A/N: Oh yeah. So I almost forgot that Pierre was my second favorite thing about Rift Apart. Even before it came out, I knew I wanted to write something with him at some point. I never had any ideas, though, and found his character too intimidating besides. But I finally finished my challenge run the other day, and before the final battle I walked past him enough to get his little dialogue about becoming a chef.
And presto! That night I couldn't sleep and kept typing up little notes in my phone for this monster. It's been a long time since I wrote this much in so little time. I think I may have needed this break from the Nefarious story I've been working on.
Ohhhh...and I guess I should say that no lombax dimension finding has occurred by this point. I think there were a lot more important things for them to focus on after defeating the Emperor, and I was honestly pretty miffed throughout the game at how hard everyone was trying to change Ratchet's mind. I appreciate it from Clank in the beginning, who's just trying to do something nice for his best friend and does eventually realize he got it a little wrong. But not from anyone else! I'm pretty sure that's just my personality, though...
.
.
"Is there something wrong?"
Rivet is pulled from her reverie and turns her attention from the pub around them to Kit. "Oh, no. No, everything's fine. I was just looking around. Quite the crowd they have today, huh?"
Kit continues to look at her, obviously disbelieving, but luckily for Rivet, her diminutive nature doesn't allow her to call Rivet out on it. She doesn't think she'd survive it if she had to reveal that she actually might just be the teensiest tiniest bit concerned.
It's been months since the Emperor was deposed, and so much work has been put into picking up the pieces of his devastating rule. They've worked on setting up a new governing body where, interestingly enough, Quantum's popularity with organics and robots alike is completely unrivaled.
Rivet's taken part in dolling out aid to the unfortunate citizens of ravaged planets and has even had to help squash the occasional uprising from those who still support the Emperor's anti-squishy rule. Sorting out the true criminals in Zordoom from those who had been imprisoned on a whim hasn't been much fun either. There's still a long way to go. The galaxy hadn't fallen under absolute rule in a day, though, and it wouldn't be fixed in one either.
But in the rare pockets of free time she's afforded herself in the midst of it all, coming to Zurkie's to relax and watch a few merciless rounds at the arena, not once has she come across him.
She spots an empty table near the window overseeing the arena and makes a beeline for it, craning her head around as she searches through the crowd on the way.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Rivet says, falling heavily into her seat and snapping her eyes to the fight taking place below. "I'm sure."
"If you say so…"
Kit leaves it at that, and Rivet finds herself unable to truly enjoy the match. Her metal fingers tap out an agitated rhythm against the table, and she frowns as the fight drags on. They don't usually have to wait this long to have their orders taken.
A loud clatter startles her, and she looks down to find the glass of lemonade and plate of appetizers she hadn't yet ordered. She opens her mouth to tell the waiter they'd gotten the wrong table, but when she looks up it freezes in place.
"One lemonade and an assortment of fried finger foods for ma chérie, and a second lemonade for the wee one."
Kit accepts her drink with a pleased smile, but all Rivet can think is that the dimensions are collapsing again and she'd somehow been transported through a rift during her sleep.
"Pierre?"
"The one and only," he responds, tucking the serving tray beneath one arm before following it up with a lavish bow.
She looks him up and down, taking in the apron emblazoned with Zurkie's logo and the distinct lack of his old hat. She blinks. Just to make sure she's got this right she says, "Pierre?"
"Oui. As has already been established, it is I. Pierre Le Fer, eventual chef but current pub server, extraordinaire!" But despite his words, he doesn't seem annoyed at her delayed comprehension.
After a few moments of continued marveling on her part, during which Pierre puffs out his chest and absolutely preens at the attention, she shakes herself out of it enough to finally say, "Where have you been this whole time? It's been months and—wait. Really? I thought that was all a joke."
"Ah, as did I." He reaches his free arm over to tap his fingers against the tray hugged to his side and shrugs. "But alas, due to an unfortunate turn of events completely beyond my control, I suddenly found myself in dire need of a change of occupation, so. Voilà!"
She smirks. "So you finally managed to dig yourself into a hole you couldn't get out of, huh?"
His posture stiffens, and he grips the tray to himself more tightly. His expression turns wary and his voice goes flat when he responds, "Why, whatever could you be meaning by that? And here I thought this would be a happy reunion after our most unfortunate and drawn-out estrangement."
