Balthier, Rikku, G
Title: Underestimated
Fandom: FFX-2/FFXII OGC
Rating: G
Notes: For astrangerenters. Prompt was "Balthier, Rikku, honor among thieves".
These memes always give me the urge to write stories I would never, ever write otherwise. I suppose that's what I love about them. :)
The purse filled with gil sat heavy in Balthier's palm, weighty with the satisfaction of a job well done. He tossed the small sack up in the air, caught it on the backhand, then slid it into his carryall. "I love the rainy season in Giza."
"And you are not the only one." Fran tapped the tabletop with a manicured talon. "Must you show that so openly?"
Balthier chuckled. "Such paranoia. The Sandsea is a respectable tavern, frequented by hunters and the minor nobility, hardly a den of cutpurses. And those few who might venture in here clearly are no professionals. Take that one, for example." He jutted his chin to indicate the petite blond girl who had just wriggled past their table on her way to the bar. "At first glance she might seem to be a ragamuffin, but she's too clean, her clothing -- what there is of it-- too well made. And note how she makes no attempt to blend into the crowd? She flirts, draws attention to herself. Not the optimal strategy for a pickpocket." Tipping back his chair, he crossing his feet on the top of the table. "No, if this is the type of thief this establishment attracts, we're safe as houses, and make no mistake."
"Perhaps." Fran nodded to the girl's back with the half-smile that was as close as she typically got to a laugh. "But perhaps I'll not mistake the purse you just flashed to the whole room a moment ago, now hanging from her belt."
"What!" Balthier sat up, his abrupt movement knocking the chair all the way backwards, and he tumbled to the floor, twisting as his legs flew over his head, barely managing to land in a crouch rather than flat on his back. Pain lanced through his ankle; he shook it off as he stood and glared at the thief, who was still standing at the bar, looking at him, an infuriating grin on her face. She lifted her hand, wriggled her fingers in a mocking wave, and then took off, bounding around tables to make her exit. He turned and followed, sidestepping more than a few gawkers on his way to the door. She reached it seconds before he did; he caught the door before it fell shut and threw it open, flinging himself over the threshold and reaching out, hooking his fingers through the loops of her braids.
"Ow!" The girl twisted her head free of his grip, but now his other hand had fallen on her shoulder, and he held her there. "Lemme go!"
"I fully intend to." Balthier turned her to face him. "But first, I believe you have something that belongs to me."
"Does it?" She quirked an eyebrow, then pulled the purse off her belt and dangled it in front of his face. He grabbed for the bag, his fingers closing around air as she whisked her hand behind her back. "Who's to say that you're the rightful owner of this little bag?"
Balthier crossed his arms, tried to keep the weight off his twisted foot. "And who are you to cast aspersions on my character?"
"Someone who knows very well who you are, Balthier-the-big-shot-sky-pirate." She stuck out her tongue at him. "And also someone who saw you getting that other hunter drunk yesterday night. How many beers did it take before he gave up the location of that mark?"
He was startled into a laugh. "Fair enough. Although my partner and I did take down that wyvern ourselves, which ultimately is all the clans require to claim a reward. The method used for information gathering is left to the hunter's discretion, is it not?"
The girl pursed her lips in thought. "True. Okay!" She favored him with a sunny grin. "I guess that means this is yours them. Minus, say, a twenty percent finder's fee?"
"Hmf." Balthier scowled down at her. "I'll give you ten. Assuming that's enough to keep you from sharing what you know with Montblanc."
Her hand reappeared from behind her back, the purse balanced in her hand. Pulling open the drawstring, she retrieved a few coins and pocketed them, then handed the bag back to Balthier. "Oh, I'd never do that. We thieves have to look out for each other, y'know?" She winked at him. "Pleasure doing business with you, Balthier."
"Indeed." Balthier tightened his fingers around the neck of the bag. "So, you know who I am, eh? In that case, you have me at a disadvantage."
A corner of her mouth ticked up, turning her smile into a saucy grin. "I suppose I do, don't I? The name's Rikku. Rikku of the Gullwings. Remember those name, yeah? We might just be about to give you a run for your money."
She turned to go, and Balthier watched her saunter away, her slim hips swinging as she disappeared into the crowds of Rabanastre. Then he shook his head, clearing the image. "A name to remember, all right," he muttered. "Took more like fifteen percent, I'll wager." Rikku had gotten the best of him this time; next time, he'd be ready.
