FFVIII || How Not to Date Blondes, Chapter Seven
Title: How Not To Date Blondes
Chapter Seven: In Which Many Headaches Are Created
Note for ff_press: I'm pretty sure these chapters have already been listed in the newsletter, so if you feel like skipping them, go ahead <3
Authors: first_seventhe and rosencrantz
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Quistis, Zell, Seifer, Cast (eventual Quistis/Zell)
Rating: M / R (Profanity, eventual mature situations)
Summary: Quistis is looking for another promotion. Zell is looking for some action with that cute library girl. And Seifer? He’s just looking for trouble.
Read it at fanfiction.net here.
Chapter 7: In Which Many Headaches Are Created
Zell Dincht wasn't always the type of person the average SeeD would want on their side in an emergency. Zell was known to have a short fuse, a raging temper and a foul mouth. He also wasn't much of a thinker, preferring to let his fists make most of his decisions; in fact, he'd thrown himself head-first into many fights - and lost - when a simple nod (or a Final Heaven) would've been much more effective. "Performs well under pressure" hadn't been checked on his review cards by any of his (many) Instructors. However, in the right circumstances Zell would've proved them all wrong. There was one thing Zell Dincht could be counted on for in a fight, and that was helping a friend in need.
He'd bundled Quistis up in his arms, rearranged all his Junctions for speed (Quistis wasn't exactly heavy) and taken off for Balamb Garden, gleaming in the distance. The sun had set over Balamb during their dinner, leaving the grounds around the Garden partially lit with twilight. Diablos churned out the Enc-None field, fueled by Zell’s anger, and none of the few roaming monsters Zell spotted even glanced in his direction.
Quistis was making little gurgling sounds in his arms, and the last time Zell had checked she'd been - well, bubbling was the only way he could think to put it: bubbling from the mouth. A huge, fierce wave of pity came over him as he glanced down at Quistis again. She'd started out frantically protesting his initial reaction, but as the red blotchy patch on her face had spread down her neck and across her collarbones, she'd eventually given up even trying to speak. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting gently against his shoulder. The fact that Quistis would let him see her this weak - no matter what the cause - made Zell feel warm and protective towards her. He'd get her back to normal, no matter what; she'd be scolding him again in no time.
The flash of the front gate caught his eye, and Zell realized suddenly that he'd left the van in Balamb. "Shit," he said aloud, pausing momentarily in his tracks. He was such an idiot. He'd high-tailed it out of Felicia's so fast he hadn't even remembered they had a van. "Dammit!"
Quistis shifted slightly, and his eyes narrowed in determination. He'd heal her first, and then he'd walk all the way back to Balamb if that's what it took. There was an easier way back into Garden for trespassers who knew where to look...
He snuck around to the back and gently set Quistis in the grass, jumping up onto an almost-hidden ledge and fumbling around for the switch. An engine whirred into life, and the repair door on one of the ventilation shafts popped open. Zell pumped a fist into the air in victory, and then leapt back to the ground. Quistis, now completely red-faced and swollen, had gotten shakily to her feet; she’d regained her bearings, at least a little, and had roughly pulled her hair back away from her blotchy face in an attempt to regain her poise. Her eyes were fiercely bright with embarrassment and injured pride, and Zell decided that picking her back up again might be hazardous to his health. Instead, he gestured for her to head into the ventilation tunnel, closing the trapdoor behind them. Quistis followed, a little shakily. Zell could hear her wheezing breath clearly in the empty tunnel, which made him want to hurry - but he didn’t think Quistis would be able to keep up if he started sprinting.
Quistis' throat was thick and clogged, but as she looked wildly around her, Zell could almost read the question on her face. "It's an old repair tunnel, prob'ly installed when they built that thing that makes Garden fly," he explained. "I found it one of the days I was checkin' out the engine."
Quistis' face darkened slightly, and she made an attempt to choke something out around her swollen vocal chords. Zell grinned, leading her forward. "I know exactly what you're thinkin', Quisty," he teased her. "It's either 'Zell, you idiot, what are you doing sneaking out of Garden,' or it's 'Zell, you idiot, we have a security breach on our hands!'" A glance at her face, answered by a firm angry nod, made him chuckle out loud.
"If you wanna know what I was doin' sneakin' out," Zell continued, pulling Quistis down a side path, "tough! That's none of yer damn business. An' second - what, you think I'm an idiot?" He shot her a grin. "I showed Selphie it, an' she set up a little security door with a password an' a camera that starts up if an alarm goes off. She an' Irvine use it when they wanna go out."
Quistis' eyes were wide; whether she was alarmed, impressed, or a little bit of both, Zell couldn't tell. "Here, see?" They'd come to the door, and Zell deftly entered a four-digit code. "It's our little secret, Quisty," he said proudly as the door unlocked itself with a thud. He pushed it open, led Quistis through, and then locked it behind him. His face wrinkled up for a second, but then he tugged at something on the floor to reveal another trapdoor, this time with a rope ladder.
"It leads down into the Library," Zell explained eagerly, and Quistis' face lit up with surprise - and a hint of respect. She nodded in understanding. There was an Esuna draw point in the Library. Zell had visited it plenty of times; he figured a couple rounds of Esuna would fix up Quisty's face enough that she'd be able to talk.
Zell popped the ventilation ceiling tile, and they climbed down the rope ladder into the Library. Quistis headed immediately towards the draw point, while Zell scrambled onto a nearby chair and stuffed the ladder back into the ceiling. When he came down, Quistis was standing next to the draw point, giving him a panicked look.
"What?" He looked her over: she was still red and puffy.
Quistis gestured angrily towards her throat, attempting to choke something out. Failing to make herself understood, she stalked over to a nearby desk and grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil. I CAN'T CAST, she wrote in angry capital letters, underlining it once and then gesturing towards her throat again.
"Oh," Zell said, with a grin. "Lemme do it." But as he focused on the draw point, he realized it was currently empty - Quistis must have taken all the Esunas herself, not realizing she wouldn't be able to use them.
She was scribbling again, and she held the pad up with an extremely determined look on her face. You'll have to draw them from me, the paper read.
"Woah," Zell said out loud. Drawing from another person was a particularly... intimate experience. When it happened in the heat of battle, it was so fast and intense that it could be mostly ignored - and other things were usually going on. But sometimes... well, sometimes you pulled out thoughts, or memories, along with the spells. It was probably some aspect of the GF itself, and its connection to memories as a whole. Zell certainly didn’t understand it, but he knew one thing: he was probably bad at it.
Quistis' brows lowered slightly (as much as they could) and she pinned Zell with a look, mostly saying If I catch you mucking about in my head, you're dead meat. She held out an arm wordlessly, and Zell rested his fingers on it and dove in.
He felt around a little wildly until he found the Esuna spells, freshly Drawn and not yet Junctioned; nervously, he began tugging at them. A few came loose and slid down his arm and into his own mind - a flash of a seashore, and a blond girl building a sandcastle - where Diablo fastened them down. Zell swallowed. He'd never really liked using magic anyway. Tentatively he pulled again - she was dancing, young and wearing a new SeeD uniform, dancing around a dorm room while Xu laughed in the background; it was only the two of them - and a few more spells slid loose. He shook his head, trying to clear his own mind and focus - Quistis, angrily tucking a piece of paper into a drawer and wiping her eyes - and with a sudden rush of panic, he grabbed a mental handful of the spells and pulled.
Quistis wrenched her arm away. Zell, panting, managed to remember the point of the whole exercise: he clenched a fist and gestured, and the rain of Esuna trickled down over Quistis' face.
"Sorry Quisty," he said apologetically, waiting for the flashes of the magic to recede so he could cast the next one. "I'm no good at magic, you know that."
Quistis merely sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as the second spell broke over her head. The redness on her face seemed to be lessening. She collapsed into a nearby chair, her breathing resuming something close to normal.
Zell paused, and then cast another one, trying to aim it particularly for her neck. As he waited, he happened to glance down at the desk - Squinty's desk, he realized suddenly - and froze.
