“It’s fine Iffy, we’ll be back for dinner.”
She’d believe that when she saw it. In all of her years in this proverbial petting zoo, she’d never once seen anyone arrive on time. It had become somewhat of a running joke in recent years, that it was her cooking that scared people off and not their misfortune in being priorly engaged. She knew better than to accept a Turk’s word at face value, they were honourable certainly, and more trustworthy than most, but their punctuality? Not so much. Frowning, the Cetra stepped forwards, ghosting past the suited man to glance none too surreptitiously at the curvature of his backside.
Veld tensed, the corners of his mouth fighting back a twitch of amusement as he tried to find sense in the apparently non-sensical action. The Ancients had always been strange, he’d come to learn, but perhaps the strangest of them all had been Ifalna Faremis. “I’m only taking Valentine to Nibelheim, Iff, you don’t need to commit my arse to memory just yet.” Across the room Vincent masked a sudden bark of laughter with a cough, his eyebrow cocking ever so slightly as he stared pointedly at his partner.
“Oh hush up you. I’m checking to see if your pants are on fire.” The brunette remarked with surprising seriousness, her hand neatly nudging at the Turk’s hip until he turned around and gave her a full 360 confirmation that he hadn’t spontaneously combusted just yet. Maybe fire proof trousers were a new uniform requirement, because she was almost positive that the man before her was lying through his pearly white teeth. He was only doing this, or only doing that. If anything it was the use of that four letter word that seemed to disconcert her more!
“It’ll be straight forward Miss Ifalna, don’t worry. I’ll bring his flaming derriere home in one piece.” Vincent was talking now, his words causing the Cetra’s gaze to drift slowly towards him and soften ever so slightly. Was that supposed to be comforting? She may not have been entirely keen to admit it, but she was surprisingly fond of her misfit family and wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea of them getting shot, maimed or… dismembered before dinner. Rubbing the bridge of her nose frustratedly, the woman made no sound as Verudo ghosted past her, one of his aged eyes closing in an almost flirtatious wink.
“Maybe not entirely one piece, kid. I could still do with some proper TLC.” Vincent laughed again, this time making no attempt to contain his amusement as his hand rather brazenly smacked at the elder Turk’s rump to speed him on his way and out of the Ancient’s company.
“Mhm. I’m sure I’ll find a way to rough your arse up old man.”