Disclaimer: Konami owns Suikoden. Rating is for suggestive themes. The encounter Nash describes does indeed occur in Suikoden III; it's mentioned in the comment box.

Attentive

No one noticed the Harmonian spy as he slid into Budehuc Castle's elevator in the middle of the night. Actually, Koroku noticed. He'd been watching for quite a while, and he capitalized on his opportunity, trotting over to Nash's room, jumping and snapping until he'd worked the doorknob around, and then hunting up every pair of trousers he could find. Work must be done.

But no one else noticed the elevator rattle its way to the castle's lowest level.

Nash and the missus hadn't had a solid talk since the siege of Chisha. Up till that point, Nash had seen more than enough of her. Alma Kinan had been the worst. Every time he'd glanced up from talking with Chris, or Yumi, or even Fred, he'd seen a little white bat hanging upside down from a tree branch, glaring at him. To say nothing of the road. On the road, he'd lain down at night, having just passed the watch to Chris, and settled back in his bedroll and gazed up to the starry darkness. And there, in the shadows high above him, had always been two little lights. Red lights. Never blinking. And Nash had resigned himself to turning over and trying to sleep on his stomach.

Nash was of the mind that trust was fundamental to all successful marriages. Also, very long absences.

"That librarian man has wonderful taste in novels," was the first thing Mrs. Latkje said when he came upon her, sitting at the table in Eike's quiet reading room. She didn't look up from her book, the candlelight flickering over a face that was almost disturbingly smooth.

Nash glanced around the subterranean chamber. Sierra was never happier than when she was below grass. If he ever recovered the Latkje estates, she'd insist they move into the manor's wine cellar.

He sat crosslegged in front of her. "Are you stealing books now?"

"The librarian man brings them down for me." She turned a page, then leaned closer to the book.

Eike hadn't mentioned anything about vampires in residence. Nash let it go. "Have you settled in all right?" Cautiously, but with a smile: "You... think you're going to stay for the long haul?"

She looked up. And snapped the book shut hard enough that both of their hair puffed up. "You're absurd."

"What's absurd?"

"You're hoping I'll leave now that you've secured this castle."

"Well, I'm not going to be on the move – as much – so if you wanted to go into the outlands and feed on wild cattle for awhile, that'd be fine with –"

"Absurd," she said again, setting the book down on the table. "Don't pretend you don't need minding."

Nash's smile spread. "One of these days you'll wake up, and you won't be a paranoid, blood-sucking virago. You'll be a sweet-tempered, trusting young lady. And then I'll ask for a divorce."

"Perhaps I ought to finish you up then." Her eyes glinted. "If you're expecting me not to be attentive."

Nash settled his shoulders, making sure the scarf around his neck was still in place. "Attentive's what you call it." He snorted and then lay back, folding his arms behind his head. "Where was attentive this morning?"

"What do you mean?" He was looking at the ceiling, not Sierra, but he heard her pitch jump. "Where were you this morning?"

"With Ruby."

"Ruby?"

He tipped his head and gave her a friendly nod. "Ruby."

Sierra's gaze darted around the room, but he knew she wasn't seeing it, her mind feverishly running through its catalogue of passable, pretty, and substantially-more-than-pretty faces. "Which one is Ruby?"

"Ruby's... well, Ruby's somewhat – large."

"You don't like large women." There was a bit of hurt accusation in her voice. "You never have."

"Maybe so, but..." He chuckled. "Ruby likes me."

"What have you done?"

Nash flicked a look at her (she was leaning forward, eyes fixed on him, and they weren't glinty now). He plowed on. "Look, I just got a little carried away."

Sierra went rigid.

"What could I do? Ruby picked me up!"

"What?"

"I'm not kidding. Ruby literally picked me up."

That broke Sierra's concentration, if for less than a second. "Is she a Lizard?"

"And after that, one thing led to another and..." He sighed blissfully. "It was like flying."

Sierra made an abrupt motion, as if she was about to lunge at him. Then she checked herself, frowning. Her body relaxed, everything but her eyes, which remained skeptical and on him. "It was like flying?"

Nash dropped his smile and sighed again, unblissfully. "Ruby is a Mantor."

Sierra's expression didn't change.

"If you're going to be attentive," Nash went on, "you mind intervening the next time a twelve-foot wasp carries me halfway across the Yaza Plains? You're a puny little bat, but those teeth and claws can do a lot of damage."

Sierra blinked, very languidly. "You deliberately misled me. If I kill you now, I can promise Ruby will never carry you off again."

He closed his eyes and crossed his ankles. "If you kill me now, you'll never get another drink for the rest of your hollow fly-blown existence."

There was a rustle of fabric, and Nash felt her lips touch his. He opened his eyes just in time for her to start kissing his eyelids.

Dear old thing. "And if the only way of thwarting your rival is to kill me," Nash went on, "even you'll have to realize you've lost to Ruby."

She paused, gazing at him from her not-distant distance.

"Ruby the Mantor," Nash reminded her.

She narrowed her eyes, smug, not angry. Nash was expecting another jab, but she gave him a lingering kiss instead. After all, Nash decided as he slid his hands around to the back of her head, he really hadn't come down here to argue.

Just as he was thinking this, Sierra straightened up and turned into a bat. Nash gave a start, staring at the little ball of white fluff, pointed wings, and big red eyes sitting on his chest. He didn't say anything, expecting she'd make her meaning clear soon enough.

Her little white claws dug into the front of his shirt.

Nash hadn't known bats could operate elevators.

As dawn rose, the white bat gave him a nip on the top of the head before she dropped him at the western gate of Brass Castle, miles beyond the Yaza Plains. Nash landed hard, the wind knocked out of him. He didn't properly come awake until he was in the castle's infirmary with a bandage around his middle and a damp cloth on his head.

A nurse came by to check on him regularly through the morning. She was young, blue-eyed and bosomy. Nash smiled up at her every time she came round.

And tried not to look past her to the bundle of white hanging from the rafters.