Sitting in the garbage can next to the desk was a torn cardboard box. The front of the box was an open oval, decorated with bright red flames. The top was stamped with a torn but familiar skull and crossbones, and the space above the front opening read in a familiar font: Hyne's Hot Sauce: Original Recipe. Handle with Gloves!
"You little bitch," Zell hissed, not even thinking.
Quistis gave a surprised squeak from behind him. "Oh - no, not you, Quisty!" Zell exclaimed, turning around and firing off another Esuna, effectively silencing her half-formed sputter as the spell literally hit her in the forehead. When the dazed shock of being accosted with magic faded and she was able to focus her eyes once more, he gestured for her to come closer. "Check this out!" He reached into the trash can - Quistis let out another squeak, this time indignant - and waved the empty packaging at her. "Look what I found," he declared, tossing it to her. "Guess our pal Squinty's been up to somethin'!"
Quistis' face, which had been rapidly approaching its normal color, instantly flared back to red. She held the package delicately in front of her between her thumb and forefinger, an obvious look of distaste on her face. "Th - that bitch is right," she choked out.
"Hey, you can talk!" Zell exclaimed.
Quistis blinked, having surprised herself, but she immediately closed her eyes and choked out a magic spell; more twinkling Esuna filled the room. Once the air had cleared, she very carefully set the box down on the table, eyeing it as if it were a dangerous creature about to pounce.
"Well, I sure as hell ain't gonna stand for this," Zell proclaimed, standing up. "There's no way Squinty's gonna poison my date and get away with it!"
"H-he couldn't have known about m-my allergy," Quistis pointed out, her normally smooth voice rough and swollen.
"Don't matter," Zell said flippantly. "Hyne's Hot Sauce is bad enough even without the allergy."
"H-he didn't put it on my meal," Quistis rasped. She was grating the words out at this point; frustrated beyond belief, she cast Double on herself, and then quickly spat out two Esunas in quick succession.
"Why're you defendin' him, Quisty?" Zell turned on her. "He could've killed you!"
Quistis paused, muttering again; another Esuna broke over her head. When the lights faded her swollen throat was almost back to normal, and there was a twinkle in her eyes Zell didn't exactly like. "That's - good point," she ground out. She cast another Double-Esuna, the gleam in her eyes deepening. "We need to teach him a lesson." The dark tone to her voice brokered no doubt as to the sort of 'instruction' she was planning on meting out.
"That's right!" Zell punched a fist into his palm, but then paused. "What do you mean, we?"
"I mean we're going to take that sniveling, cowardly, myopic little shit to school," Quistis swore venomously, and Zell took a step backwards. Quistis swearing was already frightening enough; Quistis swearing revenge was a thing of beauty. Terrible, terrible beauty, the kind that most men didn't live to tell others about. Zell recognized this fact very clearly and made no attempt to draw any attention to himself as Quistis narrowed her eyes and continued to prove the true depth and breadth of her rather impressive vocabulary. In fact, she was beginning to sound a lot more like a cultured version of Selphie on a bad day rather than herself. Zell paused with surprise and then (very carefully) leaned in a little closer, curious despite his concern for his own safety.
Even from a distance, Quistis' eyes were an eerie shade of black; her pupils were surprisingly dilated. Belatedly Zell recognized the initial symptoms of AMAS - Advanced Magical Absorption Syndrome, better known to Garden students as the infamous "magic high". AMAS was, in fact, a highly illegal state to be in, except for cases of life-or-death magical treatment. Zell himself had only seen it once, when those magic stoners had tried to steal his T-Board and…
Zell blinked, surprised. Quistis' allergy had to be pretty darn bad if it had taken that many Esunas, really. Though, he thought with a slight twinge of guilt, the one he smacked her with between the eyes most likely helped things along a little faster than usual. It was probably lucky that she'd had a few already; if Quistis ever suspected Zell to be responsible for getting her stoned, AMAS or not, he'd be more than just a dead man. They wouldn't even find smears.
"Quisty?" he asked tentatively, as her gaze was mildly unfocused. "You okay?"
Quistis nodded vaguely. "Yeah," she said, her face darkening into a terrifying glare which wouldn't have been out of place on Ultimecia. "Just plotting." Her tone of voice clearly indicated her irritation at his interruption.
"Hang on there," Zell said nervously - this Quistis was scaring him. "Maybe you should..." He trailed off as Quistis' black-eyed gaze slid over to him and narrowed dangerously. "... sit right there," he hastily amended, "and, uh, yeah. I'm just gonna call Felicia's and see what really happened."
"Felicia? Is that the name of his accomplice?" he heard her mutter softly as she all but melted into her seat. Quistis somehow managed to make the hard, spindly wooden chairs in the library look comfortable. Appealing, even, by the way she was carelessly draping herself over it, one dainty leg hanging over the armrest as her head lolled backwards, her eyes half-closed...
Zell caught himself staring and swallowed thickly before hastily turning around and fumbling for the phone behind the desk. He managed to knock over quite a few paperweights, books and various desk ornaments before finally feeling the welcome weight of the receiver against his palm. The noise had attracted Quistis' attention, however, and the hackles on the back of his neck rose as he felt her stare boring into him. He valiantly tried to ignore it and wiped some sweat from his brow as he dialed.
"Yeah. Operator? Get me Felicia's on the Wharf. It's urgent." He snuck a glance over his shoulder and saw that Quistis was watching him intently. Quickly he whirled back around and gripped the phone so tightly he was sure the handle would crack. Much to his relief, a familiar-sounding voice filtered over the headset.
"Felicia's on the Wharf," came the slightly snotty greeting. "Would you like to make a reservation?"
"Hell no!" Zell answered reflexively, and the sudden inhale of breath on the other end indicated that he had been recognized.
"Ah, Mr. Dincht!" The voice was now decidedly less haughty, and in fact laced with a very real twinge of fear. "About that most unfortunate incident this evening..."
"Cut the crap," Zell bellowed into the phone, his ire returning full force. "I ain't gonna eat in your hole anymore, but you can keep me from talkin' to the papers if you do one thing."
There was a minute silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice returned again, no longer groveling, but still cautious. "What are your terms?"
"I wanna talk to the cook who made our food tonight," Zell answered firmly.
"But..."
"Balamb Weekly," Zell replied curtly.
"Right away, sir." There was a rustle at the other end of the line, and a few muted grunts. Then a deeper, gruffer voice crackled over the line.
"Yeah? What'cha want?"
Zell frowned into the phone, even though the other man couldn't see him. "You the bastard who put Hot Sauce in my date's dish?"
"Uh, 'bout that," the chef grumbled reluctantly. "It was the Balamb Garden. It was that SeeD, sir. Thought it was an official mission, yeah? Hadn't seen that it was, uh, you, Mister Dincht, sir. Guy paid me well enough." A beat of silence, and then, cautiously: "He ain't a spy, eh? Them credits looked like good Garden money..."
Zell winced and cursed under his breath. "Was it a little guy? Scrawny bastard, squints a lot?" The grunt on the other end of the line was all the confirmation he needed; Zell turned and met Quistis' eyes, giving her a brief nod. "Naw, wasn't a spy. Say, put your boss back on, will ya?"
Quistis raised one delicate eyebrow in confusion, but Zell ignored her.
"Yes?" the snotty voice was back, and Zell scowled into the phone.
"Listen up, you cretin," he snarled, holding the receiver out for emphasis. "I saw the prices in your menu! If you're chargin' us that much for a stinkin' piece of fish, you better pay your employees more! If they still can be bribed by a damn student a month from now, I really WILL go to the papers with this. Are we clear?"
"You... you're going to test us?" came the quavering reply.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Zell sneered. "Thank your chef for me. Oh, and I hope you choke on your own sauce!" he added viciously, slamming the phone back into its cradle before he could hear the manager's reply.
"Wow," Quistis said, moving to stand up. Zell watched the descent of her shapely leg from the armrest with a slight pang of regret and then kicked himself while glancing away. This was Quistis, for Hyne's sake! Stuck up, totally repressed, Ice Princess Quistis. Other students actually preferred to call her the Ice Queen, but Zell didn't understand why. Queens always made Zell think of older, slightly flabby women with age-spotted skin who stuffed themselves into too-tight dresses - that was all the Card Queen's fault, really - and Quistis was much too young and pretty to share that unfortunate label. No, she was definitely princess material in Zell's mind - he shook himself out of his reverie as Quistis' scrutiny became slightly suspicious. Oh boy, Zell gulped to himself. It didn't matter what he called her if she found out what he was thinking - she'd be Quistis the Executioner in short notice.
