FFXII ficbit, "Can't Hurt to Ask," gen
Variation on the riff of His Excellency's Secret Service ala moonsheen. Y halo thar Balthier. XD Postgame, gen.
*
Can't Hurt to Ask
"So you are resolved. You cannot be persuaded?"
"Back into one of those tin suits?" Balthier's lip curled without regard for the imperial presence, or for quote Judge Magister Gabranth unquote, who loomed like a heap of blasted scrap metal close behind. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. "No offense to present company, but not on your life."
"As a Ninth Bureau operative you would be in plainclothes. As a field agent you would be always on the move, for the most part well away from Archades. Piracy is a useful cover, so I see no reason why you should not maintain it." Larsa folded his gloved hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. "Since I know how fond you are of your current ship, I would not presume to offer another, but you would have unlimited access to the Draklor airshipyards, to perform whatever modifications you deem necessary or advantageous--"
Bloody little cutthroat, thought Balthier, with a grim measure of respect. Tempter. Jezebel.
"--and I have not yet mentioned compensation." Larsa named a figure. Balthier was careful not to twitch. "While I'm sure you've received similar proposals from Dalmasca, I would be remiss to offer any less. I have need of agents with your talents, now more than ever."
There had been no such offers from Dalmasca, though Balthier was lashed and buggered if he would admit it. "Obviously you do." He spoke with enough condescension to needle any right-minded boy of thirteen. If the emperor was in fact needled, he gave no sign; only the scrap heap shifted with an indignant creak. "But you're pitching to the wrong man."
He smiled without teeth as Larsa blinked at him.
"I'll talk to Fran and let you know."
*
Can't Hurt to Ask
"So you are resolved. You cannot be persuaded?"
"Back into one of those tin suits?" Balthier's lip curled without regard for the imperial presence, or for quote Judge Magister Gabranth unquote, who loomed like a heap of blasted scrap metal close behind. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. "No offense to present company, but not on your life."
"As a Ninth Bureau operative you would be in plainclothes. As a field agent you would be always on the move, for the most part well away from Archades. Piracy is a useful cover, so I see no reason why you should not maintain it." Larsa folded his gloved hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. "Since I know how fond you are of your current ship, I would not presume to offer another, but you would have unlimited access to the Draklor airshipyards, to perform whatever modifications you deem necessary or advantageous--"
Bloody little cutthroat, thought Balthier, with a grim measure of respect. Tempter. Jezebel.
"--and I have not yet mentioned compensation." Larsa named a figure. Balthier was careful not to twitch. "While I'm sure you've received similar proposals from Dalmasca, I would be remiss to offer any less. I have need of agents with your talents, now more than ever."
There had been no such offers from Dalmasca, though Balthier was lashed and buggered if he would admit it. "Obviously you do." He spoke with enough condescension to needle any right-minded boy of thirteen. If the emperor was in fact needled, he gave no sign; only the scrap heap shifted with an indignant creak. "But you're pitching to the wrong man."
He smiled without teeth as Larsa blinked at him.
"I'll talk to Fran and let you know."