quickly by a fair amount of envious sighs, ran around the room. Nestled snugly within the box, folded neatly so that the rich, red-wine coloured fabric lay in elegant curves, was the most beautiful dress Sophia had ever seen. Lifting it out of the box to admire it, she drew in a gasp. The dress fell from a halter top with a plunging neckline, falling in a simple fashion to the floor. "It's ... it's beautiful. But ... why ...?"

The letter that had come with it was forced towards her again, and she carefully draped the dress over one arm so that she could read it. Carefully, with one of her newly manicured nails -- Riss had insisted one day in between shower and shift, and Sophia had no excuse against it -- she slit open the wax seal on the envelope and carefully slid the letter out.

To my Pickpocket, the letter said in the same elegant script as on the outside of the envelope. I trust you've discovered the dress I sent by now, and you're wondering as to the catch. Tonight, at seven, meet me in my chambers -- I'm sure you haven't forgotten where they are, since you take the time to walk by them nearly every night. Make sure you wear the dress; I sent it for a reason. And I want to see the girl that we found once under all that dirt.

The note was signed with a flourish of black ink. Kuja.

---

Marcus was following someone. It felt good to be back in his old routine; roaming the streets, following people ... pocketing a couple wallets (which he'd definitely have to look through later; they both felt fat with family portraits and other potentially embarrassing personal items. Oh, and money, of course.).

He could see the girl ahead of him, her blond hair shining in the light as she threaded her way through the crowd ahead of him. Marcus was careful to follow her at a safe distance; he'd have to bide his time, wait until she got close enough to his intended destination before he showed himself.

He'd caught sight of the girl just as she'd left the castle, calling over her shoulder to a slight figure who stood just inside the front gate. The figure had been wearing a white shirt, black pants ... she'd had a nice figure, Marcus remembered noting, his eyes absently sweeping her. And then she'd turned her head, laughing, as she started back towards the castle, and the sun had glinted off of it ... revealing a deep, blood red shine. He'd leaped to his feet, taken a step towards the castle, stopped himself. He forced air into his lungs, forcing his wild thoughts to slow. He couldn't just go waltzing into the castle -- that wasn't how it worked. He'd be stopped at the gate, and he'd never get through -- she'd just disappear inside and he'd loose her again!

The thought had crept silently to the forefront of his thoughts; no light bulb flicked on, there was no sudden light of discovery. Marcus just knew suddenly what he'd do. He may not be allowed to follow the Pickpocket into the castle ... but her friend was headed out into the city. There was no punishment for running into someone in the streets ...

The curly blond head was nearing his target destination. Marcus stepped up his pace, carefully winding his way towards the right ... and then cutting sharply towards her through the mass of bodies around them, purposely jostling her hard enough to set her off balance.

He caught her, of course, grabbing her elbow with the fluid ease of one who'd been expecting it. She didn't notice, though ... not when he stepped closer to her, already talking. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm such a clumsy idiot! I'm always in the way ..." He had been looking down, being the object of polite apology ... but now he looked up, and gave a blink of surprise. It was a carefully rehearsed look that he'd practised for years -- the look of pleased shock that usually occurred when one met a pretty lady.

"Oh, no ... it's all right ..." she trailed off, gazing back at him. She made no move to pull her arm out of his grasp.

Marcus gave her a small smile. "No, it really isn't. Here, let me buy you a drink ..."

Victory. She'd agreed readily, insisting that she probably just needed a nice cold beer, and allowed him to lead her to the nearby bar, his arm sliding easily around her shoulder to guide her.

Inside the bar was cozy. The room had a moderately low ceiling, lit by golden glowing lamps, and the occasional candle. The tables were made of honey-coloured, polished wood, the floor of the same, the walls a gentle yellow. Conversation was hushed, a low and comforting buzz. The air was pleasantly warm, the drinks pleasantly cold. The bar where they sat down was made of highly polished marble, and was being tended by a rather large man in an expensive looking suit.

Their orders were placed with only minimal glaring, and Marcus turned back to the girl. "Again, I really am sorry. Some days I'm just such a klutz ... it gets me into trouble all the time."

"And again, don't worry about it." She flashed him a smile.

He started to return it, a small grin lighting up his face. "It sure didn't get me into trouble today, though ..."

