The Odds Are In [2] (FFVIII)
The Odds Are In, Chapter 2
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Quistis, Irvine
Rating: PG-13 as a whole (this? PG)
Summary: Squall sends Quistis and Irvine on a mission to Esthar, in the midst of political (and familial) unrest. Will they end up facing down the terrorists they suspect are behind Esthar's current political uprisings? Or is Laguna paying millions of gil for two very skilled Triple Triad partners?
Notes: This is a total piece of comfort-writing, after the hellish fuckjob (okay, PG) that March has been. Somewhat inspired by the shenanigans at lunaticdiscord, but also simply somewhat an excuse for me to write some fun characters that come easily to catch up almost 10,000 words on getyourwordsout.
The Odds Are In will be a series of connected ficlets / scenes / vignettes / pieces. Some will have plot, some will just be scenes. This month's goal: WORDS. The tag for this series is here.
- - -
let's get this party started right y'all / let's get this party started right
- - -
The newly-rebuilt train line between Timber and Esthar (via Fisherman's Horizon) clicked away beneath Quistis and Irvine with a comforting background hum as they sat in the SeeD car, passing time. Irvine lay across one of the couches, his legs across the cushions as he stared out the window. Quistis sat in the corner, flipping through the folder they'd both read a dozen times the day before and tapping a pen against the page in obvious thought.
"Finding anything new?" Irvine asked, stretching his legs. "Secret decoder ring message in there somewhere? Love notes hidden between the lines?"
Quistis turned a page over, studying the footnotes on the back briefly. "Nothing new," she said. "I'm just making sure I... understand it all."
Irvine shrugged. "It didn't seem all that complicated."
"It's not," Quistis replied. She pulled out the page of footnotes and flipped forward a few, setting it back down next to a new page for comparison; her eyes flicked between the two. "That's what has me worried."
"Worried?" Irvine sat up. "You think something's wrong, Quisty?"
"Mmm." Her lips pursed. She glanced up from the report, giving Irvine a reassuring look. "I don't think anything's wrong, per se. It's just that the wording of the contract is a bit unusual, especially for Squall."
"Really?" Irvine chuckled. "It's almost curt it's so... brief. Sounds like our Commander in a big fat nutshell, to me."
Quistis shook her head, turning her gaze back down to the papers. "Ever since the Timber mission contract came to light, Squall has been really careful about how he commits his resources. He's actually quite skilled at writing the contracts -- much better than Headmaster Cid. Squall makes sure all the loopholes are tightly closed. He gets rid of any vagueness."
Irvine frowned. "But the Timber mission was alright. That was us and Rinoa. It all ended well, right?"
"The Timber mission worked out well because it was us and Rinoa," Quistis pointed out. "And that's what Squall realized in the end: another team couldn't and wouldn't have done what we did. So now, he tries to protect his teams by making sure contracts have distinct beginnings and ends."
Irvine sat back, clearly thinking about Timber. Rinoa -- much to everyone's surprise -- had invoked the clause of her contract which assigned her a SeeD team in Timber until independence was declared, and had made it clear despite her charming smile (and her budding relationship with Squall) that she meant to hold Balamb Garden to it. Squall, also to everyone's surprise, had agreed, but had reanalyzed the contract in an almost vicious way which turned it to Balamb Garden's benefit as well. By the end of their meeting, the Timber Team had been redefined and reforged, designed to cycle SeeD candidates through as an almost-ongoing field exam.
When Rinoa had craftily requested actual support from SeeD, not just cadets and trainees, Squall had nominated Seifer (granted a retroactive SeeD title by Squall right after the conflict had ended, in a move that surprised everyone but the few who knew Squall was more interested in keeping tabs on Seifer than bringing him to justice) as the Timber Team squad leader. The move had surprised Rinoa so much, she'd agreed to it just to spite Squall.
"Anyway," Quistis continued, interrupting Irvine's thoughts. "This contract with Laguna reads much like the original Timber contract did. It's quite... vague." She held up a sheet, and Irvine realized that what he had thought was idle pen-tapping had actually been Quistis' note-taking habits. "I've marked a couple places that could, actually, be used against us as loopholes."
"Woah, woah." Irvine crossed the railcar and sat down next to Quistis. "Loopholes in our contract? Are you serious?"
"It isn't--" Quistis shook her head. "It's nothing to worry about. To be able to spot this kind of thing, you'd have to be familiar with the SeeD manual at a level I know Laguna isn't. I'm just..." She trailed off, flipping to another sheet, also marked with her neat capitals.
