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“You.”
Jecht’s head swiveled to the source of the voice.
Auron.
“It’s almost dawn. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You tracked me down?!”
Auron sighed. “It wasn’t exactly difficult. I just followed the path of destruction.”
Jecht grumbled, cursing to himself. His head was pounding. The bar around him spun.
“Get up. We’re leaving.” Auron slid a small pouch of gil to the bartender, who pocketed it with little more than a curt nod, and grabbed Jecht’s arm fiercely, dragging him outside.
“Hey, wait, I can explain–”
“You’d better hope your story’s good enough.”
Suddenly, Auron let him go, and Jecht half swung, half stumbled to the ground.
“Out with it.”
Jecht grimaced as he sat up, brushing the dirt off of his shorts.
“Can’t a guy get a drink every once in a while?”
“If by ‘every once in a while,’ you mean every night since we picked you up, no.”
Jecht clutched his head, another round of pounding causing him to lose his train of thought.
“I can’t believe you,” Auron scoffed. “Wasting Lord Braska’s precious time like this. At this rate, we’ll miss the boat to Macalania, and Yevon knows it’ll be packed until next week.”
Jecht groaned.
“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?”
“My stomach…”
Auron sighed. As much as he wanted Jecht to suffer the consequences of his actions, he didn’t want he or Braska to catch even more trouble for allowing Jecht to make a mess. With very little ceremony, he hauled Jecht over to a nearby bush, bunching his scraggly hair into a makeshift ponytail with his fist as Jecht said farewell to the remains of his dinner.
“Be grateful I didn’t just leave you here,” he mumbled.
This is not where Auron wanted to be in life. He was supposed to be guarding Braska, not helping a delusional drunkard sober up outside of a bar in an unfamiliar city.
But when Jecht wiped his mouth and patted Auron’s back, muttering a husky, “thank you,” Auron felt a twinge of something unexpected; pity. Quickly, before it could show on his face, he suppressed the feeling.
“Can you walk?”
Jecht tried to stand, but if Auron hadn’t been there, he would've staggered face first into the dirt path.
Auron sighed, reluctantly maneuvering Jecht’s arm around his shoulder and taking the first few experimental steps back to the inn. Surprisingly, he took to it quickly. Auron guessed he’d had countless experiences with drunk walks home.
“Don’t think I’m done with you just yet,” Auron scoffed, cringing at the rancid smell of beer on Jecht’s breath.
Jecht snorted. “Can’t wait.”