The last battle two hours ago had left Squall more disgruntled than exhausted. His muscles are sore enough for an entire day's worth, but he just isn't tired enough yet, for some reason. The extra unspent energy that is still there mildly bugs him, begging to be used up so he could fall into a somewhat deep sleep later.
Uninterrupted slumber is a luxury these days, but Laguna insisted on it for them kids, assigning them less days on lookout duty compared to the adults. Vaan and Zidane liked the idea, while the Kid Knight had to be sat down and talked to by Bartz for it.
Being treated like a kid is another thing that miffs him, but that's a story for another day.
It's still pretty early out, enough time for some semblance of recreation before bedtime. The waves of light around the Tower of Harmony are visible even from this distance, easing the small knot of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. It's a natural phenomenon shared by all Warriors of Cosmos, he was told. Now, he doesn't know whether the reassurance he feels is real or manufactured like everything else in this world.
Squall stalks off at the thought, frustrated, deciding to clear his head in a different manner. The makeshift shooting range they had built the last time they set up camp here should still be intact, if the manikins or the other travelling groups haven't gotten to it first. The other two marksmen in theirs are still eating dinner, so he'll have the whole area to himself.
Except he doesn't, after all, as he hears quick shots ring out in succession while walking up the small hill leading to the cliffs. He stifles his annoyance for now, planning to wait until the other person is done before he gets his turn.
There are a few clicks followed by silence as the other person finishes their current round. Squall waits a few more minutes before taking his cue; whoever's at the top probably wouldn't mind him there if they're leaving anyway.
"Who's there?!"
The small pistol aimed point-blank at his chest doesn't surprise him as much as the identity of its wielder, who has… another one securely tucked in the obi around her waist, as if it were a proper holster of its own.
He blinks once, then twice more. "… Oh, it's you."
The Summoner travelling with Jecht is as taken aback as he is, and she hastily puts her gun away, clicking the safety back on before tucking it into her robes, as well. She offers a silent smile in apology, hands clasped together as she bows lightly. The odd mismatch between her appearance and demeanor, and what she had finished doing there just now, strikes a chord with him, and he lets out a small smile of his own before he knows it. "I didn't know you use firearms, too, ah…"
"Yuna," she offers, coming a little closer. "You must be Squall… Leonhart?"
He nods back in acknowledgement, still processing the way her accent softens the hard consonant sounds in his name, rounding them out like gentle waves lapping on fine sand. Squall finds himself strangely soothed by her presence, and he releases the breath he didn't know he was holding until now.
It is something that Yuna picks up on at once, and she motions him to sit with her. "May I?" she asks him, slender hands hovering in the small space between them, forming a small sphere. He recognizes it as a pose of prayer from their world, and he slowly nods, again unsure if his assent is of his own accord or yet another trick of this strange world.
He finds that he doesn't mind it at all, as soft, foreign chanting fills his ears and a gentle light envelops them both. His mind is a lot clearer afterward for it, and the soreness in his muscles too, is gone. Two-colored eyes meet his own when the light goes away, crinkling softly as Yuna smiles at him. "It is done."
A Cure spell— or at least something close to it, Squall realizes belatedly. It feels quite different from the one he knows; maybe it's because they are from different worlds, or maybe it's because it's her, specifically. The thought stills him for a moment longer than he wanted, and he feels as if he has inadvertently given himself away. "… Thanks."
Yuna shakes her head slightly, sharing, too, the faint blush that he no doubt has on, as well. "It was my pleasure." He is immediately drawn to the way her blue earring is slightly jostled as she moves ever-so-slightly, and cannot help the curious interest bubbling forth from inside him. Fortunately, he catches himself in time before his advancing hand goes over the invisible line between them both. "I… uh, didn't mean to."
She laughs this time, a refined chuckle only half-smothered by dainty fingers, yet boldly unrestrained in its fullness that makes him wonder how much of life she has gone through to be who she is now. "Fascinating" is definitely an understatement, Squall decides, as the desire to know her more overtakes almost everything else that mattered right now.
"Is it alright if we meet again here tomorrow?" Yuna unexpectedly makes the offer first. "If you're not leaving yet, of course."
This takes him aback, but not for long. Yet another one— she really is full of surprises.
He takes her outstretched hand in his, the initial electricity that passes between them immediately mellowing into a gentle, blooming warmth that fills the closed space there, from the tips of their fingers to their palms, with a light dusting of gunpowder from Yuna's own. "Of course. I'd love to shoot rounds of my own, too. Same time okay with you?"
"Yes." And she punctuates this with a single nod that has hope supplanting the calm, and underneath it, the frustration, too. Squall is certain now that this feeling is his own, and he begins to believe a little more, enough to let him trust the process and the workings of this strange world they are in. Until then, he'll hold on, for as long as it takes, if only he could see her again.