Irvine glanced at it, and then back up at her. "Whatcha thinking, Quisty?"
Quistis sighed. "Squall wrote up this contract. Squall doesn't like dealing with his -- with Laguna." She paused. "And yet Squall left all sorts of windows in our mission description."
"What if he just wasn't thinking about it?" Irvine asked. "If he doesn't like talking to Laguna, he might have agreed to anything to get off the phone."
"Squall?" Quistis snorted. "I bet he was never on the phone in the first place."
"True." Irvine reached over and picked up the page Quistis had been staring at, a list of dependent clauses. Half of Quistis' notes were in some sort of legal shorthand he had no desire to ever learn; he hastily placed the sheet back into the folder on her lap. "Alright, then, what?"
"I think--" Quistis began, and then stopped, pursing her lips in thought. "This is just conjecture, Irvine."
"Of course," he agreed.
Quistis slowly closed the folder on her lap. "I think Squall's worried." She let her fingers drag across the smooth manila surface. "More worried than he's letting on. Of course he doesn't want to admit it, because it's Laguna. But I think he deliberately left the wording on this assignment open to interpretation... his own interpretation."
"Squall's gonna use the loopholes." Irvine whistled.
"I don't know," Quistis corrected him. "They may never come into play. It might just be the kind of contract Squall wanted to send out, this time. We have no way of knowing. But I think Squall is... giving himself, and us, a -- a window. In case things change once we're in Esthar, or in case something bad happens."
Irvine reached for the folder, and Quistis handed it to him, her expression quizzical. "Isn't that backup mission already a sort of safety net, though?" he asked, opening the folder and flipping through to the page containing that last private independent clause. "The one about Laguna and Elle. Operation Moomba Birthday Party, or whatever. Isn't that enough to ensure their safety?"
Quistis sighed, and leaned back against the padded couch. "I have no idea," she said, pressing her fingers to her brow in thought. "Maybe I'm just reading too much into it."
"You're the squad leader," Irvine pointed out, trying to read through the shorthand notes alongside the Moomba Parade clauses. "It's your job, ain't it?"
She shrugged. "I'd certainly consider any thoughts you had to offer," she said with a smirk, "if you had any."
Irvine grinned up at her. "Hey, I thought backup didn't have to think. I'm just here to look good, right?"
"Oh, quit it." Her smirk grew into a smile. "Don't sell yourself short, Irvine. I -- just don't."
He peered at her over the folder. "Hmm. Is that a compliment I sense? Don't stop there, Quistis dear. Do continue."
"I said nothing of the sort," she retorted, but her face was blushing and she was already laughing, despite her best efforts. "Oh, shut up, Irvine."
He closed the folder and handed it back to her, happy to have broken up the seriousness of the situation for a moment. "You're just glad to have me as your backup," he teased. "Or maybe you're sorry to be squad leader, cause you wanted to spend all your time watchin' my ass. I mean back."
"Well--" Quistis began, and then flushed red at Irvine's hoot. "That is not what I meant," she said primly, tucking her hair behind her ears in an automatic gesture. "I was going to say something nice about working with you, but if this is the kind of harassment I have to put up with, I don't think I will."
"Ooh, harassment." Irvine waggled his eyebrows. "Tell me more, Instructor."
She rolled her eyes instead, still laughing a little. "Sorry. The moment has passed."
He leaned closer, saying in a deep melodramatic voice, "There can always be another moment, my lady."
Quistis swatted him with the folder. Irvine leaned back, laughing, resting his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes. Beside him, he heard the tell-tale rustle of paper which meant Quistis had opened the file yet again, to peruse and analyze and cover with tiny little intelligent notes.
"Don't worry about it, Quisty," he said finally, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of the rail car. "I'm sure it's alright. You'll only make it worse if you worry."
"I'm not really worried." She glanced up at him with a quick smile. "You and I make a good team; we'll be able to handle whatever comes up. I really just want to know what we're getting into before..."
"Before we're knee-deep in it?" Irvine offered with a chuckle.
"Yes," Quistis said, sighing. "Exactly."
A clear tone rang through the car. "Fisherman's Horizon stop approaching," the loudspeaker announced in a cool, clear voice.
Irvine stretched. "You wanna get off at FH for a bit? We've got some time while they do the transfer."
Quistis snapped the folder shut and tucked it into the outside pocket of her shoulder bag. "Let's go grab a snack," she said.