Her smirk falls away, and she takes a moment to really look at him. It can be hard to tell for sure with robots since even the most expressive ones only have so many moving parts, but now that she's paying attention, he looks…off. She can't even explain how exactly. It's probably just a byproduct of prolonged exposure to his presence over the years.
She frowns. It takes her a minute to work herself up to it, it's still so hard to be honest with others even with all the practicing she's been getting lately, but finally she manages to say, "I am glad to see you, Pierre. Is everything okay?"
He blinks, surprise evident in his face. But then he smiles and his posture unwinds just a bit and he's almost (because now that she's noticed she can't unsee it) looking like his usual flamboyant and carefree self.
"Oh, Rivet. Do not concern yourself with the likes of little ol' moi. Rest assured that I have everything completely and utterly under…er…it—it's under…" His eye seems to lose focus as his gaze drifts beyond her shoulder. She follows his line of sight but can't see anything noteworthy in the gaggle of rowdy patrons behind her. He blinks and snaps out of it, looking suddenly restless. "In any case, business is booming as they say, and it is with a heavy heart that I must bid you two charming mademoiselles a most sorrowful adieu."
He dips into a hasty, unembellished bow and strides passed them with a stiff gait so unlike his usual confident saunter. He only makes it a few steps before he turns back around, somehow managing to dodge the raucous crowd as he does so, and says, "Do not forget to come see me again before you go!" Rivet doesn't get the chance to respond before he spins off again. She watches him disappear into the mass of bodies and turns back to Kit.
"Huh. Is it just me or is he being weird? Weirder than normal, I mean."
"Oh. Um…I am afraid I do not have much of a baseline to go by in regards to his typical mannerisms."
"Well, it's definitely not that, I can tell you that much."
She looks over at the platter and picks out one of the fish fingers she loves so much. Try as she might, she's never been able to recreate the crispy coating or the flaky texture or even the herb sauce that comes on the side at home, and Zurkie's jaws may as well be welded shut on the matter. So she comes here way more often than she should to get her fix.
As usual, it's perfect, and she's reaching for another when Kit asks, "Is that why you were so distracted earlier?"
"Huh?" Rivet says, and she shoves the whole thing into her mouth.
"When we arrived, you seemed like you were looking for something. Or someone. And not just this time either. Were you concerned for Pierre given that you have not seen him in so long?"
"Pfft! Worried? Me? Of course not!" Kit tilts her head, and Rivet turns away from her gaze as she nibbles at the next fish finger. Her posture droops. "Okay, fine. I was a little worried."
Kit hums and after a moment of contemplation says, "Pardon me if I am too bold for saying so, but I do not believe it is a bad thing to worry about one's friends. In fact, I would imagine it to be an unavoidable consequence of friendship."
Rivet doesn't know what to say to that. She furrows her brows at the fight down below for a while, then glances at Kit from the corner of her eye.
"I know you're right," she concedes with a sigh. "I guess I'm still just getting used to having friends to worry about. Sure, I always had the Morts, but…and besides—" she swings the half-eaten fish stick around in the air between them "—is Pierre really even a friend? I mean, we've probably shot at each other more often than we've sat down and had a civil conversation at this point. But I dunno. He finally does one decent thing in his entire life, and then he disappears off the map without a trace. So. Yeah. I guess I kinda wondered what happened when I'd gotten used to randomly bumping into him literally all the time."
Wide, blue optics stare up at her, and Rivet suddenly feels embarrassed at her outburst. Kit holds her lemonade between both hands and opens her mouth, but the familiar brash crowing of drunken pirates cuts her off. Rivet rests her elbow on the back of her chair and turns to see what the fuss is about.
A trio of pirates barrel their way through the pub before plopping themselves unsteadily around a table at the edge of the dining area.
"Oi!" hollers the lady among them as her cohorts shake with uncontrollable howls of laughter, and the patrons nearby eye the group with disdain. "Pierre! Where ye be hidin' in this bloomin' place? We know yer here, ye gutless bilge rat! So show yerself!"
Oh. Right. That sudden need for a career change Pierre had mentioned. She'd thought he'd gotten in trouble with some big wig somewhere and was just lying low until it all blew over and was forgotten about. It wouldn't be the first time. What she hadn't expected was that he'd managed to turn his own crew against him. Lucky for him, Zurkie's has a trillium-clad no weapons or violence policy.
Ah. That suddenly makes a lot more sense too. She has to give him credit for that one.
She spots Pierre before the pirates do, and whatever idiotic thing he's done to invoke their wrath, it's hard not to feel bad for him when he's got that look of dread on his face. But he schools it into a passable smile and sidles up to the table. When he catches sight of her watching, the expression falters.
