Spoiler
Sunlight filtered in through the windows, the illuminated rectangle slowly crawling across the floor indicating that the sun had only just begun its shift for the day. Franz was awake as usual and enjoying the brief moments of silence he'd come to appreciate in the often-disastrous wake of his newfound companions.

He was briefly distracted by what he had settled on for his breakfast. Dried and cut grains? Some sort of process made it crunchy but edible, and with sufficient sweetening and an ample supply of aldgoat's milk it wasn't awful. It was far from the variety of a proper Garlean breakfast; Gone were the finely-prepared eggs and meats and breads, missing were the spices that made Garlean cuisine what it was. He'd traded that, somehow, for cold rice and milk.

What was he doing in Eorzea? It was not his home. It was not where he was raised, where he was built. He owed nothing to the land, and he certainly didn't owe anything to its people. The old thoughts ran through his mind as he absently spooned another bite into his mouth, but there was something missing to connect them to his mind and heart.

The miqo'te woman. An antagonist from the get-go, more interested in picking fights and teasing than getting anything done. Her mate, the one full of regret and indecision. Somehow he'd come to bunk with these two? Had he met them on a battlefield prior to Carteneau he knew he would have cloven them in two and been onto the next group of would-be heroes. They were precisely what the Empire wanted to exterminate.

...but that wasn't quite true, either. The woman's demeanor hid depth that Franz knew existed but he suspect she did not. The man's sorrows came from a source of wanting to have done the right thing. They were not simple-minded, they were complex. They were people.

Franz gazed absently off at the wall opposite him, at one of twenty-seven pictures of the Sultana that graced their humble abode. He reconsidered, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, that Eorzea wasn't the sort of place the Empire painted it as. For all of their faults, and all of his own issues, the place and its people were growing on him. In time, he wondered if he might even consider these people true frie-

BOOM

One of the cannons from the front yard had gone off. Snapped back to his interrupted meal, Franz was dimly aware of yelling in the front yard.

"Load the rest, Kage! That's the last time they pick at my garden! And wake Porkchop up, too! He can help!"

Or maybe not.

Spoiler
It had been another late, sleepless night. Warren stood, brooding, at the same pillar he always did at the Quicksand, trying to cover the little CC and WC in a heart that had been carved in once again. Every single time he'd gotten it filled in, replastered, touched up to make the pillar spotless, another one would pop up the next day, as if the pillar demanded the carving be there.

"Gods, is it that obvious...?" Warren would ask himself that question when the carving would reappear again. Seeing the sun rise, he departed from the Quicksand for a few bells. It was time for his morning run around Ul'dah, followed by a quick touch-up to make sure his surcoat looked proper. The pillar had once again been repaired, and this time, he hoped it would stay that way. He didn't want Lady Crofte to have any further looks, as it seemed all of the patrons knew exactly who the carving was for. "When did they even have the time to carve such a thing?"

The run was nice. It allowed him to unwind and not worry about anything. What the day would bring, what kinds of trouble would happen around the city, his thoughts of Ser Crofte. Gods. The moment he thought of her his face flushed red. As he finished his run, he quickly prepared for the rest of the day, and made his way back to the Quicksand just in time to see a person hunched over by the pillar. Giggling. There was a faint scratching sound.

Warren was a man of few words during business hours, but he had to ask. Walking up slowly behind the small lalafellin man by the pillar, he leaned down, whispering. "What're you carving there?" The whole city could have been awoken from the shriek the man let out, having been discovered. In a panic, the lalafell turned around to face Warren. "I...It..uh...it's. IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!"

Surely the whole city would soon see the lalafell scampering out of the Quicksand for his life, being chased by an angry highlander, sword and shield out.

Spoiler
The sounds of the clanking armor echoed through the small alleyway. After nearly running around the entire city again, Warren had cornered the small man. “There’s *huff* no where *huff* left to run.” For a lalafell, the little guy certainly had speed and stamina. Warren came with a few fulms, catching his breath. “Have you been the one carving up the Quicksand’s pillar?” It wasn’t meant to be intimidating. At least, not entirely.

The lalafell looked up in horror as he noticed his path of escape was a dead end, and the only exit was blocked. He fell to his knees in fright. “PLEASE DON’T LOCK ME UP! I SWEAR! IT WAS MY FIRST TIME! IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!” Warren was a little confused. “You mean to say you aren’t the one that’s been carving various initials into the pillar?” He was gruff, but he wasn’t without reason. The lalafell looked up again, sniffling, “of course I’m not! I can’t even reach some of the places it’s been carved!” Warren knew he was telling the truth. But what did he mean by “his first time”?

Warren’s expression softened just slightly and he sighed. “Let’s go. I may not have the authority to make an arrest, but I can certainly have you apologize to Momodi for defacing her establishment. The walk back was very quiet. As they reentered the Quicksand, Warren bent down to see the incomplete carving. A faint heart had been carved, but work on any letters had not.

If he’d simply ran faster in the morning. Or gotten dressed faster. Or simply stayed at the Quicksand instead. Warren felt guilty that there had been an opportunity in the first place, as if it were his fault. After sheepishly apologizing to Momodi as well, he began to return to his post, immediately noticing a much larger, much more detailed heart had been carved at a spot on the pillar right above where he normally stood. “Menphina have mercy….” Warren tried his best to ignore it. The giant, fancily carved heart, with CC and WC carved into it even deeper than any previous attempt.

Warren gave one of the most pitiable looks he could to Momodi. With a small glimmer in her eyes, realizing he’d noticed the handiwork, she smiled and said, “you know I won’t reveal who did that.” A playfully mischievous grin on her face.

It would be a long day. A very long day, indeed.

Spoiler
As the morning dragged on, more and more people began to enter the Quicksand. Warren did his best to stand tall, upright, and serious. If he pretended it wasn’t a problem, perhaps the other patrons within the Quicksand would do the same. It wasn’t as if they pretended they hadn’t seen the large carved heart, but more that they thought nothing of it. Of course, with every new person that walked in, Warren would become more and more embarrassed of the entire ordeal.

As it become mid-day, he heard the familiar jingle of jewelry and accessories, saw the swaying hips and long, blonde, hair hair, and realized that Aya had come in. Naturally, she walked right over, giving a slightly surprised gasp, obviously fake. “Oh my, Warren! How bold!” she gave him a small wink, knowing full-well he’d had nothing to do with the big heart, but the reaction was worth every gil.

Standing in the place Warren had been was now a dalamud-red-faced Highlander. Was it always this warm in the Quicksand? Had his armor always felt this heavy? Why were the braids of his hair so tight today? He could FEEL them! The very thought that everyone in the Quicksand knew his feelings towards Coatleque, coupled with the now-giant carved heart above his head was simply too much.

His eyes widened just slightly, and he heard a slight ringing. “Oh, it’s getting smaller” were the last words he said as he hit the ground, fainting. With a thud, he was passed out.