A blush crept across the woman's face, and she turned away slightly.

"My name's Marcus, by the way," he said, reaching for the tall glass of beer that had been set before him.

The reply came right away. "I'm Riss."

---

Sophia was having some difficulty keeping herself contained.

Since Riss had left (she said she couldn't take the tension in their room anymore, and Sophia had been all too happy to accompany her to the gate, to get away from the glares), there had been nothing to take her mind off the fact that, in a few hours' time, she was expected to show up at Kuja's door. For dinner. Wearing a dress. It was practically a date! The word made her queasy, and she paused in her wanderings to lean against the stone wall of the castle passage.

For the past hour she'd been aimlessly travelling the secret passages of the castle, going wherever her feet had taken her, her mind completely lost in her own circling thoughts. How come she was so absolutely lost? After all that she'd been through, and a simple dinner invitation had her at her wit's end!

She'd dined with far greater than him in her time. She was of noble birth, after all. She'd been dining with Dukes and Duchesses, the creme of society, since she was old enough to sit up and tell the difference between forks. And besides, at all the other dinners she'd attended, she'd been expected to adhere by a very specific code of conduct, and her mother had been there, breathing down her neck, to ensure that conduct be followed down to the punctuation. Compared to that, dinner with Kuja should be heaven; no pressure at all.

And yet ... yet there was more pressure than she'd ever felt before in her life. She knew that she wanted to impress Kuja so badly that her body was completely shutting down because of the stress it created. And the thought of waiting two more hours just sitting and thinking about what might happen when she went to see him was killing her.

She pushed off from the wall, with no clear destination in mind. She just knew that, as long as she was walking, she was safe from the thoughts running away with her common sense. As long as she kept moving forwards, so did the clock, and that was less time she'd have to worry about what was going to happen in the future. Why couldn't she just live in the now? She used to be so good at that, while she had been out on the street, picking pockets. She'd lived from moment to moment. What she was going to eat for dinner that night didn't matter until she was hungry; where she would take shelter didn't matter until it rained; who else was around didn't matter until someone posed a threat. And now? Her head hurt from all the what ifs of this dinner.

"Lost, lass?"

She spun on her heel, surprised to say the least. Had she been walking so blond that she hadn't even noticed someone watching her? And indeed, that was the case; the Armourer stood in his doorway, arms crossed across his chest, looking at her from under a sympathetic brow.

"No," she said. "Not lost ... exactly ... Just very, very confused." He moved aside slightly and she took the invitation to come in, squeezing past and into the dark room beyond. A seat was produced and she accepted it readily. "It's just that, I've got something coming up tonight, and I'm not ... well, nervous about it, exactly ... I'm just ..."

"Scared out of your mind."

Sophia paused in the act of wringing her fingers and sighed. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I am scared out of my mind about going through with this."

"So, what is it?" The Armourer had picked up the chain mail shirt he'd been working on and took a seat opposite her. "This thing that's got you all worked up. Audience with the Queen? Formal changing of the Guard in front of the whole city?"

The words were a forlorn whimper. "Dinner with Kuja."

He tried not to snicker, and he covered up the smirk he was wearing with the back of a soot-stained hand. "Oh. Well then. Whatever did you do to merit an invitation like that?"

Sophia, thankfully, was looking at her feet, and so didn't see the amusement in her companion's eyes. "I wish I knew." Her voice was mournful.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna level with you. I have no idea why exactly you think this is so bad."

She looked up at him with a sigh. "Well ... the whole thing started when he sent me the invitation, along with a dress. I haven't tried the dress on yet, but I know it's going to fit, so I can't use that as an excuse not to go -- Why are you laughing at me!"

The armourer turned away from her, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "I'd say," he managed to choke out, "that you need to get out more."

"Thanks," she told him dryly.

"Come now lass!" He got himself back under control, and started herding her towards the door. "'S not the end of the world! You'll survive this and come back to annoy me once more; I'm sure of that. Now out -- you're going to be covered in soot!"

"Oh," she snapped sarcastically, "we can't have that!"

The door shut securely behind her, barring her response.

---

Two tall glasses of wine later, Riss was feeling far more talkative.