She turns back around, staring down hard at her food as she strains her ears for any snippets of the ensuing conversation. But having found what they were looking for, the pirates no longer see fit to obnoxiously air their dirty laundry to the entire building. She catches overtones of their wordless voices drifting amid the pub's usual background noise, but nothing more. On occasion a guffaw punctuates the mix, and once even the sound of Pierre's hesitant laughter breaks its way through.
She gives it a minute or so before sneaking another peek, and seeing that Pierre is gone, she slips out of her seat.
"Hold down the fort, Kit. I'll be right back."
.
.
He's facing away from her, gathering up mugs, and she finds just enough space at the end of the bar closest to him to rest her forearm on.
"What's going on, Pierre?"
He yelps, starting at the unexpected question, and she winces when the mugs all shatter to the floor. Zurkie turns from his conversation with a customer at the other end of the bar, but before he can say or do anything, Rivet butts in, half throwing herself over the countertop to catch his attention. "It was my fault, Zurkie, not his. Just add it to my tab."
Zurkie heaves a sigh but goes back to what he was doing. Pierre, however, does not. He looms over her, glowering all the while, and says, "My personal business is no concern of yours. Now if you would please, I have a job to do." With that, he kneels to dispose of the broken glass.
"But, Pierre—"
"Non!" He shoots back up from behind the bar, taking her by surprise. "Do not 'but Pierre' me! I said I was handling it, and I am!"
They've been angry with each other plenty in the past, but she's never seen him quite like this before. Rivet takes a step back, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "And I'm sure you are. I just want to help. As your friend."
Those seem to be the magic words that extinguish Pierre's rage. Even so, he eyes her with suspicion. Zurkie makes a sound akin to clearing his throat, and Pierre sighs, returning to his task of clearing the floor. In a clipped tone he says, "I have my break in an hour. If you still happen to be here by then, we can talk."
"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere."
She lingers by the bar afterward, snatching the tray of drinks out of his hands before he can even fully cross from the employee's side to the customers'.
"Let me guess. These go to our grogged up hearties over there, right? They're practically on the way back to my table. I got this."
"What are you doing, you most troublesome lombax?" He sounds tired as he half-heartedly tries to take the tray back, but Rivet has more conviction and thus easy slips out of reach.
"Helping," she says brightly, tilting her head up at him with a toothy grin. He throws his arms out in defeat, muttering to himself in that language of his that she doesn't understand, before retaking his place behind the bar. "Oh, and Pierre?" He jerks his head back around, and his eye slants in irritation. "Buy yourself a drink when you come see me and Kit, and put it on my tab. You look like you could really use it."
His expression shifts from sullen to sultry in an instant, but before he can spin her words into something they're not, she sets off.
The pirates don't notice her as she walks up, their heads huddled together conspiratorially, and she slams the tray against the tabletop, drink spilling over the top of the mugs with a satisfying slosh. Two of them jump and crack their heads together, but all three turn to glare daggers at her. Unfazed by the hostility, Rivet leans onto the table.
"Alright. So what's your beef with Pierre?"
One of the pirates rubs a hand furiously against the side of his head and says, "So the mangy coward's got his squishy little strumpet fightin' his battles for him now, has he?"
Rivet bristles at the crass remark. "Um. No? This, heh, 'squishy little strumpet' has just been out of the loop for a while and is trying to catch back up." She pulls out the empty chair and seats herself among them, pushing the tray further into the center of the table. "So, what'd he do? It must've been a real doozy to knock him down from captain to—"
"Cap'n!" the lady pirate spits out viciously, and her optics blow wide, giving her a look of utter derangement. "Is that what he be tellin' all ye landlubbers? That he was our cap'n?"
"I—no," Rivet backtracks, floored by the vehemence in her voice. "I just assumed. You know, first mate and all, and after what happened to Quantum—"
"Don't ye dare be speakin' our beloved cap'n's name with yer filthy, squishy tongue," the third pirate laments, voice cracking at the mention of his dearly departed cap'n, and he drowns his sorrows with a large gulp of his drink. The other two clink their glasses together with a solemn bow of their heads before following suit. Rivet stares.
