Balthier grimaced over a cup of what passed for coffee at the godsforsaken travesty of an inn they currently had the misfortune to call their own. He hesitated even to consider partaking of the pastries the proprietor had dropped off with a scowl - they had perhaps once been fresh, but that had been many, many days ago at least. The silver plate upon which they rested had perhaps once been clean, but he suspected that had been some years ago, and no amount of elbow grease would remove the tarnish from it at this point - not that any employee would care enough to try. The inn's proprietor did not even employ a laundress, and so Balthier had had no choice but to wear the same clothing he'd donned the day before and attempt to avoid agonizing over the cleanliness of their bed linens.

They had passed into Balfonheim two days prior, intending to recover the Strahl from Reddas, but his home had been closed up, deserted. Only from the townspeople had they discovered that Reddas was not due back for days. Instead they were forced to seek refuge in the only inn their dwindling coffers would permit - this one, with its musty hallways, threadbare carpets, and apathetic staff.

Funds and supplies were low, morale was lower. Over weeks of travel, he had felt that he had established something of a rapport with the majority of this ragtag bunch of companions, and yet there remained one lone hold-out. Balthier had finally come to the disquieting conclusion that Penelo didn't like him. No, not merely that she didn't like him - he was positive she actively disliked him. Not that he had ever cared overly much about whether or not anyone thought well of him - he had, after all, acquired a well-earned reputation as an unrepentant criminal - but he had not, to memory, ever found himself on the wrong end of a woman's esteem. Even the exiled Lady Ashe, though doubtless the most high in the instep female of his acquaintance, tolerated him ably enough.

To have earned the contempt of the little guttersnipe was galling, to say the least. Oh, she had never voiced it, but he saw it in the minute pursing of her lips, the narrowing of her eyes, the tilt of her impudent nose. Her barely-concealed animosity chafed at him in a way he'd not thought possible. She'd been able to give Basch - a man believed to have murdered her king - the benefit of the doubt, and yet she chose to cut him with those disapproving glances? It was not to be borne.

And yet he had not confronted her - having never found himself in such a situation before, he had not the first idea as to how one ought to resolve it. Instead, he seethed inwardly as he idly watched her bind her hair up with a thin strip of leather. She had a small bag tucked beneath her arm and was studiously avoiding his gaze in the mirror.

Vaan thundered down the stairs of the inn with all the grace of a rampaging behemoth, alighting at the base of the steps with a thud, thus catching Penelo's attention. He snagged a pastry off the plate in front of Balthier, tearing into it as he approached Penelo.

"You ready?" Vaan asked around a mouthful of sugary scone. Balthier sighed his distaste as crumbs rained down to litter the carpeted floor. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that the floor had likely not been cleaned in years anyway, but that in itself only evoked further revulsion.

"Mmm." Penelo tugged at a hank of her hair to ensure it was tightly bound. "I think so." She tossed him the sack. "I'll scout a good place. Think you can find what I need?"

Vaan opened the sack and poured a small handful of gil into his hand. He pulled a face at the paltry sum, but said, "It might be enough...but I can always lift a few extra gil if necessary."

"Vaan." It was an admonishment, but more in exasperation than anger. "We'll sell off some stuff if we have to. I want to earn gil, not steal it."

"Where are you two off to, then?" Balthier abandoned his coffee and scones in favor of the curious interchange between his two youngest companions.

Penelo's head swiveled toward him, momentarily perplexed, as if she'd forgotten he was present. Also irritating, that - she didn't simply ignore him, she banished him so entirely from her thoughts that his continued existence surprised her.

Her lips flattened into a thin line and she turned her face away. "Out," she said succinctly.

"I'll accompany you." The statement escaped him before he had even realized it - perhaps he has subconsciously wished to antagonize her, as she antagonized him with her silent disapproval.

"Not necessary." She shoved her feet into her boots as she spoke.

He gave a vaguely condescending chuckle. "Dear girl, it wasn't a request."

She froze abruptly in the midst of securing her boot laces, then slowly righted herself. "We really don't need any company," she said finally.

