A/N - My apologies for the delay. Christmas is a busy time of year!

Worry

The man standing in front of Balthier wants very much to shoot him right now, but now he is unsure. His boss told him the sky pirate on the face of countless wanted posters offering countless gil for his head was lower than dirt. An lewd, crude scumbag whose exploits were successful mainly due to luck and a total disregard for human life. Once cornered, such a sniveling man should cower and plead for his life.

So why is he casually leaning against the wall?

Balthier is more ill at ease than his outward appearance suggests. After all, a man is pointing a gun at his face. No, not a man, a boy. He has never had someone so young come after him. A bounty hunter would aim for his heart, not his head. He grimaces inwardly. B'Gamnan would aim for his stomach and throw him into the ocean. Lovely seeq, that B'Gamnan.

So now, to return to the threat of imminent death. Balthier supposes he ought to learn this would be killer's intentions.

"I take it," he begins, "that you intend to shoot me?

The boy's aim spasms violently. "Y-yes!"

Balthier winces. Voice still not broken. These street rats were getting younger and younger. "Well then, I'm afraid I cannot allow that."

The boy makes a strangled sound. Balthier raises an eyebrow. Tattered, patched and re-patched shirt [a crime against all shirts, surely!], dirty face, no shoes...this boy was probably hired by some rich aristocrat who feared Balthier would next relieve them of their possessions. He was probably promised a cut of the reward. And yet, Balthier is not moved to pity. He is not a charitable man when it comes to someone pointing a gun in his face, however naïve and inept they may be.

Still seemingly lounging against the wall, Balthier stares the boy down. "If you remain here, there will be a shot fired today, but I cannot guarantee that it will not be at you." Hopefully, the lad hears the thread of steel enter his voice.

"N-no! I have to do this!" the boy all but shrieks. Damn stubborn lad!

Suddenly, a new voice enters the room. "Balthier, you have gotten into difficulties again," says Fran, surveying the scene.

"Oh...oh dear," says Balthier, casting an anxious look at the boy.

"What? W-what is it?" the boy splutters.

"You had better go. Fran is here!" he stage whispers. The boy looks apprehensive. "What have you heard from your master about her?" Balthier continues.

"Well, I've heard a few things..." the boy says.

"All true."

"Get out while you still can," Fran adds, dangerously. Balthier is glad she is content to play along. The boy hovers for a moment, then bolts out of the door.

"Admit it Balthier. You could have talked your way out of that one without involving me," Fran says, clearly irritated.

"Ah yes, but it would not have been as fun," explains Balthier, smirking. Fran makes a noncommittal noise. "Oh Fran, I was in deathsome peril of being peppered with bullets! Can't you say in the least that you were concerned for my wellbeing?" Balthier asks, somehow pulling off an earnest expression.

Fran doesn't quite look him in the eye. "I always am." She touches his shoulder. "I always am." And suddenly this conversation is about something else entirely.