Somehow, he found his voice. "Wow?" Zell croaked, trying to ignore the way she was leaning into the counter. He was really starting to regret not putting that bib on her earlier.
"I really thought you'd blow up at that chef, not the manager," Quistis admitted, leaning her chin into a palm as she carelessly ran her fingers through her hair, fumbling for the clip.
Leave the hair, leave the hair, Zell was chanting to himself silently as his eyes were glued to the motions of her fingers. Just leave the - damn! Some part of his brain that was still managing to function on a slightly higher level silently thanked Hyne that Quistis didn't seem to notice his flushed face or hyperventilation as her hair came tumbling loosely out of its strict constraint.
Oblivious to Zell's plight, Quistis yawned slightly and continued speaking. "Very discreet of you. And noble, I suppose. Though I wouldn't have let the chef off that easily." Zell remained unusually silent, watching her with a glazed expression and occasionally nodding his head in agreement. Her hair was slightly kinked where she’d fastened it up with the clip, which was giving it a nice sort of curly bounce around her face...
Quistis continued chattering, thoughtfully. "Really, even if he was in an unfortunate situation, one should never underestimate the importance of personal responsibility..." she trailed off, her relaxed expression souring.
Zell jerked away as soon as Quistis' features dropped into a scowl; he felt himself flush as he belatedly realized he had been leaning in towards her. "U-uh, Quistis, I can explain," he began hastily, assuming that she had noticed the motion. He silently breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that she wasn't scowling at him, but rather the desk of their culprit.
"No, don't try to defend him, Zell. Squinty has gone too far this time. I'm going to have to deal with him personally." The look on her face doubled Zell's resolve to never, ever get on Quistis' bad side. Her relaxed demeanor and dark eyes were clear signs, however, that the AMAS was taking over, and he realized nothing good would come of staying anywhere but in bed. Then he flushed bright red again at the thought and hastily added 'ALONE!' to it.
"Uh, Quisty, maybe we should both get some rest. It's, uh, been a long day," he managed to stutter uneasily, guiding a much-too-complacent Quistis towards the doors.
"But we need to formulate our revenge," Quistis protested half-heartedly, leaning into his side. Her words were starting to slur together slightly, and after briefly checking to ensure that the halls were clear, Zell stepped up the pace towards the dormitories. Personally, he didn't think that Quistis would be up for much more than formulating a hangover the next morning. He wondered in Quistis had ever even gotten drunk before, whether on magic or alcohol; considering her nature as a control freak, he seriously doubted it. In a bout of sympathy, he squeezed her elbow as the approached the dormitory corridor.
"Hey, Quisty, I think maybe you'd better learn some of my Dincht-approved hangover solutions," he suggested cautiously. "I think you're gonna need 'em."
"Hmm?" Quistis giggled, and Zell grimaced. Quistis didn't giggle. "I don't think I need them, I only drank one glass of wine tonight..." Seeing the look on Zell's face, Quistis sighed theatrically and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, all right. So?"
"Well, when I got a splittin' headache, I usually take my T-board an' ..." He trailed off as the smile dropped from Quistis' face and was rapidly replaced by a much more familiar frosty glare. "... on second thought, never mind," he finished lamely.
And then it happened - maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe she was more off her rocker than he realized - but Quistis' expression, for lack of a better word, softened, and she placed her hand on his chest. His heart thumped erratically under her gentle touch, and his surroundings seemed to fade away as her features came into sharp focus before him.
"Thank you, Zell," Quistis said quietly, and there was no sarcasm, no mockery, no regret in her voice. Her eyes shone, and even though he blinked to be doubly sure, it was still there when he opened his eyes the second time - a small, but genuine smile graced her lips. He wanted to tell her it was nothing, but his throat seemed to have dried out completely, which was a good thing because he was also fairly certain his entire vocabulary had taken a temporary vacation as well.
"I don't mean just for saving me," she added as an afterthought, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. "I really had fun tonight. Well... maybe fun isn't the right word to describe being humiliated in front of the upper echelons of Balamb society." Then she laughed, quietly, and it was a soft, musical sound.
He had never heard her laugh before, Zell realized then.
"It was... educational," she amended, the tiny smile still playing across her lips. Seeing Zell's shocked expression, Quistis did have the grace to blush and finally remove her hand. "Oh," she mumbled, finally directing her gaze away from him and holding a hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear, I... guess I'm on a bit of an Esuna high. Sorry..." She tittered again and turned to face him. "I'll probably regret letting you see me like this in the morning, won't I?"
Zell swallowed and managed to shake his head. "Get some rest, Quisty," he mumbled, blushing as he carefully turned her around and pushed her in the direction of the dorms. He prayed fervently that she'd get the hint and start walking. He wouldn't be held responsible for what might happen if she didn't. He tried to remind himself that she was drunk, and wondered why he felt so disappointed when she finally took his advice and disappeared into the dark hallway.
Even after he was sure that she had returned safely to her room, Zell stood in the hallway for several long minutes, staring after her and wondering what exactly in the hell was going on. Did he have AMAS? Could it be transmitted by casting? Maybe he unhinged something in his mind when he drew those Esunas?
Unbidden, an image of her laughing, spinning with her arms outspread as she showed off her new uniform sprung before him, and with a groan, he beat his head against the large placard in the hallway. Then, wearily, he turned and began to trudge not in the direction of the his own dorm, but the Training Center. Zell Dincht might not have been the brightest of students in Balamb Garden, but he was quick enough to realized one basic truth - there would be no sleep for him tonight.
.x.x.x.
"BORED."
Seifer continued to stare upward at the clouds above his head, deliberately not moving. Inwardly he winced; Fujin had been like this for days after their last prank, and Seifer was a tiny bit worried at her new-found drive for mischief. Perhaps if he ignored her, she'd go away; that one cloud kind of looked like a mushroom, and -
"BORED," Fujin repeated stubbornly, and kicked him for good measure.
The clouds lost their appeal. Seifer stood up, wincing, and glared at her. "Well, then, find something to do," he snapped, rubbing his leg. Fujin wore some heavy boots.
"HUNGRY," she replied, smirking at his obvious pain.
Seifer rolled his eyes. "Well, look, Raijin'll be back soon, and -" A strange sound from the bushes gave him pause. Something was rustling back there, rustling and rumbling. Had those SeeDs actually found their hideaway? Seifer tensed up, reaching slowly behind him to pull Hyperion out if -
A bizarre toot sounded from the woods seconds before a rickety old van rumbled into the small clearing around their house. Seifer recognized the van immediately; it was one of the old issue BG vehicles, with a faded Balamb Garden logo painted down the side. He drew Hyperion haughtily; it figured that Miss Failed Instructor and her Chicken Wuss boyfriend would bring an entire van of cadets to take them down.
Raijin stuck his head out the window, obviously confused. "Hey, it's me, ya know?"
Seifer let the tip of Hyperion droop. "It would've been nice to let us know you weren't a van full of SeeDs," he spat angrily.
"HONKED," Fujin pointed out. She pulled open the sliding door to the back of the van, eyeing the empty chamber speculatively. "NICE," she said neutrally, but Seifer could already see the plots hatching in her brain and immediately multiplying.
"Be good, Fu," Seifer warned, hopping into the front seat. He glanced over the console and nodded at Raijin's hot-wiring job. "Well, this isn't too bad," he said finally. "Whichever retard left it here is going to get in a lot of trouble."
"NICE," Fujin repeated with a wicked curve to her smile. She was now eyeing the empty space in the back.
Seifer sighed. "I've created a monster," he muttered under his breath.
Raijin shook his head. "I don't think it was all you, ya know," he pointed out, glancing over his shoulder.
Fujin shot him an icy glare. "HUNGRY," she said pointedly, glancing around her at the empty van. She'd settled down in the back seat and was now staring at Raijin, licking her lips.