"On the contrary. Two children alone in Balfonheim? Who knows what mischief you might become embroiled in if left unattended." He savored the irritated flush that spread over her cheeks; they both knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

"We're orphans. We've been unattended for the better part of three years." Her biting tone did not faze him.

"Nevertheless," he said, "I can hardly leave you to wander an unfamiliar city alone."

She made a muffled sound of disgust, but sulkily responded, "Fine. Do as you please." Then she turned abruptly on her heel, making a beeline for the door - but his longer stride ate up the distance between them, and he reached the door first.

"I always do as I please," he said, catching the handle. "For the moment, it pleases me to see that the both of you stay out of trouble. We can ill afford to lose what few allies we have." He jerked open the door, motioning that she should pass through with a gesture a bit too genteel to fit their current environment.

If he had expected an acknowledgment of his courtesy, he was doomed for disappointment, for she merely stuck her pert nose in the air and stalked past him out into the street. Vaan trailed after her, signaling his own surprise at her pique with raised eyebrows and a quick shrug in Balthier's direction.

She had not waited outside for them, but instead had proceeded down the street, forcing Vaan and Balthier to jog to catch up with her. Of course, she acknowledged only Vaan, which irked Balthier more than he cared to admit.

"You've been here before, right, Balthier?" Vaan asked, breaking the tense silence at last.

"A few times before, yes. Balfonheim is a bit rustic for me, however, so I've never stayed overly long. I know it well enough, I expect."

"Then you'd know where the shopping district is? I've got to find something." He hefted the bag containing the last of Penelo's gil in his hand, jingling the coins inside.

"It's not far from here," Balthier said. "We'll go left at the main thoroughfare -" he stopped abruptly, scowling as he realized that sometime in the last minute or so, Penelo had disappeared. "Where the hell did she go?"

Vaan glanced around and shrugged when he failed to locate Penelo. "She does that sometimes. You get used to it. She's great at slipping off when no one's looking."

"Damned obnoxious child." Balthier clenched his jaw against the flow of the bitter words, but they spilled free regardless. "Foolish, contrary chit."

"Aww, don't take it too personally," Vaan said. "She just doesn't like you."

Incredulous, Balthier whirled to face him. "And why, pray tell, should I not take that personally?"

"Well, it's not really you she doesn't like," Vaan clarified. At Balthier's dubious glance, he continued, "Okay, maybe it's a little bit you...but mostly it's just people like you."

Bemused, Balthier stared. "Do you actually listen to yourself when you speak, or do you simply allow whatever idle thought travels across your mind to fall out of your mouth?"

Vaan glowered at Balthier. "If you're gonna be an ass, you can just head on back to the inn. I'll find Penelo myself." He turned away and paced towards the main thoroughfare, only mildly surprised that Balthier had kept up with him.

"Not a chance," Balthier snapped. "You need directions to the commerce district, and I need to ensure that your sticky fingers don't get you apprehended by the authorities."

"I'm a good pickpocket," Vaan said. "I don't get caught. And I'll find the shops eventually."

"Be that as it may," Balthier said through clenched teeth, "I will see you both back safely to the inn if it kills me. Or you. Or Penelo." He made a short, irritated sound, and muttered, "Preferably Penelo."

Vaan sighed. "She used to be really rich, you know."

"Who?" Balthier asked absently, only half listening, preoccupied with pleasant fantasies of wrapping his fingers around Penelo's slender throat and throttling the reckless girl.

"Penelo."

Balthier felt his eyebrows jerk skyward. "Surely not."

"Yeah. Her family was loaded. Not nobility, but high class for sure. They used to get invited to court a lot. Ashe doesn't remember her, but they met a couple of times before. Of course, Penelo looked a lot different back then, when she had all those fancy dresses and shoes and jewelry and servants to do her hair into those weird styles. Took hours, sometimes. No idea how she could stand it."

Balthier tried to imagine Penelo done up like a lady, but drew a blank. He couldn't quite imagine the irritating child affecting the trappings and manner of anything but the street urchin she was.

"You're pulling one over on me, aren't you?" he accused finally.

Vaan eyed him askance. "Not even a little. 'Course, all that changed when Archadia invaded. Penelo's family were all loyalists, you know, even after the King was killed. Practically all the nobility turned traitor, but her family funneled money and supplies to the Resistance. That's why they were killed."

