Yelping when he tightens his hold and pulls her off his feet, Aerith laughs at being spun, kicking her legs gently as she continues to squirm around against him. "Balthier! You brute!"
"Louder. I don't think everyone heard you," he laughs, but he spins them toward the edge of the dance floor, plopping her down and panting before giving her a cheeky grin. "Are you going to run from me now? Or are you going to bully me into submission?"
Aware that she's flushed, Aerith fans her hands in front of her face and scowls at him once he sets her down and draws away before reaching for a flute of champagne moving by on a passing tray.
"I'm going to bully you into submission, of course." Tipping her head back to down the sparkling liquid, Aerith sets the empty glass down and moves towards him, coming up just a hair too close as she reaches up and tugs his collar ever so slightly out of place while meeting his eye evenly.
He reaches for a flute of his own, downing it and aware he's breathing a little hard.
He laughs at her threat, but doesn't expect her to actually come at hime, suddenly finding her very much in his space. "It'll take more than a tweak of my wardrobe to break me. I'm sure you'll manage." Has she always had that freckle on her cheek? Funny, he's never really paid that much attention.
It's surely just the sudden rush of alcohol into her system that makes her so at ease with being this close to him, leaning in as near as she dares - which is probably closer than most - while she sizes him up with those bright eyes.
"So it's come to this hmm?" Her fingers play at the fabric of his shirt while she fights off a smile. "If you can't have compliments, you'll throw a little moody?" She grins as she uses the term, one reserved for her when she was at her most petulant back in the castle.
It would be easy to tease her, poke fun at the childish term clearly applied enough times to stick. But he finds himself holding his breath, so aware of how close she is, and raising a brow. “And if I do?”
Still too bold from the drinks, Aerith's fingers toy idly with the fabric of his collar, left stuck in a moment of silent consideration after he's called her bluff. Certain that it's all for the sake of maintaining a convincing appearance of a relationship she lets her hand reach higher, lightly tugging on the ends of his hair.
"Then I certainly won't tell you how handsome you look tonight."
They’ve both had a bit to drink, and maybe they’re getting too caught up in their ploy. He’s proud of her, really, but he doesn’t want this to get sticky, not when he’s enjoying her company so much lately.
“Good. Then I won’t have to blush and flee for my dignity because you’ve found my weakness.” His eyes are laughing, even if his mind is traitorously wondering if she finds him handsome.
He reaches out to tweak her nose. “I bet you charmed all the older men to get your way. Being small as a child certainly helps.”
That gets a full-bellied bark of laughter. "By all means. Try locking me out of my own ship." He has multiple back doors and magical locks keyed to him. He'd be amused to see her try. He doesn't doubt she'd make her husband sleep on the couch, though, shaking his head as he grins at her.
"Your job was to be charming and unmemorable, look pretty and do nothing," he says, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You were terrible at it, clearly."
"On second thought, you don't need any more excuses to be smug and preen do you?" She suppresses the urge to reach out and touch him again, ignoring the desire to pay attention to his hand on her shoulder as it rises."
"Who is fishing for compliments now?" he chuckles. He has the urge to touch her face, her hair, so he pulls his hand back, busying it with taking something from whatever tray is passing by.
But the last time they drank together comes to mind, and how hurt she was that he was too hard on her, so he finds himself adding, "If you weren't pretty and charming, your strategy of manipulating older men would have never worked."
Aerith also leaps on the distraction whatever canape was being served on that tray presents, lifting three little sandwiches away before snacking contentedly, far too pleased that there was no one to tell her not to eat more than half of one to dwell on how strangely compelling Balthier was when he stood too close to her like that.
Rolling her shoulders in an evasive shrug at his assessment, she gives him a small smile, finishing off her last tiny sandwich and dusting off her fingers before she speaks. "See? A little compliment. Was that so hard?"
He raises a brow, not missing how pointedly he ranks below food and not in the least upset by it. She has good taste.
"This much preening for half a compliment. I think if I give more I shall create a monster. We are evenly matched, princess." It slips out, but no matter; it's a common enough term of endearment that no one should question it.
Freezing for a beat when the term slips out, Aerith remembers herself with remarkable quickness, swatting his chest lightly. "That we are, my prince," it's an awkward feeling thing to say at the moment, but, regular non-noble couples have terms of endearment for one another, she's read about it in books, and she feels the need to cover for his mistake.
"You throw a tantrum for my praise, and when it's your turn, you give me next to nothing."
His grin widens at how quick she is, and at how much he knows she would never call him something like that outside their ruse.
