Muse A reaches in Muse B’s direction, just to offer them something, and Muse B flinches. They are both taken by surprise. - Squall and Seifer
Afterward, there are celebrations, parties, a whirlwind of events that the freshly-minted Commander of Balamb Garden couldn't escape even if he wanted to.
Which is why he's here, sitting on the furthest dock that he could get to without a boat of his own, in the dark, watching the party go on without him. Fireworks, music-- he can participate in it all from here, without having to actually participate. Or dance.
He's very tired of dancing.
"Well, well." A masculine voice, drawing every syllable in those two words out far enough to hurt. Heavy footsteps follow, setting the dock to tremble slightly.
Squall sighs, because of course nothing peaceful can last, and looks back over his shoulder. He's expecting anyone else-- Irvine, Zell. Nida, even.
He gets Seifer goddamned Almasy instead, standing there holding a six-pack of beer and a pizza that's already greasing through its thin white paper box, standing in the ray of moon like it's a spotlight just for him.
"Could it be? Commander Leonhart, in the flesh?" A grin, and his title rankles in Seifer's mouth, like something sour.
Squall sighs again, and shakes his head, moving to get to his feet. "I was just leaving."
"Nah, it's fine. Sit down." Seifer does just that, too, gracefully without trying, and drops the box of pizza between them, ripping one of the beers out of its plastic prison. "You playing hooky?"
He lets himself lower back down, hesitantly, and shrugs. Something in the water splashes-- he squints, trying to see, and can't.
"A man of many words. As always."
Seifer snorts, sips his beer. "I see we're trying complex insults now."
Seifer hasn't offered, and Squall doesn't ask, just takes one of the cans for himself. It's cold, sweaty, probably from the gas station up the road where they don't ask for ID. It's also sour and too hoppy for his tastes; he grimaces and keeps drinking.
"What are you doing out here, anyway?"
It's Seifer's turn to shrug, an expansive motion. "I didn't get an invitation to the party." Obviously. It doesn't have to be said-- he can read between the lines.
"Yeah, well. Next time, don't start an international incident, and I'll get you on the guest list."
It's probably too early to joke about it, but Seifer laughs anyway, far too pleased to be genuine.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Silence follows, but it's not weird-- not companionable, but not weird. Which is interesting, considering that six months ago, they had been actively trying to kill each other. The first cans are empty faster than either of them probably expect; the pizza follows, and Squall doesn't realize how hungry he is until two slices vanish down his throat.
He pulls a couple more beers out of the rings, since it seems like fair game now, and reaches out to hand one to Seifer-- he jolts, like he's been startled (or shocked, Squall can't help but thinking.)
Both of them stay still for a moment, and he sets the can down on the weathered wood instead. Seifer waits until Squall's hand pulls back before he takes it, pops the tab, drinks.
"You good?" He regrets saying anything the second he does, but call it morbid curiosity. He's got a title, an office, more money than he'll ever be able to do anything with. Trauma. Sleepless nights. A sorceress girlfriend on a train back to Timber as they speak.
Seifer had gotten several months in the local prison, cooling his heels while Garden tried to figure out what to do with him. Trauma. A torn-apart knighting and a report in his file about maiming several inmates during his stay.
(It's why Garden took him back, keeps him on a short leash doing clean up work for basically no pay.)
Seifer stares at him like he's just spoken a different language, or grown an extra head; for a second, Squall thinks he might just shove him in the ocean for asking.
"--Yeah. I mean, this is bullshit," gesturing to his back, where there's a tiny scar and a tracking implant embedded deep, "but I mean... Better than being locked up."
A shrug. They're going to be fluent in shrugs by the end of this.
He has to think about it, but eventually nods. Resists the urge to shrug again. Fails.
"Yeah. If you need anything..."
"I'll be fine, Leonhart."
They drink. Across the water, above the blue glow of Garden, fireworks explode.