Dollet Pub, Second Floor, Saturday Evening Fandom Time (NFB)
Rinoa didn't know which part of this meeting was the most terrifying. Squall's absence left her the most exposed; her Knight was off meeting with Quistis, attempting (yet again) to resign his post. That wasn't so scary, except it meant he was in Garden and not here by her side. But she had insisted. She could handle this herself. A show of trust, to meet her father here without a Knight hovering over her shoulder.
Five months ago, she'd convinced him to hand over the records to the D-District prison. And now, she had gotten them mostly in order. It was the best that she could do. She had brought them here, to the Shining Bomber pub; perhaps not the best tactical move, but Dollet was still neutral ground, and it was easier to go over the files (should that be necessary) than if she had moved them wholesale into a storage locker. His detail should be able to carry the crates out of here tonight.
Some of them were here already; she recognized faces, if not names. That made her feel better about sitting here, upstairs, quietly sipping a drink. She imagined her father was nearby, even if he wasn't going to show himself too early. Or perhaps he was running late, but had sent grunts ahead to secure the area. It was hard to say.
She was exhausted. She was itching to re-open the crates and spot-check the files one last time. She was convinced somehow that he wouldn't show, that the deal would be off, that something would conspire to keep the political prisoners in jail forever. Maybe the D-District had burned down late last night, and everyone inside had died. And therefore it was all her fault, because she hadn't worked quickly enough.
Okay, no matter what, she was going to sleep in tomorrow. Because she had been breathing these files for so long that sleep felt like something that happened to other people.
(NFB, just for her (NPC) father plz)
Five months ago, she'd convinced him to hand over the records to the D-District prison. And now, she had gotten them mostly in order. It was the best that she could do. She had brought them here, to the Shining Bomber pub; perhaps not the best tactical move, but Dollet was still neutral ground, and it was easier to go over the files (should that be necessary) than if she had moved them wholesale into a storage locker. His detail should be able to carry the crates out of here tonight.
Some of them were here already; she recognized faces, if not names. That made her feel better about sitting here, upstairs, quietly sipping a drink. She imagined her father was nearby, even if he wasn't going to show himself too early. Or perhaps he was running late, but had sent grunts ahead to secure the area. It was hard to say.
She was exhausted. She was itching to re-open the crates and spot-check the files one last time. She was convinced somehow that he wouldn't show, that the deal would be off, that something would conspire to keep the political prisoners in jail forever. Maybe the D-District had burned down late last night, and everyone inside had died. And therefore it was all her fault, because she hadn't worked quickly enough.
Okay, no matter what, she was going to sleep in tomorrow. Because she had been breathing these files for so long that sleep felt like something that happened to other people.
(NFB, just for her (NPC) father plz)