He's had enough champagne to not consider why he's having so much fun poking her buttons. "Oh?" he asks, cocking his head coyly. "Well then. You're a fine dancer and an amusing bully, and you hold your liquor well enough to not be a danger to yourself but not so well you aren't endlessly amusing. You are so adorable that it's hard to stay angry with you very long, even if you're more prone to tantrums than I."
Not bothering to try and act like the things he chooses to compliment her on don't please her tremendously, Aerith's chin lifts proudly, tilting her head from side to side as she playfully basks in the praise.
"And a successful bully," she adds pleasantly, smug that she wasn't the one to fold first, even though he's given her quite a few nice things to say about him, and the alcohol's lessened her restraint.
"You are very handsome, and a good dance partner." Then, quickly, after realizing that's just a bit too sincere for this game they're playing at. "And very good at being annoying."
It's deeply endearing how much she glows under even this couched praise. Maybe he ought to give it to her more often.
"Yes, yes, we know you are extremely proud of your ability to successfully bully others. Clearly you've done a good job of bullying me into liking you, which is no small feat."
He doesn't notice his own slip only because he stares for a moment at hers, mind uncertain what to do with the unmasked approval. Then her poking is back, and he grins again. "If I were too charming I'd never get anything done. I'd be fighting off suitors left and right, no matter how off the market I am."
She does what she can not to let the word 'like' stick too firmly in her brain, aware that there's no reason to read into it deeper than how they're spending time together, and it's not all devolving into an argument. It's a friendly word, something she should be happy for, and nothing more.
"Might be good for your image, but very tiring for your wife. Then you really will have to sleep on a sofa." Purely for the benefit of any passing eavesdropper - of course.
"Come now. I can't believe you'd let me get away with that with only banishment to the sofa." His grin is wide and his eyes are bright. If someone cheated on Aerith, he almost pities the fool. Even if he would make their life hell, likely after she'd already gotten to them.
Aerith's eyebrows raise as though he's given her an idea - and indeed, the fact that she's freer than she's ever been means if this wasn't a ruse there would be a way out hasn't crossed her mind. It's not a possibility she's ever had before to entertain when confronted with what marriage is.
"For flirting, the sofa, for more," Aerith shakes her head, stepping closer to him so that she can tip her chin up and look at him defiantly. "Where you go stops being any concern of mine, so long as it's not near me ever again." Good thing he likes her.
"You know most people have this conversation before they start calling one another husband and wife," he says, voice low and a little huskier than he realizes. "But I'm glad to hear you won't suffer selfish idiots."
There's no ignoring that having her so close makes his heart speed up. Surely it's just the thrill of this game, and how he's hardly sure what she'll do next, and not that he enjoys her bossy spirit or the thought of her being possessive over his attention. He certainly isn't thinking of the first day this ruse started, when she stormed off because, presumably, he'd insulted her, but know he wonders through the haze of being buzzed if it wasn't seeing him flirt with someone else.
He's only aware he's reached up to cup her face when his thumb meets her jaw, and he barely recovers it to a tweak of her chin. "You set an impossible task for me though," he says. "I flirt with everyone, sometimes even the furniture. It doesn't mean anything."
"Maybe that's a lesson for you, that you come on much too strongly - matters like these get pushed to the side."
There's a moment when his hand brushes her face that she stills, lips parting as she feels herself fill with anticipation, though she couldn't say for what, or why. Then he's off again, breaking the tension and running his mouth, and though Aerith's relieved, she's not entirely so.
"The furniture too?" Her bright eyes go wide with feigned innocence, speaking while she fights the smirk that threatens to rise to her face. "Does that mean instead of a dresser, you have an undresser?"
He chuckles, as amused by her leaning into their ruse as he is by how far off it is from how he actually is in relationships.
But there's a stupid moment, with his hand brushing her face and her eyes wide on him and her lips parted, that he nearly forgets himself, having the bizarre urge to press his lips to hers, see what she does.
He's tipsy, and it's been a long time since he was with anyone, and he likes flustering her. That's all this is.
Her joke shakes him out of it, and he visibly winces at her pun, even as he fights off a laugh. "You know what, yes, I do, and I drag my victims to my room so I can use its power on them."
"Good to know, I'll keep my distance from your quarters," stepping back, Aerith turns just in time to lift two more glasses off a passing tray, handing one over to Balthier while she sips the other, determined to clear her head and stop looking at him.
Something that's becoming trickier by the second, which she's sure is all the fault of the drinks and the dancing.
"Or I'll wear lots of layers if I ever have to visit."
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"I'm going to bully you into submission, of course." Tipping her head back to down the sparkling liquid, Aerith sets the empty glass down and moves towards him, coming up just a hair too close as she reaches up and tugs his collar ever so slightly out of place while meeting his eye evenly.