"Only reason we ever tolerated Pierre in the first place was because the cap'n seemed to think he was worthy of his salt," the second pirate says. "But after breakin' article four…"
There's a short pause before the first pirate takes over. "After the execution, we was gonna tell the cap'n he had a run in with the resistance and didn't make it out alive—"
"Which shoulda been the way of it besides," the third pirate grumbles, clutching his mug and staring down into it as though it contained all the answers of the universe within its boozy depths.
Rivet waves her hands in front of her. "Wait, wait, wait. Execution? Article four?"
"Aye. We was almost rid of him," the second pirate says, a wistful look crossing over her face. Then it hardens. "But your lombax matey barged into Ardolis and set him free 'fore we could finish the job proper."
Rivet falls against the back of her seat and blinks. This is all news to her. Sure, things had been pretty hectic back then with the Emperor's return and Sargasso and Zordoom and…well. Now that she thinks about it, maybe there never really was a time for any of this news to surface before now.
"Article four," she says slowly. She furrows her brow and thinks back to the bits and pieces she's picked up in her countless squabbles with these guys over the years. She looks up in disbelief. "Is this whole thing really about what happened in Molonoth?"
"In part," confirms the first pirate. "At the time we be needin' a reason to justify the killin'. We may be the scourge of the galaxy, lass, but we can't just go killin' off of our own in cold blood just coz we can't stand the guy. It makes for poor morale among the crew, wouldn't you know it? But then he went on and committed the unforgivable sin of scuttlin' his command ship."
"But that was ages ago. You're pirates! You lose ships every single day, and your fleet is still so huge that even the Emperor couldn't stop you guys. Speaking of. You lost way more when fighting against him, but you still want to execute Pierre over scuttling one measly ship while he was trying to kill—" she falters "—uh. Well. Me. I guess. Anyways. You wanted a reason to get rid of him, and now you have. You don't like him? Fine. Sure. I get that. I really, really do. So why bother coming after him even after you've chased him out of your exclusive little club?"
The three of them share a look, and the second pirate says, "That be another thing added to his list of transgressions. We had no business bein' a part of that battle. The Emperor was a fearsome foe to all, to be sure, but we pirates flourished under his rule. And the losses we sustained in endin' it just ain't be worth it. So that all be fallin' on Pierre's head."
Rivet can't even begin to wrap her mind around the absurdity of the whole situation. The one decent thing he'd done in his life. And this was the consequence of it. She bites the inside of her lip. She doesn't know how, yet, but she's going to fix this.
"So what'll it take to get you off his back?" she asks, though she's pretty sure she won't like the answer.
"His head on a pike, for starters!" the third pirate belts out, and he and his fellows cackle heartily in response. Rivet frowns.
"Anything else a little less," she waves a hand in the air, "fatal? Maybe?"
The overhead speaker crackles to life above them and calls for the next group of combatants to begin making their way to the arena elevators. Rivet turns in her seat and eyes the sign up station. Her ears perk up.
"How about a good, old-fashioned butt-kicking? Me. Versus all of you. If I win, you move on with your lives and leave Pierre alone. If you win, I'll distract Zurkie and his bouncers while you drag him out to do your thing."
They don't seem all that impressed with her offer, though.
The first pirate scoffs. "We ain't be fallin' for that trick, lass. Yer lethal as they come in that arena, and we're not the fools ye be thinkin' we are."
"Riiiight," Rivet says, tapping a finger to her chin. She casts about, trying to think up something to sweeten the deal. She finds it when her eyes fall over the bar. Pierre catches her looking his way and immediately turns to face the customer he's serving instead. She smiles. "What if I were to propose a handicap?"
"We be listenin'," the second pirate says, though her eyes narrow in distrust.
"Me and Pierre against you three and however many pirate mateys you can round up in the next hour before he goes on break." This seems to pique their interest. "You get your chance to try and stab him, and I'll be so busy covering his lousy behind that you should actually stand a chance for once."
As one, they duck their heads together in the middle of the table. The third pirate glares at her before holding up the tray to block them from her view. She shakes her head but leans back against her chair anyways. She can't make heads or tails of the whispered conversation taking place in front of her, but occasionally a head pops into view to give her a dirty look before dipping back down once again.
Stretching her arms above her head, she glances around and returns Kit's curious look with a cheerful wave until finally, the tray falls back to the table. The three of them eye her blankly before the first says, "Ye be havin' yerself a deal, lombax."
"Great!" She slams her hands to the table and rises to her feet. "I'll go sign us in and bribe Junior to bump us up if I need to while you three go round up your hearties or whatever."
