Soot
She has spent all morning in the engine room with Balthier. His beloved Strahl has not been running well of late, so that whenever the sky pirate heard the spluttering thrum of the engines, he grimaced.
It was Fran who suggested they cease delaying the inevitable, and take a look at the engine. Balthier, breathing out a long sigh, reluctantly agreed. He had taken off his vest and rolled up his sleeves, preparing for the heartbreak that was to come. Fran had watched him with some bemusement, for the ship was as cold and inanimate as the Wood was lively and green.
"Wrench, Fran," Balthier mutters. A grease-blackened hand emerges from underneath the inner workings of the ship, and Fran passes him the tool. Folding onto her knees, she reaches into a panel and makes her own repairs.
Usually there would be banter, mostly from Balthier and his upper-class drawl, but not today. Fran almost finds it cute the way he is concentrating so hard on his repairs that he cannot afford a single, lazy quip.
Finally, the clinking sounds of metal falls silent, and Balthier slides out from the engine. He looks... Fran bites her lip, holding in her mirth. A mess.
His arms are blackened to the elbows, with grease threatening to stain his sleeves even higher than the rolled-up cuffs. His hair sticking up in all directions, a far cry from the neatly combed style he usually wore. His shirt, [his fine, white shirt!] is all but ruined. But he is smirking, that trademark smirk of his, like he meant to appear before her looking as ridiculous as he did.
"Lost in my eyes Fran, hmm?" he asks, shouldering the wrench.
Fran's mouth quirks up into a smile. Damned sky pirate. No one so vain should have that kind of confidence in the face of such...unkemptness. She has a sudden, mad urge to fluster him, to break through his barrier of charms and smiles.
Without knowing why, she slowly walks over to him, silent. She stands a little closer than necessary, but she knows Balthier will not step back. The smirk never drops from his face, yet his eyes are watching her.
Fran reaches out and touches a sooty smear on his chin, wiping it off with her thumb. He seems completely at ease, but she knows better. He breathing stopped when she touched him, and all the grease in the world couldn't hide the slight blush spreading across his cheeks.