"Ya, well," Raijin said nervously. "I didn't make it to the Balamb Burger - I found the van first, ya, and it took me a while to jump it. We can go now, okay?"
Fujin nodded sternly. "SLURPEE," she demanded.
"Okay," Raijin said, easing the van out of park. "Slurpee first, and then the drive-thru."
It was a short drive to the nearby gas station - the same one they'd broken into before, now with new locks, a shiny new camera, and a very nervous-looking employee. Raijin agreed to stay with the idling van; Seifer and Fujin entered the store in search of sugar and smokes. Fujin made a bee-line for the machine in the back of the room, selecting the largest size cup immediately and then deliberating over choice of flavor.
"What are you, Silly Strawberry or Goofy Grape?" Seifer snickered, watching her eye flick between the two. Fujin rounded on him, shifting her weight around to free her kicking foot, an irritated look on her face. "Hey, look, tabloids!" Seifer exclaimed hurriedly, backing away from the silver-haired menace.
The cover of the tabloid caught his eye. A picture of Balamb's nicest restaurant, Felicia's on the Wharf, had been graced with the header FELICIA'S CAUGHT USING HYNE'S HOT SAUCE TO SPICE UP BAD SERVICE! Beneath the glaring red letters were the words that had grabbed Seifer's attention: Balamb's own famous Zell Dincht uncovers scam! Pg 22. Intrigued, Seifer reached for the top copy.
"Um, you can't read that unless you buy it," the store clerk offered nervously.
"Oh, really," Seifer replied, giving the store clerk his scariest look.
"Uh - um, I'm really sorry, but you can't," the clerk replied, backing away from the counter - and into the line of sight of the camera in the ceiling.
Seifer scowled and stuck the magazine back into the holder. Fujin tramped up to the counter with her gigantic Slurpee and dropped the change on the counter, slurping happily.
"GOOFY GRAPE," she said in reply to Seifer's look.
Once back in the van, Seifer dug into his own pocket, counting gil. "I'm starving, Raijin," he said. "Can we hit the damn drive-thru now?"
Raijin nodded, throwing Fujin a glance over his shoulder. "I didn't want her blood sugar to get low, ya know?"
Seifer winced. The last time Fujin had been denied a sugar run, she'd deliberately slipped into a new Limit Break - a beautiful martial-arts spell she called Kick All Nearby Men In The Junk.
They pulled up to the order window at Balamb Burger. The boy behind the window - a slightly chubby kid with a disgustingly cute face - took one look at the van and started grinning. "Hey, you guys are from SeeD!"
"Uh..." Raijin glanced over at Seifer and then back at the kid. "Uh, yeah, that's right."
"Sure thing," Seifer said, leaning over. "Right, we want... three cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and a vanilla milkshake."
"Okay!" The boy excitedly punched the order into the computer. "Man, I love SeeD," he gushed.
"Really," Seifer said, both curious and nauseated. "So, do you have any idea what happened down at Felicia's?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "I sure do!" He leaned out the window. "Apparently Zell Dincht was on a date there, and they served his date Hyne's Hot Sauce, and she, like, exploded or something! And Zell ran her all the way back to Garden!" The kid's eyes were literally shining, and Seifer had to make a conscious effort to not puke. "Zell's my hero."
"That chickenhead is your hero?" Seifer asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hey," the kid said, slightly insulted. "Zell's an awesome SeeD."
"Sure thing, loser," Seifer replied, rolling his eyes. "Where's our food?"
The boy stood up on his toes, glaring at all of them. "Zell Dincht's my brother, and you take that - chicken thing - take it back!"
Brother? Seifer blinked and tried to imagine Zell in the boy's uniform, wearing the same stupid paper hat and serving drive-thru patrons their fries with a shit-eating grin. It was all too easy. He was laughing so hard as they pulled up to the second window that he didn't realize Fujin had opened the sliding back door until it was too late.
.x.x.x.
Quistis was brought violently into the world of the living by an ear-splitting shriek. Her blood pounded, singing in her ears as panic swept over her; Garden was being attacked! Muscles tensed as she prepared to leap out of bed, her hand already reaching for her whip - before she collapsed against her sheets with a loud groan. A herd of Mesmerizes were stampeding across the back of her skull, her tongue felt like it was three sizes too large for her mouth and gone was the soft muted light of pre-dawn which usually greeted her upon waking. Instead, her eyes and ears were being assaulted by harsh, jagged and decidedly unforgiving shades of pain that were poorly masquerading as sound and light.
Groping desperately, she knocked her glasses and a book carelessly off of her nightstand as her sluggish fingers cleared a path towards the offending alarm. One wide sweep with an outstretched palm managed to knock it aside; the clock hit the ground with one last pathetic beep and a satisfying crunch.
"Oh, Hyne..." Quistis moaned, trying to couple the urge to drag herself under a very cold shower with the fact that her body had decided to mutinously rebel against even the thought of motion. Dimly, she realized she was suffering from a hangover. And not just any hangover, but the mother to end all hangovers. Well, she thought with a glimmer of dark amusement, Quistis Trepe never did anything halfway. The urge to laugh only brought about new waves of pain, however, so she gave it up in favor of trying to piece together the events of the previous night.
What on earth happened?
Giving up on the attempt to rise, Quistis let herself collapse against the pillow and concentrated on carefully sorting out and compartmentalizing her scattered thoughts. She remembered the trip to Balamb, the dinner at the restaurant, the unfortunate allergic reaction afterwards, and somehow making it to the library - but from there things started to go soft and hazy.
With a growl and a wince, Quistis cleared her head and wrestled with her memory once again. This time she was able to pick out more distinct details from the grey fog clouding the previous evening. Zell, making a phone call. Zell, being especially lenient towards the chef of the restaurant. Zell, helping her from the chair, his hands warm and steady. The vague feeling of disappointment that overcame her when she realized that Zell wasn't going to usher her to her room.
Quistis blinked. In her current state, she couldn't be entirely sure that the ceiling didn't blink back. Obviously something was wrong, though; she felt warm, almost feverish, and she was sure her cheeks were growing flushed. Maybe she was still having an allergic reaction; after all, Zell wasn't as skilled a caster as she was, and it had been his hand that had bathed her in the gentle, tickling warmth of Esunas for most of the evening...
Quistis jerked suddenly, ignoring the unpleasant spike of pain that the sudden movement sent through her temples. STOP THINKING ABOUT ZELL she told herself sternly, and instantly regretted it as the command echoed through her skull, bouncing off several walls before sloshing to rest messily in a puddle near her ears. The impromptu ping pong match inside of her head did have one desired effect - it killed the uncomfortable warmth that she had felt blooming across her cheeks and squashed any errant thoughts she might have had about a certain spiky-haired blonde, allowing her to focus on the essentials.
"AMAS," she groaned as the rest of her memory slowly returned. Zell, grabbing at her unjunctioned Esunas clumsily; his fumbling mental touch was so uncharacteristically cautious and timid that it made her want to laugh out loud. Essentials, she reprimanded herself. With the Moomba Light Show blaring against the back of her skull, she was hardly equipped to deal with what she was beginning to suspect was more than simple food poisoning. No, she needed to focus on the facts right now; she could deal with the details later, when she was armed with coffee and water and maybe a liberal dose of sanity as well. Assuming she would be able to convince her rebelling body parts to team up once again and walk her to the Infirmary some time this century, hopefully Dr. Kadowaki would take pity on her...
"Focus," she repeated to herself. Zell, overdosing her with Esunas. Zell, reaching into the trashcan; her nose wrinkled at that. Of course, he was doing it to find proof...
Quistis' breath left her in a quick whoosh as her confusion found a safe place to collate into cool, icy anger. Her eyes narrowed, and bloodshot though they may have been, there was no fuzziness this time to mar the intensity of her gaze. The ceiling might have actually sprouted a new crack from it.
Martin DeBrye. SeeD cadet. Head of the Library Committee and dangerously near-sighted. Long-time card-carrying Trepie and owner of one now-empty bottle of Hyne's Hot Sauce. Squinty, as she knew Zell liked to refer to him. The name seemed appropriate.
