Zell Dincht

   “NEGATIVE.”

   SHE replies immediately to merely one of his many spewed questions, for his panic draws her amusement. His general movements, though, draw the eyes of the crowd, a fact that she did not with to encourage. With expectancy, she tilts her head, silver brow raised in judgement of his floundering.

   “SIT. PUPPY.”

      When Fujin said she hadn’t been listening, Zell gave an annoyed frown. There was no better worse feeling than being  ignored in Zell’s opinion. And if Fu wasn’t going to listen, then there was little reason in flailing about. Sighing Zell would ignore her command to sit and would instead eat what started the whole mess to begin with. Picking the sweetroll off of the plate Zell would eat it in a few bites.

   No longer could she agree with Seifer’s assessment, of Dincht’s great likeness to a chicken; not when the image of Dincht actually fetching the sweet remains branded && lingering in her mind. The blankness of her features threatens to break with some vague show of mirth, and she has to duck her head to avoid that unfortunate reveal.

   “SWEET-TOOTH?”

   Some people just want to watch the world burn. Thankfully, Fujin does not include herself on that particular list, for it would be both illogical and useless for her to commit to such a task. Instead her practice with her chakram pays off in dividends, the plate of sweetroll landing safely onto the cafeteria floor–further away from the seating area. 

   Her lithe shoulders shrug as she stares, half-lidded, at the blonde.

   “TEN SECONDS.”

      Finally.    After all of the poking and prodding, and maybe some light threatening of never leaving Squall’s office until he caved, they were out of Balamb. Considering just how far they had to go, it was going to be a long train trip no matter what. It should have been easy. After all of these years, Zell was used to riding the train alone from Winhill to Balamb and back. But this was the first, aside from his mother, that Zell was bringing home.

      He was excited mostly. It felt like an insanely too long of a time since he spent any decent amount of time with his best friend that didn’t involved work. And now with them sitting quietly in the cabin, Zell actually felt a loss for words. So much has happened in his friends life, he just wasn’t even sure where to begin. He knew he wanted to talk about Rinoa in spite knowing it would be a hard topic to breech.

     Zell would fidget in his seat. His leg bounced up and down as he tried to run through his mind of all of the things they could talk about that wasn’t related to Rinoa or work. Sadly his mind was so hard pressed to focus on what he didn’t want to think about that he couldn’t get his mind to focus where he damn well wanted.