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Sixth Floor Common Area, Saturday Evening

There were pizzas stacked on one of the convenient tables, and bottles of soda nearby. Because it seemed like as good a time as any for general hanging out. And because Zack had been squeeing about a ballpit, and had dragged her up here to show it off.

"Seriously?" Elena asked. "I don't get it. So, what, you just ... dive in there and ..."

Zack had yet to explain the actual attraction of the ball pit. Give him time.

(puppy modded with permission. open!!)

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"There's plenty that you can do in the ball pit," Zack laughed, leaning over to inspect the brightly colored spheres of pure mayhem within.

It was glorious!

"You can have a ball war, you know, just throw them at one another? Or play shark, or bury people, or pretend to be Materia hunters..."

He was deprived one of these in his childhood. He fully intended to make up for that terrible deprivation today.

"You're serious about this," Elena laughed, peering into the pit. Filled with balls. Hence, ball-pit. "So, what, you just dive in?"

Then you'd be in the pit of balls, surrounded by balls on all sides. She had yet to see where the "hijinx ensue" part came in, but it was fun watching Zack squee about it.

"Pretty much, yeah!" Zack's hands were on his hips, and he was practically grinning from ear to ear. "Now, my biggest dilemma is whether or not I should take a running start at this..."

Because... come on! BALL. PIT.

"I think you have to," Elena decided. "Run up, tuck your knees, make it a cannonball. See what level of ball-displacement you can get going."

Zack was now giggling like an idiot, yes. It was mandatory.

"Do you have something to duck behind? I think it's pretty safe to assume that there's going to be serious ball-shrapnel flying about the room if I do it that way."

"I'm a Turk," Elena insisted, unable to suppress her own giggles. "I hide from no ball-shrapnel. Besides, someone has to record the event for posterity."

Good thing she'd brought her phone! Wave, Zack!

Zack was going to do better than wave! He was going to strike a pose.

He was SOLDIER. He was the superpowered poster-boy of ShinRa Electric Power. The pose was mandatory.

And then he was flashing her a grin, backing up, and then taking that pit at a run! A hop, skip, and a very showoffy jump later, and he was half buried in multicolored plastic balls, and grinning like an idiot at the epic mess that he'd made.

"Man, I've always wanted to do that!"

Elena was not hiding. Just because she'd decided to duck suddenly and crouch near one of the tables, that wasn't hiding. That was protecting the lens from balls that had suddenly flown at her at ridiculously fast speeds.

You know. Same difference.

"I give it an 8," she said. "Would've been an 8.5 if you stuck the landing."

"You're not suggesting I should get out and try again, are you? I could probably work a backflip into it if I'm careful not to hit the ceiling!"

Yes, hitting the ceiling was a completely valid concern for doing stuff like this indoors.

"Come on in, Elena! They're not going to bite!"

"I think if you did it again, we'd be running low on balls," she said. She flipped the phone shut and tossed it to him. "You know how to work that, right?"

If she was going to cannonball, then he'd better film it.

"Well, of course I do," Zack laughed, catching the phone easily and flipping it open. "I have the exact same one, you know!"

ShinRa issue!

"They might have changed them," she laughed, even though she was blushing. "Besides, maybe they don't teach SOLDIER how to film shit."

They had to keep up a little bit of Turk/SOLDIER rivalry, dammit. Because it was fun that way.

Elena stretched her arms over her head, evaluated the distance, wondered why she was doing this -- wait, that last one wasn't helpful.

Cannonball: incoming!

And Zack was filming! The sound, granted, would probably kinda suck. Why? Because there was a SOLDIER kid cheering near the mic with an exuberant "Woooooo!"

And when she'd landed, he peered over the phone, offered her his most smug grin, and gave his shoulders a shrug.

"They don't teach us that. I'm totally self-taught."

"They didn't teach us, either," she said, brushing her hair out of her face and settling into the ball pit. This was strangely cozy, for all the ... balls. "I think if you can't figure it out for yourself, you'll just get glared at until you make something up."

Edited 2009-11-08 00:43 (UTC)

Zack made certain that the video saved, and then he flipped the phone shut and tossed it back to her, grinning.

"Totally one of those, 'quick, hit buttons,' moments, huh?"

Until something did what you wanted it to or broke! Zack totally didn't see the issue with that strategy.

Catching the phone was easy; maneuvering to stick it back into her pockets was harder, since that was below the ball line.

"The key to being a Turk," Elena confided, lowering her voice, "is never looking like you're just making it up as you go along. It's part of the mystique."

It went nicely with the black suits.

"Oh, so that's your secret," Zack grinned. "See, I'm going to have to keep that in mind and start using it myself, now. And then what will you Turks do, huh?"

Really, Zack kind of made everything look effortless anyhow.

Unless it required any measure of thinking.