Oh yes, Quistis thought to herself as a thin smile stretched over her lips. He would pay.
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Chapter Seven: In Which Many Headaches Are Created
Note for ff_press: I'm pretty sure these chapters have already been listed in the newsletter, so if you feel like skipping them, go ahead <3
Authors: first_seventhe and rosencrantz
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Quistis, Zell, Seifer, Cast (eventual Quistis/Zell)
Rating: M / R (Profanity, eventual mature situations)
Summary: Quistis is looking for another promotion. Zell is looking for some action with that cute library girl. And Seifer? He’s just looking for trouble.
Read it at fanfiction.net here.
Chapter 7: In Which Many Headaches Are Created
Zell Dincht wasn't always the type of person the average SeeD would want on their side in an emergency. Zell was known to have a short fuse, a raging temper and a foul mouth. He also wasn't much of a thinker, preferring to let his fists make most of his decisions; in fact, he'd thrown himself head-first into many fights - and lost - when a simple nod (or a Final Heaven) would've been much more effective. "Performs well under pressure" hadn't been checked on his review cards by any of his (many) Instructors. However, in the right circumstances Zell would've proved them all wrong. There was one thing Zell Dincht could be counted on for in a fight, and that was helping a friend in need.
He'd bundled Quistis up in his arms, rearranged all his Junctions for speed (Quistis wasn't exactly heavy) and taken off for Balamb Garden, gleaming in the distance. The sun had set over Balamb during their dinner, leaving the grounds around the Garden partially lit with twilight. Diablos churned out the Enc-None field, fueled by Zell’s anger, and none of the few roaming monsters Zell spotted even glanced in his direction.
Quistis was making little gurgling sounds in his arms, and the last time Zell had checked she'd been - well, bubbling was the only way he could think to put it: bubbling from the mouth. A huge, fierce wave of pity came over him as he glanced down at Quistis again. She'd started out frantically protesting his initial reaction, but as the red blotchy patch on her face had spread down her neck and across her collarbones, she'd eventually given up even trying to speak. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting gently against his shoulder. The fact that Quistis would let him see her this weak - no matter what the cause - made Zell feel warm and protective towards her. He'd get her back to normal, no matter what; she'd be scolding him again in no time.
The flash of the front gate caught his eye, and Zell realized suddenly that he'd left the van in Balamb. "Shit," he said aloud, pausing momentarily in his tracks. He was such an idiot. He'd high-tailed it out of Felicia's so fast he hadn't even remembered they had a van. "Dammit!"
Quistis shifted slightly, and his eyes narrowed in determination. He'd heal her first, and then he'd walk all the way back to Balamb if that's what it took. There was an easier way back into Garden for trespassers who knew where to look...
He snuck around to the back and gently set Quistis in the grass, jumping up onto an almost-hidden ledge and fumbling around for the switch. An engine whirred into life, and the repair door on one of the ventilation shafts popped open. Zell pumped a fist into the air in victory, and then leapt back to the ground. Quistis, now completely red-faced and swollen, had gotten shakily to her feet; she’d regained her bearings, at least a little, and had roughly pulled her hair back away from her blotchy face in an attempt to regain her poise. Her eyes were fiercely bright with embarrassment and injured pride, and Zell decided that picking her back up again might be hazardous to his health. Instead, he gestured for her to head into the ventilation tunnel, closing the trapdoor behind them. Quistis followed, a little shakily. Zell could hear her wheezing breath clearly in the empty tunnel, which made him want to hurry - but he didn’t think Quistis would be able to keep up if he started sprinting.
Quistis' throat was thick and clogged, but as she looked wildly around her, Zell could almost read the question on her face. "It's an old repair tunnel, prob'ly installed when they built that thing that makes Garden fly," he explained. "I found it one of the days I was checkin' out the engine."
Quistis' face darkened slightly, and she made an attempt to choke something out around her swollen vocal chords. Zell grinned, leading her forward. "I know exactly what you're thinkin', Quisty," he teased her. "It's either 'Zell, you idiot, what are you doing sneaking out of Garden,' or it's 'Zell, you idiot, we have a security breach on our hands!'" A glance at her face, answered by a firm angry nod, made him chuckle out loud.
"If you wanna know what I was doin' sneakin' out," Zell continued, pulling Quistis down a side path, "tough! That's none of yer damn business. An' second - what, you think I'm an idiot?" He shot her a grin. "I showed Selphie it, an' she set up a little security door with a password an' a camera that starts up if an alarm goes off. She an' Irvine use it when they wanna go out."
Quistis' eyes were wide; whether she was alarmed, impressed, or a little bit of both, Zell couldn't tell. "Here, see?" They'd come to the door, and Zell deftly entered a four-digit code. "It's our little secret, Quisty," he said proudly as the door unlocked itself with a thud. He pushed it open, led Quistis through, and then locked it behind him. His face wrinkled up for a second, but then he tugged at something on the floor to reveal another trapdoor, this time with a rope ladder.
"It leads down into the Library," Zell explained eagerly, and Quistis' face lit up with surprise - and a hint of respect. She nodded in understanding. There was an Esuna draw point in the Library. Zell had visited it plenty of times; he figured a couple rounds of Esuna would fix up Quisty's face enough that she'd be able to talk.
Zell popped the ventilation ceiling tile, and they climbed down the rope ladder into the Library. Quistis headed immediately towards the draw point, while Zell scrambled onto a nearby chair and stuffed the ladder back into the ceiling. When he came down, Quistis was standing next to the draw point, giving him a panicked look.
"What?" He looked her over: she was still red and puffy.
Quistis gestured angrily towards her throat, attempting to choke something out. Failing to make herself understood, she stalked over to a nearby desk and grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil. I CAN'T CAST, she wrote in angry capital letters, underlining it once and then gesturing towards her throat again.
"Oh," Zell said, with a grin. "Lemme do it." But as he focused on the draw point, he realized it was currently empty - Quistis must have taken all the Esunas herself, not realizing she wouldn't be able to use them.
She was scribbling again, and she held the pad up with an extremely determined look on her face. You'll have to draw them from me, the paper read.
"Woah," Zell said out loud. Drawing from another person was a particularly... intimate experience. When it happened in the heat of battle, it was so fast and intense that it could be mostly ignored - and other things were usually going on. But sometimes... well, sometimes you pulled out thoughts, or memories, along with the spells. It was probably some aspect of the GF itself, and its connection to memories as a whole. Zell certainly didn’t understand it, but he knew one thing: he was probably bad at it.
Quistis' brows lowered slightly (as much as they could) and she pinned Zell with a look, mostly saying If I catch you mucking about in my head, you're dead meat. She held out an arm wordlessly, and Zell rested his fingers on it and dove in.
He felt around a little wildly until he found the Esuna spells, freshly Drawn and not yet Junctioned; nervously, he began tugging at them. A few came loose and slid down his arm and into his own mind - a flash of a seashore, and a blond girl building a sandcastle - where Diablo fastened them down. Zell swallowed. He'd never really liked using magic anyway. Tentatively he pulled again - she was dancing, young and wearing a new SeeD uniform, dancing around a dorm room while Xu laughed in the background; it was only the two of them - and a few more spells slid loose. He shook his head, trying to clear his own mind and focus - Quistis, angrily tucking a piece of paper into a drawer and wiping her eyes - and with a sudden rush of panic, he grabbed a mental handful of the spells and pulled.
Quistis wrenched her arm away. Zell, panting, managed to remember the point of the whole exercise: he clenched a fist and gestured, and the rain of Esuna trickled down over Quistis' face.
"Sorry Quisty," he said apologetically, waiting for the flashes of the magic to recede so he could cast the next one. "I'm no good at magic, you know that."
Quistis merely sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as the second spell broke over her head. The redness on her face seemed to be lessening. She collapsed into a nearby chair, her breathing resuming something close to normal.
Zell paused, and then cast another one, trying to aim it particularly for her neck. As he waited, he happened to glance down at the desk - Squinty's desk, he realized suddenly - and froze.
Sitting in the garbage can next to the desk was a torn cardboard box. The front of the box was an open oval, decorated with bright red flames. The top was stamped with a torn but familiar skull and crossbones, and the space above the front opening read in a familiar font: Hyne's Hot Sauce: Original Recipe. Handle with Gloves!
