"That's it," Penelo whispers, sounding awfully grim for a woman who is getting just the rescue mission she'd asked for.
Bhujerba floats on the night sky like a dream. Stars sparkle above and below, even visible through the gaps between the skygrounds. From this angle, the moon stands nearly on the same level as the city, impossibly large. The city itself slumbers peacefully in the cradle between moon and sky.
It is, of course, breathtaking. Balthier has known it to make some of the women he'd taken to see the sight swoon, and not a few of the men, as well.
But there's no sense in expecting Penelo to react like a normal woman.
Balthier brushes past her, reminds her that she might care to strap herself in, and seats himself beside Fran. She occupies the copilots chair, and often seems more comfortable there than anywhere else on the ship. Whatever she says, she does have a pirate's heart.
He takes the controls of the Strahl, and begins steering her in the direction of the Aerodrome, leaving the engine output and speed to Fran's good offices. The Strahl's controls glide smoothly, but not so easily that he cannot feel the muscle of the engines beneath. As always, he suppresses a smile of pride.
"So," Penelo says over his shoulder. "When are we going to start shaking down the town?" She sounds almost too eager as she says it.
Fran twists a few dials, easing back on the Strahl's power, letting Balthier steer with a little more precision. "Penelo, it's the middle of the night."
"Exactly. Isn't this just the time when criminals are out?"
Balthier thinks he might just have to look into her sources. Probably Vaan, and definitely false. "I always preferred nine to five, myself. More victims about." He tapped the side of his head. "Regardless, if some common thugs had appropriated your Vaan, they'd have released him out of sheer annoyance by now."
Fran laughs softly. Bhujerba's skydocks are drawing nearer, and he eases the Strahl in the direction of an unoccupied hangar bay.
"No, we'd best start our search in the morning. We'll sleep on the ship. And I expect to get started bright and early tomorrow, so best get some rest; the sooner we find Vaan, the sooner we can leave."
Balthier is a skilled pilot (if he does say so himself), and the ship lands neatly in the center of the bay. The sound of the landing stabilizers descending underscore his words, and brook no argument.
Balthier awakens the next morning to Fran's fingers trailing down his neck and over his shoulders. It's a very pleasant sensation, if a little ticklish, and he grunts as much into the pillow. Her touch is warm, sensuous... Gods, he loves that he didn't take Jules' advice about her.
Being woken by Fran is a fairly regular occurrence; Balthier insists on his beauty rest, but since he and Fran share rooms, he does not often get as much as he would like. (The Strahl, while near-perfect, is not so blessed in living space that all aboard can have private quarters. Balthier may or may not have been pleased when discovering this particular 'flaw' in the design.) Still, this particular variant on the scenario is unfortunately rare.
She says his name softly, her fingernails now just making the lightest contact with the sensitive skin along his jawline.
"We're about to be late," she says.
Balthier wanted to tell her that something about that statement isn't all that steamy, but he gets as far as, "Fraagrhn..." It's embarrassing. Best damned pirate in Ivalice, and he can't even manage a coherent sentence.
Her fingers trail down his cheek, cool and delicate. "Penelo will be most disappointed."
Balthier would like to tell her that Penelo can very well wait an hour, and that while this bed is small, it can most certainly accommodate her as well as him. However, "No... Bed," is the extent of his conversational skills.
It would be a little easier if her touch wasn't interfering so strongly with his ability to think. All Fran's fault, of course. She knows his ways.
Now her fingers move over the curve of his lower lip, and he can feel her callouses against him. Bliss.
And then she moves once more, and...
The bloody pillow is yanked out from beneath his head.
"Fran!" Coherency returns with a rush.
He's certain now that he can hear her laugh, low and like the wind through leaves. Also damned annoying, when at his expense.
"Where is your early start this morning?"
