Final Fantasy XIV

Cross shrugged as though he'd merely traded one horse for another.

"Spent my whole life there. Reckon that's long enough."

"What about Rumble? The other hands?"

"Rumble's stall remains paid up. Someone else'll train the young folk that come along."

Rook stared for another moment before shaking his head.

"Damn. I figured you'd die there."

"So did I. They gave me one hell of a partin' payout too," Cross grinned beneath his beard.

Rook already disliked where this was going.

"... Cross."

"I know exactly what I'm spendin' it on."

"No."

"You ain't even heard it."

"I don't need to."

Cross ignored him, veering off the road toward an old salvage yard littered with rusting machinery, broken engines that had been dumped after all the fleeing garlean refugee ships had been scavanged. Enough scrap metal to build a small city really. And no one gave two shits what folks dumped in the desert these days. If they ever had.

But in this particular junkyard, near the back, sat what could generously be described as the shell of an airship.

Its hull was warped to hell. One landing strut leaned at an angle that inspired no confidence whatsoever, and someone had very obviously painted over at least three previous names.

Cross spread his arms proudly.

"Ta-da!"

Rook looked at the wreck. Then back at Cross. This was why the son of a bitch insisted they walk back to The Cabin, never mind the malms of unrelenting heat.

"That'll never fly."

"Oh, she'll fly."

"She absolutely won't."

Rook pointed toward a section of hull that appeared to be held together entirely by hopes and dreams.

"Cross..."

"Baby just needs a lil' tlc, Rook."

"It needs a miracle."

The outlaw had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and the amount of work this heap clearly needed only excited him all the more. Cross smiled wider.

"I know a fella who can help me get her airborne."

Rook folded his arms and Cross snorted.

"Yes. You."

There came a heavy sigh and then a sweeping hand that gestured between the ship and the sky.

"I don't know the first thing about flying."

Silence.

Seven's crimson eye flickered once, the limbal glowing faintly in a pulsing fashion before settling back to it's normal hue. He blinked.

Cross's grin had turned what could only be described as shit eating.

"I know, but... "

He hooked his thumb toward Seven instead.

"...he does."