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters: Quistis, Irvine
Rating: PG-13 as a whole (this? PG)
Summary: Squall sends Quistis and Irvine on a mission to Esthar, in the midst of political (and familial) unrest. Will they end up facing down the terrorists they suspect are behind Esthar's current political uprisings? Or is Laguna paying millions of gil for two very skilled Triple Triad partners?
Notes: This is a total piece of comfort-writing, after the hellish fuckjob (okay, PG) that March has been. Somewhat inspired by the shenanigans at lunaticdiscord, but also simply somewhat an excuse for me to write some fun characters that come easily to catch up almost 10,000 words on getyourwordsout.
The Odds Are In will be a series of connected ficlets / scenes / vignettes / pieces. Some will have plot, some will just be scenes. This month's goal: WORDS. The tag for this series is here.
- - -
let's get this party started right y'all / let's get this party started right
- - -
The newly-rebuilt train line between Timber and Esthar (via Fisherman's Horizon) clicked away beneath Quistis and Irvine with a comforting background hum as they sat in the SeeD car, passing time. Irvine lay across one of the couches, his legs across the cushions as he stared out the window. Quistis sat in the corner, flipping through the folder they'd both read a dozen times the day before and tapping a pen against the page in obvious thought.
"Finding anything new?" Irvine asked, stretching his legs. "Secret decoder ring message in there somewhere? Love notes hidden between the lines?"
Quistis turned a page over, studying the footnotes on the back briefly. "Nothing new," she said. "I'm just making sure I... understand it all."
Irvine shrugged. "It didn't seem all that complicated."
"It's not," Quistis replied. She pulled out the page of footnotes and flipped forward a few, setting it back down next to a new page for comparison; her eyes flicked between the two. "That's what has me worried."
"Worried?" Irvine sat up. "You think something's wrong, Quisty?"
"Mmm." Her lips pursed. She glanced up from the report, giving Irvine a reassuring look. "I don't think anything's wrong, per se. It's just that the wording of the contract is a bit unusual, especially for Squall."
"Really?" Irvine chuckled. "It's almost curt it's so... brief. Sounds like our Commander in a big fat nutshell, to me."
Quistis shook her head, turning her gaze back down to the papers. "Ever since the Timber mission contract came to light, Squall has been really careful about how he commits his resources. He's actually quite skilled at writing the contracts -- much better than Headmaster Cid. Squall makes sure all the loopholes are tightly closed. He gets rid of any vagueness."
Irvine frowned. "But the Timber mission was alright. That was us and Rinoa. It all ended well, right?"
"The Timber mission worked out well because it was us and Rinoa," Quistis pointed out. "And that's what Squall realized in the end: another team couldn't and wouldn't have done what we did. So now, he tries to protect his teams by making sure contracts have distinct beginnings and ends."
Irvine sat back, clearly thinking about Timber. Rinoa -- much to everyone's surprise -- had invoked the clause of her contract which assigned her a SeeD team in Timber until independence was declared, and had made it clear despite her charming smile (and her budding relationship with Squall) that she meant to hold Balamb Garden to it. Squall, also to everyone's surprise, had agreed, but had reanalyzed the contract in an almost vicious way which turned it to Balamb Garden's benefit as well. By the end of their meeting, the Timber Team had been redefined and reforged, designed to cycle SeeD candidates through as an almost-ongoing field exam.
When Rinoa had craftily requested actual support from SeeD, not just cadets and trainees, Squall had nominated Seifer (granted a retroactive SeeD title by Squall right after the conflict had ended, in a move that surprised everyone but the few who knew Squall was more interested in keeping tabs on Seifer than bringing him to justice) as the Timber Team squad leader. The move had surprised Rinoa so much, she'd agreed to it just to spite Squall.
"Anyway," Quistis continued, interrupting Irvine's thoughts. "This contract with Laguna reads much like the original Timber contract did. It's quite... vague." She held up a sheet, and Irvine realized that what he had thought was idle pen-tapping had actually been Quistis' note-taking habits. "I've marked a couple places that could, actually, be used against us as loopholes."
"Woah, woah." Irvine crossed the railcar and sat down next to Quistis. "Loopholes in our contract? Are you serious?"
"It isn't--" Quistis shook her head. "It's nothing to worry about. To be able to spot this kind of thing, you'd have to be familiar with the SeeD manual at a level I know Laguna isn't. I'm just..." She trailed off, flipping to another sheet, also marked with her neat capitals.
