!! Treasure

It was one of those little surprises that life delighted him with sometimes. One minute backing into a quiet corner to load his gun, the next glancing over his shoulder as a knot of rope and metal bumped against his calf. A treasure chest.

"Why, hello there, gorgeous," Balthier murmured, even as one hand strayed dangerously away from his weapon. A single little peek couldn't hurt. It was but a moment's work to lean down, prop Beltegeuse against a handy tree, feel along the chest lid for a lock -

A cry rang out among the trees, bringing Balthier's attention back from material preoccupations. Rather dazedly, as if from a dream, he brought his eyes back up to focus. Vaan was having trouble with his Malboro assailant further along the suspended pathwalk. Balthier sighed. There was never any rest for the wicked.

All right; how long could it possibly take? He'd have to move out of the shadows - the battle was migrating by the second - and reload with the Silent Shot he'd somehow neglected to put in before. Why was that, now? Delicate brown brows furrowed to recollect. Ah, yes, because he'd found a treasure chest.

It was a lovely treasure chest, he mused, first-rate craftsmanship. And Balthier's roving fingers had found no fissures in the lock, nor did the chest sound hollow when he'd tapped its smooth wooden side. The rarest of rarities, then: undamaged, unlooted, carefully hidden away from greedy hands. Someone had really wanted to protect its contents. Naturally, Balthier was alive with curiosity to see those contents for himself. Maybe he'd even have to take them into his own possession for safekeeping. Precious treasure, after all, had no business being left all by its lonesome in the jungle. There could be robbers.

And Vaan was a big boy; he could take care of himself.

Of course he could.

Right.

Better make a run for it. The quicker to undo the lock, the quicker to return to help his companions in battle. Not that they needed help, surely. Balthier wheeled about.

"Leave it."

Dammit.

"I can hear you sneaking away."

Damn Viera and their inhumely sensitive ears! Fran was more than twenty feet off and spearing Marlboro flesh to boot - hardly a quiet activity - but she'd caught him out as easily as if they were standing shoulder to shoulder. Balthier stopped cold, though his eyes traveled longingly to the round little chest beckoning from the shade.

"It'll be but a second's work," he called, as reasonably as he could muster. If Fran would just leave off killing everything in her path and turn around and look at the chest, she'd surely understand.

"No."

"But -"

"Balthier."

"All right."

There was absolutely no use arguing with a woman. It was Balthier's private theory that large amounts of adrenaline, produced for example in the midst of battle, could provoke in a member of the fairer sex heightened irrationality and pettiness in behavior. Why else would Fran begrudge him even the small, momentary, fleeting pleasure of opening a treasure chest? She knew how he felt about them. Yes, granted, there were now five Marlboros breathing noxious fumes on his companions, aided by a random passing Panther. And yes, Vaan was mere moments from collapsing - all right, now he had succumbed to a combination of poison and blood-loss - which Balthier might have prevented if he'd been more vigilant in the wings. But who could have predicted it? It was so easy for Fran to glare at him now, after the fact.

Balthier sighed deeply as he fished a tuft of phoenix down out of a pouch. Sometimes, he thought mournfully, there was just no sympathy in this world.

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notes: Yes, it's true. My party leaders would much rather obtain 200 gil than fend off enemies. The Gambit commands, being automatic, quite often save me from myself D: Please leave feedback!