During the lull in their hushed conversation, Petrel's focus shifted to the play as it unfolded. He silently mouthed along to the words of the play— even lines that were changed for this particular production— as he listened in for his cue to enact his special plan for the evening. He was so focused, in fact, that he did not notice the clinking next to him. It was only when Faba clasped his hand between both of his that Petrel finally pried her eyes from the stage, looking as Faba in the dim light of their private box.

And though she tried to keep listening to the play, ever vigilant for that cue she was waiting for, Faba's honey sweet voice demanded her full attention. Then his hand began to wander up her forearm and to her shoulder. His touch was warm and inviting. The next thing Petrel knew, Faba was as close as he had ever been. She could feel her own heart beating like a drum in her chest as his intentions became clear.

Faba was inviting Petrel to kiss him.

It seemed that he had managed to prove his intentions were pure (or as pure as someone of his persuasion's intentions could be) and that he was worthy of Faba's affection. He had achieved his goal and could finally claim his reward... but Petrel wanted Faba to see what he had done— to see the final gift he had prepared for their date (the first of many, he hoped).

Though she could melt into Faba right now and savor the taste of his lips, Petrel knew she would lose herself in the magnificence of his presence and miss her opportunity to give Faba a night he would never forget.

"Je suis désolé," Petrel murmured, turning his face away from Faba's. Those words tasted like betrayal on his tongue. It would all be worth it in the end. At least that's what he told himself.

Then she heard it— her cue!

Downing the rest of his drink, Petrel set his glass aside before pulling his hand free from Faba's grasp. Then he promptly stood to leave, though he remained rooted in place long enough to look down at Faba with an apologetic look before adding, "There is something I have to attend to. I will be return... I promise."

he had filed away those initial complaints for later, once he made the startling realization that petrel had wormed his way onstage. faba didn't know how he knew it, he just did. from how his absence grew suspiciously long, how the lead looked in his direction one too many times. it felt deliberate. those eyes, even from so far away, pushed against the barrier he had unwittingly cast around himself in his simmering like a wall.

petrel's flight, that business to attend to, could have easily been forgiven for its humor and its audacity — oh, how faba had laughed! — if it didn't involve kissing the other actors in the end, the very affection he was so wrongly denied.

it crossed him. it crossed him so deeply that he failed to see it for what it was — staged. that was his, yet it had been withheld for another with faba outside of the spectacle, looking in, humiliated. but he could have guessed that things might go this way eventually.

at least his complete and utter dismissal had some flair. but even so, she won't get away with it. no one ever did.

"oh my, how clever," faba greets petrel pointedly when she returns to their seats. it's clear though, from his pinched face, from how rigidly he crosses his arms, from how another glass of wine has gone, much too swiftly to have been savored, that he is no longer amused.

"I was so enchanted by your display in fact, that I almost failed to realize how I have overstated your respect. almost," he continues hotly, rising to his feet and crossing the room to deliver her a piece of his mind before she can get a word in edgewise.

"but now I must wonder! who really is your intended date tonight? the one turned down, or the one receiving your affections for all to see? were they in on this, too? perhaps they laugh at my expense even now! hah!" that prospect alone is more than infuriating enough.

Stupid GIR, of course he'd gone and gotten himself captured the moment they'd been separated. Great, now Zim was going to have to rescue him in addition to getting himself out of this mess. At least the human seemed amicable, accepting his incredibly genius and on the spot excuse as a joke. Just as planned! He'd thought so anyhow, but then the man started interrogating him- like Dib but maybe just a little tiny bit actually intimidating. All of the adult specimen he'd surveyed before were just as stupid as the children- even the Dib's 'genius' father never suspected him as anything other than a sweet little skoolboy, so how had this one not been fooled by his amazingly improvised excuse? No matter. He'd just have to do this the old fashioned way and out-intimidate him.

"Capture? NOBODY captures Zim. You're a FOOL to think you could EVER-" The human wasn't listening. He just glared at him like a sylvestrian snarl beast poised to attack. "Withdraw at ONCE you- NO! STOP! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE D-" He let out a high pitched screech akin to a mortally wounded animal as he was yanked up by his antennae. The force pulled at his scalp so hard that it was a miracle they hadn't just been ripped off entirely. He wriggled and squirmed, clawing at the human's hands to try to release himself and hissing as his struggle only intensified the pain.

unfortunate as it may be, faba's been there before — writhing, disgraced by his own poor planning — a lesser man might sympathize, but not faba. it just makes his current position all the more glorious.

the errant contraption that scratches at his arm hasn't torn into his sleeve yet, so with his empty hand behind his back and a smile much too jubilant to be wicked, he turns smoothly on his heel and takes off with his frantic prize, back down the corridor where he had given chase, and into a much more opened space, outdoors but not.

"hee hee, oh my, how atrocious my manners have been!" he crows, giving zim another shake — because he can — just before stopping near a glistening pool of water, a single shadow dancing along as it skims the bottom. admittedly, he's always longed for an excuse to try this…

But they don't comment - partially because they remember how much they complained about Hoenn's humidity and warmth whenever they were forced to work out of Region, partially to stay in Faba's good grace. You gain a lot more by being polite and friendly than sarcastic, no matter how playful your intentions could be!

You never know when you need some extra assistance.

"A while? I practically built this place, baby!"

A bit of an exaggeration.

// I was asked to do this meme by a friend. It was a lot of fun. I think we all can tell who the better artist is here.

Petrel, clearly.

Template and solo art pieces below

Get a ship that can do both.

While Petrel's eyes were on the stage, her attention was on Faba, watching him through her periphery and feeling the way he held her hand. His grip was light and gentle, yet the meaning was clear to her— he was being cautious. As expected, Petrel had yet to tear down those walls Faba had constructed around his heart. But she knew that she was nearly through. And if things went according to the plan, Faba's walls would crumble and his heart would be laid bare for her to see.

This was, of course, not something to take lightly. Petrel knew that clearly. Though he was eager to see what sort of person Faba was once he finally let his guard down, he did not intend to take that for granted for even a moment— no matter what was hidden behind the proverbial bricks of mortar.

When Faba spoke, Petrel took the chance to look at him, wearing a soft smile as she squeezed his hand in hers. Even in the dim light of the theater, Faba was still stunning enough to steal the spotlight.

"Of course," he replied, voice hushed despite the fact that their booth was private. "I know what I like... And I like you, Faba."

She could not wait to show him the lengths she would go to just for him.

perhaps he can make up for that frightful lapse in judgement yet. and for that, petrel is quite lucky indeed. it is not often that faba begins to consider his prospects made all the more amusing by contributing more of himself, rather than solely receiving. with her, he dares say it must be safe enough to do so.

there is a soft clink as faba deposits his glass onto the table. he rests his hand on top of petrel's own that he holds within the other, enveloping it completely, tugging him nearer, commanding even more of his attention, promptly.

"I know what I like, too. and the things I like? I put through their paces. I must ensure that my respect has not been misplaced. but I think you realize just how valuable that is, yes? because you..." he chuckles, hand walking up her arm, drawing ever nearer, "have been so eager to please, that it hardly seems necessary. now, that is something indeed."