The words caught Balthier off-guard and he stumbled. "Killed?" he echoed incredulously. "I thought they died serving in the war."

"Well, the war made a lot of orphans," Vaan acknowledged. "That's how I lost my family. But Penelo lost hers on the steps of the palace, at the edge of a blade. Public execution," he said grimly. "I had to hold her back; she tried to rush the steps. She didn't speak to me for a week, but I figure that was better than letting her die for nothing. She couldn't have stopped it, anyway."

It was like a red film had clouded his eyes; Balthier was seized by a roiling fury the likes of which he'd never known. As if it had a mind of its own, he felt his hand lash out to grab Vaan by his vest and yank him close. "You let her go to her family's execution?" he grated in a livid tone.

Annoyed, Vaan wrenched himself from Balthier's grip. "I would've stopped her if I could. She wouldn't listen to me. You try keeping her from doing something she's got her mind set on and tell me how it goes. She's stubborn like that, you should know that by now." He brushed futilely at the fabric that Balthier's crushing grip had hopelessly wrinkled. "It was hard enough just to keep her hidden when they arrested her family."

Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose, unbearably frustrated with Vaan's disjointed storytelling, but unwilling to cut him off and stem the flow of information that might provide insight into Penelo's antipathy towards him. "She was there for that as well?"

"Yeah. I'd been living with them for about a year, then. Penelo just brought me home with her after my brother died, and they just took care of me from then on. Like I was part of their family. Never complained about the cost, never treated me any different than their own kids. Just made up a room for me and put me in lessons with Penelo." His eyes had gone distant, swamped with memories. "Anyway, the schoolroom was all the way up on the third floor of the house, but we heard the soldiers break down the door. Penelo had never seen it before, but I had. I knew what it meant." His mouth flattened into a firm line. "There wasn't time to get everyone out safely, but Penelo was already with me. I stole a change of clothing for us from the servants and hid our clothes in the back of a wardrobe. Then we went downstairs to blend in with the other servants. They'd already captured Penelo's brothers and when they finally brought out her parents in chains, that's when Penelo realized what was happening. And then her mother - Linna - saw us. I thought she might accidentally give us away, but she just looked at me, and then she nodded, just a tiny bit so the guards wouldn't notice. I think she knew what was going to happen. I think she was telling me to keep Penelo safe." He sighed then, a wistful sound. "The guards searched the whole house for her, but they weren't looking for her amongst the servants, so we managed to escape."

They had crossed into the commerce district, the cobblestone streets lined with vendors at their carts, hawking their wares. Balthier stared straight ahead, his throat unaccountably tight with the sensation of creeping dread one gets upon witnessing a calamity suffered by another person, helpless to stop it from occuring, destined only to watch events unfold. He knew how this particular drama ended - with Penelo orphaned, cast into the streets these past three years. And yet somehow that was not enough; he wanted the tale laid before him in its entirety.

"Go on," he said finally, when it became clear that Vaan had lapsed into a silence that might well be permanent. "You were saying?"

Vaan cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck. "Now that I think about it, I'm not sure Penelo'd want me to."

"What could it possibly hurt?" Balthier stretched his lips into what he hoped approximated a bland smile.

Vaan slanted him a skeptical look, then sighed. "Just...don't tell her I told you, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Balthier responded evenly.

Vaan hesitated briefly, but finally continued on in a low voice. "They took over the house, gutted it, sold off everything in it to fund the Archadian Empire. Everything. Penelo had this terrible look about her for weeks - shock, I guess. She never talked about it, but once I caught her just staring at this Archadian girl walking down the palace steps, and I realized the dress she was wearing used to belong to Penelo." He sighed, shaking his head. "Losing everything might've been bearable...but the other street kids were cruel to her. She talked different, walked different, acted different, because she'd been raised like a lady. I looked out for her best as I could, but I couldn't always stop them from pulling her hair, stealing her blankets at night, throwing things at her." He shot a guilty glance at Balthier and raked his hands through his hair as if the memory pained him. "Too often I'd come back to Lowtown and she'd be sitting outside the entrance, huddled in a corner because the other kids had locked her out. She never said anything against them, though - and they got used to her, eventually, after she'd unlearned all her fancy manners."

