Don't own Final Fantasy XIII-2.

Mother Hen

Director Hope Estheim was one of the leading researchers in time-space anomalies, a veritable child prodigy, and was known even outside of the scientific realm for his contribution to saving cocoon as a former l'Cie. He was compassionate, resourceful, a good leader, and an excellent friend.

He was also being followed by a Silver Chocobo and, no matter how excellent of a friend he may be, he was going to kill the giant bird if Serah and Noel didn't return to this timeline soon.

"How did they even forget the thing? It's a giant bird. Surely they would have noticed if a crystal containing a giant bird went missing," he lamented, his boomerang out in front of him as the Chocobo circled the silveret, "kweh"-ing at him beseechingly.

Alyssa stood nearby, giggling uncontrollably at her boss' plight. "I don't know, sir. If they have collected a large number of monsters, they probably wouldn't notice just one disappearing. And he doesn't seem very strong either; more proof that they probably won't notice him missing."

Hope shot her a deadpan look before hastily jumping aside, avoiding the Chocobo at the last second. "It was a rhetorical statement, Alyssa. And, as a note, this Chocobo is a she. You can tell from the crest and beak."

Alyssa giggled a little more. "Sorry sir, Chocobo physiology wasn't my favorite class in school."

The flat look she was being shot didn't lessen at all. "I'm sure you'll still find this hilarious while on paperwork duty for other branches for a week."

That stopped her laughter in its tracks. "But Director," she whined, pouting childishly, "that's so boring! The other branches aren't nearly as interesting as mine, and you know it!"

The smile Hope gave in response was rather wicked. "Well, let's see if your opinion changes at all this week, shall we? Off you go now; your punishment starts now, and won't be rescinded until 168 hours of work have taken place."

The assistant huffed but obediently walked off, and Hope let out a sigh before turning to the pacing Chocobo that was still giving him a pitiful look. "Look," the silveret began, arms crossed sternly, "you can't just traipse around the site like you own it, and you can't pester me when my attention is needed elsewhere. If you do, I will lock you in one of the holding cells. Understand?"

The Chocobo perked up and crooned in response, before cautiously stepping over the line that both bird and human had set earlier as Hope's personal space. When nothing happened outside of the human letting out a rather put-upon sigh, the hen released a happy "kweh" and moved even closer, before proceeding to preen Hope's hair gently.

The young Director groaned in annoyance, wondering what the other former l'Cie would have done if they saw him now. 'Probably laugh,' he decided, before turning to look over the reports his branch heads had compiled, the mother hen happily trailing behind him.

Hahaha, looks like the Curse of the Chocobo has found another victim! And yes, that is what I call Cloud Strife's (and now also Hope's)...condition.

Sorry if there are any really noticeable mistakes, I quite literally wrote this at 3 in the morning.

Please review.

Ja ne!