Marcus had been careful only to drink small sips of his beer, although he did it often enough to make it look like he was trying valiantly to down the thing. He'd also been wary of approaching the subject of Riss' friends; girls were touchy that way, he'd found. Express too much interest in one of their friends and they'd fly off the handle at you! After the first glass of wine and the initial spot of charm, however, Riss was more than willing to gush about all aspects of her life at the Palace. If she'd noticed that Marcus was less willing to gush about his life, she didn't bring it up.

"I saw you leave by the palace gates today," he said, shortly after she'd plunged into her third glass. "Was that one of your friends from your squadron with you ...?"

"Oh, yes! That's Sophia -- the new recruit that I was telling you about."

Bingo! He had a name to go on now. Good.

Riss took another sip of wine, and then grinned at him, showing perfectly white teeth, her eyes sparkling. "I'm so jealous -- she has a date tonight."

"A-a date?" Not good. Really not good. He had a name to go on ... but that name might be attached to another one, of a far less desirable variety.

"Yeah. Don't ask me how, but she managed to catch Kuja's eye. He sent her this gorgeous dress and everything ..." She sighed and looked down at what was left of her glass of wine. "I just couldn't stick around to watch her pace anymore -- she's so nervous! Besides, she won't wear any makeup, so it's not like there was anything for me to do anyways ..."

A date! She'd gotten herself a date! And just who was this Kuja guy anyways?

"Who exactly is Kuja?" he asked, as casually as he could manage.

Riss gave him an incredulous look, and Marcus returned it with a sheepish grin. She immediately softened, and the explanation spilled from her wine loosened lips. "Kuja's one of the Queen's higher-ups; an adviser of hers, and I guess he's sort of a general, too. Word around the castle is that he was with her during the recent attack on Burmecia, and it was his magic that helped when the Queen sent her forces to Cleyra."

Marcus found it hard to believe that he hadn't already heard of this guy, or that Tantalus hadn't been warned. They liked to keep tabs on the people who were gaining in magical ability -- that way, they could stay far away from them. Even they weren't crazy enough to rob someone that powerful.

"So ... where's he from?" Marcus managed to ask, his mouth suddenly dry.

"No one knows," Riss replied, offering a shrug. "He just kind of ... showed up."

Yeah, just showed up. Marcus looked glumly at his beer, then drained the rest of the glass. Showed up and ran off with my Pickpocket.

---

For the millionth time, Sophia ran a hand through her hair, then kicked herself for her nervous habit, and set to work rearranging her bangs around her face. She was pale, her hands unsteady with nerves, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing.

Again, she checked the clock. Five minutes to seven. She gathered her courage, and then gathered whatever strength she had left in her watery muscles as she got to her feet and straightened the front of the red wine coloured dress. It really did bring out the red in her hair, she remarked to herself once again, with a small, somewhat nervous grin. Somehow she'd been roped into wearing eyeliner and mascara; her eyes sparkled against the black makeup. She hoped Kuja wouldn't noticed the nervousness that glimmered through her mascara.

The air in the room was heavy with envy as she carefully gathered the dress in front of her feet, so that she could walk without stepping on it. Silently, she thanked whatever higher power may be listening for every second that her mother had spent tirelessly forcing the rules of etiquette into her head. If she ever had a daughter, she was going to do the same thing; why would anyone not force their children to learn everything that etiquette had to offer when there was even a minuscule chance that they might dine with Kuja!

Maybe she was overreacting just a bit. She wouldn't have to train her kids as much as her mother trained her; by the time they were old enough, there probably wouldn't be much chance of them dining with Kuja anyways. At least, not with him still as a romantic prospect.

Far too soon, she found herself at Kuja's door. She raised her hand to knock, thought better of it, and lowered it to her side again. But ... then again, maybe she should knock. The door, if she remembered properly, was quite thick; Kuja might not hear her if she called to him. She certainly couldn't just barge in ...

"Are you planning on standing there all day? Or are you busy contemplating the most impressive way to knock?"

Sophia spun around, her heart hammering painfully into her ribcage. Kuja stood mere feet away from her, smirking, his arms crosses across his chest, his head at a jaunty angle. She felt her face heat up, and she turned away slightly to hide it as best she could.

Kuja gave his trademark chuckle of amusement, and leaned passed her to open his door, beckoning for her to enter before him.

Sophia, faced with no other choice, strode in, her heart in her throat.