Balthier, who had never considered that Penelo might have once possessed any sort of manners that might accurately be termed fancy, was intrigued. "And how long does unlearning one's manners generally take?"

"Took Penelo a couple of weeks, as I remember it. I think the table manners went first. She used to take these tiny bites, but the other kids would steal her food if she didn't eat it fast enough."

Balthier frowned. That particular bit of information had set off an unfamiliar pang in his chest. It couldn't be sympathy - such an emotion was a fatal flaw in his line of work.

"But she was kind to them even when they were cruel to her. It took a while, but they warmed up to her. And that's why she doesn't like you," Vaan finished, as though he were imparting some great truth.

Once again, Balthier was left wondering if he hadn't missed some vital part of the conversation. "I beg your pardon?" he ventured.

"Your kind has always been cruel to her," Vaan clarified. "The nobility, they were always coming to her family for loans, for financial advice and that kind of thing, but those same nobles snubbed them in public. They were good enough to beg favors from in private, but not good enough to be seen associating with. Two-faced, lying bastards, all of them." He shrugged. "At least the commoners were honest about it - when they didn't like her, she knew it. And when they learned to like her, she knew that, too."

Balthier seized Vaan's arm to direct him to the left and down a side street off the main thoroughfare, and said, "And you think I'm nobility?"

Vaan fixed him with a disbelieving look that plainly said, Aren't you?

To which Balthier had no ready reply. Perhaps he was losing his touch, for he had thought he had injected just the right amount of incredulity into his tone, but Vaan clearly had not fallen for the deliberate obfuscation.

"I'm not," he finally grated. Again, that arch look from Vaan. "Anymore," Balthier amended. "I gave up that life years ago, and all that it entailed."

Vaan slanted Balthier an aggrieved glance. "It's not about the things," he said. "It's about the way you act. You might have left it behind, but it hasn't left you."

"I don't believe I take your meaning."

Vaan huffed in annoyance. "You act just like them," he said. "Bored, arrogant, scornful. It reminds her of things she'd rather forget, I think."

Balthier scoffed. "And for that she plays Lady Disdain?"

"No." Vaan whirled abruptly and slapped his palm against the stone wall, preventing Balthier from proceeding down the narrow alley. "She'd leave well enough alone if you didn't antagonize her with all of your condescending shit. We haven't been children in years, so you'd damn well better stop treating us as such."

"Neither of you belongs here," Balthier replied in a scathing tone. "I cannot imagine what possessed her highness to permit your company. I'd have sent you packing straight back home."

"Home?" Vaan echoed incredulously. "What home do we have? Rabanastre's a shell, rotting from the inside out. We've got the clothes on our backs and nothing else. There's nothing to return to. At least out here we've got a chance."

"A chance for what? A short life and a swift death? That is the risk -"

"D'you think we're stupid?" Vaan snapped. "We know the risks. I'd rather die on my terms than slowly starve in Rabanastre. I'd rather die fighting for a chance at a better life than live beneath Archadian rule. You couldn't possibly understand - you're in it for the money, Balthier, so don't pretend you're better than us."

The contempt in Vaan's voice stoked Balthier's ire, and before he knew it he had reached out and seized the boy by his vest, dragging him close. "Don't presume to guess at my motivations," Balthier snarled. "I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my affairs and stow your opinions. Had I wished to hear them, I assure you, I would have asked."

If he has expected Vaan to be cowed, he was doomed to disappointment, for Vaan merely set his chin and narrowed his eyes. "Same goes," he said. "You don't have to like it. But we're sticking around, so you might as well get used to it."

With a disgusted exhalation, Balthier thrust Vaan away. "Do what you will," he said. "I've said my piece."

Vaan straightened his rumpled vest. "You're lucky you had this conversation with me instead of Penelo," he said mildly. "She'd have given you a piece of her mind and more."

"Please," Balthier scoffed. "What could she have done? Reprimanded me to death?"