Irvine glanced at it, and then back up at her. "Whatcha thinking, Quisty?"
Quistis sighed. "Squall wrote up this contract. Squall doesn't like dealing with his -- with Laguna." She paused. "And yet Squall left all sorts of windows in our mission description."
"What if he just wasn't thinking about it?" Irvine asked. "If he doesn't like talking to Laguna, he might have agreed to anything to get off the phone."
"Squall?" Quistis snorted. "I bet he was never on the phone in the first place."
"True." Irvine reached over and picked up the page Quistis had been staring at, a list of dependent clauses. Half of Quistis' notes were in some sort of legal shorthand he had no desire to ever learn; he hastily placed the sheet back into the folder on her lap. "Alright, then, what?"
"I think--" Quistis began, and then stopped, pursing her lips in thought. "This is just conjecture, Irvine."
"Of course," he agreed.
Quistis slowly closed the folder on her lap. "I think Squall's worried." She let her fingers drag across the smooth manila surface. "More worried than he's letting on. Of course he doesn't want to admit it, because it's Laguna. But I think he deliberately left the wording on this assignment open to interpretation... his own interpretation."
"Squall's gonna use the loopholes." Irvine whistled.
"I don't know," Quistis corrected him. "They may never come into play. It might just be the kind of contract Squall wanted to send out, this time. We have no way of knowing. But I think Squall is... giving himself, and us, a -- a window. In case things change once we're in Esthar, or in case something bad happens."
Irvine reached for the folder, and Quistis handed it to him, her expression quizzical. "Isn't that backup mission already a sort of safety net, though?" he asked, opening the folder and flipping through to the page containing that last private independent clause. "The one about Laguna and Elle. Operation Moomba Birthday Party, or whatever. Isn't that enough to ensure their safety?"
Quistis sighed, and leaned back against the padded couch. "I have no idea," she said, pressing her fingers to her brow in thought. "Maybe I'm just reading too much into it."
"You're the squad leader," Irvine pointed out, trying to read through the shorthand notes alongside the Moomba Parade clauses. "It's your job, ain't it?"
She shrugged. "I'd certainly consider any thoughts you had to offer," she said with a smirk, "if you had any."
Irvine grinned up at her. "Hey, I thought backup didn't have to think. I'm just here to look good, right?"
"Oh, quit it." Her smirk grew into a smile. "Don't sell yourself short, Irvine. I -- just don't."
He peered at her over the folder. "Hmm. Is that a compliment I sense? Don't stop there, Quistis dear. Do continue."
"I said nothing of the sort," she retorted, but her face was blushing and she was already laughing, despite her best efforts. "Oh, shut up, Irvine."
He closed the folder and handed it back to her, happy to have broken up the seriousness of the situation for a moment. "You're just glad to have me as your backup," he teased. "Or maybe you're sorry to be squad leader, cause you wanted to spend all your time watchin' my ass. I mean back."
"Well--" Quistis began, and then flushed red at Irvine's hoot. "That is not what I meant," she said primly, tucking her hair behind her ears in an automatic gesture. "I was going to say something nice about working with you, but if this is the kind of harassment I have to put up with, I don't think I will."
"Ooh, harassment." Irvine waggled his eyebrows. "Tell me more, Instructor."
She rolled her eyes instead, still laughing a little. "Sorry. The moment has passed."
He leaned closer, saying in a deep melodramatic voice, "There can always be another moment, my lady."
Quistis swatted him with the folder. Irvine leaned back, laughing, resting his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes. Beside him, he heard the tell-tale rustle of paper which meant Quistis had opened the file yet again, to peruse and analyze and cover with tiny little intelligent notes.
"Don't worry about it, Quisty," he said finally, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of the rail car. "I'm sure it's alright. You'll only make it worse if you worry."
"I'm not really worried." She glanced up at him with a quick smile. "You and I make a good team; we'll be able to handle whatever comes up. I really just want to know what we're getting into before..."
"Before we're knee-deep in it?" Irvine offered with a chuckle.
"Yes," Quistis said, sighing. "Exactly."
A clear tone rang through the car. "Fisherman's Horizon stop approaching," the loudspeaker announced in a cool, clear voice.
Irvine stretched. "You wanna get off at FH for a bit? We've got some time while they do the transfer."
Quistis snapped the folder shut and tucked it into the outside pocket of her shoulder bag. "Let's go grab a snack," she said.