"You little bitch," Zell hissed, not even thinking.
Quistis gave a surprised squeak from behind him. "Oh - no, not you, Quisty!" Zell exclaimed, turning around and firing off another Esuna, effectively silencing her half-formed sputter as the spell literally hit her in the forehead. When the dazed shock of being accosted with magic faded and she was able to focus her eyes once more, he gestured for her to come closer. "Check this out!" He reached into the trash can - Quistis let out another squeak, this time indignant - and waved the empty packaging at her. "Look what I found," he declared, tossing it to her. "Guess our pal Squinty's been up to somethin'!"
Quistis' face, which had been rapidly approaching its normal color, instantly flared back to red. She held the package delicately in front of her between her thumb and forefinger, an obvious look of distaste on her face. "Th - that bitch is right," she choked out.
"Hey, you can talk!" Zell exclaimed.
Quistis blinked, having surprised herself, but she immediately closed her eyes and choked out a magic spell; more twinkling Esuna filled the room. Once the air had cleared, she very carefully set the box down on the table, eyeing it as if it were a dangerous creature about to pounce.
"Well, I sure as hell ain't gonna stand for this," Zell proclaimed, standing up. "There's no way Squinty's gonna poison my date and get away with it!"
"H-he couldn't have known about m-my allergy," Quistis pointed out, her normally smooth voice rough and swollen.
"Don't matter," Zell said flippantly. "Hyne's Hot Sauce is bad enough even without the allergy."
"H-he didn't put it on my meal," Quistis rasped. She was grating the words out at this point; frustrated beyond belief, she cast Double on herself, and then quickly spat out two Esunas in quick succession.
"Why're you defendin' him, Quisty?" Zell turned on her. "He could've killed you!"
Quistis paused, muttering again; another Esuna broke over her head. When the lights faded her swollen throat was almost back to normal, and there was a twinkle in her eyes Zell didn't exactly like. "That's - good point," she ground out. She cast another Double-Esuna, the gleam in her eyes deepening. "We need to teach him a lesson." The dark tone to her voice brokered no doubt as to the sort of 'instruction' she was planning on meting out.
"That's right!" Zell punched a fist into his palm, but then paused. "What do you mean, we?"
"I mean we're going to take that sniveling, cowardly, myopic little shit to school," Quistis swore venomously, and Zell took a step backwards. Quistis swearing was already frightening enough; Quistis swearing revenge was a thing of beauty. Terrible, terrible beauty, the kind that most men didn't live to tell others about. Zell recognized this fact very clearly and made no attempt to draw any attention to himself as Quistis narrowed her eyes and continued to prove the true depth and breadth of her rather impressive vocabulary. In fact, she was beginning to sound a lot more like a cultured version of Selphie on a bad day rather than herself. Zell paused with surprise and then (very carefully) leaned in a little closer, curious despite his concern for his own safety.
Even from a distance, Quistis' eyes were an eerie shade of black; her pupils were surprisingly dilated. Belatedly Zell recognized the initial symptoms of AMAS - Advanced Magical Absorption Syndrome, better known to Garden students as the infamous "magic high". AMAS was, in fact, a highly illegal state to be in, except for cases of life-or-death magical treatment. Zell himself had only seen it once, when those magic stoners had tried to steal his T-Board and…
Zell blinked, surprised. Quistis' allergy had to be pretty darn bad if it had taken that many Esunas, really. Though, he thought with a slight twinge of guilt, the one he smacked her with between the eyes most likely helped things along a little faster than usual. It was probably lucky that she'd had a few already; if Quistis ever suspected Zell to be responsible for getting her stoned, AMAS or not, he'd be more than just a dead man. They wouldn't even find smears.
"Quisty?" he asked tentatively, as her gaze was mildly unfocused. "You okay?"
Quistis nodded vaguely. "Yeah," she said, her face darkening into a terrifying glare which wouldn't have been out of place on Ultimecia. "Just plotting." Her tone of voice clearly indicated her irritation at his interruption.
"Hang on there," Zell said nervously - this Quistis was scaring him. "Maybe you should..." He trailed off as Quistis' black-eyed gaze slid over to him and narrowed dangerously. "... sit right there," he hastily amended, "and, uh, yeah. I'm just gonna call Felicia's and see what really happened."
"Felicia? Is that the name of his accomplice?" he heard her mutter softly as she all but melted into her seat. Quistis somehow managed to make the hard, spindly wooden chairs in the library look comfortable. Appealing, even, by the way she was carelessly draping herself over it, one dainty leg hanging over the armrest as her head lolled backwards, her eyes half-closed...
Zell caught himself staring and swallowed thickly before hastily turning around and fumbling for the phone behind the desk. He managed to knock over quite a few paperweights, books and various desk ornaments before finally feeling the welcome weight of the receiver against his palm. The noise had attracted Quistis' attention, however, and the hackles on the back of his neck rose as he felt her stare boring into him. He valiantly tried to ignore it and wiped some sweat from his brow as he dialed.
"Yeah. Operator? Get me Felicia's on the Wharf. It's urgent." He snuck a glance over his shoulder and saw that Quistis was watching him intently. Quickly he whirled back around and gripped the phone so tightly he was sure the handle would crack. Much to his relief, a familiar-sounding voice filtered over the headset.
"Felicia's on the Wharf," came the slightly snotty greeting. "Would you like to make a reservation?"
"Hell no!" Zell answered reflexively, and the sudden inhale of breath on the other end indicated that he had been recognized.
"Ah, Mr. Dincht!" The voice was now decidedly less haughty, and in fact laced with a very real twinge of fear. "About that most unfortunate incident this evening..."
"Cut the crap," Zell bellowed into the phone, his ire returning full force. "I ain't gonna eat in your hole anymore, but you can keep me from talkin' to the papers if you do one thing."
There was a minute silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice returned again, no longer groveling, but still cautious. "What are your terms?"
"I wanna talk to the cook who made our food tonight," Zell answered firmly.
"But..."
"Balamb Weekly," Zell replied curtly.
"Right away, sir." There was a rustle at the other end of the line, and a few muted grunts. Then a deeper, gruffer voice crackled over the line.
"Yeah? What'cha want?"
Zell frowned into the phone, even though the other man couldn't see him. "You the bastard who put Hot Sauce in my date's dish?"
"Uh, 'bout that," the chef grumbled reluctantly. "It was the Balamb Garden. It was that SeeD, sir. Thought it was an official mission, yeah? Hadn't seen that it was, uh, you, Mister Dincht, sir. Guy paid me well enough." A beat of silence, and then, cautiously: "He ain't a spy, eh? Them credits looked like good Garden money..."
Zell winced and cursed under his breath. "Was it a little guy? Scrawny bastard, squints a lot?" The grunt on the other end of the line was all the confirmation he needed; Zell turned and met Quistis' eyes, giving her a brief nod. "Naw, wasn't a spy. Say, put your boss back on, will ya?"
Quistis raised one delicate eyebrow in confusion, but Zell ignored her.
"Yes?" the snotty voice was back, and Zell scowled into the phone.
"Listen up, you cretin," he snarled, holding the receiver out for emphasis. "I saw the prices in your menu! If you're chargin' us that much for a stinkin' piece of fish, you better pay your employees more! If they still can be bribed by a damn student a month from now, I really WILL go to the papers with this. Are we clear?"
"You... you're going to test us?" came the quavering reply.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Zell sneered. "Thank your chef for me. Oh, and I hope you choke on your own sauce!" he added viciously, slamming the phone back into its cradle before he could hear the manager's reply.
"Wow," Quistis said, moving to stand up. Zell watched the descent of her shapely leg from the armrest with a slight pang of regret and then kicked himself while glancing away. This was Quistis, for Hyne's sake! Stuck up, totally repressed, Ice Princess Quistis. Other students actually preferred to call her the Ice Queen, but Zell didn't understand why. Queens always made Zell think of older, slightly flabby women with age-spotted skin who stuffed themselves into too-tight dresses - that was all the Card Queen's fault, really - and Quistis was much too young and pretty to share that unfortunate label. No, she was definitely princess material in Zell's mind - he shook himself out of his reverie as Quistis' scrutiny became slightly suspicious. Oh boy, Zell gulped to himself. It didn't matter what he called her if she found out what he was thinking - she'd be Quistis the Executioner in short notice.