Vaan chuckled, his good humor restored, but by what Balthier could not guess. Amiable once again, he clapped his hand over Balthier's shoulder. "One of these days," he said, "you'll eat those words. I only hope I'm there when you do." He nodded to indicate the shopping district visible just a ways down where the alley ended. "Just down there, right? Come on, then, Penelo'll be waiting."

Half an hour later, Balthier and Vaan had made their way from the outskirts of the shopping district to the crowded central plaza. Balthier wasn't certain how Vaan intended to locate Penelo, but Vaan seemed fairly confident that he would find her. They wended their way through throngs of people, at last coming across a thick crowd of people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, rendering the path impassable.

"Ahh, she's over here!" Vaan tossed over his shoulder at Balthier.

"How can you possibly know that?" Balthier shot back.

Vaan shrugged. "She always draws a crowd in Rabanastre. No reason to expect any different here." And he elbowed his way through the crowd, leaving Balthier to squeeze through in his wake. The masses reluctantly parted to admit them, though not without considerable grumbling.

Once they'd shuffled through, Balthier was surprised to discover that Vaan's guess had been correct after all; at the center of the cluster of curious onlookers was Penelo...though not Penelo as Balthier had ever seen her.

She was balanced on the pointed toes of one foot, her back arched and arms raised, hands clasping her other foot, which was extended behind her and lifted up over her head. Balthier hadn't known Humes could bend that way, but she made it look natural and simple. As he watched, enrapt, she released her foot, gracefully lowering it until her pointed toes touched the ground, then raised the opposite leg before her, higher and higher, until he would have sworn her nose touched her knee. This, he was sure, ought not to have been possible - but she seemed perfectly at ease, oblivious to the crowd the watched her perform.

Unaware he had been gaping along with them, he jerked back to alertness as Vaan nudged him in the ribs. There was something disquietingly familiar about her just now, though he could not place it.

"She's good, huh?" Vaan said.

"What the devil is she doing?" Balthier asked, shaking off the last vestiges of bewilderment.

"Stretching. Draws a lot of people, but they'll stay for the performance."

"I see," Balthier murmured, though he didn't see at all. But Vaan wasn't listening; instead he strode forward, lifting his purchase - a leather-skinned ball the size of a small melon - in the air.

"Hey, Penelo," he said. "I found one! You ready?"

"Mmm," she muttered. "Give me a moment." And she concluded her stretches at last, and turned to face him. He tossed the ball towards her; she performed a dainty twist and caught the ball with the point of her extended toes. A murmur of appreciation spread through the audience. Balthier watched, baffled, as she tossed the ball high into the air, turned a quick handspring, and caught the ball behind her on the pad of her foot. Another flutter of excitement from the crowd; Balthier was briefly jostled as the people pressed closer.

"See?" Vaan nudged him again. "Good, right?"

The crowd certainly seemed to think so, anyway. Balthier had never seen such a performance, but it had clearly taken quite a bit of practice to perfect. Not quite a dance, not quite a sport - Balthier had no name for it.

"What do you call that?" he asked. "What she's doing there?"

Vaan shrugged. "Dunno. Sort of juggling, maybe? She had lots of dance lessons back when her family was around. She didn't much care for them, because her brothers got to learn martial arts and sword fighting. But she said at least it was good for her coordination." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Don't suppose it matters, though - she can make a fair bit of gil just showing off for a few minutes. Hopefully it'll put us back in the black."

A burst of applause rippled through the crowd as Penelo tucked the ball against her foot and turned a succession of cartwheels, all while keeping the ball lodged firmly where she'd held it. Still, she appeared to be in her own world - she was focused solely on her task, not at all on the multitudes of people surrounding her, not on the steady clink of coins being tossed into a small, open sack that she'd obviously placed there for exactly that purpose. She was unmindful even of Balthier's presence, though he, like Vaan, was front and center. Again, that vague feeling of recognition struck, but the threads of memory drifted out of reach even as he snatched at them.

"She's made a killing already," Vaan murmured. "We've taken down marks that didn't yield so much gil."

The statement - factual though it was - only served as an additional annoyance. She'd brought it more gil in a few minutes than they'd earned in days, and it rankled that she could manage it without violence, without theft.

