A/N: A short note in regards to chapter two: I have no idea if Yocun was from more than fifteen or twenty years ago. .; I don't THINK they mentioned when she was alive in FFX, but if they did, I'll be very embarrassed and go back and edit it. X3 I just figured, "meh, it's an Easter egg." Well, whatever's clever. Now, this chapter itself… I couldn't stop laughing once I finished it, and I hope you all feel the same. Heheh. I didn't intend for it to be slightly slashy at all, but it is, oh, it is! I am horribly ashamed. ;D
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"Ormi, for the love of all that's holy, change the sphere!"
The horror that was Songstress Ormi vanished in a wave of light and inexplicable musical notes. Logos stopped averting his eyes.
"I dunno," he remarked, "I don't think it's so bad. If I was gonna dance, I'd wanna wear somethin' like that…"
"Don't. Don't finish that thought."
Ormi paused to down another cup of sake and then pulled another sphere from the pile, sending others under it clattering down and rolling along the table. "Yeah, yeah. Well, how 'bout this one?"
He got a suspicious sidelong glance as a reply. "You're going to tell me what it is, first."
"Aw, come on! Just give it a shot!"
"Ormi…"
"Come ooon! What, ya scared or somethin'?" He made a playful jab for Logos's ribs, which the man deftly avoided.
"Oh, give me the damned sphere."
The usual metallic sphere-change jangle rang through the room. Logos took a look down, a curse exploding from his lips, and did his best to yank the long slits up the sides of his dress together. There was a spade stamped on his chest.
Ormi flailed on his back, roaring with laughter.
"Bwahahahaha! Ya… ya never looked better!"
Bristling, he removed the Lady Luck sphere.
"I'd like to see you look this good," he countered, rather proud of his control over the slur in his voice.
He was about to ask Ormi why he was continually choosing the most feminine dresspheres when an idea popped into his head. An interesting one. One that he might have thought better of, were he only a fraction less tipsy than he actually was. He stood, wobbling a little at first, and fixed Ormi with an intense gaze.
His tone was entirely serious as he announced, "There's something we need to do."
It was dangerous undertaking indeed. It was a gamble, climbing these boxes to the upper level of the storeroom; he could very easily fall to his death. But the rewards would be abundant.
"It must be here. The boss hasn't used it in over a week."
"The boss?" Ormi queried, eyes suddenly wide with interest as Logos surveyed the equipment before him.
"Don't you think it would be fascinating," he mused, "to be in her body…?"
"…Logos. Whoa. I-I didn't know."
"Pinhead. Where is your mind? We're going to— ah, this is it!"
Under a haphazard pile of uniforms sat an ornate little chest. He opened it up without further ado and reached inside, smirking a little as he retrieved a small square plate decorated with a labyrinthine pattern. A garment grid.
Logos climbed down with such ease that he began to worry he was sobering up. He quickly sought to remedy that. Not one to rush into an uncertain situation, he reached out and offered the grid to Ormi as he tossed back another round.
"You first."
Ormi looked uncertain. "I dunno," he said slowly, but accepted it.
It looked like someone drew invisible blinds on him when he equipped the thing, and when they passed the top of his head Logos found himself face to face with Leblanc herself.
It could've been beer goggles, so to speak, but somehow she was even more enchanting now than he'd ever seen her before. Her expression was so open, so wide-eyed and innocent, but not without a certain pixie-like mischievousness touching her wine-flushed lips.
"Well, whaddaya think?"
…That voice did too much to shatter the illusion.
Logos just frowned a little and poured himself more sake.
fin