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Entry tags:
FFXII: Say It Again
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Main characters: Balthier, Fran
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairing: implied Balthier/Fran
Contains: N/a
Rating: G
Summary: Balthier, a little worse for drink, and a promise oft-repeated. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkranger.
Fran is reasonably sure that Balthier is drunk. It's usually hard to tell, since he tends to make a good show of it until he hits a critical point, and then he falls over. Still, she can smell the alcohol on him -- could smell it a mile off, in point of fact. And his gestures are unusually expansive, his eyes a little wild, and there's a little slur to his speech that he'd hate to identify. She gets up and takes his arm, steadying him, not bothering to speak.
"Asked me to stay," Balthier says, or rather, mumbles.
She doesn't waste time asking who: it doesn't signify, when she knows what his answer was. "We can fly now, if you wish. If you let me take the controls."
"Always like it when you take control," Balthier says, and she refuses to notice the leer, the wink. He really is drunk. She grips his arm a little tighter, guiding him into the Strahl. "Not now. Too drunk. I fear I wouldn't make a good showing of it."
"In the morning, then, we fly."
"As long as it is we," he says, more seriously than before, and she must look at him.
"Always," she says, quietly, though he shouldn't need to hear it.
Main characters: Balthier, Fran
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairing: implied Balthier/Fran
Contains: N/a
Rating: G
Summary: Balthier, a little worse for drink, and a promise oft-repeated. For
darkranger.Fran is reasonably sure that Balthier is drunk. It's usually hard to tell, since he tends to make a good show of it until he hits a critical point, and then he falls over. Still, she can smell the alcohol on him -- could smell it a mile off, in point of fact. And his gestures are unusually expansive, his eyes a little wild, and there's a little slur to his speech that he'd hate to identify. She gets up and takes his arm, steadying him, not bothering to speak.
"Asked me to stay," Balthier says, or rather, mumbles.
She doesn't waste time asking who: it doesn't signify, when she knows what his answer was. "We can fly now, if you wish. If you let me take the controls."
"Always like it when you take control," Balthier says, and she refuses to notice the leer, the wink. He really is drunk. She grips his arm a little tighter, guiding him into the Strahl. "Not now. Too drunk. I fear I wouldn't make a good showing of it."
"In the morning, then, we fly."
"As long as it is we," he says, more seriously than before, and she must look at him.
"Always," she says, quietly, though he shouldn't need to hear it.