Somehow, he found his voice. "Wow?" Zell croaked, trying to ignore the way she was leaning into the counter. He was really starting to regret not putting that bib on her earlier.
"I really thought you'd blow up at that chef, not the manager," Quistis admitted, leaning her chin into a palm as she carelessly ran her fingers through her hair, fumbling for the clip.
Leave the hair, leave the hair, Zell was chanting to himself silently as his eyes were glued to the motions of her fingers. Just leave the - damn! Some part of his brain that was still managing to function on a slightly higher level silently thanked Hyne that Quistis didn't seem to notice his flushed face or hyperventilation as her hair came tumbling loosely out of its strict constraint.
Oblivious to Zell's plight, Quistis yawned slightly and continued speaking. "Very discreet of you. And noble, I suppose. Though I wouldn't have let the chef off that easily." Zell remained unusually silent, watching her with a glazed expression and occasionally nodding his head in agreement. Her hair was slightly kinked where she’d fastened it up with the clip, which was giving it a nice sort of curly bounce around her face...
Quistis continued chattering, thoughtfully. "Really, even if he was in an unfortunate situation, one should never underestimate the importance of personal responsibility..." she trailed off, her relaxed expression souring.
Zell jerked away as soon as Quistis' features dropped into a scowl; he felt himself flush as he belatedly realized he had been leaning in towards her. "U-uh, Quistis, I can explain," he began hastily, assuming that she had noticed the motion. He silently breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that she wasn't scowling at him, but rather the desk of their culprit.
"No, don't try to defend him, Zell. Squinty has gone too far this time. I'm going to have to deal with him personally." The look on her face doubled Zell's resolve to never, ever get on Quistis' bad side. Her relaxed demeanor and dark eyes were clear signs, however, that the AMAS was taking over, and he realized nothing good would come of staying anywhere but in bed. Then he flushed bright red again at the thought and hastily added 'ALONE!' to it.
"Uh, Quisty, maybe we should both get some rest. It's, uh, been a long day," he managed to stutter uneasily, guiding a much-too-complacent Quistis towards the doors.
"But we need to formulate our revenge," Quistis protested half-heartedly, leaning into his side. Her words were starting to slur together slightly, and after briefly checking to ensure that the halls were clear, Zell stepped up the pace towards the dormitories. Personally, he didn't think that Quistis would be up for much more than formulating a hangover the next morning. He wondered in Quistis had ever even gotten drunk before, whether on magic or alcohol; considering her nature as a control freak, he seriously doubted it. In a bout of sympathy, he squeezed her elbow as the approached the dormitory corridor.
"Hey, Quisty, I think maybe you'd better learn some of my Dincht-approved hangover solutions," he suggested cautiously. "I think you're gonna need 'em."
"Hmm?" Quistis giggled, and Zell grimaced. Quistis didn't giggle. "I don't think I need them, I only drank one glass of wine tonight..." Seeing the look on Zell's face, Quistis sighed theatrically and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, all right. So?"
"Well, when I got a splittin' headache, I usually take my T-board an' ..." He trailed off as the smile dropped from Quistis' face and was rapidly replaced by a much more familiar frosty glare. "... on second thought, never mind," he finished lamely.
And then it happened - maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe she was more off her rocker than he realized - but Quistis' expression, for lack of a better word, softened, and she placed her hand on his chest. His heart thumped erratically under her gentle touch, and his surroundings seemed to fade away as her features came into sharp focus before him.
"Thank you, Zell," Quistis said quietly, and there was no sarcasm, no mockery, no regret in her voice. Her eyes shone, and even though he blinked to be doubly sure, it was still there when he opened his eyes the second time - a small, but genuine smile graced her lips. He wanted to tell her it was nothing, but his throat seemed to have dried out completely, which was a good thing because he was also fairly certain his entire vocabulary had taken a temporary vacation as well.
"I don't mean just for saving me," she added as an afterthought, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. "I really had fun tonight. Well... maybe fun isn't the right word to describe being humiliated in front of the upper echelons of Balamb society." Then she laughed, quietly, and it was a soft, musical sound.
He had never heard her laugh before, Zell realized then.
"It was... educational," she amended, the tiny smile still playing across her lips. Seeing Zell's shocked expression, Quistis did have the grace to blush and finally remove her hand. "Oh," she mumbled, finally directing her gaze away from him and holding a hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear, I... guess I'm on a bit of an Esuna high. Sorry..." She tittered again and turned to face him. "I'll probably regret letting you see me like this in the morning, won't I?"
Zell swallowed and managed to shake his head. "Get some rest, Quisty," he mumbled, blushing as he carefully turned her around and pushed her in the direction of the dorms. He prayed fervently that she'd get the hint and start walking. He wouldn't be held responsible for what might happen if she didn't. He tried to remind himself that she was drunk, and wondered why he felt so disappointed when she finally took his advice and disappeared into the dark hallway.
Even after he was sure that she had returned safely to her room, Zell stood in the hallway for several long minutes, staring after her and wondering what exactly in the hell was going on. Did he have AMAS? Could it be transmitted by casting? Maybe he unhinged something in his mind when he drew those Esunas?
Unbidden, an image of her laughing, spinning with her arms outspread as she showed off her new uniform sprung before him, and with a groan, he beat his head against the large placard in the hallway. Then, wearily, he turned and began to trudge not in the direction of the his own dorm, but the Training Center. Zell Dincht might not have been the brightest of students in Balamb Garden, but he was quick enough to realized one basic truth - there would be no sleep for him tonight.
.x.x.x.
"BORED."
Seifer continued to stare upward at the clouds above his head, deliberately not moving. Inwardly he winced; Fujin had been like this for days after their last prank, and Seifer was a tiny bit worried at her new-found drive for mischief. Perhaps if he ignored her, she'd go away; that one cloud kind of looked like a mushroom, and -
"BORED," Fujin repeated stubbornly, and kicked him for good measure.
The clouds lost their appeal. Seifer stood up, wincing, and glared at her. "Well, then, find something to do," he snapped, rubbing his leg. Fujin wore some heavy boots.
"HUNGRY," she replied, smirking at his obvious pain.
Seifer rolled his eyes. "Well, look, Raijin'll be back soon, and -" A strange sound from the bushes gave him pause. Something was rustling back there, rustling and rumbling. Had those SeeDs actually found their hideaway? Seifer tensed up, reaching slowly behind him to pull Hyperion out if -
A bizarre toot sounded from the woods seconds before a rickety old van rumbled into the small clearing around their house. Seifer recognized the van immediately; it was one of the old issue BG vehicles, with a faded Balamb Garden logo painted down the side. He drew Hyperion haughtily; it figured that Miss Failed Instructor and her Chicken Wuss boyfriend would bring an entire van of cadets to take them down.
Raijin stuck his head out the window, obviously confused. "Hey, it's me, ya know?"
Seifer let the tip of Hyperion droop. "It would've been nice to let us know you weren't a van full of SeeDs," he spat angrily.
"HONKED," Fujin pointed out. She pulled open the sliding door to the back of the van, eyeing the empty chamber speculatively. "NICE," she said neutrally, but Seifer could already see the plots hatching in her brain and immediately multiplying.
"Be good, Fu," Seifer warned, hopping into the front seat. He glanced over the console and nodded at Raijin's hot-wiring job. "Well, this isn't too bad," he said finally. "Whichever retard left it here is going to get in a lot of trouble."
"NICE," Fujin repeated with a wicked curve to her smile. She was now eyeing the empty space in the back.
Seifer sighed. "I've created a monster," he muttered under his breath.
Raijin shook his head. "I don't think it was all you, ya know," he pointed out, glancing over his shoulder.
Fujin shot him an icy glare. "HUNGRY," she said pointedly, glancing around her at the empty van. She'd settled down in the back seat and was now staring at Raijin, licking her lips.
