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FFXII: Five Times Balthier And Fran Had To Make A (Completely Undignifed) Escape
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Balthier, Fran, and their various undignified escapes. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lassarina.
"This time, you have to admit it's your fault," Balthier says, rubbing his head where he bumped it in that last wild roll out of danger under the closing door. "And you could have judged the timing for that door a bit better."
"You did not think of an escape route," Fran points out, and he notices that she's busy trying not to laugh at his bleeding head. He directs a frown her way and gets up slowly, trying to convince his eyes that there really is only one Fran (thank all that may or may not be holy!).
"You did not warn me that he was behind me until he had hit me."
"I thought you would notice," she says, shrugging elegantly.
"I did! Once he had hit me!"
The next time they make a dramatic and undignified escape, it involves crawling through mud. "I know this one must be your fault, my dear," Balthier says, trying in vain to keep the less washable parts of his clothing out of the mud. "I would not plan an escape route that involved getting so very muddy."
"You would not plan an escape route," Fran says, pointedly. "And at least it is not a sewer."
"I hate sewers, and mud," he says, in heartfelt tones. He can almost hear Fran rolling her eyes at him. He chooses to ignore it.
The next time finds them in a sewer. Balthier has come to believe that if you say it's not something, the next time, it inevitably turns out to be something -- a something twice as messy, smelly and disgusting as you could have imagined. He is sure Fran imagined something enormously messy, smelly and disgusting -- that brilliant mind is capable of imagining a lot, he's sure -- and therefore this must be her fault as well.
He voices his thought to her and finds himself face down in it all. He keeps his mouth shut after that -- more to keep anything nasty from getting in than because he's learned any kind of lesson.
The next time -- well. They make it to the Strahl, this time, which is outside and ready to go and everything would be perfect. If there was more than one fuel cell online, anyway. As it is, the Strahl manages take off -- and then little else, lurching around the sky like a drunken seagull. "Fran! I thought you had fixed that malfunction!"
"I had!"
"This, you have to admit, is your fault," he says, between clenched teeth. It's only the most brilliant of pilots that could get the Strahl into the air on one fuel cell, and he's managing it, he comforts himself.
"Perhaps it is," she calls back to him, lurching away down the corridor to go to the engine room.
The part that isn't terribly comforting is the lurching, he thinks, setting his teeth.
The last one, though, is his fault. He'll even admit it. Fran, after all, isn't particularly given to flirting with pretty ladies, though Balthier could swear he's seen her eye on Ashe and Penelo before. This time was definitely his fault and he's the one paying the price, for the most part -- enraged fathers with shovels were not on the list of things he was expecting, but he makes a mental note to add them for next time.
He's pretty sure that Fran looks both smug and incredibly amused.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Balthier, Fran, and their various undignified escapes. For
lassarina."This time, you have to admit it's your fault," Balthier says, rubbing his head where he bumped it in that last wild roll out of danger under the closing door. "And you could have judged the timing for that door a bit better."
"You did not think of an escape route," Fran points out, and he notices that she's busy trying not to laugh at his bleeding head. He directs a frown her way and gets up slowly, trying to convince his eyes that there really is only one Fran (thank all that may or may not be holy!).
"You did not warn me that he was behind me until he had hit me."
"I thought you would notice," she says, shrugging elegantly.
"I did! Once he had hit me!"
The next time they make a dramatic and undignified escape, it involves crawling through mud. "I know this one must be your fault, my dear," Balthier says, trying in vain to keep the less washable parts of his clothing out of the mud. "I would not plan an escape route that involved getting so very muddy."
"You would not plan an escape route," Fran says, pointedly. "And at least it is not a sewer."
"I hate sewers, and mud," he says, in heartfelt tones. He can almost hear Fran rolling her eyes at him. He chooses to ignore it.
The next time finds them in a sewer. Balthier has come to believe that if you say it's not something, the next time, it inevitably turns out to be something -- a something twice as messy, smelly and disgusting as you could have imagined. He is sure Fran imagined something enormously messy, smelly and disgusting -- that brilliant mind is capable of imagining a lot, he's sure -- and therefore this must be her fault as well.
He voices his thought to her and finds himself face down in it all. He keeps his mouth shut after that -- more to keep anything nasty from getting in than because he's learned any kind of lesson.
The next time -- well. They make it to the Strahl, this time, which is outside and ready to go and everything would be perfect. If there was more than one fuel cell online, anyway. As it is, the Strahl manages take off -- and then little else, lurching around the sky like a drunken seagull. "Fran! I thought you had fixed that malfunction!"
"I had!"
"This, you have to admit, is your fault," he says, between clenched teeth. It's only the most brilliant of pilots that could get the Strahl into the air on one fuel cell, and he's managing it, he comforts himself.
"Perhaps it is," she calls back to him, lurching away down the corridor to go to the engine room.
The part that isn't terribly comforting is the lurching, he thinks, setting his teeth.
The last one, though, is his fault. He'll even admit it. Fran, after all, isn't particularly given to flirting with pretty ladies, though Balthier could swear he's seen her eye on Ashe and Penelo before. This time was definitely his fault and he's the one paying the price, for the most part -- enraged fathers with shovels were not on the list of things he was expecting, but he makes a mental note to add them for next time.
He's pretty sure that Fran looks both smug and incredibly amused.
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Nice job!