72. Bad Days
The phone is ringing, and Irvine is not feeling terribly compelled to answer it, so he doesn't. It's Squall's office, anyway, so what's the point? He sharpens another pencil and chucks it at the ceiling, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed in the eye as it fails to stick. It hits him on the head, instead. He's been waiting for half an hour now–he's pretty sure that Squall abandoned them all and went on holiday somewhere warm. Balamb sucks during the winter.
"Stop wasting pencils." Squall's carrying what looks to be a keg of coffee–judging by the dark circles under his eyes, Irvine wouldn't be surprised if the commander made Dr. Kadowaki give him the stuff intravenously.
"Sharpenin' 'em for you."
"Stop it." Squall snatches the telephone off its cradle so hard Irvine is amazed that it doesn't go flying off the desk. "Leonhart."
"Kill you to get some manners?" Irvine mutters and Squall gives him a death glare.
"Excuse me?" Squall's tone has Irvine ceasing trying to figure out the password to the commander's computer. "...I don't have time for games."
There's a man on the phone, and he doesn't sound terribly amused. At Irvine's raised eyebrow, Squall stabs the speakerphone button, ignoring his better judgement for now.
"–said, where the fuck's Quistis?"