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He laughs at her threat, but doesn't expect her to actually come at hime, suddenly finding her very much in his space. "It'll take more than a tweak of my wardrobe to break me. I'm sure you'll manage." Has she always had that freckle on her cheek? Funny, he's never really paid that much attention.
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"So it's come to this hmm?" Her fingers play at the fabric of his shirt while she fights off a smile. "If you can't have compliments, you'll throw a little moody?" She grins as she uses the term, one reserved for her when she was at her most petulant back in the castle.
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"Then I certainly won't tell you how handsome you look tonight."
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“Good. Then I won’t have to blush and flee for my dignity because you’ve found my weakness.” His eyes are laughing, even if his mind is traitorously wondering if she finds him handsome.
He reaches out to tweak her nose. “I bet you charmed all the older men to get your way. Being small as a child certainly helps.”
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That is definitely something she's sure married couples say to each other.
"Of course I did, that was my job, wasn't it?"
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"Your job was to be charming and unmemorable, look pretty and do nothing," he says, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You were terrible at it, clearly."
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"At all of it? That's mean!"
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But the last time they drank together comes to mind, and how hurt she was that he was too hard on her, so he finds himself adding, "If you weren't pretty and charming, your strategy of manipulating older men would have never worked."
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Rolling her shoulders in an evasive shrug at his assessment, she gives him a small smile, finishing off her last tiny sandwich and dusting off her fingers before she speaks. "See? A little compliment. Was that so hard?"
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"This much preening for half a compliment. I think if I give more I shall create a monster. We are evenly matched, princess." It slips out, but no matter; it's a common enough term of endearment that no one should question it.
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"You throw a tantrum for my praise, and when it's your turn, you give me next to nothing."
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He's had enough champagne to not consider why he's having so much fun poking her buttons. "Oh?" he asks, cocking his head coyly. "Well then. You're a fine dancer and an amusing bully, and you hold your liquor well enough to not be a danger to yourself but not so well you aren't endlessly amusing. You are so adorable that it's hard to stay angry with you very long, even if you're more prone to tantrums than I."
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"And a successful bully," she adds pleasantly, smug that she wasn't the one to fold first, even though he's given her quite a few nice things to say about him, and the alcohol's lessened her restraint.
"You are very handsome, and a good dance partner." Then, quickly, after realizing that's just a bit too sincere for this game they're playing at. "And very good at being annoying."
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"Yes, yes, we know you are extremely proud of your ability to successfully bully others. Clearly you've done a good job of bullying me into liking you, which is no small feat."
He doesn't notice his own slip only because he stares for a moment at hers, mind uncertain what to do with the unmasked approval. Then her poking is back, and he grins again. "If I were too charming I'd never get anything done. I'd be fighting off suitors left and right, no matter how off the market I am."
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"Might be good for your image, but very tiring for your wife. Then you really will have to sleep on a sofa." Purely for the benefit of any passing eavesdropper - of course.
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"For flirting, the sofa, for more," Aerith shakes her head, stepping closer to him so that she can tip her chin up and look at him defiantly. "Where you go stops being any concern of mine, so long as it's not near me ever again." Good thing he likes her.
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There's no ignoring that having her so close makes his heart speed up. Surely it's just the thrill of this game, and how he's hardly sure what she'll do next, and not that he enjoys her bossy spirit or the thought of her being possessive over his attention. He certainly isn't thinking of the first day this ruse started, when she stormed off because, presumably, he'd insulted her, but know he wonders through the haze of being buzzed if it wasn't seeing him flirt with someone else.
He's only aware he's reached up to cup her face when his thumb meets her jaw, and he barely recovers it to a tweak of her chin. "You set an impossible task for me though," he says. "I flirt with everyone, sometimes even the furniture. It doesn't mean anything."
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There's a moment when his hand brushes her face that she stills, lips parting as she feels herself fill with anticipation, though she couldn't say for what, or why. Then he's off again, breaking the tension and running his mouth, and though Aerith's relieved, she's not entirely so.
"The furniture too?" Her bright eyes go wide with feigned innocence, speaking while she fights the smirk that threatens to rise to her face. "Does that mean instead of a dresser, you have an undresser?"
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But there's a stupid moment, with his hand brushing her face and her eyes wide on him and her lips parted, that he nearly forgets himself, having the bizarre urge to press his lips to hers, see what she does.
He's tipsy, and it's been a long time since he was with anyone, and he likes flustering her. That's all this is.
Her joke shakes him out of it, and he visibly winces at her pun, even as he fights off a laugh. "You know what, yes, I do, and I drag my victims to my room so I can use its power on them."
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Something that's becoming trickier by the second, which she's sure is all the fault of the drinks and the dancing.
"Or I'll wear lots of layers if I ever have to visit."
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