Fandom: FFX-2/FFXII OGC
Rating: G
Notes: For astrangerenters. Prompt was "Balthier, Rikku, honor among thieves".
These memes always give me the urge to write stories I would never, ever write otherwise. I suppose that's what I love about them. :)
The purse filled with gil sat heavy in Balthier's palm, weighty with the satisfaction of a job well done. He tossed the small sack up in the air, caught it on the backhand, then slid it into his carryall. "I love the rainy season in Giza."
"And you are not the only one." Fran tapped the tabletop with a manicured talon. "Must you show that so openly?"
Balthier chuckled. "Such paranoia. The Sandsea is a respectable tavern, frequented by hunters and the minor nobility, hardly a den of cutpurses. And those few who might venture in here clearly are no professionals. Take that one, for example." He jutted his chin to indicate the petite blond girl who had just wriggled past their table on her way to the bar. "At first glance she might seem to be a ragamuffin, but she's too clean, her clothing -- what there is of it-- too well made. And note how she makes no attempt to blend into the crowd? She flirts, draws attention to herself. Not the optimal strategy for a pickpocket." Tipping back his chair, he crossing his feet on the top of the table. "No, if this is the type of thief this establishment attracts, we're safe as houses, and make no mistake."
"Perhaps." Fran nodded to the girl's back with the half-smile that was as close as she typically got to a laugh. "But perhaps I'll not mistake the purse you just flashed to the whole room a moment ago, now hanging from her belt."
"What!" Balthier sat up, his abrupt movement knocking the chair all the way backwards, and he tumbled to the floor, twisting as his legs flew over his head, barely managing to land in a crouch rather than flat on his back. Pain lanced through his ankle; he shook it off as he stood and glared at the thief, who was still standing at the bar, looking at him, an infuriating grin on her face. She lifted her hand, wriggled her fingers in a mocking wave, and then took off, bounding around tables to make her exit. He turned and followed, sidestepping more than a few gawkers on his way to the door. She reached it seconds before he did; he caught the door before it fell shut and threw it open, flinging himself over the threshold and reaching out, hooking his fingers through the loops of her braids.
"Ow!" The girl twisted her head free of his grip, but now his other hand had fallen on her shoulder, and he held her there. "Lemme go!"
"I fully intend to." Balthier turned her to face him. "But first, I believe you have something that belongs to me."
"Does it?" She quirked an eyebrow, then pulled the purse off her belt and dangled it in front of his face. He grabbed for the bag, his fingers closing around air as she whisked her hand behind her back. "Who's to say that you're the rightful owner of this little bag?"
Balthier crossed his arms, tried to keep the weight off his twisted foot. "And who are you to cast aspersions on my character?"
"Someone who knows very well who you are, Balthier-the-big-shot-sky-pirate." She stuck out her tongue at him. "And also someone who saw you getting that other hunter drunk yesterday night. How many beers did it take before he gave up the location of that mark?"
He was startled into a laugh. "Fair enough. Although my partner and I did take down that wyvern ourselves, which ultimately is all the clans require to claim a reward. The method used for information gathering is left to the hunter's discretion, is it not?"
The girl pursed her lips in thought. "True. Okay!" She favored him with a sunny grin. "I guess that means this is yours them. Minus, say, a twenty percent finder's fee?"
"Hmf." Balthier scowled down at her. "I'll give you ten. Assuming that's enough to keep you from sharing what you know with Montblanc."
Her hand reappeared from behind her back, the purse balanced in her hand. Pulling open the drawstring, she retrieved a few coins and pocketed them, then handed the bag back to Balthier. "Oh, I'd never do that. We thieves have to look out for each other, y'know?" She winked at him. "Pleasure doing business with you, Balthier."
"Indeed." Balthier tightened his fingers around the neck of the bag. "So, you know who I am, eh? In that case, you have me at a disadvantage."
A corner of her mouth ticked up, turning her smile into a saucy grin. "I suppose I do, don't I? The name's Rikku. Rikku of the Gullwings. Remember those name, yeah? We might just be about to give you a run for your money."
She turned to go, and Balthier watched her saunter away, her slim hips swinging as she disappeared into the crowds of Rabanastre. Then he shook his head, clearing the image. "A name to remember, all right," he muttered. "Took more like fifteen percent, I'll wager." Rikku had gotten the best of him this time; next time, he'd be ready.