[fic] The Hat
...Something cracky I wrote for aluckyshot to encourage her in her paper writing.
Warning: Retarded. Also unedited, and please note the timestamp on this entry.
NO PROMISES ON QUALITY, JUST ON RETARDATION.
It wasn't until after the beehiving incident in the bookstore that Luck started to wonder about that hat. His own hat had been completely ripped to shreds by the barrage of gunfire, but Firo's was unscathed. He could've sworn the hat had been shot, but had been a little occupied with being shredded by bullets himself at the time.
But a few months after that, another incident occurred that made Luck wonder even more. A gang of street thugs had jumped the two of them one day, clearly not realizing who they were. The thugs were good enough that they managed to surprise them enough that one of them got a good slice in at Firo, cutting down from the brim of the hat, knocking it to the dirty pavement, and ending at Firo's throat, before he backed away in horror both at the sight of the wound closing up and of Firo's dark grin. Of course, the thugs were disposed of only a few bloody and violent minutes later, but when Firo picked up the hat and placed it atop his head once more, there was no cut to be seen. Luck had stared for a moment, but looked away and said nothing of it when Firo noticed him looking.
A couple of days later, curiosity got the best of him, and Luck found himself alone with Firo's hat. Stealing a quick glance toward the doorway Firo had just exited through, Luck took a knife from inside his jacket and quickly put a small nick in the side of the brim - not enough to ruin the hat, just enough to test the ridiculous theory he'd come up with. He watched the hat intently, and sure enough, after a moment, the cut pulled itself back together in the exact same way their wounds healed. Luck was still staring at the hat when Firo came back.
"Luck? Is something wrong?" Firo asked.
"...Firo, your hat," Luck said, still staring.
"What about it?"
"Ah..." he paused, unsure of how to continue. "Is your hat immortal?"
Firo didn't reply, and Luck glanced up to see his friend looking surprisingly embarassed.
"Firo?"
"...I poured some of the wine on it, that night at Alveare," Firo admitted finally.
"You what?"
"I thought, because it's such a nice hat, and since Maiza picked it out for me and everything..." he trailed off, picking the hat up off the table and fidgeting with it. "I didn't want it to get ruined."
Luck stared for moment, then started to laugh. Only Firo would attempt to make his own hat immortal.
Warning: Retarded. Also unedited, and please note the timestamp on this entry.
NO PROMISES ON QUALITY, JUST ON RETARDATION.
It wasn't until after the beehiving incident in the bookstore that Luck started to wonder about that hat. His own hat had been completely ripped to shreds by the barrage of gunfire, but Firo's was unscathed. He could've sworn the hat had been shot, but had been a little occupied with being shredded by bullets himself at the time.
But a few months after that, another incident occurred that made Luck wonder even more. A gang of street thugs had jumped the two of them one day, clearly not realizing who they were. The thugs were good enough that they managed to surprise them enough that one of them got a good slice in at Firo, cutting down from the brim of the hat, knocking it to the dirty pavement, and ending at Firo's throat, before he backed away in horror both at the sight of the wound closing up and of Firo's dark grin. Of course, the thugs were disposed of only a few bloody and violent minutes later, but when Firo picked up the hat and placed it atop his head once more, there was no cut to be seen. Luck had stared for a moment, but looked away and said nothing of it when Firo noticed him looking.
A couple of days later, curiosity got the best of him, and Luck found himself alone with Firo's hat. Stealing a quick glance toward the doorway Firo had just exited through, Luck took a knife from inside his jacket and quickly put a small nick in the side of the brim - not enough to ruin the hat, just enough to test the ridiculous theory he'd come up with. He watched the hat intently, and sure enough, after a moment, the cut pulled itself back together in the exact same way their wounds healed. Luck was still staring at the hat when Firo came back.
"Luck? Is something wrong?" Firo asked.
"...Firo, your hat," Luck said, still staring.
"What about it?"
"Ah..." he paused, unsure of how to continue. "Is your hat immortal?"
Firo didn't reply, and Luck glanced up to see his friend looking surprisingly embarassed.
"Firo?"
"...I poured some of the wine on it, that night at Alveare," Firo admitted finally.
"You what?"
"I thought, because it's such a nice hat, and since Maiza picked it out for me and everything..." he trailed off, picking the hat up off the table and fidgeting with it. "I didn't want it to get ruined."
Luck stared for moment, then started to laugh. Only Firo would attempt to make his own hat immortal.