Aha! Pocket achieved. And now Elena was going to scoop up a few balls into her hands and try her hand at juggling.

Which she couldn't do, at all, so that was short-lived.

"Doesn't work without the suit," she claimed. "But if you get good enough, maybe we'll recruit you."

Zack was now going to lean forward, pick up a red ball, and attempt to bounce it off of her forehead.

"You don't want to do that," he decided, smirking. "I'd put you all out of jobs."

Oh, it was on, now. And there was a blue ball headed for his nose.

"You couldn't handle it," she teased. "No more photo ops, no more fan clubs, no more adoring public ..."

"Well, it isn't exactly like I have much of an adoring public now," he laughed, ducking the ball in a way that wasn't quite a swan-dive, and in doing so attempting to burrow under the balls in the pit, en-route to grab at her ankle.

Shark! Or maybe a Poodler. Or some other assorted sea creature.

"That's kinda reserved for 1sts, you know?"

"No fan clubs?" she giggled. "You should start one yourself, anonymously. Call yourself Zack's BIGGEST FAN and -- hey!"

That had better be Zack grabbing at her ankle, because if there were poodlers in the ball pit, she was going to be pissed.

What a sight the Zack-poodler was, half buried under multicolored balls, with his butt in the air a moment before he actually surfaced, grinning with a sort of triumph that was normally reserved for war heroes and little kids.

He was both, and so he was going to wear that grin well!

... Or, at least he would have done so longer, if it wasn't for the orange plastic ball that was currently stuck in his spiky hair. What the heck?

"That's a good look for you," Elena laughed, one foot sticking out of the ball pit, still clutched in his hand, and she was going to pinwheel her arms until she could sit upright. "We should make you a little ball-tiara and you can be princess of the pit."

Kicking! Kicking her foot away from him! Hopefully!

"Well, I was already prince of the homecoming court," Zack laughed, flopping over sideways into the balls as she kicked. "Might as well corner the market on high school royalty!"

The princess of the pit was totally going to start his reign by playing shark-attack until he could find her other ankle, now.

"Hey!" Elena squeaked, in a thoroughly undignified manner. She jerked her foot away, or tried to. Maybe she could swim to safety! Probably not. Swimming through balls was hard.

Her arms flailed as his hand closed around her ankle.

"Are you gonna hold my foot for ransom?" she asked. "That could be dangerous."

"Well, it's either that, or I make some kind of royal decree that all feet that enter my ball-pit domain are hereby property of Zack Fair, princess of the pit."

Only Zack could wear that title with pride and actually say it aloud without looking and sounding like a complete moron.

Elena sighed, mock-dramatically, and twisted so she could meet his eyes.

"What does Your Majesty intend to do with all the feet you collect?" she asked. "If you want to remove it from my leg, I'm gonna object."

"Naaaah. Feet are pretty boring when they don't come attached to a leg." There was a beat, and then a lopsided grin, then, from the puppy. "Guess that means I'm going to have to claim those, too, huh?"

"Exactly how much of my body do you intend to take?" Elena asked, still giggling. "Wow, that sounds even dirtier out loud, doesn't it?"

"Kinda, yeah," Zack agreed, trying desperately to look casual even as his cheeks shifted to a fetching shade of bright pink. "I was going to just stop at your legs, but you'd probably miss those too, huh?"

"Probably," she said. "I'm pretty attached. We could work out some kind of lease agreement?"

He should just be happy she didn't take the anatomy discussion any further. It helped that he was cute when he blushed.

"Hmm. Or a timeshare. Legs and feet are property of the princess of the pit while they are in the pit, but may leave with the previous owner upon leaving the sixth floor!"

He just liked saying 'princess of the pit.'

"So ... you own my legs for now?" she asked. "Anything in particular you want them to do?"

It was totally not her fault that came out sounding like that. Dammit, Zack.

It was the mysterious power of puppy. He couldn't help it, and neither could anyone else!

At least they weren't talking about swords!

"Dance?"

"Do I have to get out of the ballpit for that?" Elena asked. "I'm kind of comfy in here, and it's gonna be hard to dance around all these balls."

"I'll take a raincheck," Zack decided, because he was so very understanding that way.

Understanding, and laughing again.

"I could wave my toes around," she offered, sticking one foot up in the air again. "Synchronized toe-waving, hut!"

Yup, she could totally point her toes in different directions, to a beat. Talent. That was why the Turks recruited her.

She would have to excuse Zack while he completely cracked the heck up again.

"Bravo! Encore! Um... Other yay words!"

Like, say, 'yay?'

"Encore?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "If you insist! I saved this move for the finale."

Oh, yes. It was time to pop her other foot up out of the ballpit and bust out double the synchro-toe action.

Could he handle that!??!

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Sixth Floor Common Area, Saturday Evening

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