They chug the rest of their drinks before getting to their feet and leaving the dining area. Once Rivet has signed them up, to Junior's immense and nigh ear-shattering glee, she finally makes her way back to Kit. She drops into her chair and continues stuffing her face as if she hadn't been away long enough for her food to become cold and soggy. It's still good though.
"Do I even dare to ask?"
Rivet grins. "Oh, man. I cannot wait to see the look on Pierre's face when I tell him what's going on."
.
.
"You did WHAT?!"
Rivet just barely manages to dodge out of the way of whatever Pierre had been drinking before he'd spewed it across the table. He splutters further, and unsure of whether he can actually choke or if he's just being dramatic, she lifts a hand and gives him a few firm pats on the back. He ends up pushing her away and standing.
"Do you know what will happen if you send me in there with those bloodthirsty ne'er do wells? Because I do!"
She reaches out for his arm, gently tugging at it in an effort to get him to sit back down. "Hey. Don't worry about it. I've got it covered, alright?"
"Do not worry about it, Pierre, she says. I've got it covered, Pierre, she says. I am only trying to get you ruthlessly murdered by your former mateys in front of a live audience under the pretense of helping you, Pierre, she says!"
"No, really," she actually does say. "Just sit down and hear me out. I think you're gonna love it."
"Fine," he says dully, the fight all leached out of him, and he does as she requests. "Tell me all about this magnificent plan of yours that most assuredly will not end in my ultimate and untimely demise. I am, as you say, all ears."
"Alright, alright, alright," she begins, practically bouncing in her seat at the sheer simplistic brilliance of it. "So here's what's going to happen, okay? We're going to go out into the arena, right? And once we're there, you're gonna do what you always do, while I? Go do what I always do." She nods and elbows him in the side, a wordless if you catch my drift.
She sees the moment he does, and he stares down at her as though he's never seen her before. She gives him an expectant look, and he responds with a gleeful laugh, taking up his drink once more. Sliding his forearm across the table, he leans in after it to fix her with a mischievous smirk.
"I see someone has quite the silver tongue. Has anyone ever told you that you would make an excellent pirate? It is a shame you are ineligible to join. Back when I actually had a crew of my own I would have poached you on the spot." Then his expression sobers. "While I do appreciate the effort, you do realize it will not help, no? They are pirates, after all. Treachery and deceit make up their very cores. They will not stop hunting me, no matter what happens here tonight."
Rivet slumps over the table. "Yeah, probably not." She tilts her head up at him and offers a helpless shrug. "But it'll still be fun to see the look on their stupid faces when they realize they've been duped, won't it?"
He begins to respond, but static fills the air around them.
"Will Rivet and Pierre please make their way to elevator A? Pirate hearties, please form a line at elevator B. We ask you all to remember that no bloodshed is permitted until the match has officially begun. Any and all offenses will result in a two week ban from Zurkie's establishment. Thank you all, and have a nice evening."
Rivet stands. She can already feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins at the prospect of a good fight. "Well. That's our cue. You ready, Pierre?"
Pierre sits frozen, the darting of his eye over the table the only indication that he's still functioning at all. Then he leaps to his feet and pulls the apron over his head to drape it over his chair.
"I am as ready as I will ever be," he says. He rolls his shoulders, twists from side to side a few times, and when he strides forward, it's with that familiar purposeful swagger she never thought she'd be happy to see. "Come now, ma chérie. We have a most glorious show to perform."
Returning Kit's thumbs up with one of her own, Rivet follows after him. He manages to keep his composure even during the short time where they're forced in close quarters with the droves of jeering pirates, and it's not until they make it to the elevator and their weapons handed to them that she begins to feel a little roil of something in her gut that has nothing to do with her fried appetizers.
She straps her glove to her prosthetic hand.
It's not nervousness. She knows she can take these guys. And she's looking forward to doing it again. A sidelong glance shows Pierre straightening his belt and testing drawing his sword from its sheath. She doesn't think it's him either. This entire plan is centered around him bailing on her at his earliest possible convenience. So it's not like she has to worry about him betraying her. Speaking of.
"Hey, catch." She tosses a small metal device his way and he looks it over before clamping it around his wrist. "You know how to use that thing?" she asks, aiming for playful but falling slightly flat.
He smiles regardless. "I know I have not been in the habit of fighting my own battles these days, but once upon a time, I did have to. I think I can manage a swingshot of all things."