"What's the time?" he asks with as much dignity as he can muster. It isn't much, because he dangles one hand over the edge of the bunk, feeling for the pilfered pillow. His fingers meet with Fran's thigh, leaving him to assume that she is kneeling at the bedside. He allows that this is far superior to a pillow, anyways.
"Nearly eight. Penelo is also a late riser."
Balthier finally cracks an eye open. His copilot is a vision right now, and not in the least because a few key parts of her clothing seem to have vanished. Her bracers and bolero are gone, leaving only skin and velvety fur from wrist to chest. Fran also appears to have forgotten a few articles of clothing a bit lower down, a fashion choice which Balthier most wholeheartedly approves.
He meets her eyes. They are alight with amusement and seduction, and the rarely-seen mischievous smile delights him.
"Our chance for an early start already blown, then? Shame." And with that, he takes her by the wrist and scoots over to make more room in bed for her.
"Morning, Penelo," Balthier says as he emerges into the cockpit, over an hour later.
"Hi, Balthier." Penelo is perched in the pilot's chair, occupied with a pastry she must have bought in the Aerodrome outside. "What was keeping you?"
Fran enters then, from their quarters in the back of the ship. She's fully clothed now, but there's something positively lewd in the way that she delicately raises an eyebrow at Balthier. All this is hidden from Penelo, naturally.
"Nothing, just some beauty rest. We're not all as naturally radiant as you," Balthier quips, returning Fran's glance with exaggerated verve.
Penelo laughs. "Alright, alright, I forgive you. I got you guys some strawberry ones," she says as she brandishes her pastry. "Better eat up, or I'll leave without you two."
"Gracious lady," Balthier says, taking the offered sweets and handing one off to Fran.
The Aerodrome is as busy as always, particularly at this time of day. All the benches in the passenger waiting area are full, the air smells of magicite and engine grease, and the complaints on delayed flights have already begun. All is right in the world.
"I suppose we should start with the Marquis' residence," Balthier drawls, "though I doubt we'll find his staff accommodating. If only Lady Ashe could be counted upon."
He lets himself smile indulgently at Penelo's chipper reply of "Roger, captain," and watches as she runs out of the Aerodrome and into the city. He and Fran follow in a more dignified manner.
Outside, the day is already warm and bright, the sun leaching color from the stone walkways and leaving the it instead on the faces of the people treading them.
Bhujerba is, as always, more pleasant than Rabanastre. Maybe it's something in Balthier's pirate blood, but a city in the sky strikes a chord deep within him. Maybe it's because everyone's a pirate here - assuming they're not the Marquis, anyone in his employ, or a miner.
Penelo, too, seems to like it; she's run a bit ahead of him and Fran and is waiting for them to catch up while she peers through one of the grates in the city's streets. At the moment, she has a few finger poked through the lattices in one of them, heedless of altitude.
When he and his companion draw closer though, Penelo gets to her feet and falls into step just in front of them, looking for all the world as though she intends to lead this expedition herself, damn it all.
The city is crowded today, probably a natural consequence of the war's end. Bhujerba's streets are wide, but they become claustrophobic just as soon as they reach the main avenue. People loiter on street edges, push past their fellows, and sometimes just get knocked over. Of course, Parijanah stand by, ready to keep order, but they only add to the bustle.
The air smells of hot clay, baked goods, and sweat, a nauseating combination. And any attempt at preserving personal space is in vain, to Balthier's endless distaste. Worse, he finds himself craning his neck and dodging around idiot pedestrians in his way, just to keep Penelo in sight.
Until, that is, Penelo drops back beside them. She's a little pale, but she says quite calmly and clearly: "Balthier, we've got a little problem."
"And what is that?"
"Right there," she says, pointing to a shadowed little alcove off the street. Crouched within, looking quite suspicious (as per usual), is his least favorite Bangaa bounty hunter.
Ba'Gamnan. Again.
A/N: The next two chapters are already close to being done, and are less... fluffy. Anyways, read, enjoy, and please consider reviewing.