"I'll do it," Balthier says, hand coming to the small of Aerith's back, meeting her eyes squarely. If she'd protested he'd have made his case, but he wouldn't have forced her hand. She doesn't need to be the one to with blood on her hands, though. That and he has the aim.
He's just -- relieved she hasn't pulled away from him, and he hopes that stays true once she's had time to think about it. "Give me two, in case I get the chance." Except he knows Piaget. They were close for years, and the man is predictable. Balthier will get the chance.
Zeda meets his eyes. She knows him too, and when she hands off the hand bombs, her hand lingers briefly on his, then Aerith's shoulder.
"This is the sour part of piracy," he says by way of apology, pressing a kiss to the edge of her hair as much to fortify himself for what's to come as to wish he could shield her for it. "Let's get this over with and as far from here as we can. See you onboard, Zeda."
They start again, another explosion going off in the sands. They're making progress, slowly but surely, and for a moment he thinks maybe he won't get the chance afterall, that maybe that's alright.
And then he hears Piaget's shout, sees him in the corner of his eye.
He's lucky its muscle memory by now, the way he pulls the pin and lobs the bomb. Even in his sore state, instinct kicks in, and he tugs Aerith the other way as soon as he's let go. It's moments before there's a burst. There's no way he missed his target.
Shakiness sets through him as he clenches his jaw, tightness in his chest over thoughts he doesn't want to have. "Let's go," he croaks. Away from this nightmare.
no subject
He's just -- relieved she hasn't pulled away from him, and he hopes that stays true once she's had time to think about it. "Give me two, in case I get the chance." Except he knows Piaget. They were close for years, and the man is predictable. Balthier will get the chance.
Zeda meets his eyes. She knows him too, and when she hands off the hand bombs, her hand lingers briefly on his, then Aerith's shoulder.
"This is the sour part of piracy," he says by way of apology, pressing a kiss to the edge of her hair as much to fortify himself for what's to come as to wish he could shield her for it. "Let's get this over with and as far from here as we can. See you onboard, Zeda."
They start again, another explosion going off in the sands. They're making progress, slowly but surely, and for a moment he thinks maybe he won't get the chance afterall, that maybe that's alright.
And then he hears Piaget's shout, sees him in the corner of his eye.
He's lucky its muscle memory by now, the way he pulls the pin and lobs the bomb. Even in his sore state, instinct kicks in, and he tugs Aerith the other way as soon as he's let go. It's moments before there's a burst. There's no way he missed his target.
Shakiness sets through him as he clenches his jaw, tightness in his chest over thoughts he doesn't want to have. "Let's go," he croaks. Away from this nightmare.