"Heh. Yeah. Of course." She rubs her elbow with her gloved hand, and the elevator begins its slow descent. Her stomach does that little flop again. "So," she says, watching the final moments of the preceding fight through the glass. "Were you ever going to mention that they tried to execute you because of me?"
He makes a long, wordless sound that she chooses to take as a dismissal of her words.
"That is in the past," he says. "And, if I do not play my cards just right, possibly in the very near future as well. But no. It had nothing to do with you. I made my decision foolishly assuming that having the captain's favor would protect me from the consequences. It did not." He shrugs. "C'est la vie."
"And with the Emperor?"
He frowns, and his voice is bitter when he says, "Now that matter is a bit more complicated. But once again, nothing to do with you." He pins her with an expression she can't quite read. "Is that what this is all about? Your misplaced guilt over my current spiral of misfortune?"
She shakes her head, but he looks doubtful. Then the door opens and the crowds above welcome them to the arena with a deafening roar.
They step out together, waving and grinning, and Pierre follows it all up with bow after flourishing bow. A platform goes zooming by overhead and a screeching voice cries out, "My fiends! Are you ready for another death-defying struggle fought against impossible odds?!"
The crowd yells out their approval, but it's not enough for Junior. "Are your vocal processors all failing right now? I can't HEAR you!"
They cheer again, somehow even louder than before, and it's been long enough since she'd last stepped into the arena that Rivet had almost forgotten just how much she loved this adrenaline-fueled rush. Junior's platform moves to hover just above them.
"For our first team, we have an unlikely team up Zurkon Jr. never knew he needed. You've watched with bated breath as she kicked major butt from here to Bogon! And I think we all remember the time we found him cowering from his own shadow."
The crowd laughs, and Pierre lets out an affronted squawk. "Rude! Never have I ever!"
"Give it up for our favorite lombax and disgraced ex-first mate: Rivet and Pierre Le Fer! What treachery awaits these two foes turned allies? I'm glad you asked. Nobody tell the fire marshal, but on our other team we've got every last pirate from Ardolis!"
The platform speeds away to the other end, and Rivet presses the side of her glove. A blaster springs into existence in her hand. She looks up at Pierre who's fiddling with the swingshot around his wrist.
"Hey," she calls over to him, and he looks down. It's amazing he can even hear her over the thunderous applause around them. She opens her mouth, but the words catch in her throat, and with a frustrated sigh she glares at the floor and taps out a rhythm against her thigh with the gun. She takes a deep breath and looks up to try again.
"I'm not doing this because I feel guilty. I'm doing this because…because—" she looks away, scans the crowd in search of the right words. "You know, in all the time I've known you, you've been a coward and a cheat and a liar." And yeah. So. Judging by his scandalized look, that probably wasn't the best way to start out this whole thing, but she has a point she's trying to make, so before he can protest her assessment, she presses on.
"But. When it came down to it? When the whole universe was in jeopardy? You stepped up. You didn't have to. Nobody even asked you to. But in the end you were right there with the rest of us, risking your life the same as everyone else. And honestly? I can't believe I'm saying this. But I'm proud of you, Pierre."
She's too far beyond embarrassed to do anything but smile up at him, and his jaw bobs up and down speechlessly.
But then Junior's countdown comes to a close and the buzzer blares and the pirates all arg and Pierre steps forward, swiping the blaster from her hand as he does so. Claiming his delicate constitution is to blame for his inability to fully participate in the festivities, he aims the swingshot at one of the platforms circling above and disappears from the arena floor.
Hands on her hips, Rivet plays along, shaking her head as if to say she should have expected as much. Some of the crowd laughs. Some of the crowd cheers. Some of them boo. Junior screams into the microphone ecstatically, unable to decide whether he's enraged or pleased at the turn of events. Calling up another weapon to her hands, she looks out over the arena.
She'd definitely been right about one thing, though. The looks on all their stupid faces as they realize they've been played are pretty great.
.
.
A/N: Cards on the table, I joke shipped these two for all of twenty seconds before realizing the joke was on me. And then I kinda shoved that thought into a drawer while I sorted out how I felt about it. That said, this fic is absolutely, one-hundred percent platonic friendship fluff in my eyes.
Give or take a few percent. But yeah. Mostly the friendship thing.
I actually thought there would be stuff outside of Zurkie's before I actually started writing it, but it mutated in the best of ways. Hopefully, I'll solidify some of those vague ideas I had and turn this into a little one shot series. There was supposed to be a short little scene after the battle, too, but...I kind of really ended up adoring the idea of making Rivet's little speech the end.
