"You're scared." He narrows his eyes at her, lips pulled tight into that frown of his, face set into stone determination. She's sitting next to him, giggling behind her hand, her arm looped through his, and she's smiling that sweet smile of hers, sunshine-bright and rather pretty. He doesn't look at her smile, though, because he knows her tricks – she'll make him give in if he watches that smile for too long, like she always does. She has a way of getting what she wants from him, just from smiling like that, or looking at him like that, or whispering her gentle, gentle words and making him give in.

He pretends to ignore her, but she's onto his game, and doesn't fall for it. Instead, however, she hugs his arm tighter to her chest, and laughs a little bit more, sugar-sweet and beautiful, and he thinks to himself that her laugh is so much prettier than even Shiva's laugh, gentle and soft and blizzard-like in his mind. He likes it more. It's warmer, and nicer, and makes him feel a little less cold.

She tugs on his arm, and he looks over at her, finally, giving in to the game. "What?" She doesn't seem bothered at all by his harsh words, and, instead, she smiles even brighter, leaning against his arm, grinning wildly to herself and to him. She's happy she's managed to catch his attention – he can tell it from the way she positions herself a little bit closer to his side, leans a little bit closer to him.

He wraps his arm around her hips, automatically, when she moves closer, and leans against her in return. "You're scared. I can tell."

"Why would I be afraid?" She giggles, soft and bell-like and beautiful, and he holds her closer, tightly.

"I dunno. Because you're Squall?" He doesn't even know what she's talking about, and he frowns, and pulls his head off of hers and looks down at her and lets her know that, and she smiles up at him and waves her hand around before her, as if to scold him, to tell him it's quite simple, really.

"That's not a reason." He frowns at her, and she only smiles. "What am I afraid of?"

"You're scared of lots." He doesn't like where this is going, because he's not afraid of "lots," and he doesn't want to talk about this now, even if he were afraid of "lots." He's not afraid of anything, really.

"I am not."

"Yes, you are. You're scared of singing, and dancing, and walking through our dorm in your pajamas in the morning. You're scared of talking to Seifer again, now that he's back, and you're scared of commitment and trying to cook cupcakes for Selphie's birthday party with me, and you're afraid of shopping and swimming and walking in the rain." She smiles as she speaks, listing it off, and, as the words leave her mouth, he realizes that, yeah, he never has done any of those things, because he's been too worried about what others think of him, too caught up in his image to let himself have fun and let loose like she says to do. "You're scared of other stuff, too." Her voice takes on a serious touch now, and she leans her head against his shoulder again, and curls into his side, and sighs. "You're scared of holding me like this in public. You're scared of telling Seifer you're sorry. You're scared of telling Zell you really don't hate him, and you're scared of telling Quistis thank you when she takes over your work for you, when you're too tired from sparring with Seifer for too long the night before. You're scared of a lot."

She finishes the list with a small frown curling her pretty features, and he frowns, too, and leans against her, and holds her close. He doesn't know what to say, and she knows that. She doesn't expect him to say anything – she's only happy he didn't decide to leave after her daring leap into that territory, and she curls against him, and sleeps that way.

When she wakes up, the bed is empty, and Squall is walking into their room, smiling at her in that subtle, soft way of his, with a little thank you note in hand, wearing only his pajamas.