"Ya, well," Raijin said nervously. "I didn't make it to the Balamb Burger - I found the van first, ya, and it took me a while to jump it. We can go now, okay?"
Fujin nodded sternly. "SLURPEE," she demanded.
"Okay," Raijin said, easing the van out of park. "Slurpee first, and then the drive-thru."
It was a short drive to the nearby gas station - the same one they'd broken into before, now with new locks, a shiny new camera, and a very nervous-looking employee. Raijin agreed to stay with the idling van; Seifer and Fujin entered the store in search of sugar and smokes. Fujin made a bee-line for the machine in the back of the room, selecting the largest size cup immediately and then deliberating over choice of flavor.
"What are you, Silly Strawberry or Goofy Grape?" Seifer snickered, watching her eye flick between the two. Fujin rounded on him, shifting her weight around to free her kicking foot, an irritated look on her face. "Hey, look, tabloids!" Seifer exclaimed hurriedly, backing away from the silver-haired menace.
The cover of the tabloid caught his eye. A picture of Balamb's nicest restaurant, Felicia's on the Wharf, had been graced with the header FELICIA'S CAUGHT USING HYNE'S HOT SAUCE TO SPICE UP BAD SERVICE! Beneath the glaring red letters were the words that had grabbed Seifer's attention: Balamb's own famous Zell Dincht uncovers scam! Pg 22. Intrigued, Seifer reached for the top copy.
"Um, you can't read that unless you buy it," the store clerk offered nervously.
"Oh, really," Seifer replied, giving the store clerk his scariest look.
"Uh - um, I'm really sorry, but you can't," the clerk replied, backing away from the counter - and into the line of sight of the camera in the ceiling.
Seifer scowled and stuck the magazine back into the holder. Fujin tramped up to the counter with her gigantic Slurpee and dropped the change on the counter, slurping happily.
"GOOFY GRAPE," she said in reply to Seifer's look.
Once back in the van, Seifer dug into his own pocket, counting gil. "I'm starving, Raijin," he said. "Can we hit the damn drive-thru now?"
Raijin nodded, throwing Fujin a glance over his shoulder. "I didn't want her blood sugar to get low, ya know?"
Seifer winced. The last time Fujin had been denied a sugar run, she'd deliberately slipped into a new Limit Break - a beautiful martial-arts spell she called Kick All Nearby Men In The Junk.
They pulled up to the order window at Balamb Burger. The boy behind the window - a slightly chubby kid with a disgustingly cute face - took one look at the van and started grinning. "Hey, you guys are from SeeD!"
"Uh..." Raijin glanced over at Seifer and then back at the kid. "Uh, yeah, that's right."
"Sure thing," Seifer said, leaning over. "Right, we want... three cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and a vanilla milkshake."
"Okay!" The boy excitedly punched the order into the computer. "Man, I love SeeD," he gushed.
"Really," Seifer said, both curious and nauseated. "So, do you have any idea what happened down at Felicia's?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "I sure do!" He leaned out the window. "Apparently Zell Dincht was on a date there, and they served his date Hyne's Hot Sauce, and she, like, exploded or something! And Zell ran her all the way back to Garden!" The kid's eyes were literally shining, and Seifer had to make a conscious effort to not puke. "Zell's my hero."
"That chickenhead is your hero?" Seifer asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hey," the kid said, slightly insulted. "Zell's an awesome SeeD."
"Sure thing, loser," Seifer replied, rolling his eyes. "Where's our food?"
The boy stood up on his toes, glaring at all of them. "Zell Dincht's my brother, and you take that - chicken thing - take it back!"
Brother? Seifer blinked and tried to imagine Zell in the boy's uniform, wearing the same stupid paper hat and serving drive-thru patrons their fries with a shit-eating grin. It was all too easy. He was laughing so hard as they pulled up to the second window that he didn't realize Fujin had opened the sliding back door until it was too late.
.x.x.x.
Quistis was brought violently into the world of the living by an ear-splitting shriek. Her blood pounded, singing in her ears as panic swept over her; Garden was being attacked! Muscles tensed as she prepared to leap out of bed, her hand already reaching for her whip - before she collapsed against her sheets with a loud groan. A herd of Mesmerizes were stampeding across the back of her skull, her tongue felt like it was three sizes too large for her mouth and gone was the soft muted light of pre-dawn which usually greeted her upon waking. Instead, her eyes and ears were being assaulted by harsh, jagged and decidedly unforgiving shades of pain that were poorly masquerading as sound and light.
Groping desperately, she knocked her glasses and a book carelessly off of her nightstand as her sluggish fingers cleared a path towards the offending alarm. One wide sweep with an outstretched palm managed to knock it aside; the clock hit the ground with one last pathetic beep and a satisfying crunch.
"Oh, Hyne..." Quistis moaned, trying to couple the urge to drag herself under a very cold shower with the fact that her body had decided to mutinously rebel against even the thought of motion. Dimly, she realized she was suffering from a hangover. And not just any hangover, but the mother to end all hangovers. Well, she thought with a glimmer of dark amusement, Quistis Trepe never did anything halfway. The urge to laugh only brought about new waves of pain, however, so she gave it up in favor of trying to piece together the events of the previous night.
What on earth happened?
Giving up on the attempt to rise, Quistis let herself collapse against the pillow and concentrated on carefully sorting out and compartmentalizing her scattered thoughts. She remembered the trip to Balamb, the dinner at the restaurant, the unfortunate allergic reaction afterwards, and somehow making it to the library - but from there things started to go soft and hazy.
With a growl and a wince, Quistis cleared her head and wrestled with her memory once again. This time she was able to pick out more distinct details from the grey fog clouding the previous evening. Zell, making a phone call. Zell, being especially lenient towards the chef of the restaurant. Zell, helping her from the chair, his hands warm and steady. The vague feeling of disappointment that overcame her when she realized that Zell wasn't going to usher her to her room.
Quistis blinked. In her current state, she couldn't be entirely sure that the ceiling didn't blink back. Obviously something was wrong, though; she felt warm, almost feverish, and she was sure her cheeks were growing flushed. Maybe she was still having an allergic reaction; after all, Zell wasn't as skilled a caster as she was, and it had been his hand that had bathed her in the gentle, tickling warmth of Esunas for most of the evening...
Quistis jerked suddenly, ignoring the unpleasant spike of pain that the sudden movement sent through her temples. STOP THINKING ABOUT ZELL she told herself sternly, and instantly regretted it as the command echoed through her skull, bouncing off several walls before sloshing to rest messily in a puddle near her ears. The impromptu ping pong match inside of her head did have one desired effect - it killed the uncomfortable warmth that she had felt blooming across her cheeks and squashed any errant thoughts she might have had about a certain spiky-haired blonde, allowing her to focus on the essentials.
"AMAS," she groaned as the rest of her memory slowly returned. Zell, grabbing at her unjunctioned Esunas clumsily; his fumbling mental touch was so uncharacteristically cautious and timid that it made her want to laugh out loud. Essentials, she reprimanded herself. With the Moomba Light Show blaring against the back of her skull, she was hardly equipped to deal with what she was beginning to suspect was more than simple food poisoning. No, she needed to focus on the facts right now; she could deal with the details later, when she was armed with coffee and water and maybe a liberal dose of sanity as well. Assuming she would be able to convince her rebelling body parts to team up once again and walk her to the Infirmary some time this century, hopefully Dr. Kadowaki would take pity on her...
"Focus," she repeated to herself. Zell, overdosing her with Esunas. Zell, reaching into the trashcan; her nose wrinkled at that. Of course, he was doing it to find proof...
Quistis' breath left her in a quick whoosh as her confusion found a safe place to collate into cool, icy anger. Her eyes narrowed, and bloodshot though they may have been, there was no fuzziness this time to mar the intensity of her gaze. The ceiling might have actually sprouted a new crack from it.
Martin DeBrye. SeeD cadet. Head of the Library Committee and dangerously near-sighted. Long-time card-carrying Trepie and owner of one now-empty bottle of Hyne's Hot Sauce. Squinty, as she knew Zell liked to refer to him. The name seemed appropriate.
Oh yes, Quistis thought to herself as a thin smile stretched over her lips. He would pay.
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