"So it seems," he returned snidely, loudly enough that Penelo could not fail to overhear. "Making a public spectacle of oneself pays well."

In retrospect he would realize that Vaan's swift sidestep ought to have been a clue as to what was to come. But in the moment, all he had time to acknowledge was the bright flare of ire in Penelo's eyes as she lightly tossed the ball into the air with a flick of her toes, then spun abruptly, her foot solidly connecting with the ball in midair to send it rocketing towards him. There was no time to move, to react - it hit him with such force that the air was wrenched from his lungs, his knees collapsed beneath him. Blackness threatened, but he gasped and gasped and finally drew enough air to stave it off. When the blood ceased to rush in his ears, he gathered himself together enough to finally be aware of the raucous laughter of the dispersing crowd, of Vaan's barely-stifled chuckles and the proffered hand he held out, ostensibly to help Balthier to his feet once again.

"Can't say you didn't deserve it," Vaan was saying. "I knew you'd get yours, but I didn't expect it to come quite so soon. She's got great aim, but I still didn't wanna risk standing too close, you understand."

Penelo, on the other hand, was busily collecting her things, entirely unconcerned with how Balthier fared. She gave a quick tug on the strings of the bag holding her newly-gotten bounty of gil and hefted it in her hand.

"Not bad," she said, tossing it over to Vaan, who caught it one-handed. "For a public spectacle, I mean."

"That," Balthier bit out, when he had regained enough breath to manage speech, "was unnecessarily vindictive."

Penelo tipped her nose in the air in stubborn superiority. "Perhaps next time you'll think before you speak," she said. "I don't suffer fools gladly." And she turned on her heel and stalked angrily away before Balthier could manage to get another word in.

A week before, he might've been amused at her pique, perhaps even mocked her supercilious airs as masquerading as her betters. Now that he knew that to not to be the case, he wondered if perhaps his condescension grated on her enough to provoke her into falling back into old habits. He recognized now the clean, clipped syllables ripe with scorn, the derision in her eyes, the tightly leashed rage transmuted into scathing words. He'd given her reason to loathe him practically from their first meeting - she had likely wanted to find him gallant, a cut above the other noblemen of her acquaintance. Instead he had proved himself at best apathetic, and at worst, arrogant and selfish.

Perhaps he had earned that blow after all.

Vaan whistled shrilly, and Balthier turned to acknowledge him just an instant before the bag of gil struck him in the chest. He caught at it reflexively, wincing as his abused flesh protested even the light contact. Dear gods, had the chit actually managed to bruise him?

Vaan jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Come on," he said. "She'll calm down in a bit. We need to stock up on supplies. She'll be all right on her own."

Balthier absently rubbed his sore midsection. "That," he said finally, "has become quite clear."

Smothering a snicker, Vaan said, "You didn't really think she needed protection, did you? She may have gotten stuck with dance lessons while her brothers were in martial arts, but they taught her everything they knew. She's kicked my ass more than a few times. You're just lucky she went easy on you."

"For the gods' sake, enough," Balthier growled.

"Well, you are," Vaan persisted. "She could have aimed for your -"

Balthier whirled on him with a glare so fierce that Vaan abruptly fell silent, holding up his hands in a gesture of placation.

"Okay, okay," he said. "I'm shutting up."

"Good," Balthier snapped. "Now, you will return to the inn, and I will do the provisioning."

"Aw, come on," Vaan wheedled. "I shut up, didn't I?"

Balthier squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers to his forehead in aggravation. "What part of that have you misconstrued as a request?"

Vaan threw up his hands with a disgusted sound. "Fine!" He turned to go, then tossed over his shoulder, "I hope she does aim for your balls next time!"

Balthier watched Vaan go with a shake of his head, and then started back towards the shops. If he had anything to say about it, there wouldn't be a next time. He'd just experienced proof positive that Penelo was unpredictable when riled - he'd be better off charming her than antagonizing her. He owed it to himself - at the very least to secure his continuing good health.

After all, she was just an orphan girl, probably starved for a kind word, a bit of affection. How hard could it be to restore himself to her good graces?